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Post by The SITH OverLORD on Feb 19, 2005 14:38:24 GMT 8
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Post by The SITH OverLORD on Feb 19, 2005 14:39:34 GMT 8
PROLOGUEA long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...
The Death Star is gone. The Emperor is dead. The Empire reels from the heavy blows it has received. The Alliance, buoyed up by its incredible victory, starts the laborious task of building a new government. Luke finally begins his personal mission of resurrecting the Jedi Order.
Sound familiar? It should. It's the aftermath of Return of the Jedi, the last Star Wars film (at the time this story was written). You know how that story turned out.
But what if it didn't end the way we think it ended?
What of the plot line many of us know by heart has been subtly altered, creating a different scenario entirely?
What if Darth Vader survived the events of Episode VI?
Here is one writer's idea...
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Post by The SITH OverLORD on Feb 19, 2005 14:40:26 GMT 8
Fall to Madness His knees gave out, sending him stumbling. Waves of unholy agony tore through his crippled body. Who'd have thought the old man would have so much fight in him? Palpatine writhed, trying desperately to break free. Gripping the wizened fiend as best he could with one hand, he managed to stagger to the lip of the shaft. With a final burst of strength he hurled the Emperor over the edge. Leering dangerously over the pit, he gasped in pain and sudden relief. His Master, the source of the poison that had contaminated the galaxy for so long, the hated and feared demon that had corrupted his soul, was finally dead. In the face of that, nothing else mattered. Hands pulled at him; he feebly batted them away. The world was fading into blackness... "You okay?" Vader glanced up. "Oh, hello Tydilia. Why do you ask?" "You were making some weird noises," the young woman replied, sitting down at the bench next to him. Tydilia Ironmoon was a nineteen-year-old Bespin native who served as a spy for the Rebel Alliance. Though she had a frighteningly brilliant mind and ruthlessly accurate memory, she still managed to seem innocent and almost child-like. He knew that behind the stormtrooper mask she constantly wore was probably her usual impish grin. "I'm fine," he lied. "Just tired." "I should say. You had a busy day yesterday." She scooted closer to him. "I still can't believe you killed the Emperor. That's just the most courageous thing anyone could ever do. Is Luke really your son?" He wished she wouldn't have mentioned the very scenario he kept reliving over and over. Tydilia had attached herself to Vader ever since the medical droid had released him. What did she, a Rebel, have to do with an Imperial like him? What indeed did anyone here at the Endor Base - freshly established in the remains of the Imperial shield generator bunker - have to do with him? Why did Luke bother dragging his heavy carcass off the doomed Death Star? Why did Leia allow his admittance to the medical center? Why did the Rebellion keep him around, knowing full well he was Darth Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith? Don't try to tell me its because they think I'm harmless. It's on all their faces. Every time I pass one of them in the halls they stink of fear. When they talk to me - and they avoid that at all costs - they go stupid with terror. Even Luke can't carry an intelligent conversation with me. Only Tydilia speaks to me regularly... "Why do you keep following me around?" he demanded. She shrugged, the artificial light glinting off odd parts of her armor. "I'm just fascinated that a man that was supposedly rotten to the core can have good in him. I guess it proves that people in general are good..." "You call me good?" "Well...yeah..." "Have you lost your mind?" he snapped acidly, holding his head in his hands. "I'm an Imperial. A Sith Lord. The agent of hundreds of thousands of innocent deaths. How can any sliver of purity exist in my corrupted soul?" "Enough to inspire you to kill the Emperor and save your son." "And what's so pure about that? Eh? To kill a man with my bare hands? That's not purity; it's the very symbol of my impurity." Suddenly enraged, he stood and faced Tydilia. "Look at me, child!" he cried. "What do you see?" She studied him thoughtfully for a moment. "I see a man, Vader. A man who is trying to repent of the evil he's done. A man far too good for the hand fate has dealt him." "A man?" He laughed, a bitter sarcastic laugh distorted by his respirator. "No man. I'm a monster." For a long moment he stared at his hand - the mechanical abomination that passed itself off as his right hand. "This hand," he went on, "this hand is the instrument of death that killed