• Published 23rd May 2021
  • 6,780 Views, 530 Comments

To Walk The Sky and Catch The Moon - Celestial king turles



What if Vader didn’t die on the Death Star, but escaped with his son to a planet far far away.

  • ...
16
 530
 6,780

Chapter 1

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

STAR WARS

Episode VI.I To Walk The Sky And Catch The Moon

It is a time of uncertainty. Above the Forest Moon of Endor, newly minted Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker did battle with his father Darth Vader before the Galactic Emperor, in the throne room of the second Death Star.

Overcoming his fallen father but refusing to kill him, Luke suffers the Emperor's wrath, only for Vader to kill his once Master, becoming Anakin Skywalker once more. Alas, he is severely wounded by the Emperor's dark powers in doing so.

In desperation, Luke attempts to leave the doomed battlestation with his father, but is waylaid by unlikely allies , who direct him to one of Vader's spare vessels. Reaching it just in time, Luke jumps to lightspeed just as the Death Star explodes.

However, in the escape, the ship is damaged, and Luke cannot bring the ship out of hyperspace. Five days have already passed, and all he can do is wait for the ship to run out of fuel while his father's life hangs in the balance...

Chapter One

The alarm shrieked in Luke Skywalker's ear, and his eyes opened to the ruined control panel once again, its single working light flashing insistently. He immediately straightened up in his chair, hand moving in a now all-too-familiar sequence of pushing undamaged buttons and pulling cranks that were still functioning to quell the half-lobotomized and panicking navicomputer.

Through his vision, all he could see was the ethereal yet beautiful sapphire blue that was hyperspace. The sleek yet aging J-type 327 Nubian they were trapped on couldn’t get out no matter how hard Luke tried, which was worrying; being in hyperspace for too long would come with extreme risks because they wouldn’t know what they would impact. It would happen too fast.

With a frustrated sigh he moved away from the controls and through the clean, shining hallways of the ship. It was different from the grungy yet homely halls of the Millennium Falcon; the corridors were mostly pristine, shining with ultrachrome, obviously maintained with great care and love. Only the open maintenance panels and scorch marks here and there portrayed the yacht's state of disrepair. Where his father had gotten such a vessel, he had no clue. Though, he thought to himself, the Emperor did come from Naboo originally. It was all too likely he arranged for this ship for his father's personal use — a privilege of sorts. He would have to ask his father later.

Speaking of which...

Slowly he meandered through the halls, heading to the med bay where he could barely sense one other living person still aboard this ship, their life force like a candle about to gutter out. The only thing keeping this person from dying was the added life support system and with the aid of the Force to heal or mend his intense wounds. The med bay was quite roomy, with diagnostics, a surgical table, large cabinets with nearly every medicine known in the galaxy -on top of the massive stocks of bacta in the cargo hold- and the massive hospital-grade bacta tank that took up the center of the room.

Floating in the vat of liquid was a scarred man, with most of his appendages gone, the stumps long since healed over and studded with contacts for prosthetics. It was hard to believe, looking at him, that this sorry wreck of a human being was the juggernaut that enforced the will of the Emperor ever since the Empire was founded, who single handedly slaughtered many Jedi and countless civilians, bore witness to Alderaan’s destruction, was the face of Imperial might… and Luke’s father.

His father, the Jedi-turned-Sith-Lord-turned-Jedi-again, Darth Vader.

Luke wanted him to live, he didn’t want to lose his father despite the horrendous atrocities the man had caused. He was still his father and Luke still loved him and he wanted his father to stay alive – to restart their lives again.

Five days ago he was much worse for wear, still looked freshly burnt, his skin red and cracked, caked with charred black leather that was his own dead skin. His father was still like this after who knew how long — Twenty years, at least? He had been in that suit from the very moment he first appeared in public — was shocking, to say the least. Now the ex-Dark Lord looked more healthy in a way: new skin had grown over the red and the charred dead skin was gone. However his body was still covered in scars and some bumps. That likely meant he would still need more time to properly recover.

