Episode I Journal_ Darth Maul Part 4

Still he does not praise me. We merely continue our walk.

Those memories feed the dark side. I concentrate the suffering I felt and turn it to anger. Soon I find a powerful stillness in the darkness.

When my mediation is over, I exit the s.h.i.+p for one of my routine checks. This time, I find bantha tracks. One bantha has made a slow circle around the s.h.i.+p, paused, then circled again. I had not heard a sound.

I crouch to examine the tracks. The nature of the movement tells me that the bantha is carrying a pa.s.senger. Why else would an animal circle a s.h.i.+p?

Who is watching me?

It could be Jedi, or a spy sent by the Jedi. It could be an innocent observer. In any case, I decide to investigate. My presence here must remain secret.

I follow the bantha tracks through the soft sand. The two suns are directly overhead, and the heat is so intense it feels like flame. The wound in my leg begins to throb after a few kilometers. I ignore it.

The tracks lead me over the dunes and into a canyon. The sheer cliff walls tower over me, s.h.i.+elding me from the suns' rays. The walls create blue shadows. It is hard, after the brilliance of the light bouncing off the sand, to distinguish shadow from substance.

I notice that the bantha tracks go off over the rocks. I have followed them as far as I can. My eyes scan the canyon overhead. Empty. All I can see is the wide sky. The wind sweeps through the canyon, sending sand pattering against my clothes. I realize that if I were not Maul, a Sith Lord, but an ordinary being, I would feel trapped here in this desolation. But I am a Sith. Something is wrong. I am not trapped, but am I meant to be?

Suddenly, one riderless bantha lurches into sight around a canyon wall. My concentration is broken for only a second. And in that second a Tusken Raider takes shape from a shadow under the cliff and races toward me, brandis.h.i.+ng his gaderffii stick.

Of course I briefed myself before I left Coruscant on what I would find on Tatooine. I know about Tusken Raiders. Locals call them Sand People. They are aggressive, fierce attackers. Well adapted to the desert, they wear sand-colored robes, breath masks, and eye protectors. Their weapon of choice, the gaderffii, is double-ended like my lightsaber and glints with metal sharpened to a lethal edge. I hear that the local people fear them. They merely bore me.

I activate one end of my lightsaber, waiting for the Raider to get to me. I am almost weary at the prospect of this battle. Really, if one has to fight, it's more interesting to have a challenge.

He rushes at me, all aggression without finesse, honking an odd battle cry. With one deft stroke, I cut his gaderffii in two.

The tiresome creature roars and shakes the half that is left. He charges me again.

Instead of attacking, I follow his every move with my lightsaber, blocking it. I can tell which way he will move before he strikes. He tips it off in so many feeble ways - by his balance, the position of his shoulders, his posture.

He roars even louder in frustration at my game. It is time to finish this.

To draw out your victory is foolish. Get the killing done. Then move on.

But as I gather myself for a combination move that will strike him down, several other Sand People suddenly appear out of nowhere. They spill out from behind dunes, underneath sand, from what appear to be mere cracks in the cliff face.

It is then that I recall another lesson about the Sand People: they travel in single file to hide their numbers.

There are at least thirty of them. They are all heading for me.

Entry Eight

Impossible as it may seem, I have made an error. Out of impatience or a residue of exhaustion, who can say.

The Sand People advance on me angrily. In their breath masks and goggles they are protected from the sand that now stings my eyes and clogs my mouth.

The howling intensifies. The Raiders shake their gaderffii and begin to surround me. There are just too many of them. I can take out four or five in the flicker of an eyelash, but that will just infuriate the rest.

Frustration boils inside me. These interruptions deflect me from my mission.

I never run away from a battle. But this one will tax me, and my strength is needed for the Jedi. If my Master hears I have been wounded, he will be furious.

All of these calculations race through my mind, faster than the Tusken Raiders are moving. One fierce Raider is the first to come at me, racing forward with his stick held high. It is easy for me to fake a dodge to the left, then make a half turn and kick him from behind as he staggers, surprised that there is now empty air where I had been standing.

He falls hard, spraying sand. This gratifies me, but it does not please his companions.

The Tusken Raiders have maneuvered me closer to the sheer face of the canyon wall. They think they have trapped me. They plan to take their time slicing me to ribbons, enjoying what they think is my fear.

At that moment, my wrist comlink sends off an alert signal. One of the probe droids has found something. The noise splits the eerie silence in the canyon. Even the Tusken Raiders pause.