Ozzel, Needa, Obi-wan, the planet of Alderaan, Biggs, the Emperor. This hand reeks of the blood of thousands - millions, maybe." A burning sensation filled the limb, and he gripped his right wrist in fury, his whole body trembling. "This hand - this wicked hand - curse it - destroy it -" "Vader," Tydilia cut in. She gently pried his left hand off his wrist. "For one thing, that's not the hand that killed all those people. That hand was destroyed on the Death Star. That's the hand Too Onebee gave you." "That's not the point," he growled, flexing his hand. The burning feeling remained, but the shaking had subsided. "Another thing - you didn't destroy Alderaan. Tarkin did that. Quit blaming yourself for everything the Empire did." "Alderaan..." And suddenly he was no longer on Endor, but on the first Death Star. One moment the serene verdant sphere filled the viewscreen, and the next it disappeared, veiled in a blazing horrific explosion. He saw Tarkin smirk gloatingly, felt Leia stiffen with terror beneath his hands, then collapse in grief and shock... Then he was back on Endor, injured and weak, a team of six Rebel pilots carrying him to the temporary medical center. Leia's eyes had been so full of hatred and contempt he could hardly bear to look at her. A single half-whispered phrase had cut at him just before the medical droid's anesthetic took effect... a single hurried remark Leia had exchanged with Lando... "Maybe he'll die and we won't have to worry about him anymore..." "Leia," he moaned. "How can I ever apologize to her for torturing her? How can I apologize to Han for freezing him in carbonite? How can I apologize to Luke, to Lando, to the widows and orphans of the admirals and other officers I murdered? My crimes are too innumerable, too severe, for redemption." "You can at least try." "I'm going to my quarters. Don't follow me." If Tydilia replied, he did not hear her. He stalked toward his chamber, roughly shoving aside a droid in the process. "Huh, must be having a bad day," See Threepio noted. Tydilia shook her head in exasperation. "Threepio, you have an excellent perception of the obvious, you know that? You really do."
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Post by The SITH OverLORD on Feb 19, 2005 14:43:15 GMT 8
With a shock Vader sat up in bed, sweat beading beneath his helmet. He was sure that, had his breathing and heartbeat not been mechanically regulated, he would either be having an asthma spell or a heart attack. It took his muddled senses a while to clear, to realize it had only been a nightmare. His hands hurt again. Of late they'd been bothering him. He massaged his still-flesh left hand gently as he contemplated his bizarre dream -- or had it been a vision? Who could tell? He'd been standing alone in the center of a huge arena. Faces had filled the stands -- cruel, furious, hating faces that shot caustic glares at him. Then suddenly he wasn't alone -- three stormtroopers had leaped from the audience and fired their blasters at him. Without any conscious thought on his part he'd readied his lightsaber, drawing and igniting it in a single fluid motion. He'd whirled the weapon first left, blocking the blaster fire, then slashed to the right, cutting down all three troopers. In that instant he'd realized who he'd just struck down -- Luke, Leia, and Han. Two more stormtroopers had charged into view. Vader had gone airborne, back-flipping over the startled troopers. The first blow had knocked the weapons from their hands, the second had run the tallest one through, and Chewbacca had collapsed with a mortal howl. He'd then attacked the second trooper, and within seconds Obi-wan was dead. More troopers had flooded into the arena, and he'd been hard pressed to destroy each one -- Qui-gon Jinn, Admiral Ozzel, Captain Needa, Jar Jar Binks, Lando, Threepio, Amidala, his mother Shmi, Wedge Antilles, and other familiar faces. Finally, the last stormtroooper had been neutralized, but no sooner had Tydilia Ironmoon's body collapsed than the arena had filled with flames. He hadn't been able to move a muscle, and he hadn't cared to. He'd simply stood and allowed his filthy soul to be consumed in the inferno... He shook his head, trying to blot the nightmare from his mind. His hands still throbbed; perhaps he should see a medical droid about them. Maybe the medic could also help him deal with his nightmares -- prescribe a sedative or something. Rolling out of bed, he groped about for his cloak. Vader fastened the ebony cape about his neck and smoothed it, unconsciously wiping his hands on his legs. Something else to mention to Too Onebee -- the constant sensation that his hands were covered in blood. For a time he simply wandered the halls, lost in his thoughts. The few Rebels who were up and about at this hour mostly ignored him, only a handful