A simple retelling of the last moments of
Darth Vader's life through his own 
perspective. (I know this has been done 
before, but I wanted to try my own hand 
at it.)

All characters and plot property of LucasFilm.
This story is not used for any kind of private
profit. Do not reprint without permission from
author.

You can contact Quentin at 
Ulic_Qel_Droma@hotmail.com or 
AdmiralHarkov@juno.com. Or visit Quentin 
and Celeste's Sith webpage at 
http://come.to/sithlords

May the Force be with you.


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		Death Star
	     by Quentin Stuart
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He felt nothing. Nothing at the horror 
of his master's deed, nothing at the 
greater horror of his own. He simply rested, 
strangely content, stumbling a little closer 
to the Void. A little closer.

A distant rumble awakened his senses, slowly, 
sluggishly. A jolt. A hard flash of pain. A 
dull roar seemed to fill his enhanced hearing. 
A rush of slanted air, heavy with the scent of death.

Panting. Inside the mask, he frowned, then 
gasped with the pain. He felt himself lowered 
onto the cool metal floor, felt the  sharp 
shocks and thuds of movement reverberate through 
it. His own men. His men, who had served him 
through life and death, running without a second 
look behind at the man who had held their lives 
in the balance. For so long. He looked back through 
his life and felt a vast emptiness, a deep despair 
at what had come to pass.

Movement. He strained his eyes but the electronics 
had failed, had left him blind. He felt hands 
on him, gentle and desperate at once. yes. He 
must speak. He rattled air through short-circuited 
machinery, through black and withered lungs, 
through the pain.

"Luke...help me take...this mask off."

"But you'll die!"

He almost smiled at the naivete of the response. 
This boy, so different from him, was yet so 
alike. But his own life had bled itself out 
upon the death of all he had worked for. Death...
would indeed be welcome.

"Nothing...can stop that now. Just once, let me 
look on you...with my own eyes."

He heard no response, but he felt the hands move, 
take his head in their delicate grasp. Felt the 
release of air pressure as the lock unclasped. 
And then, light.

He blinked, blinded for a moment, weak eyes 
straining beyond the shadowy images. So much 
light. So much life.

But not for him.

He focused once more, saw suddenly the face a 
little beyond his, a young face. No-it couldn't 
be. For a moment he felt the burning Tatooine sun 
on his face, smelt the gritty air, saw himself 
running through the streets of Mos Espa once again. 
He smiled at the vision as it faded, leaving the 
face before him, his son's face a ghostly image 
of what he had once been.

"Now go, my son...Leave me-" He choked on the 
last word, knew the end was near. Watery bile 
crept up the back of his throat and he could 
taste the metallic blood on his tongue. Stepped 
a little closer to the Void. He could see it 
now, a haze of color and shadow.

The voice broke his clouded thoughts. "No! 
I've got to save you!"

He thought of Obi-Wan then. The friend he had 
scorned and then cut down. Of Obi-Wan as he 
struggled to save him from the darkness that 
had claimed his soul. He cast tendrils of 
tentative thought towards his son's mind, 
seeking some comfort, some indication of his 
redemption, and found it amidst a storm of 
grief and love. He smiled once more through 
the haze of pain.

"You already have...Luke." Savoring the name on 
his lips. She would have been proud, he knew. 
So very proud.

Padme.

The ground shook, the clanging of metal against 
metal. His nostrils caught a faint whiff of 
burning machinery. Not long now. The Void lay 
before him, swirling, beckoning. One step closer.

He looked up, searching, he did not know what 
for, and saw his son. Glimmering unshed tears 
trembling in those hauntingly familiar eyes. 
Like stars...

He knew, then, for what he was searching. For 
those stars. Unchanging, eternal, forever. How 
far he had come since he'd seen those same 
stars burning brightly in the heavens over 
Tatooine. The same stars over Coruscant. There 
was hope, after all. Even for him. He saw the 
Void, looked over the edge at the abyss below. 
Glittering like stars.

"You were right," he breathed, "You were right 
about me..." You were all right, he wanted 
to say. You and Obi-Wan, Yoda and Qui-Gon and 
Palpatine. You were all right, along the way. 
But only the boy had been right at the end. He 
tried to raise his arm, to touch the youth's 
face, but could not feel it any longer. 

His son. And his daughter. Wherever she was 
now, he hoped she could feel his thoughts with 
her. He had had so much but he had thrown it 
all away for an empty reward. He tried to feel 
regret but nothing came. Even the pain had begun 
to fade. So close now.

"Tell your sister...you were right..."

He could bear it no longer. He slumped back to 
the deck, breathing labored above the explosions 
and destruction. And above all that, his son's cry.

"Father! I won't leave you!"

He could not breathe. He could not move. The 
Void loomed up before his eyes. He teetered on 
the brink. A drop of wetness. What? A tear...

He was at peace. The Void grew, expanding, filled 
his vision with its dizzying spectra. He felt 
whole. He felt...alive.

He fell...

Into the light.