The Jedi have been located. I must get back to the Infiltrator.

I turn my back to them, but only for an instant. I run straight for the canyon wall. I don't have much distance to cover, so I have to run fast. I feel the tearing wound in my left thigh, but I push it aside. Pain is another annoyance. It will not slow me down.

I run up the sheer wall, calling up the dark side to escape my enemies. My contempt and my anger at the Tusken Raiders help me. I am able to scale the wall despite the pain. With a final burst of strength that sends red agony through my leg, I flip over backward, fly over the surprised upturned faces of the Raiders, and land behind them.

They are so startled they don't react. That gives me a head start. I take off through the canyon, heading back to my s.h.i.+p. My wound troubles me, but now my annoyance is toward myself for feeling it. I force myself to run with my usual strength and speed.

They are no match for me. They chase me, shaking their gaderffii sticks, but they cannot catch me. I am a streak of darkness, faster than light.

I make it back to the s.h.i.+p. I see out the winds.h.i.+eld that the Tusken Raiders stand a hundred meters away. They talk among themselves, waving their arms. But I know they'll give up, and they do. They trudge off, looking for easier prey.

The droid appears a few minutes later. I check its readout. One Jedi was spotted in Mos Espa. The coordinates indicate that he is heading out of the s.p.a.ceport. He is most likely returning to his s.h.i.+p.

Jedi, I hope you are complacent right now. I hope you think you are safe for the moment. I know your arrogance tells you that you are a match for whoever is looking for you. Your surprise will add to my pleasure when I destroy you.

Entry Nine

Technology pleases me. I personally retrofitted my speeder bike with an advanced ignition system. It is agile and fast. The Jedi don't have a chance of outrunning me.

I speed over the desert floor. The heat slams down on me, and I'm glad. It will slow the Jedi. I bend over, eyes focused on the landscape ahead, searching for the movement that will show me my enemy. All I see is sand and dirt and dunes. Yellow ground, blue sky.

The background of the battle will be almost as crucial as the battle itself. The sand will make my footing difficult. But I must turn every obstacle into an advantage. I will use the softness of the ground to weaken the Jedi, make them clumsy. I am never clumsy.

A puff of sand alerts me. I see a spot on the horizon. As I speed closer, the spot separates in two. To my surprise, it is a man and a small boy. For a moment, I am confused. Is this my prey?

Then I watch how the grown man moves, and I know the figure in the distance is indeed a Jedi. But what is he doing with that boy?

The boy... there is something about the boy. I sense ripples in the Force around him. Yet it is unfocused, uncontrolled. Why is he with the Jedi?

Motivations are uninteresting. Results are what matter. I have one Jedi in my sights. This Jedi will lead me to the other. Even dead, he will lead me, for the other will return to find him, and I will be waiting.

I gain on them. My engine is almost silent. I could knock the Jedi down and start from there. Or would it be more satisfying to leap from the bike and engage him directly?

I want to see his eyes.

The Jedi picks up his pace. The boy lags behind. He is in the way, so I plan to smash into him.

I am almost on them when the Jedi turns and sees me. He shouts something to the boy, and without looking or hesitating one moment, the boy falls flat on the ground. How peculiar, I note as I zoom over his prostrate form. Most boys would have hesitated or turned. His instincts are sharp for one so young. Perhaps the Force is more focused than I thought.

As soon as I am past, I dismiss the boy contemptuously. He is nothing. The Jedi is my prey.

Yes, Jedi. See where your overblown reputation will leave you. Dead at my feet.

In one perfect movement I cut the engine and leap off the speeder, my lightsaber activated and in my hand. The Jedi meets my first blow, blocking it. He has expected my flying maneuver.

If an opponent can read you, the fight is over. I don't like that the Jedi was perfectly prepared for my first blow. Within seconds, I throw away my usual combinations and strategies. This Jedi seems to know how I will move before I do.

But he cannot match my strength. I sense this. And I feel his surprise at this. Yet he does not let his puzzlement slow him down. I tell myself that this man has never met an enemy like me before, and it frightens him.

Your fear is justified. Prepare to die.

I accelerate my pace, calling on my anger to increase my power. My footwork has never been so brilliant. I use the s.h.i.+fting sand as resistance. My lightness and quickness will defeat this man, with his large body, his heavy movements.

But he is graceful, this Jedi. The sand doesn't seem to hamper him. He is never off balance, no matter where or how I strike.

