Authors note: Boy, has it been a long time since I updated! Still, better
late than never I guess. The events in this chapter will be explained in
more detail within upcoming chapters...I just wanted to keep the action as
uncluttered as possible within this chappie.
*********************************************
After his encounter with Han, Luke had remained in the empty storage room, staring impassively out of the tall windows and out onto the forest beyond. His hands were clasped behind his back, brow furrowed in a look of deep thought. At first he had tried to meditate, but stilling his mind had proved impossible. There were too many distractions...too many fears and anxieties...he could not find the focus that he required.
Han's angry reaction had not been unexpected. Indeed, if anything, Luke was surprised that his friend had managed to stay as in control as he had. But there was a subtle undercurrent of emotion in the ex-pirate that had troubled Luke...a quiet resentment that neither had been willing to confront. Deep down, Han had blamed him, and that hurt Luke like nothing he had before experienced.
Ever since he had left Tatooine, Luke had found strength in his friendships. Chewy, Lando, the Droids...they had all found a special place within his heart, but it had been with Han and Leia that Luke had found his greatest solidarity. Their trio had stuck together through thick and thin, despite - or perhaps because of - their superficial differences...but now, following his escape from the Death Star, Luke could sense a growing rift in their friendship. Leia and Han were distancing themselves from him, leaving Luke emotionally torn in a way that he had never before experienced. On the one hand he had his friends, and on the other, his father.
...His father...
Luke frowned, a sudden shift in the Force gaining his attention. At first he could not quite place it. It was faint - nothing more a ripple in the darkness - but its presence grew swiftly within his consciousness.
What was that...?
...Then, suddenly, a vision intruded forcefully into his mind. So clear that it was more like a memory than a prediction, he could see an armed medic advancing towards his helpless father...his blaster drawn...
Luke's eyes snapped open. The intensity of the vision had left him shaking, beads of cold sweat bejewelling his forehead like new-cut diamonds.
"No!" he called out, both with his voice and his thoughts, "NO!! Father!!"
Turning at once, he rushed from the room.
**************************
"...No...NO...!"
Vader's sleep-drugged brain failed to register his son's voice at first. He was floating in content oblivion, a dark numbness enveloping his consciousness. Peace of a kind that he rarely experienced had over taken him, and, truth be told, he was loath to part from it.
"...No...NO...!! Father!!"
Luke's voice again, more insistent now.
A small part of Vader's thoughts stirred, a hint of anxiety now blighting the horizon. The threat, however, was still vague and obscure. Inwardly, he frowned. The Force was trying to tell him something, that much was clear...but what...?
A sudden presence infringed on his senses. Instantly his perception was locked into awareness, the blanket of slumber falling swiftly from his Force-sensitive mind. He sensed the medic loom over his prone body, the quiet click of a blaster almost deafening against the silence...
...Behind his black mask, Vader's ruined eyes snaped open, breath rasping through his respirator. The medic gave a start of surprised, shocked to his patient awake. He had obviously assumed that Darth Vader would remain sedated. That thought enraged the Sith-lord beyond reason, and he felt the familiar tendrils of the Dark Side tugging in the back of his mind. He didn't fight the sensation...he couldn't have even if he wanted too.
His gloved hand flew upward, reaching out with the Force to ensnare his attacker. The medic recoiled as though he had been physically struck, his head snapping back with a violence that sent him sprawling to the ground. He gave a sharp yelp of pain and fear, a sound that Vader found satisfyingly familiar.
As the medic scrambled to regain his footing, Vader heaved himself onto his elbows. His body ached in protest, but the feeling was easy to ignore. After days of feeling weak and helpless, this sudden thrill of power was inflaming to his senses. Once more he was Lord of the Sith...the Dark Side was his to manipulate...and this creature who dared to challenge him would not live to regret his actions.
Swinging his legs over the side of the medi-bed, the black-armoured figure extended both his hands, the Force now a physical presence within the empty infirmary. With one sweeping gesture of his arm he threw the would-be assassin to the ceiling and held him up there, caught like a butterfly on a pin. The medic gave a low moan of terror, the blaster dropping harmlessly to the floor below. Vader kicked it aside.
"Did you really think," he growled quietly, "That a mere blaster would be enough to defeat me?"
He increased the air pressure around the medic, causing the trapped man's face to flush a bruised scarlet. His mouth gaped wide as he gasped vainly for breath.
