Thoughts of a Loser?
Lord Darth Vader was in the great hall of his palace on Coruscant and
looked from the large transparisteel window on the lights of Imperial
City. Nobody dared it to disturb him in his thoughts. The Dark Lord of
the Sith turned away from the breath-taking sight, which was offered to
him, and went with heavy steps toward a chair handmade from an exotic
wood and sat down. Since the destruction of the Death Star only ten standard
days had passed. Hot anger came up in him with the thought to the inability
Grand Moff Tarkins to estimate the situation. He had again and again warned
him not to rely alone on the superiority of the battle station developed
in the Maw Installation. But Tarkin struck all warnings Vader's into the
wind. He did not have the vision of a Dark Jedi; he was only a human with
all his weaknesses and errors. His presumption had finally led to this
disaster, which would have cost also nearly Vader's life. After the fatal
collision with his wing man in the death star trench, he was catapulted
into the depths of space. Only he had to owe his surviving to his outstanding
abilities and the fact that he one for him developed TIE prototype flew.
After two standard days he was picked up by a star destroyer and brought
after Imperial City. There he reported what happened to the Emperor, who
was not amused.
He unconsciously clenched his artificial right hand, which would remind
him eternally of this day, to a fist. But he had not reported everything
to the Emperor. He held prudently back information: The fact that he had
felt the Force with the last pilot, who had been in the trench. Amazingly,
because he thought that with the death of Obi-Wan Kenobi the fire of the
Jedi had finally expired. He had sent spies, in order to receive more
information about this pilot.
Even with the rebels, there he was safe himself, was for the right price
from the right people everything to receive. Vader smiled behind the black
mask, which hid his face. Yes, he would
have soon, very soon the necessary information and then he would decide,
what is to be done. It knocked and on his request, one of his spies entered
the room. Satisfaction fulfilled him, when he could feel the fear of the
man by the Force. Impatiently he signed him to come near as he hesitated
to approach the Dark Lord. "Now, what you have to report?" The
man collected himself and looked to Lord Vader on. "We have the information,
which you wished, Mylord. The rebel pilot is called Skywalker - Luke Skywalker."
A hardly noticeable tremble went through the Dark Jedi. Skywalker - a
name from the past. A name he nearly had forgotten. It was his name. He
saw on the datapad, which the man had handed him. Luke Skywalker - by
the age this boy could be his son. He would care about it. With a wave
of his hand he dismis-
sed the man, who had brought him the information. He rose and went slowly
to the large transparisteel window. Again he looked on the lights of Imperial
City, while he thought about the possibilities.
© Claudia Riedel 1999