CHAPTER NINETEEN

     "I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO DOESN'T FEEL GREAT ABOUT THIS, RIGHT?" Artie worried aloud from her seat behind Obi-Wan, fingers wrung tightly together as black space enthralled their shuttle like a closing fist.

     "Hopefully Rex brought suitable reinforcements," Obi-Wan replied, arms folded over his chest and gaze never leaving the viewport, though there was nothing to see but the endless expanse of dark, wild space. "We have no idea what we could be getting ourselves into."

     "Both of you relax," Anakin said, voice inappropriately calm. "We're responding to a distress signal—no reason to overcomplicate it."

     "A distress signal you said the Jedi haven't used for two-thousand years," Artie argued, leaning over Obi-Wan's shoulder as she tried to get a better look at the navigation screen—nothing registered on the radar, even though Rex was supposed to be nearby. It only deepened Artie's worry; two years a Jedi and she'd never mastered that inner serenity the Masters always spoke of.

     "Which is where Rex comes in," Anakin kept on, not deterred in the slightest. "If it's trap put together by the Separatists, we'll blow up their fleet, or whatever else they've got. Easy."

     "You never worry enough," Artie mumbled and sat down with a huff.

     "And you worry enough for two people," Anakin retorted without looking back. Artie rolled her eyes. He'd been snippy all morning, ever since she'd deflected his marriage proposal for the second time within the year. It wasn't that she didn't want to marry him—she really did. More than almost anything she wanted to call Anakin Skywalker her husband, but the war simply wouldn't allow it. Soon after Geonosis, Anakin had been made a Jedi Knight, then a general of the Grand Army of the Republic, with Artie assuming the same command not long after. Foolish, maybe, to make an inexperienced desert girl a commanding officer, but Artie thought she must be doing something right—no one had taken away her legion yet. With both of them so involved in the fighting, Artie and Anakin were lucky if they saw each other more than twice a week, and the Council's narrowed eyes seemed to trail on them wherever they went. There had been no outward accusations of them breaking the Code, but it would be moronic to believe they were not suspected, and it was not Artie's fault Anakin couldn't see past what he wanted in the moment. Two people in the entire galaxy knew about them (but Artie was growing more suspicious of Obi-Wan by the day) and a wedding seemed almost . . . childish . . . for the time. Call it wishful thinking, but Artie hoped one day, when the war was over and she had quit the Order (it was a plan she'd formed long ago, in the dark of night, on a ship deep in the Outer Rim when she'd missed Anakin so desperately it drove her to rash decisions) all of their friends could attend a real ceremony. With marriage would come hope for children, a home away from the Order's chaos, and a lifetime ahead to do whatever they wanted. To be married then, with only bi-weekly reunions to hold onto, seemed a recipe for heartbreaking disaster.

     Though, considering his attitude right then, Artie hoped her caution wasn't driving Anakin away. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if that happened.

     "I still don't see Rex's ship," Obi-Wan said, warning mounting in his voice as he tapped the radar screen impatiently. "We're at the exact coordinates, aren't we?"

     "I'll comm him," Anakin declared, punching the transmission button on the control panel. "Rex, buddy," he called, "where are you? You near the rendezvous point yet?"

     There was no response for several moments. Suddenly, though slightly warped, Rex's voice crackled through. "We're here, sir, but we've got no eyes on you. Are you sure you've got the coordinates right?"

     "Positive," Anakin said, a scowl trenching his brow. "We should be right on top of you. This isn't—"

      A bang! sounded throughout the shuttle's cockpit, and Artie sat up straight, hand ready on the hilt of her lightsaber. The lights flickered out, plunging them into a pocket of thick, steadfast darkness. Artie's heart hammered, pounded, against the still hollow of her chest as she struggled not to give into such a girlhood fear, but the terror swooped in anyway. Twenty years old and scared of the dark—well, maybe the dark wouldn't be so bad if they had any idea where they were. She wanted to shout "I told you so!" until her voice gave out; something in the Force was going haywire, and she knew Obi-Wan and Anakin had to feel it. It enthralled her at her very core—wherever she felt the Force, this overwhelming sense resided, curled in the corner of her very self like it had been waiting a lifetime for her to turn her eyes on it. Artie wanted to claw it out.

     Suddenly the ship lurched forward, forward, dragged as if corded, and they were on the move again. Artie lifted her wide eyes to search out the viewport and felt her stomach plunge. Looming ahead, crimson and gleaming like stained glass, was a massive octahedron monolith suspended amongst the stars. Artie found she could not swallow past the lump in her throat—she largely suspected it was her heart that found its way up. The shuttle was pulled toward the blood-red, crystalline structure with unrelenting speed, and no matter how Anakin abused the steering or controls, the ship did not yield.

