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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 pilot
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