"And now, young Skywalker… you will die."
"I am a Jedi, like
my father before me."
"You were right about me."
But look what being right cost. Luke Skywalker thought to himself. The Death Star's hangar fell apart piece by piece around him. Before him, on an Imperial Shuttle's landing ramp, was Anakin Skywalker's corpse, lying in Darth Vader's suit. The ruined, pale face was calm despite the horror it had seen, or perhaps it hadn't seen any horror at all… perhaps that had been Vader.
Tears still fell down Luke's face. The young man had tried to save his father, dragging him along the battle station's nearly empty halls, spoken comforting words to the ruined dark mass, and just when they had been a few feet away from safety, Luke had to stop.
Am I responsible? He wondered. Had his loss of strength cost him his own father?
It was too late, Luke. The Force had been calling for me since I collapsed after the Emperor's end. A powerful yet calm voice said. Luke looked around, but no one living was there. Flee, my son. Go for the future of the Jedi.
Flee.Luke got to his feet, grabbed Anakin's arm, and pulled the Chosen One's body up the shuttle's ramp. He entered the ship, carefully lying his father down on a bench. Then he jumped into the pilot's seat and activated the craft. One second later, they were off as the hangar burst into flame behind them.
I have never been so proud, my son. The voice said again. You were right about me.
You were right…THE END