     "Great," Anakin muttered. "Perfect. This is just what we . . ." he trailed off, swaying slightly, before slumping forward, entirely unconscious. Alarmed, Artie made to go to him, but suddenly a great shadowy haze drifted over her vision and she felt her eyelids drift lower, lower, until she was gone from the world, folded in a heavy curtain of darkness and silence. Void overtook them, and the Force did nothing but watch.

• • •

     ARTIE WOKE TO A FLASHING RED LIGHT. AS SHE BLINKED BACK TO CONSCIOUSNESS, SHE REALIZED ANAKIN AND OBI-WAN HAD passed out too, and somehow the shuttle was landed. Dazed and head rolling with nausea, Artie climbed shakily to her feet, hands seizing the back of Kenobi's chair to steady herself. She shook his shoulder hard, then stumbled to Anakin and let her palm stroke his face, not caring if Obi-Wan saw. He shifted beneath her touch and his own cybernetic fingers closed around her wrist. "What happened?" Artie wondered aloud, though she knew no one had an answer for her.

     "I don't . . ." Anakin took her hand and folded in in his own, one eye on a stirring Obi-Wan. "I don't know. I lost control of the ship and then . . . where are we?"

     "Uncharted territory, if you could believe it," Obi-Wan said. He was on his feet, groggily testing different controls on the mainframe, scowl deepening as each failed. "The comms are shot."

     "The whole ship is wrecked," Artie mumbled. "We're stuck."

     Anakin gestured around them. "It's probably not that—" the engines gave a screech, suddenly, and the ship jerked hard, the sour smell of smoke drifting into the cockpit accompanied by a low hiss. Anakin pursed his lips. "I'm sure I've flown worse."

     Obi-Wan shut his eyes and shook his head, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Let's just figure out where we are, then worry about the ship. I'm sure between the three of us we can get it running again."

     Artie nodded and pushed Anakin towards the descending ramp before he could argue they only needed him to repair the shuttle. As the ship's belly opened, sunlight broke through the heavy darkness, and Artie visored her eyes with one hand, the other firmly on the hilt of her lightsaber. As they crept out into the open, her breath hitched in her throat.

     Wherever they had landed themselves was beautiful. Ethereal, even for what Artie had seen. It outdid every planet she'd ever stepped foot on, every spectacle, every wonder, every divine celebration or intricate gallery. The air was balmy, smooth and sweet-smelling, perfumed, Artie guessed, by the massive flora that bloomed across the cliff side they'd dropped before. Enveloped in warmth, she suddenly had no desire to leave. Why desert such peace, such tranquil easiness, to return to what? War? Death and blood abound, wastelands of ash and scattered souls? Surely they were meant to be here, an unfindable mystery of a world—

     "Did you hear that?" Anakin said abruptly, shattering Artie's daze. Reality came back to her in a cold hard instant.

     "Hear what?" she answered, ease entirely gone.

     "That voice," Anakin said, whipping around in obvious confusion, a frown pounded deep upon his features. "You seriously can't—?" He stopped short. Artie's mouth fell open. Materialized from nothing, a woman stood before them, if one could even call her that. Seven feet tall with head crowned by billowing waves of emerald hair, her slender frame draped in robes of white and gold. She glowed as if she'd swallowed a star, and her movements were seamless and dreamy like she existed on a separate plane of gravity than the rest of them. Her white face, though beautiful, was stern and humorless. "Who are you?" Anakin asked, drawing back.

     "I am Daughter," she said, voice powerful and arresting. It rattled Artie's insides. "Are you the One?"

     Anakin gave her an impatient look, not nearly as alarmed as he should have been. "Uh, the One what?

     "The One," the woman, Daughter, repeated as if it was the most obvious thing.

     "The prophecy," Artie said in his ear, heart hammering.

     "Oh . . ." Anakin lifted a shoulder. "Uh—"

     "I will take you to him," Daughter announced, voice lifting to a near-shout.

     Artie jumped back slightly. "Who's him?" she demanded.

     Obi-Wan stepped forward. "Did you bring us here?"

     Daughter ignored him. "Only he can help you." Languidly, she turned and beckoned them forward. "There is little time. Follow me." And she walked on, clearly confident they would trail after.

     Artie swore in nonplussed amazement and Anakin's reply was an unimpressed, "This is so weird."

     Obi-Wan lifted his hands and came to stand beside them. "We'll be fine," he said calmly, "as long as we stay together."