pausing to stare at him. Whether they were used to his presence or had been given specific orders to not show fear around him he could only guess. He passed Tydilia once, and for a moment she slowed her pace to walk alongside him. A protesting gesture on his part sent her on her way. He could do without her prattle for now. Then, deep inside his chest, somewhere among his twisted cybernetic workings and shame-riddled heart, something gave. He didn't know what snapped -- indeed, at first he wasn't even aware that he'd suffered a breakdown. All he had on his mind now was a sudden desire to leave, to get out of the Rebel stronghold and get out now. He quickened his pace, passing the medical center without so much as a pause, passing all-too-familiar faces -- now his hands really hurt -- out the main door, past speeder bikes and starfighters in various stages of repair -- Han and Leia stood talking by the Falcon -- Leia shot Vader a stony glower as he walked by -- past the daughter he knew would never forgive him -- would this pain never end -- into the forest and out of sight. For an eternity he plowed through the thick undergrowth. Snatches of memory flooded his mind, memories he would have sooner forgotten... ...balanced precariously on a catwalk on Bespin's Cloud City, lightsaber drawn, calling to a wounded Luke, taunting him, tempting him... ...standing before the Jedi Council, a terrified boy of nine being grilled by the unmoving sentinels of Yoda and Mace Windu... ...gloating over Princess Leia's prostrate form as a hovering interrogation droid slowly battered the fight out of her... ...molten lava crawling across his skin, eating at his flesh... ...a nameless, ashen-faced officer lurching to the deck of the Executor, clutching his throat... ...the gruesome death rattle of a Rebel he'd murdered with his bare hands... ...Obi-wan, the Emperor, his dear wife, the children he could never truly call his own... Vader halted in a tiny clearing, clenching his bloody burning hands at his sides. He raised his fists into the air, threw his head back, and released an anguished scream. Over and over he cried out, as if by shouting he could somehow purge himself of his countless sins. Then an incredible wave of exhaustion swept over him, and he slowly knelt on the damp forest floor. Blood-warm tears coursed down his face -- curse the helmet for preventing him from drying them. With the painful choking sobs of someone unused to such an action, Vader wept.
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Post by The SITH OverLORD on Feb 19, 2005 14:44:42 GMT 8
"So this stormtrooper's leading a captive Rebel to his base," said Han. "The Rebel looks down and says 'Aw, a dead bird.' The stormtrooper looks up and goes 'Where? Where?'" Chewbacca threw back his hairy head and howled in laughter. Luke, Leia, and Wedge simply groaned. Han had spent the whole morning cracking lame jokes while he fixed the Falcon's gunnery system, but this one was one of his better ones. The others sat around a table that had been slapped together from a crate and a sheet of scrap metal, sharing small talk and suffering through Han's wisecracks. "That joke's old," Wedge noted, "and it was originally a Corellian, not a stormtrooper." "Face it, there are a million versions of that one," Luke replied. "I first heard it with a Tusken Raider in place of the stormtrooper." "I heard it with a protocol droid," Leia added. "Regardless of whether it's a stormtrooper, droid, Corellian, or rabid Gungan at the butt of that joke, it's the same moronic joke," snorted Tydilia, who'd just joined the conversation. "Have you guys seen Lord Vader?" "Not since this morning," Leia replied. "Why?" "I saw him this morning by the medical center. He seemed sort of sad." She leaned back and peered into the woods. "I suspect he may have gone into the forest." "And this is relevant... how?" Leia inquired, not bothering to dull the snide edge in her voice. "Leia!" Luke exclaimed, shocked. "I thought you might be somewhat concerned for the welfare of your father," Tydilia replied. "Guess I was wrong." "That man is not my father," hissed Leia. "My father died years ago. That monster that bears his name will never replace him." There was a savage tone in Leia's voice that chilled those present to the core. They'd seen Leia angry before, but never like this. "Regardless of whether he's your father or not," Tydilia retorted, standing, "you and the remainder of the Rebellion owe him big time. If it hadn't have been for him the Emperor would still be alive." She thrust a finger at Luke. "And he'd more likely than not be dead." "That does not cancel out the fact that he killed thousands of people!" Leia shot back, fuming. "He's a villain and a callous murderer!" "How would you know?" demanded Tydilia. She glared coolly at Leia, then at