Star Wars: The Force Unleashed II (31 page)

When the first piece hit the buildings below, it shattered into a million pieces.

And from the interior of the spire came a terrible scream, as of a hundred voices at once, crying out in despair.

Starkiller fought as he had never fought before. Clones-his clones, nightmarishly imperfect but powerful all the same-pressed in on all sides. Darth Vader’s vile conditioning had a profound hold on their immature psychologies. The desire to kill consumed their thoughts. It was all they radiated. Together they could easily have turned on their creator and overpowered him. Instead they were driven to destroy their own.

Nor their own. Just him. Whether he was the original Starkiller, as Kota believed, or simply the best copy to dare didn’t matter. He was their target, and they used every power they possessed to bring him down.

On Kashyyyk he had fought a vision of himself, and won.

On Dagobah, he had seen other versions of him, and spared them.

On Kamino, the choice was taken from him. He had to fight if he was to live, and he had to live in order to save Juno. Thought didn’t enter into it. The Force rushed through him, and his lightsabers moved as though of their own accord.

His clones screamed as he cut them down.

It quickly became apparent that the first to rush in were the wildest and weakest both. In their eagerness to do battle, they didn’t stop to plan their strategies. What they possessed in speed, they lacked in forethought. He was armed and they were not, so for being headstrong beyond all reason these brutish beings paid the ultimate price.

The next wave either learned from the fate of the first or had enough innate caution to stand back a moment and observe the way he fought. They came at him from all sides, using telekinesis to try to knock him off balance on the blood-slicked floor. He was too fast for them, leaping over their heads and attacking from be-hind, slashing at their overdeveloped shoulders and hunched backs without remorse.

Moving out of the center of the ring of converging clones brought him into contact with the third wave, the most cunning he had encountered so far. Long-armed and long-fingered, with blackened, blistering skin, these employed lightning when attacking him, and then by devious means. They would wait until he was distracted and attack him from behind, or come at him from three directions at once, or even use one of their fellow clones as an impromptu conductor. Deadly currents crackled and sparkled around him, kept barely at bay by the judicious application of a Force shield. Sometimes a lucky strike caused him pain, but he fought through it, found the source, and put the attack quickly to an end.

From above came the sound of lightsabers activating, and he braced himself for another, more dangerous onslaught. These, the most normal looking of all the clones, spun, slashed, hacked, and stabbed at him from all sides, one-handed, two-handed, with all possible variations of lightsaber combat styles. Red-eyed and hate-filled, they fought each other, too, and the ones who had come before. There were no allies, just a sea of individuals.

And yet… Confidence, determination, intelligence, and cunning-combined with physical strength and agility-the clones possessed every attribute he did, in greater or lesser degrees. He saw in their faces the same confusion he felt. They were all clones, so who was he to stand out from among them? What special qualities set him apart?

Who was Starkiller, in this mass of faces and bodies?

A desperate rage built up inside him. What if what he felt was nothing but a lingering imprint left behind by the first Starkiller? Did he cling to his feelings with all the more desperation because deep down he knew they were counterfeit? “The memories of a dead man, ” Vader had called them, blaming them for the torment and confusion he had felt. “They will fade, ” Vader had promised, but they had not. Did the other clones experience the same hopes and fears? Were their experiences any less worthy than his?

“Destroy what he created… hate what he loved… he strong… ” That was the command Vader had given him, on threat of death. But who was the deliverer of that death? Wasn’t he the one delivering to the clones the very fate that he had feared? Had they all been given the same ultimatum?

“You will receive the same treatment as the others. “

Death by lightsaber, at his own hand. Perhaps this macabre free-for-all was Vader’s way of weeding out the imperfect stock. The last one left standing would be considered the perfect Starkiller, the one who would rake his place at Vader’s side. Perhaps that was his plan.

“You have faced your final test, ” Vader had told a victorious version of himself in the vision he had received on the Salvation. Maybe the vision he had received on Dagobah had warned him of a very real trial, nor the metaphorical one he had imagined it to be.

