Part IX -- The Innocence of a Child
It had been a long day, and Luke was glad of the chance to go outside and enjoy the evening air. The Osmond's house lay on the very edge of this town and so offered a beautiful view of the thickly forested park Star City bordered. Magnificent evergreens perfumed the air with their pungent earthy scent. A breeze touched the trees and set their needles to whispering. In the distance a bird trilled, answered by the chatter of some small, territorial animal.
Rachel trotted out the door and spun around, giggling, no doubt glad for a chance to stretch her legs. Luke couldn't help smiling at the girl, so young and innocent, free of troubles and worries. He had been that way once, but he had longed to escape that innocence and experience adventure and excitement. Now he'd had much more than his share of those, but in the process had lost something very precious -- the thing that made
this child so endearing.
"Watching her, are you?"
He whirled. He hadn't heard Vader approach.
"I thought you were going with the Churches," Luke said.
"I will, once Diana and Darcy stop gossiping." He continued to study Luke, an unnerving habit that made Luke wonder if he was examining him for flaws. "You need a great deal more training if you cannot sense the approach of a man wearing a respiration unit."
Recalling Darcy's little stealth tactic that had blown their cover in the first place, Luke chose not to reply.
Trapper and Rachel were chasing each other around in circles on the lawn now, squealing and laughing. Rachel stepped on the hem of her Tusken robes and tumbled onto the grass. Trapper flung himself down beside her, and they continued to giggle as they folded their arms behind their heads in makeshift pillows and stared into the sapphire sky.
Sensing his thoughts, Vader remarked cynically "They will grow up, as all must do. They will mature and learn that the existence they thought was simply black and white is various shades of gray. And with that revelation will come the shedding of youth and all that it entails -- naiveté, foolish imaginings, impossible flights of fancy. It is inevitable."
"You sound as if you know that from experience."
"I should think you would know that as well."
"For me, the moment I lost my innocence was the moment I learned that which I loathed with all my soul and that which I longed for with all my heart were one and the same." Those words came out with an anger he couldn't quite suppress.
"So you hate me."
"I hate what you have become," Luke clarified, "but not what you once were. Nor what you could still become."
There was a moment of silence that seemed an hour. Steve's car pulled away with a good-bye blast of its horn.
Luke decided to try a line from "Return of the Jedi" on his father. What could it hurt? It had seemed to soften Vader's heart in the book.
"I know there is good in you," he recited, choosing words that mirrored what he felt. "I know the Emperor hasn't driven it from you fully."
Vader didn't seem to hear. When Luke touched him with the Force he had to draw back from the violence, the turbulence, a feeling of upheaval he'd noted earlier during their viewing of "Attack of the Clones" but hadn't really considered until now.
"I can feel the conflict within you! Let go of your hate!"
No answer. Cody burst from the house, laughing uncontrollably and making remarks about Maria von Trapp. Amethyst was right behind, practically frothing at the mouth and threatening to do serious bodily damage if he didn't shut up.
"Stop it," Vader replied finally.
"Stop what?"
"Trying to play hero." His fist balled up, the leather glove pulling taut over his knuckles. "You cannot save me, Luke. No one can. It will only get you killed. If you want to save someone, save yourself." And he stormed away.
"Wait!" Luke called, running to catch up. "Father, I'm not going to give up. I thought I'd lost my father once, and I'm not going to lose him again. I know there is still a shred of light inside you, and you know it, or you wouldn't admit you needed saving!"
Vader's gaze was like fire's heat on his brow.
"Luke, you do not know the power of the dark side," he groaned. "I must obey my master."
The words dragged out of his voice synthesizer, soaked with the pain of two decades of bondage and agony. Though he'd read this very phrase in "Jedi," the double meaning of it struck Luke heavily. He was no almighty Imperial leader, but a pawn in the service of a tyrannical master. The dark side gave power to its servants, but at the same time chained them into lifelong slavery, exacting a dear price.
"It is too late for me," Vader continued. "Do as you will, Skywalker. Your life is still your own. Mine is not. It never was."
With that cryptic remark, he departed in a swirl of black cloth.
Luke stared after him in shock.