     "Or we could all be walking to our deaths together," Artie mumbled, looping an arm through Obi-Wan's as Anakin led the way after Daughter.

     "Again with the worrying," Anakin said, tossing her a look. "I don't get why," he gave a pantomimed flourish of his arm, "since you have the One with you, after all." His lips twitched playfully and he only laughed at Artie's eye roll.

     They followed Daughter, wordless for hours, it seemed like, up a slanting path that wound up the bone-white cliffside, carpeted by lush viridescent grass. The more Artie observed the nature of this planet, however, the more she considered it distinctly unnatural. The summery balm had waned, and somehow Artie found herself shivering, drawing her arms tight around herself. She'd never learned to tolerate cold, but this chill was almost malicious; it froze her swiftly, down to her very bones, in the most opposite way to the enthralling warmth of the day.

     "It's so strange here," Artie whispered so only Anakin and Obi-Wan could hear. "Have you noticed the weather? It's like seasons changing."

     "Yeah," Anakin mumbled back. "It goes with the time of day."

     "There aren't any animals," Obi-Wan added, seeming mystified. Artie glanced at him and realized it was not wonder, but acute doubt that creased his face. "And you . . . you sense it?"

     Anakin nodded. "Mm-hmm. Since we arrived." He glanced back. "The Force is very strong." And it was; Artie could not ignore its sway. It was enticing and harrowing all at once, like it couldn't decide if it wanted to help or destroy them.

     "An intersection unlike anything I've ever felt before," Obi-Wan mumbled. "Be wary."

     They walked on for a few more seconds before Artie felt a spike in Anakin's impatience. She watched him march forward. "Excuse me," he said, sounding very much like he did not care if he was intruding. "Who are you taking us too?"

     "The Father, of course," Daughter boomed. She said nothing else, as if that was sufficient.

     Anakin lifted his eyes heavenward and fell back beside Artie. She scowled. "The father of what, exactly? You? What are you?"

     Daughter turned to look at them, face stern and lofty. "We are the ones who protect the power. We are the middle, the beginning, and the end."

     Anakin spread his hands wide. "Glad she cleared that up for us."

     The spiraling path twisted, and suddenly the landscape faded from bright greens to a strange, wilted crimson. The trees seemed to bleed red, and wherever light hit their broad leaves the crimson faded to brown. The air was especially frigid now, so much so that Artie's breath fogged around her lips as she exhaled. "This is just miserable," she mumbled. Anakin opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly a deep rumbling came from above them and he stopped short. The mountain trembled, and immediately Anakin pushed Artie behind him. Far over their heads, a pillar of rock careened toward them—but Daughter didn't even seem to notice.

     "Hey!" Anakin shouted. "Look out!" Before Artie could even think to stop him, he dove forward and shoved Daughter out of the way. The boulders crashed in the middle of their path with an earth-shaking thud, and Artie and Obi-Wan keeled to the ground to escape an explosion of rubble. When the dust cleared, Artie realized were completely cut off from Anakin and Daughter.

     "Oh, kriff," she hissed, scrambling to her feet and pressing her palms against the pile of rocks. It stretched all the way up to the peak of the mountain—too steep to climb and far too heavy to move, even with the Force. She felt panic boil up within her and frantically raised her comm. "Anakin?" she cried. "Ani? Are you there?"

     "I'm here," his voice crackled over the transmission.

     "Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked, coming up beside Artie. He was disheveled and coated in dust, but otherwise uninjured.

     "Yeah," Anakin sighed irritably, "but our new friend ran off. She says her brother did this."   

     "There's two of them?" Artie asked, brow knitting fretfully.

     "Apparently," Anakin replied, and Artie could picture his resigned shrug. "Look, just go back to the ship and try sending another distress call. I'll follow her and find out how to get off this rock."

     Artie squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. "Please wait for us to find you and we can figure this out together." Her hands trembled with worry. "What if this is a trap?"

     Anakin was quiet for several beats. "I'm not gonna wait around to find that out," he said. "I'll be fine, and you'll both be safer on the ship."

     "That's not fair, Ani," Artie argued stiffly. The line disconnected. "Anakin!" No answer. She looked at Obi-Wan in bewilderment. "The sithhead hung up on me."

     Obi-Wan folded his arms. "This is not the time to be so reckless. He's blinded by his own impatience."

     "If this planet doesn't kill him, I will," Artie mumbled. Perhaps she wasn't masking her hurt very well . . . but perhaps she didn't care. She knew he was still upset with her for turning down his proposal—bad luck had gotten them assigned to the same mission that day, something that would normally be cause for excitement. Strangely, she had thought earlier it would be good for them to have time apart. Now, it was the last thing she wanted, and she hated herself for ever thinking it.