"How naive of you."
**************************
Luke raced down the corridors, ignoring the hails of passing Rebels. He could feel the imitate danger growing like a shadow around him...but the source of his fear remained oddly obscured. Inwardly he sought out his father's presence, but found the Sith's mind closed to him.
...What if Luke was too late? What if Darth Vader was already dead? A bleak terror rose in his throat, the fear of losing his father as tangible as it had been in the Emperor's throne room. And yet there was something else too. A vague darkness was seeping into the Force around him, like a poison diffusing in water. It was faint, but most certainly present...a black threat looming on the edge of his consciousness.
The Dark Side.
Luke's skin crawled at even this distant sensation. He had thought the Dark Side dead along with the Emperor, but apparently this was not the case. Could a Sith be responsible for the attack? The mere possability was terrifying beyond description, but he did not have time to ponder at it. He had to save Vader...that was his only priority.
Spurred on by the thought of his father, Luke tore down the corridor, intent on reaching the Infirmary before it was too late.
**************************
Darth Vader released his grip. The medic crashed to the ground, landing with a sickening crack of breaking bones. The cry of pain that ensued left Vader's ruined eyes gleaming with malicious glee.
Stalking silently across the floor, Vader stooped and picked up the discarded blaster. He turned it over several times in his gloved hands, making a deliberate show of examining it. The weapon was of Wookie craft - a particularly deadly firearm that had been outlawed under the Empire. Had the medic actually succeeded in his mission, Vader's body would have been instantly disintegrated.
With silent disgust, he tossed the blaster aside. It was a crude and ugly weapon...he had no use for it. Death using the Force was an art unto itself, and the Sith-Lord could not sully himself to execute in any other fashion.
The medic - who had been so full of cool bravo when facing an unconscious Vader - now had tears streaming down his cheeks.
"You deserved to die you monster," he hissed, face contorted with a mixture of hate and panic. "You killed my brother!"
The black helmet stared pitilessly down at him, no emotion registering behind the polished jet eye-pieces. "Perhaps so," he agreed coolly. "Nevertheless, your pathetic attempt to avenge him would appear to have backfired somewhat."
The medic gave a choked sob. "I hope you burn for what you did!!"
Vader said nothing. Then, with theatrical slowness, he moved to loom over the young man, his cape drifting languidly around his feet like the wings of a demon. His focus was now wholly taken by the Force, the power of the Dark Side intoxicating beyond comprehension. Again, his hand extended, preparing his powers with intent to kill...
At that moment the infirmary doors hissed open and a medi-droid lumbered clumsily into the room, a large case of surgical swabs clutched in its metal hands.
"Were you aware that the door was locked, sir? I had to ask a passing technician to help me - oh." G5 paused, noticing Vader for the first time. "Is the patient feeling better?"
The Sith gave a hoarse cry of rage, frustrated at being interrupted at such a crucial moment. The droid was flung against the opposite wall with such force that it exploded on impact. Blue sparks of electricity flamed briefly and then were lost, a heap of smouldering metal all that remained of the medi-droid.
Distracted, Vader turned to survey the damage he had caused. He took in the devastation with a critical eye, then gave a grunt of satisfaction and returned his attention towards the medic...only to be confronted with a blaster pointing towards his heart. The medic had evidently used the moment's reprise to retrieve his weapon.
The younger man bared his teeth in a triumphant grin. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time..."
A sudden flash of red light hit him squarely on the forearm. He gave a scream of pain and dropped the blaster, eyes glancing upward to stare in horror at the figure in the doorway. Even Darth Vader whirled around in shock. His mind had been so consumed with the thought of killing the man, that he had failed to notice the new presence that was now standing behind him...
Han Solo stood in the open entrance to the infirmary, blaster still smoking in his hand. His jaw was clenched firm with grim resignation.
The medic shook his head hopelessly. "Captain Solo, I -"
Han cut him off with a wave of his blaster. "Shut up and move away from your weapon."
"But he killed my brother!"
Han's expression remained unchanged. "I won't tell you twice," he told him quietly, eyes darting mistrustfully to where Darth Vader stood. "Now, move away from your weapon."
Tears streamed down the medic's cheeks, his lithe frame shaking with impotent frustration. He looked first to Han, then to Vader, watching in desperation as his carefully laid plans fell apart before him. For a long moment he remained motionless...then he dashed forwards with a defiant shriek, lunging towards his fallen blaster.
