EXT. ABAFAR – PONS ORA – DR. EVAZAN’S COSMETIC SURGERY – DAY

On the remote Outer Rim world of Abafar, in a corner of dusty Pons Ora, stands Dr. Evazan’s Cosmetic Surgery, a small, decrepit clinic.

INT. DR. EVAZAN’S COSMETIC SURGERY/OPERATING ROOM – DAY

Within the dingy operating room, working under a single overhead light, DR. CORNELIUS EVAZAN is busy at work. His patient recently lost an arm, and the good doctor has seen fit to replace it with a bionic prosthesis.

DR. EVAZAN: (finishes making the final connections) There, finished. Good as new.

Evazan steps back, allowing Llomon to sit up. There on his right arm, grafted just above where his original elbow used to be, is a large blaster cannon.

LLOMON: It’s heavy. (flexes elbow) It’s sluggish.

DR. EVAZAN: The nerves in your arm haven’t fully integrated with the neural interface yet. Give it time. Before long it’ll feel as much a part of you as your old arm did.

LLOMON: (flexes elbow) I want to test it out.

DR. EVAZAN: Follow me.

EXT. DR. EVAZAN’S COSMETIC SURGERY/FIRING RANGE – DAY

Evazan takes the Trandoshan out back behind his clinic, where he has had a modest firing range set up. A number of inactive 'droids have been lined up, dressed and positioned to vaguely resemble intimidating thugs, bounty hunters, and police officers.

Bringing forth his new limb, Llomon targets the 'droids and opens fire, blasting them all to smithereens with superheated orange plasma balls.

DR. EVAZAN: (grins) Satisfied?

LLOMON: I am.

INT. SLIPSTREAM/DAHLIA’S QUARTERS

Within Dahlia’s quarters, Anakin sits at a round dining table, dressed in clean, pressed, nice clothes. Leaving the kitchenette, Dahlia – wearing a simple but pretty red dress – comes to the table bearing two plates laden with thick nerf steaks and scalloped potatoes. Setting one plate down in front of Anakin, she crosses to the other side of the table and sets the other there as she takes her seat.

DAHLIA: Nerf steaks. Scalloped potatoes. (beat) I always keep good food on-board, but I only eat it on very special occasions. (beat) Try your steak. I hope it’s how you wanted it. Medium well, right?

ANAKIN: (takes a bite of steak) Medium well, exactly.

DAHLIA: (grins) Excellent. (takes a bite of steak) Mmm. I love it rare, myself. Can’t eat it any other way.

Dahlia, ravenous, quickly sets about shovelling food into her mouth. Anakin isn’t feeling nearly so peckish.

DAHLIA: (frowns) Is there something wrong with the food?

ANAKIN: No, nothing’s wrong with the food. It’s perfect. The best I’ve eaten since … I left Orron III.

DAHLIA: (sighs) You’re thinking about Nashira. (beat) Anakin, long-distance relationships … they never work out in the end. Couples make vows of everlasting love, promise faithfully to remain true forever and always, forsaking all others … but they’re just romantic lies they tell themselves. Sooner, later, they find themselves drawn to other people … falling in love with other people. They move on. (rests a hand on Anakin’s) It’s natural, healthy. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

ANAKIN: You don’t understand. We share a rapport, a connection. Through the Force, we feel what the other feels; pleasure … and pain. (beat) Right now I feel her inside me. Her heart is breaking and she doesn’t know why. (beat) But I do.

DAHLIA: (smiles) I believe you. I believe you and Nashira do share a deep, intimate connection. It’s beautiful. You and Nashira will be in each other’s hearts always. But you do feel the connection we have, don’t you?

ANAKIN: I do.

DAHLIA: It may not be as strong as yours and Nashira’s, but give it time. The slender sapling becomes the sturdy oak with time.

ANAKIN: But here and now, we suffer. (beat) Would you have me make love to you again, knowing Nashira will feel what I feel, knowing how deep it will hurt her?

DAHLIA: No. My appetites are strong, but not that strong. (beat) I’m willing to wait however long it takes for the two of you to reprioritize your feelings.

ANAKIN: (facepalms) It was a mistake. What we did was a mistake.

DAHLIA: (shakes her head) It wasn’t a mistake.

ANAKIN: It was a mistake! It was my mistake! I should’ve known better! I love 'Shira!

Leaving her chair, Dahlia walks on over to Anakin. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she begins to massage them.

DAHLIA: Right now, this ship is hurtling toward the tombworld of the ancient Sith. Once we arrive, if you find what you seek, you will gain power beyond measure. But with that power comes a price. You will become an enemy of the Jedi and their allies. Your poster will be plastered on every civilized world throughout the Empire. Police will seek to capture you. Bounty hunters will try to claim the price on your head. You will be a fugitive, always on the run, never able to sleep another peaceful sleep. (beat) Do you believe Nashira loves you enough to give up her normal, comfortable life to run with you in the night, world-to-world, never resting, never stopping, in constant danger? Do you really want her to? (turns his head to face her) I will run with you, all the days of your life.