Metal footsteps echoed the medic bay, then next to Luke, a synthetic voice spoke in a calm, diplomatic, Coruscanti accent. “He is doing well sir. Most of Lord Vader’s damaged tissue has been repaired. Though his lungs are still far too damaged at the moment, he will still need to wear the mask until they are properly repaired.” it stated.

Luke turned to face the speaker. To the untrained eye, the droid looked like any KX-series security droid. It took a sharp eye and intimate knowledge of the various droid models to notice that the panels were slightly off from where they should be, with seams for the kind of manipulators no security droid had any need for. True to his first suspicions, T4-KN had freely admitted that he was a custom-built surgical droid, purpose-built by Darth Vader to tend to his dismal condition. He had been ordered to be scrapped years ago, on the orders of the Emperor himself — but, it seemed like with other things the stormtrooper corps had other ideas.

Luke sighed a bit. “What about the repairs, Teefour? Has Obee been able to repair the hyperdrive?” He questioned the droid. It shook its mechanical head and responded almost like it was disappointed.

“Unfortunately not, young sir; OB-1 has been largely unsuccessful. He has stated that the drive was too damaged beyond repair and that in order for it to stop would mean the whole ship will either have to lose functional power or run out of fuel. His calculations have put us at about one day of fuel left — two at the most.” The KX stated. Luke’s heart began to sink like an anvil into the abyss. Five days they had been stuck in hyperspace, which is probably the longest anybody has ever been in it. Not only that, they still only had two days at most to figure out something before the fuel ran out — after which they were most likely KUBAR. That wasn’t a lot of time to work with.

He sighed again in frustration and nodded to the droid. “Thank you for telling me Teefour…” he thanked the droid in a low, depressing tone.

The droid continued. “If it’s any consolation I am truly sorry that I am unable to give you any good news.”

“It’s fine Teefour. Just do what you can for father. It’s all I can ask for,” Luke said.

“Of course sir,” Teefour replied.

Luke left the medic bay and entered into the living space to meditate. A good way to relax his nerves for the time being and probably the last time he’ll be able to at all. Sitting in a lotus position and shutting his eyes, he entered a deep meditation, and dove headlong into the Force.

It was like dipping into a warm bath, the light was giving him a calming warmth to wean away fear and worries. Through his view his very being was bright whitish blue, pure and bright; a beacon of light, the kind that pierced the darkness. His right hand, however, was a dark purplish color, meaning that it wasn’t a part of him. The young Jedi watched as force butterflies flew and swirled around him calmly. In this state he can sense nearly every force user that was close by, including his father.

His color was also blue, but not as pure as Luke’s, it was darker, like the depths of the ocean or the sky just before night, and there also still was a chunk of red — a piece of the dark side that refused to leave like a stubborn tick. It wouldn’t have been surprising honestly; Luke already knew that you couldn’t fully rid yourself of the darkness despite how one might try.

Luke continued the rest of his hour meditating. Suddenly he felt something, something… huge. The force, a massive concentrated ocean of it, both dark and light mixing together in a chaotic fashion. Whatever this place was, it held so much power within and...it seemed to even grow. Yes, it was growing, slow as it may be at a snail's pace but it was definitely growing. That should be impossible. The Force didn’t just keep growing like that, unless it did and he just never knew. Whatever the case, he now had an objective.

Coming out from his meditation he stood up quickly to find Obee.

Said droid — full designation OB-1 — was busy fixing some of Vader’s prosthetics and building some new ones with help of the other astromech, designated as Q-G. Both of them had little arms installed into their frames to make better repairs, and Obee even had a vocoder which allowed him to speak at least Basic — Luke had a suspicion he knew a good deal more languages than just that -- meaning he was probably the first astromech to speak in anything other than Binary. Obee knew practically every single method of wiring, circuitry, and metallurgy in the galaxy, while Kyugee was unparalleled in coding and slicing into other computer systems. Even then, it was still a shame that the droids were not able to fix those systems.