"NO!!"
One blast was all it took. Han's aim was as true as ever, the blast impacting against the medic's heart with deadly accuracy. The medic's body jerked like a puppet on a string, his eyes wide...then he slumped forward into unconsciousness, his hand only inches away from his weapon.
The stillness that followed was absolute, only Vader's rhythmic breathing serving to break the silence.
The Sith Lord stared impassively down at the crumpled body. "Is he dead?"
Han let out a breath he hadn't even realised that he'd been holding. "No. But he's gonna have one hell of a headache when he wakes up."
Vader gave a quiet grunt of indifference and turned away.
The doors hissed open once again and Luke burst into the room. He held his lightsabre out in front of him, ready to ignite it at a moments notice. His expression was one of experienced neutrality, but Vader could sense the panicked anxiety that lay hidden underneath his cool exterior. For a moment he was stunned to feel such strength of emotion resonating from his son, and - somewhere, in whatever part of his cold heart remained human - Vader was touched.
The young Jedi glanced between the three men, confusion lining his tanned brow. His gaze finally settled on the medic's broken body. "What happened here?" he whispered, aghast. "...What's going on?"
Han said nothing, but moved to tuck his blaster back into its holster. He didn't even lift his eyes to look at Luke.
Sensing that no explanation would be forthcoming from Han Solo, Vader took a step closer towards the open doorway, one gloved hand gesturing towards his now unconscious advisory. "This man attempted to assassinate me while I was sleeping. Were it not for the intervention of your friend, I would most likely be dead by now."
Han gave a quiet growl. "Trust me, that's not such a bad option."
If Luke had heard the mumbled words, however, he chose not to comment on it. Instead he stared at his old friend with a mixture of surprise and dawning gratitude. "Han...you saved my father's life." There was a momentary pause as he shook his head solemnly. "I don't know how I can ever thank you enough."
"Save your breath, Luke," Han muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the Jedi's words of gratitude. "I didn't do it for you, okay? I did it for Leia." The former-smuggler waved a hand vaguely towards the unconsious medic. "And just for the record, those bruises and broken bones? It sure as hell wasn't me that caused them." He snarled silently and shook his head. "Still, I guess old habits die hard for a Sith, huh?"
Luke frowned in confusion, expecting Han to explain further but receiving nothing but a cold silence. The two men stared at each other over the room. The distance might have only been a few meters, but at that moment the space between them might as well have been a whole galaxy. Once again, Luke could sense his friend drawing further and further away from him...
Han cleared his throat and broke eye-contact. Scuffing his boots absently, he looked down at the unconscious man with and expression of utter disgust - though whether the expression was aimed at the medic himself or what Vader had done to him was anybody's guess. Then, without saying another word, Han turned swiftly on his heel and strode out of the Infirmary, leaving Luke alone with his father.
A long moment of still quiet passed between the two men that remained. The atmosphere was still heavy with the almost tangible presence of the Dark Side, an invisible shroud that refused to dissipate. As the realisation of what had occurred began to slowly dawn, Luke found himself staring at the black-armoured figure with growing horror. He had sensed the Dark Side even as he raced to his father's aid...but he never expected to find that it was Vader himself who had been weilding it. Darth Vader...his *father*...had tried to kill a man. After all that had happened between them, the Sith Lord had used the Dark Side once more for evil.
The realisation made Luke sick to his stomach.
The young Jedi's expression hardened to one of fearful expectancy. "Is it true?" he demanded quietly, surprised to hear the waver in his own voice. "Did you try to kill that man?"
Luke mentally willed Darth Vader to refute Han's allegations. He would have taken Vader's word in a heartbeat if he had denied it, but somehow, deep down, he knew that he would not. All the hopes that he had held towards his father died in that instant. Leia had been right all along...in spite of all that had happened between them, his father was the same monster that he had always been.
Standing only a few paces away, Darth Vader gave a weary sigh. Even this simple sound conveyed much to his son's scrutiny - it told of tiredness, of anger, of frustration...
...But there was no regret in his father's voice.
The black-caped figure turned slowly to look at Luke. The expressionless helmet bore no trace of human emotion. Vader knew the grief that his actions would inevitably cause Luke, and felt a brief pang of pain...but these sentiments were quickly suppressed. He had long ago become used to inflicting anguish on others.