Han and Wedge. "How would any of you know? You've never even spoken to him." Her gaze settled on Luke. "Granted, you have, but only once or twice that I can recall. The rest of the time you ignore him. You all ignore him." She bunched her right hand into a fist and pounded the table. "Blaster bolts, I can count on one hand the number of times anyone's so much as acknowledged his presence here! You claim he's no longer an Imperial, but when he enters a room he gets the treatment of a criminal!" No one spoke, for they knew she was correct. "Don't you think he feels some sorrow for what he's done? Don't you think he recognizes the extent of his crimes? I've spoken to the man, and he's so saddled with shame he can't even look me in the eye! He's going insane -- insane from his guilt, insane from remembering his wrongdoing." She lowered her head and gazed at her feet for a moment. "He needed your forgiveness. He needed your assurance that he was no longer a bad guy. And you let him down." Luke hung his head. "I didn't realize... if only I'd known." "But you didn't," Tydilia interrupted. "You can't change that, but the least you can do is make amends now." "Before he attempts suicide," Wedge cut in. The others stared at Wedge in shock. "Several Imperials who defected to the Alliance have killed themselves for their conduct in the Empire," he went on. "If he's as wrought up over what he did as you make him out to be, I wouldn't put it past him to do the same." The effect of Wedge's morbid comment was immediate. The table was vacated within an instant.
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Post by The SITH OverLORD on Feb 19, 2005 14:46:01 GMT 8
The palpable darkness surrounding Vader was comparable to the gloom he felt in his soul. He could only breathe in wheezes, and the blood sang thickly in his ears. Spears of pain shot up his arms. His head ached, his throat was raw, and his stomach seethed in bowel-twisting nausea. To fall away from the dark side is to bring on misery, Vader a venomous voice crooned. Vader recognized it as the Dark Side of the Force, given a voice by the midichlorians and form by the energies of the Force. It stood before him in the form of a krayt dragon, its scales so black his own armor seemed pure white in comparison. Leave me Vader pleaded. You're done with me. These petty Alliance types only see you as a hard-core Imperial it replied silkily. But though the Emperor is dead, the Empire will live on. They will welcome you with open arms. I killed the Emperor. I will be executed. They don't need to know that. Go away. I know your tricks. You'll be my undoing as you were the Emperor's. I'll never return. Never? Never is a long time, Vader. A long time indeed. He awakened with a start, but something heavy on his chest prevented him from sitting up. In the dim glow of dawn he could make out the obscure outline of an animal. By the Maker... A weshi -- a failed Imperial experiment that ran wild on several worlds, including Endor. A scientist had attempted to cross the genetic material of a species of giant Alderaanian feline with reptilian DNA. The resulting creatures proved to be uncontrollable and had been released on dozens of planets in an effort to dispose of them. Lizard-like, with powerfully built limbs and torso and a venomous bite, weshis normally traveled in packs, only abandoning their nest mates when starving. This particular weshi pinned down his arms with its paws, its slavering jaws held inches from his face. Its eyes glowed a fierce orange, glittering with hunger. Strangely enough, Vader felt no fear. A sense of satisfaction flowed through him. It seemed strangely appropriate that the by-product of the Empire would be the tool of his death, as he was the tool of the Empire's collapse. How long would it take for the Rebels to find his sun-bleached bones and rusting components in this jungle? How would they react when they came across his remains? Here lies my last contribution to the Rebellion -- my relieving them of the burden of me. He relaxed utterly, accepting and even welcoming his fate. "Here I am," he whispered to the beast. "Come and get me." The weshi thrust its head closer, the tip of its nose brushing against his helmet. It snuffled about his neck and shoulder, then snorted in either dismay or disgust. The pressure on his chest and arms eased as the weshi stalked off. It had probably winded the metallic stench of his armor and decided he didn't taste very good. Vader gave a snort of his own as he stood. Filth caked his back and rump; he didn't bother to brush it off. The only thought on his mind now was to complete the task the weshi had left incomplete. His hands burned and stung and felt slimed with blood, and he rubbed them vigorously in a futile attempt to rid them of those sensations. His lightsaber? That