     "Let's head back down," Obi-Wan suggested, casting a worried look at the sky; high above, black storm clouds tumbled across the atmosphere, dragging behind them a veil of darkness that was so dense, it seemed tangible. "I don't like the look of that."

     And so they trekked down the winding path, the wind lashing at their clothes and hair. The sky flashed with lightning and thunder shook the ground, like the bellowing of some massive creature. Artie wished she had her cloak.

     When they reached the clearing once again, they found it empty. No ship in sight.

     "You've got to be joking," Artie said, clasping her hands to the sides of her head.

     "Wonders may never cease," Obi-Wan sighed, folding his arms.

     Something shifted beneath Artie's feet; she looked down and realized, deeply flummoxed, that the grass was wilting as she stood there, like a holofilm sped up to show rot over time. All around them, plants and flowers that Artie had thought so beautiful wilted, and became dust. Darkness enveloped them, and for several moments before her eyes adjusted, Artie was blind to the universe.

     And then a cold, high voice broke the silence.

     "Have you lost something?" it said. Artie whipped around, hand on the hilt of her saber, but if she'd drawn it, she had no idea what she'd do. Standing before them was a man, though he couldn't have been—seven feet tall, like Daughter, but hairless, with a head white as a skull except for the red that colored around his eyes and dragged down to his hollow cheeks, symmetrical like animal markings. He was cloaked in black and his eyes glowed scarlet in the pitch darkness. Artie's mind wandered back to what Anakin had said—her brother did this. He spoke again. "You didn't do as you were asked."

     Unable to stand feeling so helpless, Artie unsheathed her lightsaber and its pale glow cast ghostly shadows over the strange being, seeming to only make him more terrifying. Obi-Wan came forward, eyes blazing with tense caution. "And what was that?"

     "My sister told you to wait," the man said coolly, lips peeling back from his teeth.

     "Did she, now?" Obi-Wan pretended to think, and Artie wished more than anything he wouldn't try to provoke this thing; there was more of Anakin in him than he ever liked to admit. "We were unfortunately separated." His face became terse beneath his beard. "We'd like our ship back, please."

     "Not," the man threw out a hand, "yet." He advanced forward swiftly, towering over Obi-Wan in a way that immediately perturbed Artie. She darted closer to him, angling her saber towards the stranger. He sneered. "So . . . is it true? That he is the Chosen One?"

     Obi-Wan drew his saber at once. "What do you know of such things?" he demanded fiercely.

     The white-faced man looked between them, pupilless eyes aglow. "What is about to happen will occur whether you like it or not." He lifted a hand and both of their sabers slid back within their grips.

     Obi-Wan drew closer to him, eyes narrowed and sharp. "Sith," he spat.

     The man laughed, and it sounded real. Came straight from his stomach, if he had one. "Sith?Ah, yes . . . and no." He chuckled again and turned slowly on his heel. "The storms here are lethal." He gestured loosely to the electrified sky. "If you want to live, I suggest you find shelter." He took off at a run, then bent down as if examining something on the ground, and launched himself into the air. Before their eyes, the man became decidedly inhuman, growing to a monstrous size and sprouting leathery wings. He pumped himself through the inky darkness and became nothing but another shifting shadow amid the rolling black clouds.

     Artie could not speak, her mouth was so dry. Adrenaline and terror had replaced the blood in her veins. She shook and shivered, both horrified to the point of meekness but also enraged that she would tremble in the face of darkness. It also frustrated her how badly she wished Anakin was there to reassure her. What if that thing corners him, too?

     Obi-Wan took her arm and pulled her gently forward. "Artemis, we need to take cover." He pointed ahead of them, and Artie followed his gaze to a small cave hollowed out at the base of the mountain. She picked up on the fear in his voice and was both comforted and dismayed by the realization that even Obi-Wan could be made afraid. Artie let him drag her after him; she did not trust her legs to carry her anywhere by themselves.

     The cave was dark and damp, but Artie hardly noticed. Her mind was on Anakin, and whether or not he knew to find shelter, or if he'd run into that thing as well; if he could feel how much she missed him, or how utterly furious she was that he hadn't waited like she'd said. If they lived through this, she'd be sure to make her anger known.

     But it was a promise made on a planet-sized if.

note.
hey guys! sorry for such a wait, i hope you enjoyed chapter nineteen! please leave a vote/comment if you enjoyed as it really helps me out.

i really hate writing to a script, but hopefully i can make it seem natural enough. i hope you all like this segment!