"He should not have angered me, son," he said simply.
************************
*********************************************
After his encounter with Han, Luke had remained in the empty storage room, staring impassively out of the tall windows and out onto the forest beyond. His hands were clasped behind his back, brow furrowed in a look of deep thought. At first he had tried to meditate, but stilling his mind had proved impossible. There were too many distractions...too many fears and anxieties...he could not find the focus that he required.
Han's angry reaction had not been unexpected. Indeed, if anything, Luke was surprised that his friend had managed to stay as in control as he had. But there was a subtle undercurrent of emotion in the ex-pirate that had troubled Luke...a quiet resentment that neither had been willing to confront. Deep down, Han had blamed him, and that hurt Luke like nothing he had before experienced.
Ever since he had left Tatooine, Luke had found strength in his friendships. Chewy, Lando, the Droids...they had all found a special place within his heart, but it had been with Han and Leia that Luke had found his greatest solidarity. Their trio had stuck together through thick and thin, despite - or perhaps because of - their superficial differences...but now, following his escape from the Death Star, Luke could sense a growing rift in their friendship. Leia and Han were distancing themselves from him, leaving Luke emotionally torn in a way that he had never before experienced. On the one hand he had his friends, and on the other, his father.
...His father...
Luke frowned, a sudden shift in the Force gaining his attention. At first he could not quite place it. It was faint - nothing more a ripple in the darkness - but its presence grew swiftly within his consciousness.
What was that...?
...Then, suddenly, a vision intruded forcefully into his mind. So clear that it was more like a memory than a prediction, he could see an armed medic advancing towards his helpless father...his blaster drawn...
Luke's eyes snapped open. The intensity of the vision had left him shaking, beads of cold sweat bejewelling his forehead like new-cut diamonds.
"No!" he called out, both with his voice and his thoughts, "NO!! Father!!"
Turning at once, he rushed from the room.
**************************
"...No...NO...!"
Vader's sleep-drugged brain failed to register his son's voice at first. He was floating in content oblivion, a dark numbness enveloping his consciousness. Peace of a kind that he rarely experienced had over taken him, and, truth be told, he was loath to part from it.
"...No...NO...!! Father!!"
Luke's voice again, more insistent now.
A small part of Vader's thoughts stirred, a hint of anxiety now blighting the horizon. The threat, however, was still vague and obscure. Inwardly, he frowned. The Force was trying to tell him something, that much was clear...but what...?
A sudden presence infringed on his senses. Instantly his perception was locked into awareness, the blanket of slumber falling swiftly from his Force-sensitive mind. He sensed the medic loom over his prone body, the quiet click of a blaster almost deafening against the silence...
...Behind his black mask, Vader's ruined eyes snaped open, breath rasping through his respirator. The medic gave a start of surprised, shocked to his patient awake. He had obviously assumed that Darth Vader would remain sedated. That thought enraged the Sith-lord beyond reason, and he felt the familiar tendrils of the Dark Side tugging in the back of his mind. He didn't fight the sensation...he couldn't have even if he wanted too.
His gloved hand flew upward, reaching out with the Force to ensnare his attacker. The medic recoiled as though he had been physically struck, his head snapping back with a violence that sent him sprawling to the ground. He gave a sharp yelp of pain and fear, a sound that Vader found satisfyingly familiar.
As the medic scrambled to regain his footing, Vader heaved himself onto his elbows. His body ached in protest, but the feeling was easy to ignore. After days of feeling weak and helpless, this sudden thrill of power was inflaming to his senses. Once more he was Lord of the Sith...the Dark Side was his to manipulate...and this creature who dared to challenge him would not live to regret his actions.
Swinging his legs over the side of the medi-bed, the black-armoured figure extended both his hands, the Force now a physical presence within the empty infirmary. With one sweeping gesture of his arm he threw the would-be assassin to the ceiling and held him up there, caught like a butterfly on a pin. The medic gave a low moan of terror, the blaster dropping harmlessly to the floor below. Vader kicked it aside.
"Did you really think," he growled quietly, "That a mere blaster would be enough to defeat me?"
He increased the air pressure around the medic, causing the trapped man's face to flush a bruised scarlet. His mouth gaped wide as he gasped vainly for breath.
"How naive of you."