would be rather fitting. It had killed so many others when wielded by his hand. Too bad he'd left it on the Death Star. The Force? More appropriate still. Who would be better as his last victim than himself? But he knew he could not use the light side of the Force to commit the act, and he would not resort to the dark side. He trudged on, plunging farther into the wilderness. The toe of his boot struck something, and he stooped to pick it up. His heart leaped. A blaster! The Maker praise the stormtrooper or Rebel who'd dropped it in the bunker assault. He pressed the muzzle into his chest and fired, but only a click issued from the weapon. The ammunition cell was out of energy. With a hissed curse he hurled the blaster into the brush, then walked on. Vines hung in his path. He grasped one in his hands, gently tugging and manipulating it. Dissatisfied, he released it. It was not strong enough to support his weight - unsuitable for the purpose he'd intended. For a moment he considered hanging himself with his cloak. He dismissed the thought, for even if it possessed the required resilience, there were no tree limbs within reach that could have supported his deadweight. He chuckled bitterly at his own pun as he strode on. His attempts at self-destruction were being thwarted at every turn. At one point the discomfort in his gut reached such an agony he buckled and fell to his hands and knees in an effort to vomit. His stomach was empty - how many years had it been since he'd eaten a real meal? - so he could only wretch in violent, painful, viscera-wracking spasms. When the nausea lessened and he could breathe easily again, he glanced up. The ground before him terminated suddenly not a meter away, leaving a gap in the earth almost a kilometer wide. In his blind desire for death he'd almost fallen into the chasm. Pity he hadn't made it. Vader stood, his whole body trembling like a drug addict desperate for another hit. Here was the spot. Here he would meet his destiny. Either the impact from the fall or the fall itself would kill him, and his broken body might lay among the rocks at the base of the cliff for years before it was discovered. Again he was struck by the odd appropriateness of his demise. He'd fallen before, and he would now fall again. First the fall to darkness, then the fall to madness, and finally the fall to death. If there was to be any good to come from his tragic life, this would be it. He stepped to the brink of the abyss, shut his eyes, stepped out into empty space... "Vader, no!" He didn't even bother to turn. He'd know Tydilia's voice anywhere. The swirl of vegetation around booted feet indicated she was not alone. He could feel Luke's presence, and Leia's - why did she bring them along? He cursed silently and turned to face them.
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Post by The SITH OverLORD on Feb 19, 2005 14:46:35 GMT 8
"Vader, no!" Tydilia surged desperately ahead of the group toward the forlorn black-cloaked figure. Leia grimaced at the girl and at her own inability to feel emotion toward Vader. She was his daughter, not Tydilia. Why was she so concerned? Why was anyone concerned? This creature was a murderer. If he was going to kill himself, let him. He turned slowly. His mask blocked his facial expression, but the slump of his shoulders, the sag of his head, the overall ragged unkempt appearance of his robes made it painfully obvious he knew exactly what he wanted. For a swift moment she pitied the man, but she beat down the thought. That beast deserved no pity. "I wasn't aware death was a spectator sport," he said caustically. "Get away from there!" Luke exclaimed, rushing forward. "Don't come any closer," Vader ordered quietly, taking another step toward the edge. "What are you doing?" Luke demanded, as if it weren't apparent. "I'm doing you all a favor," he replied bitterly, edging closer to the drop-off. "I'm depriving you of my burden. The Dark Lord will be dead, the deaths of those he murdered avenged. You may relax knowing the Emperor's right-hand man is gone." "Vader, if you jump..." Tydilia began, but could find no suitable threat to end her sentence. "What will you do?" Vader retorted acidly. "Kill me?" While Tydilia and Luke pleaded with Vader to spare himself, Leia took a moment to contemplate her own feelings on the matter. She was disgusted to find herself divided - one part of her was relieved that Vader would soon be dead, but another despaired and begged for her to intervene. Intervene, blaster bolts - she wanted to throw the man off the cliff herself! "What do you care anyway?" Vader snapped. "In your eyes I'm still the villain. Your lips do an admirable job of declaring me a hero, but in your hearts you despise me for my influence in the Empire. There's no redemption for me. You might as well have