The sliding doors open prompting the two astros to stop their work. OB-1 addressed Luke first in a crisp Core World accent, which sounded a great deal like Old Ben, only much younger. “Hello there. What brings you here, young master?” the little droid asked.

“How much time has passed since I went into the living quarters?” Luke questioned, in a hurried tone.

“By our count, at least 50 minutes. Why do you ask, young master?” Obee sounded puzzled.

Luke didn’t say anything and just hummed before taking on a serious tone. “Obee, I need you and Kyugee to pack everything up. Every tool and prosthetics, any loose pieces, and strap everything down tight. Make sure nothing can come loose and get flung around.”

The droid froze up for a good five seconds as it processed the strange command. “If you don’t mind my asking, young master, why are we packing our equipment and battening everything down?” Obee asked, his synthetic voice a deep, calm baritone.

Quickly Luke explained, cutting out the details to save time. “I have sensed something through the force, a planet I think, full of Force energy that even now continues to grow. This is more or less our last chance for rescue before the ship runs out of fuel. If nothing else, we could land and run repairs, and get help if it's inhabited.”

Both droids were silent, then Kyugee spoke up, a fluid stream of Binary. “Sir, that would be impossible. You can’t steer in hyperspace even if you had a hyperdrive in top condition.” Obee translated, his calm voice hiding the confusion he and his counterpart must have been feeling.

“And even then, the likelihood of stopping in front of a planet without being programmed in is nearly zero.” Obee finished, his confusion and worry more evident in his tone.

Luke sighed. “I know the risks, but it’s our only chance at this point. So pack up now, and let me know when it’s done,” he ordered the droids then promptly left them to their own devices. He had to warn Teefour… and wake his father.

After Luke departed, both droids were still for a moment before they turned to look at one another. Then they released a synthetic annoyed sigh. “Jedi…” Obee sighed out ruefully. “Why does every single one of them need to be a bloody daredevil in a starship…” Kyugee let out a string of bleeps and whistles. Obee considered his counterpart's input before twitching his photoreceptor up and down — the astromech equivalent of a sage nod.
“Good point — it is likely the Force sensitivity,” he agreed. “I find that such a connection seems to instill expectations of reality that even most organics would consider… unreasonable.”
Both astromechs shook their domes in united exasperation, then turned and got back to work.

Luke returned back to the medic bay. The medic droid was busy monitoring his father’s vitals, but he still noticed the young Jedi master and greeted him once more. Luke nodded and went to his father. He looked so peaceful, sleeping in the floating bay of liquid. It must be very comfortable and soothing for him if he’s been asleep for this long. It was a shame that he had to wake him up.

Extending his hand out to touch the glass, he sent out a mental nudge through the Force.

“Father?”

Anakin twitched slightly and slowly opened his eyes, blinking in the light before focusing on Luke.

He...was not dead? Peculiar; he would have sworn his injuries were fatal. He quickly registered the bacta tank, clearing his confusion, before his blue eyes — no longer the acidic Sith yellow -- looked up to see his son, Luke. The ex-Sith felt glad, seeing his son still alive and well after all that had transpired. He made to talk, to turn on the vocoder for communication through the bacta tank, but his son raised a single hand to hold him off.

“You don't have to talk right now, Father, just save your energy for healing. We can talk when you're out, after...” Luke stopped for a moment, averting his eyes, and then looked him in the face with a tired smile. “I suppose I need to explain what’s about to happen.” Luke explained to his father how they’d been stuck in hyperspace for a Galactic Standard week because of the damaged hyperdrive, of the world with an expanding Force presence he had seen while meditating, and his plan to divert the ship's course to said planet.