**************************
Luke raced down the corridors, ignoring the hails of passing Rebels. He could feel the imitate danger growing like a shadow around him...but the source of his fear remained oddly obscured. Inwardly he sought out his father's presence, but found the Sith's mind closed to him.
...What if Luke was too late? What if Darth Vader was already dead? A bleak terror rose in his throat, the fear of losing his father as tangible as it had been in the Emperor's throne room. And yet there was something else too. A vague darkness was seeping into the Force around him, like a poison diffusing in water. It was faint, but most certainly present...a black threat looming on the edge of his consciousness.
The Dark Side.
Luke's skin crawled at even this distant sensation. He had thought the Dark Side dead along with the Emperor, but apparently this was not the case. Could a Sith be responsible for the attack? The mere possability was terrifying beyond description, but he did not have time to ponder at it. He had to save Vader...that was his only priority.
Spurred on by the thought of his father, Luke tore down the corridor, intent on reaching the Infirmary before it was too late.
**************************
Darth Vader released his grip. The medic crashed to the ground, landing with a sickening crack of breaking bones. The cry of pain that ensued left Vader's ruined eyes gleaming with malicious glee.
Stalking silently across the floor, Vader stooped and picked up the discarded blaster. He turned it over several times in his gloved hands, making a deliberate show of examining it. The weapon was of Wookie craft - a particularly deadly firearm that had been outlawed under the Empire. Had the medic actually succeeded in his mission, Vader's body would have been instantly disintegrated.
With silent disgust, he tossed the blaster aside. It was a crude and ugly weapon...he had no use for it. Death using the Force was an art unto itself, and the Sith-Lord could not sully himself to execute in any other fashion.
The medic - who had been so full of cool bravo when facing an unconscious Vader - now had tears streaming down his cheeks.
"You deserved to die you monster," he hissed, face contorted with a mixture of hate and panic. "You killed my brother!"
The black helmet stared pitilessly down at him, no emotion registering behind the polished jet eye-pieces. "Perhaps so," he agreed coolly. "Nevertheless, your pathetic attempt to avenge him would appear to have backfired somewhat."
The medic gave a choked sob. "I hope you burn for what you did!!"
Vader said nothing. Then, with theatrical slowness, he moved to loom over the young man, his cape drifting languidly around his feet like the wings of a demon. His focus was now wholly taken by the Force, the power of the Dark Side intoxicating beyond comprehension. Again, his hand extended, preparing his powers with intent to kill...
At that moment the infirmary doors hissed open and a medi-droid lumbered clumsily into the room, a large case of surgical swabs clutched in its metal hands.
"Were you aware that the door was locked, sir? I had to ask a passing technician to help me - oh." G5 paused, noticing Vader for the first time. "Is the patient feeling better?"
The Sith gave a hoarse cry of rage, frustrated at being interrupted at such a crucial moment. The droid was flung against the opposite wall with such force that it exploded on impact. Blue sparks of electricity flamed briefly and then were lost, a heap of smouldering metal all that remained of the medi-droid.
Distracted, Vader turned to survey the damage he had caused. He took in the devastation with a critical eye, then gave a grunt of satisfaction and returned his attention towards the medic...only to be confronted with a blaster pointing towards his heart. The medic had evidently used the moment's reprise to retrieve his weapon.
The younger man bared his teeth in a triumphant grin. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time..."
A sudden flash of red light hit him squarely on the forearm. He gave a scream of pain and dropped the blaster, eyes glancing upward to stare in horror at the figure in the doorway. Even Darth Vader whirled around in shock. His mind had been so consumed with the thought of killing the man, that he had failed to notice the new presence that was now standing behind him...
Han Solo stood in the open entrance to the infirmary, blaster still smoking in his hand. His jaw was clenched firm with grim resignation.
The medic shook his head hopelessly. "Captain Solo, I -"
Han cut him off with a wave of his blaster. "Shut up and move away from your weapon."
"But he killed my brother!"
Han's expression remained unchanged. "I won't tell you twice," he told him quietly, eyes darting mistrustfully to where Darth Vader stood. "Now, move away from your weapon."
Tears streamed down the medic's cheeks, his lithe frame shaking with impotent frustration. He looked first to Han, then to Vader, watching in desperation as his carefully laid plans fell apart before him. For a long moment he remained motionless...then he dashed forwards with a defiant shriek, lunging towards his fallen blaster.