/He has to follow his own path. No one can choose it for him./
Leia. She had said those words so long ago, when Han had delivered the two of them to Yavin and was about to leave with his reward. And like it or not, they applied in this situation as well. Luke couldn't force Vader to turn. Vader had to choose to renounce the dark side on his own.
/Once down the dark path you start, forever will it dominate your destiny./
Yoda's words, once a caution to an upstart apprentice, were now Luke's bane. If Yoda was correct, there was no redemption for his father. Vader had chosen a grim and twisted road to travel, a road with no end, if Yoda were right. And there was no turning around, no exit.
Well, Luke wasn't going to accept that. He was going to give Vader as many detours on the dark road as possible.
A metallic clang elicited giggles from onlookers as the Dark Lord hit his head trying to climb into the Church's van. Rachel scrambled in after him. Could she and her odd fondness for Vader be the key?
/Please work on him for me, little one/ he prayed silently. /Let there be something you can do for him./
He was startled to receive a reply.
/He sounds funny when he snores. I heard him last night./
/Rachel?/
/I'll help him. He's not bad, or he wouldn't have let me sit on his lap last night./
Rachel Church, a Force-strong Earth human? But it couldn't be. Could it? Luke just shook his head in amazement. Surely Vader would see that. Luke could only hope her power wouldn't doom her as it had doomed many others.
"Luke, this train's leaving!" shouted Austin.
"On my way!"
***
"And this is my room," Trapper announced, indicating the last stop in their grand tour with a dramatic sweep of his arm. "I dunno where you're sleeping, but it sure isn't here."
Luke could see why not. That there was any room for Trapper to sleep at night was a wonder. Every inch of space had been devoted to Star Wars memorabilia -- shelves and boxes and piles of it. Movie and character posters, lovingly framed, practically crammed any space not occupied by shelves overflowing with starship models and action figures. Gaps left by the varying sizes of the posters were filled with autographed photos
of Star Wars celebrities (Luke was amused to discover a Mark Hamill picture that depicted what he would probably look like in another twenty years). Toys littered the floor, the bedside table, the small desk where he probably did schoolwork, even the bed.
"Nice room," Luke noted, impressed. "Got yourself quite the collection."
"I'm not a true collector," the boy admitted. "True collectors don't open the packages. They keep all their Star Wars stuff in acid-free airtight boxes away from direct sunlight in some vault somewhere. 'It'll pay for your college tuition someday if you keep it in mint condition,' they tell me. Phooey. What good is a Battle Action Reek if you can't play with it?"
"Your logic astounds me, Trapper."
"Thank you." He motioned Luke out. "I think you have to sleep in the living room. The couch folds out into a bed, so it won't be too bad. C'mon, I'll show you how to play 'Star Wars Racer' on the Playstation! It's my favorite game."
Luke accepted with a grateful smile. Between the Earth lessons and his discussion with his father it had been a long day, and he felt he deserved a break.
***
"Are you sure about that?" Jason insisted for the fourth time. "I told you it wouldn't be a problem to fix up a spare room for you..."
"And I told you, Jason, the bathtub will continue to do," Fett growled.
Jason shrugged. "Whatever. Join us for dinner? We got hot dogs tonight."
Fett gave him a hard stare that, even through the mask, plainly said "What do YOU think?"
"Okaaaaayyyy," Jason replied. "I guess we fix a plate for you and put it in the fridge. But I don't know why you're so hyper about it. We've all seen your old man unmasked, and since you're his clone..." His voice trailed off as the hunter continued to glower. "Never mind. Uh, would you like a pillow or blanket or..."
"No thank you," Fett replied firmly.
He paced through the house, familiarizing himself with it, counting entry points and calculating different escape routes and hiding spots. His first observation was that the Osmonds' home seemed too large for two young men. His second was that the place was an absolute mess, as one would expect two bachelors' home to be. Miniature forests of mold flourished on abandoned plates here and there, and judging from the amount of clothing heaped hither and yon, they probably only did laundry when absolutely necessary. The bathrooms, thankfully, were the cleanest spots in the house.
"Why do two men need such a big house?" he asked, stepping over a stack of outdated newspapers.
