Rebel

Hi Everyone,

This was a super speedy project, in fact it is the result of another project that I am working on. I wanted to do something based on the First Order and I was drawn to the concept of showing the logo defaced in some way much like the Rebel Alliance symbol in my gallery, however having been at Celebration Europe recently, I was enthused to see the love for Rebels which kind of took over the project. This is the result which I admit is really rough in places but I figured it was novel enough for me to put out and hopefully I can now get back to the real project without any further Imperial entanglements. 

A good friend of mine Ian Dean has composed a short story to go along with this image that I will post below as I believe they truly compliment each other!

The chill of Lothal hung in the air, resting on the walls of the settlements the natives called home. Many believed the plastisteel prefab walls that they huddled in were their domain, but Darth Vader knew better. These building stood by the grace of his master. It wasn’t mercy that stayed the Emperor’s hand after Lothal had been infested by rebels, but reason. These pathetic creatures were already subservient.

They were already afraid.

The Sith Lord cut an imposing figure as he marched through the darkness. The crisp crunch of his boots on the frozen ground was the only effect of the cold night that Vader could still sense. The dark armour that he was confined to was insulated, designed to keep his battered corpse alive at near enough the optimal temperature. It didn’t work though; no matter the temperature outside, Vader always burned. Even if he had not been scarred by the lava lakes of Mustafar, his rage fuelled a fire that could never subside, torching his skin with the raw essence of the Dark Side of the Force. This strength had allowed Vader to conquer the Jedi Temple. To survive Mustafar. To hunt down and kill the remaining Jedi. The rage of the Dark Side had made Vader strong.

But Vader knew that he paled in comparison to his master. There was a weakness in him, a doubt that the Emperor could always sense. No matter how small the twinge of conscience, the Emperor always knew. No matter how far from Galactic Centre Vader ventured, he would always sense his master’s disapproval of his weakness. It did not scare Vader. Fear was for the weak, and Vader was not weak. He simply knew that his master did not let slip his emotions as carelessly. Even stood in his presence, Vader would only be able to sense the Emperor’s emotions when his master wished it. His master was strong. Stronger than Vader. He did not fear his master, but Vader obeyed.

That was the nature of the Dark Side. The weak live to serve the strong.

Vader’s weakness had startled him this time. The Lothal rebels were in his grasp. They had led him to the rebel fleet, as he had planned. They were to be made an example of, as his master commanded.

And then he felt her. The impact of her presence had been amplified by her silence before and after the encounter. But as she stretched out to him, seeking the source of their imminent destruction, Vader had felt her realisation. Her shock and horror as she recognised him. The betrayal he felt from her had struck a powerful blow, but Vader was a Lord of the Sith. He quickly overcame his own guilt and shame and coldly assessed the situation.

The Apprentice still lived.

Even that was too late. The Rebels escaped. And where he usually would feel a silent whisper of disapproval from his master, Vader felt the weight of his fury.

So now Vader travelled Lothal, searching for clues, looking for anything to abate the anger that his master poured into him. He would find the rebels that escaped him. He would kill them all.

Even her? The apprentice of Skywalker?

It was not an audible voice in his head, but a thought. Vader knew that his master was speaking to him through the Force. “All enemies of the Empire must die. I will deliver justice.”

The thought came again, stronger. Even her? The apprentice of Skywalker?

“She means nothing to me.” Vader barely broke his stride as he marched onwards. He knew he was being guided, that the Force was leading him, but now he suspected that his master was

manipulating events. Even from the distant world of Coruscant, the Emperor commanded the Force; his master was leading him somewhere.

Vader froze. The path he followed through the Force had ended; the buildings that lined the street now formed a dead end. Mere physical objects could not bar Darth Vader from his path, but he could not move another step forward. On the wall ahead of him lay graffiti, artwork that certainly belonged to one of the rebels he had pursued on Lothal. Any predator must know his prey, and Vader had the names and profiles of all his targets to absorb on his first journey to Lothal. Tarkin was nothing if not efficient at dossiers, after all. What he saw was likely the work of the young Mandolorian, Sabine, but this would not occur to Vader for several hours.

The image was of a young Togrutan woman, her red face framed by the blue and white striped Lekku and horns her people were easily identified by. White lines adorned the face, a natural pigmentation unique to each individual; no two Togrutans were identical. The button nose sat beneath the bright eyes that had not been painted in, but were still a visible blue to Vader. How could he forget them?

Even her?

Snips?

Vader burned in the cold darkness of Lothal, but the searing rage that filled his existence was suddenly overwhelmed. In the fringes of a moment, Vader was consumed by the guilt of what he had become. He remembered the brief contact in the Force, the momentary distraction that had cost him the rebel fleet. The horror and dismay, the pure shock as she realised who he was. What he had done. The rush of emotion was almost enough to knock him to the ground.

Vader felt weak.

How dare she.

Heat prickled across Vader’s scarred skin as he seized his weakness. She had left him. She had abandoned him. How dare she make him feel weak. The rage that had subsided returned with such force that the dust on the paving swirled around him. As his fiery fury reached its crescendo, the sheer power of Vader’s vicious rage roared out from him, buckling the walls around him.

The stillness of night returned to Lothal, a silence broken only by Vader’s artificial breathing. Dust floated to the ground as Vader calmed himself. Anger was his to control, not be controlled by.

The image ahead of him was untouched, staring defiantly through the darkness, but emotion no longer obscured Vader’s vision. The young Togruta girl bore some similarities, but the facial patterns were wrong; it was not her. His weakness had blinded him for the last time.

She had blinded him for the last time.

Without breaking the silence of the night, Vader heard the call of his master. Find the rebels that escaped you. Kill them all.

“Even her.”