The dark side awaited his call. But if this was his final test, then he would not fail. There was too much riding on it. If he gave in to temptation and became Darth Vader’s apprentice once more, then it was clear from the vision that Juno would die. She was the whole reason he had escaped, and then returned. He would not turn his back on that, even to survive.

He sought strength from within himself, and pushed outward with all his might. Clones went flying. The empty rubes from which they had emerged shattered into millions of pieces. Platforms buckled and fell with reverberant crashes. The interior of the cloning tower rang as though struck with a giant hammer. Every muscle in his body shook with the effort of it.

The echoes faded, and he felt a peculiar kind of quiet descend.

The air was misted red, and every surface was slick with blood. He tasted it on his tongue and smelled it in his nose. His blood. A veritable ocean of it.

He maintained a defensive pose, breathing rhythmically and deeply, regaining his strength. The tips of his lightsabers shook. He had never felt so exhausted, at every level of his being. He felt simultaneously cleansed and poisoned.

Nothing moved. Slowly, incredulously, he began to believe that it was over.

They were all dead. He had destroyed every last one of them. He was the only one left-of the many Darth Vader had created to do his bidding.

“Why me?” he asked the silent cloning tower.

“Search your feelings, ” Vader said, stepping into view at the very top of the tower, lightsaber held tightly in his right hand. “The answer lies within you. “

Starkiller stared up at his former Master. What did he have that none of the other clones did?

He remembered:

“How long this time?”

“Thirteen days. Impressive. “

And he remembered:

” The Force gives me all I need. “

“The Force?”

“The dark side. I mean. “

Slowly a dark understanding began to form. All the duels, all the tests, all the torturous mind games, had been to ensure his survival against every opponent-bar one. His Master. In a sense, they were still playing out the first time they had faced each other in combat.

He didn’t remember the early days of his apprenticeship, when the memories of his parents had been strong and the young boy he had once been resisted Vader’s absolute authority, but he was sure the battle had been even then, psychological. The battle would never cease until one of them won.

Was this what it was like to be a Sith? Forever at war with one’s own Master?

“Your training made me strong enough to escape you, ” he said, “not obey you. “

“Yet here you are. ” Darth Vader’s words fell on him like heavy weights. “My most deadly creation. “

“You lie!” Starkiller jumped up to the next platform, passion stirring him to action. “You never wanted this. You can’t have. Once Juno has been rescued, your facility will be destroyed. You with it, if there’s any justice. “

“There is no justice, ” said Darth Vader, watching him ascend. “Only power. “

Vader made no move to defend himself when Starkiller reached the very top of the cloning tower. Determined to prove him wrong, Starkiller didn’t waste time announcing his intentions. He just lunged. Only at the very last moment did Vader raise his blade to block the blow, and even then the move seemed almost casual, disinterested. Starkiller struck again, with both lightsabers. Vader blocked one blade and used telekinesis to throw the other off target. The platform buckled and twisted, sending Starkiller flying.

He rolled and leapt, and came up swinging. Covered in blood-the blood of his fellow clones-and knowing Juno was close, he fought his former Master with single-minded focus. Vader was still testing him; he sensed that more and more keenly, with every passing moment, but to what purpose he still couldn’t tell. Vader himself fought more cautiously than he had on the Death Star, the last time they had dueled in earnest. His armor seemed to have improved, too; it was less vulnerable to lightning than it had been just days before.

Vader threw wrecked platforms and cloning rubes at him, while he scored three slashes to the Dark Lord’s cape in return. They circled the top of the cloning tower, striking and assessing, then striking again.

Starkiller swore that he would not give in to anger or frustration. If that was what Darth Vader wanted, he wasn’t going to get it. The only emotion he would give in to was love.

Finally, Starkiller saw an opportunity. They were exchanging rapid blows along the edge of the buckled platform, blades swinging so fast they were visible only as blurs. Vader’s defenses were impenetrable; his lightsaber seemed to arrive a split second before Starkiller’s, every time. He may have defeated Vader before, but Vader had learned from that mistake. He knew the measure of his former apprentice now.