"NO!!"
One blast was all it took. Han's aim was as true as ever, the blast impacting against the medic's heart with deadly accuracy. The medic's body jerked like a puppet on a string, his eyes wide...then he slumped forward into unconsciousness, his hand only inches away from his weapon.
The stillness that followed was absolute, only Vader's rhythmic breathing serving to break the silence.
The Sith Lord stared impassively down at the crumpled body. "Is he dead?"
Han let out a breath he hadn't even realised that he'd been holding. "No. But he's gonna have one hell of a headache when he wakes up."
Vader gave a quiet grunt of indifference and turned away.
The doors hissed open once again and Luke burst into the room. He held his lightsabre out in front of him, ready to ignite it at a moments notice. His expression was one of experienced neutrality, but Vader could sense the panicked anxiety that lay hidden underneath his cool exterior. For a moment he was stunned to feel such strength of emotion resonating from his son, and - somewhere, in whatever part of his cold heart remained human - Vader was touched.
The young Jedi glanced between the three men, confusion lining his tanned brow. His gaze finally settled on the medic's broken body. "What happened here?" he whispered, aghast. "...What's going on?"
Han said nothing, but moved to tuck his blaster back into its holster. He didn't even lift his eyes to look at Luke.
Sensing that no explanation would be forthcoming from Han Solo, Vader took a step closer towards the open doorway, one gloved hand gesturing towards his now unconscious advisory. "This man attempted to assassinate me while I was sleeping. Were it not for the intervention of your friend, I would most likely be dead by now."
Han gave a quiet growl. "Trust me, that's not such a bad option."
If Luke had heard the mumbled words, however, he chose not to comment on it. Instead he stared at his old friend with a mixture of surprise and dawning gratitude. "Han...you saved my father's life." There was a momentary pause as he shook his head solemnly. "I don't know how I can ever thank you enough."
"Save your breath, Luke," Han muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the Jedi's words of gratitude. "I didn't do it for you, okay? I did it for Leia." The former-smuggler waved a hand vaguely towards the unconsious medic. "And just for the record, those bruises and broken bones? It sure as hell wasn't me that caused them." He snarled silently and shook his head. "Still, I guess old habits die hard for a Sith, huh?"
Luke frowned in confusion, expecting Han to explain further but receiving nothing but a cold silence. The two men stared at each other over the room. The distance might have only been a few meters, but at that moment the space between them might as well have been a whole galaxy. Once again, Luke could sense his friend drawing further and further away from him...
Han cleared his throat and broke eye-contact. Scuffing his boots absently, he looked down at the unconscious man with and expression of utter disgust - though whether the expression was aimed at the medic himself or what Vader had done to him was anybody's guess. Then, without saying another word, Han turned swiftly on his heel and strode out of the Infirmary, leaving Luke alone with his father.
A long moment of still quiet passed between the two men that remained. The atmosphere was still heavy with the almost tangible presence of the Dark Side, an invisible shroud that refused to dissipate. As the realisation of what had occurred began to slowly dawn, Luke found himself staring at the black-armoured figure with growing horror. He had sensed the Dark Side even as he raced to his father's aid...but he never expected to find that it was Vader himself who had been weilding it. Darth Vader...his *father*...had tried to kill a man. After all that had happened between them, the Sith Lord had used the Dark Side once more for evil.
The realisation made Luke sick to his stomach.
The young Jedi's expression hardened to one of fearful expectancy. "Is it true?" he demanded quietly, surprised to hear the waver in his own voice. "Did you try to kill that man?"
Luke mentally willed Darth Vader to refute Han's allegations. He would have taken Vader's word in a heartbeat if he had denied it, but somehow, deep down, he knew that he would not. All the hopes that he had held towards his father died in that instant. Leia had been right all along...in spite of all that had happened between them, his father was the same monster that he had always been.
Standing only a few paces away, Darth Vader gave a weary sigh. Even this simple sound conveyed much to his son's scrutiny - it told of tiredness, of anger, of frustration...
...But there was no regret in his father's voice.
The black-caped figure turned slowly to look at Luke. The expressionless helmet bore no trace of human emotion. Vader knew the grief that his actions would inevitably cause Luke, and felt a brief pang of pain...but these sentiments were quickly suppressed. He had long ago become used to inflicting anguish on others.
"He should not have angered me, son," he said simply.
************************