left me to die on the Death Star." He turned away from them. "Not everyone feels that way, Father," Luke replied. "Father? I'm not a father. I have no children. I can never call you my son or Leia my daughter. Don't lie to me." Tydilia shook her head sadly. "Oh Vader, this isn't about your crimes as an Imperial, is it? It's not about your past - it's about your future." "What future?" he demanded sadly. "Exactly. You believe you have no future. You hate your past because it destroyed all hope of your future. Because of your actions you're jobless, friendless, and childless. That's the problem, isn't it?" Vader didn't respond for a while. "I might allow that you're right," he said finally. "It's not completely hopeless," she replied. "I do not see you as a villain. I know there is good in you. Luke knows. I can't vouch for Leia..." "I know Leia's opinion on the matter," Vader growled. He braced himself for the jump. Yes, thought Leia. Let the fool jump. Better yet, let me throw him over myself. Let him suffer the way he made countless others suffer and die... With a start she realized she was becoming Vader herself. Her longing for his death was reducing her to his level. She was no better than he was. Perhaps it was time she found it in her to forgive him, to accept Vader as her and Luke's father, whether she liked it or not. "Father, don't do it." Vader froze, and he slowly turned to face her. Once that face would have struck fear in her, but now she only felt pity for the wretch that wore that mask. "What was that?" he asked. "Father..." Father. That single word, a simple movement of the lips. And yet the effect it had on Leia and Vader was almost immediate, like a healing balm on a long-festering infection. A glow suffused Vader's mask as if he was smiling. Leia, too, smiled, and she reached out and took his hand. He glanced behind him at the abyss, shuddered, and stepped away. They could hardly call the battle won that day. Vader's legacy of carnage still remained, and millions still considered him a criminal. He continued to struggle with disturbing flashbacks and other psychological terrors. Now, however, he had allies to aid him in the battle to clear his mind and the good Skywalker name. A good many years found him in his bed chamber on Corusant, gazing out the window at the hypnotic beauty of the city's multicolored galaxy of lights. There was a time when such beauty would have tortured him. But now he took a moment to revel in it, to rejoice as he did every day that he was alive and well, free from the poisonous influence of the dark side. And to think I almost ended my life that day, he mused. How could I have known the very day I chose to die would be the day of my redemption? "Tell us another story, Grandpa," begged little Jaina. "Isn't it your bedtime?" he asked the twins, who sat side by side at his feet. It was remarkable how much they resembled their parents. "Oh please, Grandpa, please!" squealed Jacen. "Tell us the story where you defeated the Emperor!" Baby Anakin -- his namesake and admittedly his favorite grandchild -- sat on his lap, one sticky fist clasping a stuffed tauntaun doll, the other crammed into his mouth. "Well," began Vader, settling Anakin into a position that was easier on his legs, "years ago the Galactic Empire had a choke-hold on the galaxy. Evil Emperor Palpatine ruled with an iron fist -- and I was his right-hand man." The children giggled in anticipation. So in CONCLUSION, " ....There is still good in him...." Luke Skywalker telling Obi-Wan Kenobi shortly after Yoda became one with the Force
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Post by The SITH OverLORD on Feb 19, 2005 15:02:11 GMT 8
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Post by fishyahoo on Feb 19, 2005 23:14:27 GMT 8
SPOILER - comic books only
I haven't yet read all of the above, but this read some Dark Horse comics mini-series on alternate realities from 'what if' some major event was changed in each of the movies. I can't remember which movie this covered, but in the end Vader did not die after the Emperor was slain. Inside, by redeeming himself, Vader turned from the Dark Side and becomes again a Jedi Knight for good. The last page depicted Vader in complete white instead of his trademark black - cool ;D
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Post by The SITH OverLORD on May 8, 2005 13:47:25 GMT 8
...but in the end Vader did not die after the Emperor was slain. Inside, by redeeming himself, Vader turned from the Dark Side and becomes again a Jedi Knight for good. The last page depicted Vader in complete white instead of his trademark black - cool ;D Now I know where this COOL WHITE Darth Vader originated from :  thanks for putting things into perspective, fishyahoo |
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