To say Anakin was dumbfounded was an understatement. Sure he had been on certain planets where the dark side was stronger, more prevalent than the norm — Mustafar, Moraband, and even… Exegol. He shuddered at the memories of that planet. If there was a planet aside from Tatooine he would be too glad to NEVER set foot on again, it was that one. There were also planets strong in the light side or even the Living Force itself, but a planet where the Unifying Force, both light and dark, combined into a presence many times bigger than the very planet housing it? That was just too impossible to believe.

Well, except Mortis, but what were the chances of another planet (if it could have even been called that) like that floating around in the galaxy…?

His son continued. “Father, I’ll be using the Force to guide us.” Anakin’s eyes widened with shock. “This is risky I know, especially in hyperspace, but what choice do I have? This could be our only chance.” Luke placed his head on the cold glass and sighed, staring back into his fathers eyes, which glimmered with worry. “Father, I have to do this for us to survive.” He moved away and made his way to the door, before turning to face his father once more. “I’ll see you after we have changed course.” Leaving the ex dark lord alone with Teefour and the sounds of the beeping life support system.

No sooner had Luke gone that the old Dark Lord immediately turned his head to face Teefour.

“Ready my limbs and armor.”

His tone brooked no argument, and the surgical droid knew better than to try.

Sitting in the cockpit, Luke once again began to meditate, centering and grounding himself in the Force, preparing himself for the difficult task at hand. Luke knew that he would feel immense strain from the task ahead of him — changing a ship’s course in hyperspace was no easy feat. In fact, he had never even heard of something like that before — Neither Ben or Yoda had mentioned anything like that, nor had it been covered during his crash course in Force sensitivity on Dagobah. Lifting a boulder was one thing. Moving something as big as a J-type 327 Nubian yacht — in hyperspace — was something else entirely—

Luke, hand outstretched, trying to lift his sunken X-wing, claiming it was too big...

“Size matters not. Look at me — judge me by my size, do you?”

“You ask for the impossible…”

Luke jolted at the unbidden memory, thinking back...

Yoda, small, wrinkled and green, barely level with Luke’s knee, yet standing as if he was 100 meters tall, a single tiny claw raised as the X-Wing slowly lifted out of the bog it had sunk in, the Force vibrating and humming, marshaled at his call, doing his bidding...

Luke patted the X-wing, safely on solid ground, still caked with bog slime, proving he wasn’t hallucinating, then turning to the old Master with astonishment.

“I don’t believe it!”

“That… is why you fail.”

Luke smiled at the memory and chuckled at his own naivete. Yoda would have been beating him over the head with his gimer stick for hours on end if he heard that line of thought. Nothing could be done, except to simply do. He opened his eyes and looked at the chronometer… five hours had passed. No matter how many times he meditated, the one thing Luke would never get used to was how time seemed to slip by without notice.

He got to his feet and stretched, letting feeling return to his legs. He felt pretty good, all things considered -- in the past five hours he had soaked up the Force like a sponge soaking up water. If he had to guess, he might have actually rivaled his father or even surpassed him entirely. Either way, it was time.

He lifted both hands up, reaching into the force. Invisible tendrils of power escaped from his palms and passed throughout the hull, wrapping around the entirety of the ship. Had they been in regular space, then this would be as easy as cutting a Meiloorun Fruit. This, however, was hyperspace — a different dimension from what he was used to. It was like using the force for the first time when he was training under Yoda, feeling the intense strain on his mind and the toll on his body. Of course, now that he was better trained the strain was nearly non-existent, however now Luke was doing this especially in hyperspace. Luke knew he'd be feeling this tomorrow. He reached out, letting his senses soak into the ship. The vessel started to creak as, slowly, its course began to change, but it wasn’t enough, not on course yet, he knew that deep within.