But the same was true in reverse. And when Vader forced Starkiller onto his back foot and raised his lightsaber to strike him down, Starkiller fired a lightning blast into the side of Vader’s armor that was so concentrated, even the new insulation couldn’t absorb it.

The Dark Lord stiffened, betrayed by his extensive prosthetics. The distraction lasted only a moment, but it was enough. Starkiller knocked his blade out of the way and moved in to strike.

Juno lying limp in his arms.

The vision struck him as powerfully as a physical blow. When he tried to push it aside, it returned with even more power.

Juno-dead.

He reeled in shock. Was this what would happen if he killed Vader? He had no choice but to believe so. But if he didn’t kill Vader, how would he ever get to her?

The Dark Lord took advantage of his momentary confusion. He delivered a telekinetic shove that threw Starkiller backward off the platform and down to the lower levels of the ruined cloning tower. The blow and the fall had the welcome effect of clearing his mind. He turned in midair and landed on his feet. An instant later he was leaping upward again, his face a mask of determination.

Whatever happened to Juno, he saw no choice but to confront Darth Vader. The Dark Lord had killed his father, betrayed him at least once, and would kill Juno the very second she was of no more use to him. Their time of reckoning was long overdue.

The attainment of his true mastery of the Force-the destiny

Darth Vader so often threatened him with-could only come one way. He saw that now. His final test was to kill Vader himself.

When he reached the top level, Vader was disappearing behind the doors of another turbolift. Starkiller ripped them open, but the cab had already begun to ascend. He had no intention of waiting for it to return. He braced himself on the inside of the shaft, and jumped.

One powerful leap saw him rising almost as fast as the cab. He reached telekinetically for its underside, and caught it. When the cab started to slow, he approached close enough to physically hold on to the underside, and raised one lightsaber to cut his way through.

The cab jerked to a halt. Vader was already gone by the time Starkiller emerged through a circular hole in the floor. Outside the cab wasn’t another cloning tower. A short ramp led up to the roof of the spire itself, currently out of sight. Starkiller emerged from the cab, a tightness in his chest telling him that Juno was very close now. Very close indeed. She was exactly where he had last seen her.

It was raining.

The dome had been breached. All around him, the fight between the Rebels and Imperials waged on. Wrecked starfighters tumbled from the sky in flames. Debris gushed out of wounded frigates. A listing Star Destroyer vented air and bodies in huge quantities. Across the facility, dozens of dark columns of smoke formed a thick veil of carbonized ash, choking the air. A constant high-frequency pulsation of energy weapons came from all around him, punctuated by the occasional bass explosion. It was impossible to tell who was winning.

Wary of an ambush, Starkiller walked up the ramp. As he did so, Darth Vader came into view. The Dark Lord stood with his lightsaber extinguished in the center of the roof. Behind him, partially obscured by their lord, were four stormtroopers with weapons held at the ready.

“Get out of my way, ” he said.

“Your memories betray you, ” Darth Vader said.

“They make me who I am. “

“You must turn your back on them in order to become who you will be. “

Starkiller stopped in his tracks. Was that why Darth Vader burdened him with everything the original Starkiller had been-to demonstrate his strength and commitment by dismissing it, his former self with it? Or was there still some other motive that he couldn’t discern?

Of only one thing was he certain. He wouldn’t turn his back on Juno for any incentive.

“Never, ” he said.

“Then she will die. “

Darth Vader stepped aside, revealing Juno in shackles. He gestured, and the four stormtroopers surrounding her raised their weapons and fired as one.

When Darth Vader walked onto the roof, the stormtroopers stood to immediate attention. Juno straightened, too, but not out of respect. She didn’t know what was coming, but she swore she would be ready for it. The strange sounds coming from below-the screams and clash of lightsabers-had encouraged her to hope that it would be Starkiller who came to her first, but that was dashed now. If he was dead, then Vader would surely have no reason to keep her alive.