They kiss.

INT. GEONOSIS – SANDCRAWLER/PRISON AREA – EVENING

Darth and Mitra are asleep in each other’s arms when the hatch opens and the four same Raiders from before enter in.

RAIDER #1: (points at Anakin and Mitra) The kids.

Stepping forward, two of the Raiders grab Anakin and Mitra and hoist them up. Jolted out of their uneasy sleep, the kids begin kicking and screaming.

INT. SANDCRAWLER/CONTROL ROOM – EVENING

Shiiid stands before Chlorian, examining him closely as if he were a particularly interesting bug under a magnifying glass. Chlorian, still strapped into the rack, appears weak and weary. Of course, it shouldn’t come as much surprise; aside from the fact that he hasn’t eaten a thing since long before he was captured, he has had his left hand cut off.

ELIK SHIIID: You’re hungry, aren’t you, Chlorian? How long’s it been since you had yourself a bite? Before we made you at home, I’d wager. How long? A week? Much longer?

Chlorian GROANS.

ELIK SHIIID: You can’t say we didn’t offer you a hand. (laughs)

CHLORIAN: You’re mad.

Chlorian’s stomach RUMBLES.

ELIK SHIIID: (rubs Chlorian’s belly) Not as mad as your stomach! (laughs) Governor, I consider myself a moral man. Now, a moral man couldn’t very well go around killing his fellow sapient and cooking him on a spit were all his bolts screwed tightly in place, could he? Could he? He’d have to be cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs to even consider such things. (pokes Chlorian in the gut) You’ve considered such things before, haven’t you, Chlorian Vader? Out there on the hardpan, forcing yourself to swallow down lichen scrapings, you couldn’t help but look at your bestest friend this side of the known Galaxy and conceptualize how easy the flesh of his bicep would go down your voracious throat. I know you have. I know. What I want to know is whether or not those thoughts came from a man who is moral.

Before Chlorian can give any sort of answer, the Raiders with the children come on in.

RAIDER #1: We’ll be havin’ sucklin’ brat tonight!

Chlorian is horrified when he sees Darth and Mitra held in the greasy arms of the Raiders.

CHLORIAN: No! NO!

The Raiders carry the children over to the barbeque, where the coals are already hot.

CHLORIAN: Shiiid, stop them! Call them off! Call them off!

ELIK SHIIID: (frowns) But why? They’ll be so tender.

CHLORIAN: They’re mine! They’re mine!

ELIK SHIIID: (waves hand) Pshaw! I know you have no children living in-system.

CHLORIAN: Darth is my son!

Chlorian makes eye contact with Darth.

CHLORIAN: Darth is my son …

ELIK SHIIID: (grins) A bastard, you say?

Leaving Chlorian, Shiiid jumps on over to the Raider holding Darth. Leaning in close, he studies the boy’s features.

ELIK SHIIID: Not the strongest resemblance. Must take after his mother. (turns to Chlorian) You ever take him to a smashball game?

CHLORIAN: He didn’t know. He didn’t know I was his father. (beat) I never told him.

ELIK SHIIID: That answers my question. (pinches Darth’s check) Let’s open them up and throw them on the grill.

Drawing a knife out of his belt, Shiiid raises it to Darth’s throat.

CHLORIAN: You can’t! You can’t! Please!

ELIK SHIIID: Geonosis never was a place for children. It’s best we snuff them out to prevent them any further torment.

CHLORIAN: Darth’s a mechanic!

Shiiid rests the blade against Darth’s throat but doesn’t draw it across.

ELIK SHIIID: Mechanic?

CHLORIAN: He’s good with tools! He can take things apart or put them together! He modified his own skimboard! He can help you with the repairs to your sandcrawler!

ELIK SHIIID: The devil you say?

CHLORIAN: He can! I swear he can! Just leave them both alone!

The Zabrak takes the blade away from the boy’s throat.

ELIK SHIIID: (taps the blade against his head) How does this sound: We’ll put him to work on our vehicles and tools, first – our damaged stuff. If he shows a penchant for fixing things mechanical, we’ll spare his hide and put him to work on the sandcrawler engines. Does that sound sweet?

CHLORIAN: It does! It does!

ELIK SHIIID: (smiles) A deal it is then.

Leaving Darth, Shiiid walks over to Mitra. What he had planned to do to Darth he does do to her – without hesitation. Both Darth and Chlorian, son and father, begin screaming wildly, thrashing against their restraints or captors, violently seeking to free themselves, to exact retribution against these murderers. They cannot.

ELIK SHIIID: The girl had nothing to offer. Now she does.

CHLORIAN: (enraged) I will kill you, Shiiid! By the names of all the gods that must exist, I swear you will die by that very same knife!

ELIK SHIIID: There are no gods on Geonosis.