His facial muscles twitched as he used more of the force. The aches he had been ignoring since the Death Star now reared their ugly head, becoming more and more apparent, threatening to break his concentration. Nevertheless, he persisted, reaching through the pain even as it sharpened. He wasn’t going to give up, he would see that they would survive through this, by whatever means necessary. Unexpectedly he felt another presence because the strain he felt was less now. Then he heard it, the familiar raspy breathing. Luke immediately turned to look — and there he was, the monolith of dark with a pitch black cape and the skull-like mask and helmet that struck fear to anyone who saw it. Even Luke was frightened a bit, though that was quickly replaced with worry.

“Father!?”

Anakin replied, standing tall next to Luke, a pitch black anchor of certainty in the Force. “You didn’t think that I would let you do this by yourself?”

“But — but you are injured! You shouldn’t be doing this, father!” Luke shouted, fighting to keep his vision from graying out.

His father replied with a snort. “And let you do this alone, and tear yourself apart? No, I won’t allow it. We are in this together, life or death.” Anakin stated firmly as he furthered his reach, tightening his grip on the ship while interweaving it with Luke’s, strengthening both.

Anakin had always been stubborn; had always pushed himself to the absolute limit. He had his limbs cut off and set on fire while inhaling volcanic fumes. He had been systematically torn apart, put back together again, and practically welded to what amounted to a mobile iron lung, all while still conscious. He had been struck by lightning — real lightning — had been thrown off thousand foot high cliffs, had been literally stepped on by Imperial walkers on more than one occasion, and last but not least, had whole Coruscanti buildings collapsed on top of his head. He had survived all that and endured many other grievous forms of torture that he would not care to mention. While being struck by force lightning by his master was obviously worse than anything he had experienced, he would force himself to push through that pain and survive. Even more so now that he had the light side of force returned to him again, helping him mend his wounds. But… he was still not in proper shape, and he knew it. One misstep, and the miracle of his survival on the Death Star would be rendered moot.

Luke, on the other hand, was in no better of a position. He hid it well, better than most — but Anakin knew Obi-Wan Kenobi. No one could fake being healthy like his old bacta-phobic master; compared to him, Luke might as well be an open datapad in comparison. Anakin could feel Luke’s presence in the Force, and feel the ripples of residual pain still under the surface. Even now, the aftereffects of the Emperor’s wrath were still felt in the son as much as the father. Limitless as the Force may be, one needed to withstand the strain, or they were undone.

If either of them tried this alone, death would be the only outcome.

But together, the Force itself could not halt them.

They leaned into each other's presence, supported one another as they reached out, and said as one, ‘Move.’

And slowly, begrudgingly, the ship complied, turning ponderously to its new course, the united might of father and son in the Force safeguarding it from the turbulence of hyperspace.

Later, the chronometer would have recorded the entire ordeal as lasting barely twelve minutes. But to Luke and Anakin, it might as well have been a lifetime. Finally, with equal relief and satisfaction, they relinquished their hold and let the ship on its new course, while the two collapsed against each other, panting and shaking.

Luke spoke up first, still panting.

“Do or do not, my karking foot! If I ever see Yoda’s ghost, the first thing I'll do is take that kriffing stick of his and beat him with it!”

Anakin huffed, wheezing through his respirator. “That would be unwise, my son. Yoda was always insidious in his pranks. Any counterattack was met with… incredible creativity.” He was silent for a moment. “It took Obi-Wan a good month to get the dye out of his hair. Or his robes. He was… quite popular on our next mission, if I recall.”

Luke stared at him, fighting the smile that threatened to crack his face in two. “Dare I ask why?” he managed to say.

Anakin looked at his son, his mask radiating pure innocence. “Well, it wasn’t exactly his fault that wearing neon purple from head to toe meant a desire for marriage on that particular planet…”

Luke didn’t stop laughing until his chest started to hurt

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading this Chapter, I love Star Wars I’ve seen the movies, what he’s the shows, read some of the novels even the none-cannon ones. I’m not the only one working on this I have a friend we are both working on this. This isn’t just a Fanfic, this is a project, a big one. Well post more chapters soon, see ya.

This chapter has been fixed, Also this was co-written by Nasubrony.