Our blows send shudders through my body. He meets my strength. Our lightsabers clash and sizzle. Dust and sand rise around us. I never lose my rhythm.

The Jedi calls to the boy, tells him to go back to the s.h.i.+p. The cowardly boy runs off. After I defeat my enemy, I will find the second Jedi.

But I must confess that this Jedi is a challenge. If I leap, he is with me. If I turn, he follows me. He meets my ferocity with his own. His lightsaber swirls and hums, and several times comes closer than I like.

It is because of my wound. It has slowed me down somewhat. It is almost imperceptible, but it is there. The Jedi has an advantage. I am not at my best.

This realization sends more rage pumping into my body. I am angry at myself, but I use the anger to fuel the dark side. I feel the Force come from the Jedi and I send it back to him, showing him that I, too, have a connection, and it is stronger than his. I launch a furious counterattack. I feel the Jedi beginning to tire, and triumph rises like a red mist before my eyes. I gain the advantage. I am winning. I will defeat him.

I have been surprised at his skill, but now I am confident of victory. I will savor each moment of this battle.

Even through his fatigue, his blows still have power. He is a large man with impressive strength. He will fall heavily, like a monument.

I feel a savage pleasure course through me. His weakness feeds my power. I drive him back, spin around when he parries, drive him back again. The dust chokes my throat, but I don't notice it.

Suddenly, the s.h.i.+p is here. And in the blink of an eye, I lose sight of the Jedi. Does he disappear in the dust? Flip past me? I am still not sure.

Had I maneuvered him where I wanted him?

Or had he maneuvered me?

I see him make a gigantic leap and land on the ramp of the s.h.i.+p.

No! I am after him, but I am too late.

I stand and watch the s.h.i.+p as it rises. Soon it is just a speck in the distance.

I taste sand in my mouth. The Jedi is gone.

I stand in the same spot for a long time. The wind rises. It drives the sand against me furiously, sharp p.r.i.c.ks against my face and exposed skin. I feel something trickle into my mouth: blood. Still I stand and let the wind whip the sand in a maelstrom around me and against me.

The blood in my mouth stings, tasting of humiliation. Shame. I have not felt shame like this before. It is a darkness darker than any I have known. But it is not a pleasing darkness.

I have failed. Now I must tell my Master.

Entry Ten

There is no reason to remain on Tatooine. I know what I must do. I must return to Coruscant and face Lord Sidious. I send a report that the Jedi have taken off with the Queen, and I am returning. I know my Master will want to hear the details in person.

I am prepared to do this, but I do not look forward to it. I have brought him bad news once before. My successes have been spectacular, but on one mission, I had to report failure.

It was in the early days when Lord Sidious was secretly working to consolidate the strength of the Trade Federation. My mission was to go to the planet Chryya and ensure that their thriving spice business would be turned over to the Trade Federation to manage. I would accomplish this through threats and intimidation. I would not reveal my Sith powers unless I left my opponent dead.

At first, I was successful. A few incidents convinced the frightened merchants to sign all the agreements. But then one merchant organized a protest. Before I could move against him, a groundswell grew among the people. Every citizen of Chryya destroyed their spice supplies rather than give in to the Trade Federation. They wrecked their economy for principle.

I had not forseen this. In my experience, creatures are guided by their own comforts. I could not kill the entire population, so I had to leave and report my failure to my Master.

He did not take it well. He raised a hand, and the dark side grabbed me by the throat and lifted me high. My breath was squeezed out of me slowly. Too slowly. I had time to feel every stretched-out moment of panic as I struggled to force even the tiniest trickle of air into my lungs.

When I was close to pa.s.sing out, I was dropped to the floor in a heap. My Master walked away. He did not address me or call for me for some time. The removal of his favor was worse than the punishment.

So on the journey back, I consider how much of my story to tell. I question whether it is necessary to tell him of my battle with the pirates, or my encounter with the Sand People. If I do, I will have to confess that I sustained a leg wound. I do not want to show weakness in front of my Master.

And my leg is almost healed. There is no reason to tell him.

He will blame me for allowing myself to get caught in the pirate's snare. He won't listen if I try to tell him it was impossible to avoid them. He will cut me off.

I don't want excuses. Only results.

Sometimes explanations are not excuses, yet they sound that way. And sometimes stories are better left untold.

I do not like concealing something from my Master. I've never done it before. But I tell myself that any questioning of me would only distract him. We must focus on the next step.