"Oh, it's not ours," Jason replied. "Our grandma owns it. But she's retired in Florida, and we had to move out of our old pad in a hurry, so she lets us live here. All we pay our utilities. So what are you planning on doing the rest of the night? Pat and I're gonna be watching a movie."
Fett shrugged. "I might as well join you."
"Cool! Hope you like 'Monty Python.'"
***
The lights were off in the guest room of the Church's house as Vader sat cross-legged on the bed, a hand on each knee, deep in meditation. Lost in the Force, he followed its currents and tides, feeling it course through his body, the room, the house. It was the power that he had governed and that had governed him all his life, as inseparable from him as his lifeblood. His gift and curse.
His son... his very flesh and blood. What a noble and ultimately stupid cause he had committed himself to. The boy was full of impossible hopes. Didn't he know that one caught within the dark side's grips could never be freed? Over the course of the Jedi Order's existence dozens of Jedi had switched allegiances to the dark, but no Sith or other dark-side wielder had converted to the light. It was impossible, for while the light gave its adherents the choice of leaving if they wished, the dark forbade its followers from departing its clutches.
But Luke was determined to do it. And that would be his undoing. For he was unwilling to run from Vader in his devotion to his cause, and would follow him blindly back to the Emperor. His master would then proceed to twist the young Skywalker into a being of unredeemable corruption.
/As he twisted you./
Luke was right. He was in conflict. He hated his master, but longed to serve him. He hated the power of the dark side, yet reveled in it when it rose to his bidding. Like an addict coming to grips with his addiction, he loathed and lusted for the dark. But was he so much of a power-mad monster that he would doom his son to the same fate?
"Are you asleep?"
His eyes flew open, and he looked down to see Rachel staring at him, out of her Tusken costume and dressed in pastel nightclothes. She had long brown hair that reached her knees and wide hazel eyes. In one arm she clutched Mori, in the other she held a book. And she glowed in the framework of the Force, as bright as the young Jedi trainees he had met on his first visit to the Jedi Temple as a boy.
/She's strong! How could I have missed that?/
Aloud he said "In our culture, we usually knock before entering a room."
"I did, but you didn't answer," she replied as if that excused her. She climbed onto the bed beside him and arranged herself until her pose mirrored his. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Meditating."
"What's that mean?"
"I'm listening to the Force."
"Oh."
She was silent for awhile. Confident that she would no longer interrupt him, he began to slip back into contemplation.
"Can you read me a story?"
His head snapped around to face her. "What?"
"I said, can you read me a story?" She thrust her book at him.
He was absolutely stunned at her request. In twenty-four years of servitude to the Empire, no child had ever dared approach him. His appearance was so terrifying that any children he happened to meet ran shrieking in terror. In some sectors of the galaxy parents used him as a sort of boogeyman to scare children into obedience, a practice he did not discourage. And here was this girl, asking him to read a book to her as if he were her uncle or grandfather.
At last he found words. "No, Rachel. Ask your parents."
"But I want you to!" She stuck her lip out in a pout.
"No, Rachel."
"Please?" she whined, batting her eyes in an expression that would have melted a lesser man's heart.
"For the last time, no! Now get out!"
Despite his hard tone, she only recoiled slightly, though he had spoken at a volume that would have sent his subordinate officers quivering in terror. She did put the book down, however.
"Why are you so grumpy?" she demanded.
He sighed and unfolded his legs. As long as he wasn't going to get any meditating done he might as well answer her questions.
"Rachel, do you know what a castaway is?"
"Uh-uh."
"That's what I am. A castaway is someone far from home who can't get back."
"Oh, so you're shipwrecked! Like on 'Swiss Family Robinson!'"
He nodded. "I have to get back to my Stardestroyer... my starship so I can talk to the Emperor. Do you know who he is?"
"Yeah. I don't like him. He's ugly."
He had to concede that point. "But the ships we used to land on your planet are broken and I can't get back to my big ship."
She nodded understandingly. "So you're mad 'cause you can't talk to your boss."
"Correct."
"So just tell him you're late 'cause your ships broke. Daddy's boss isn't mad when he's late for work 'cause his car broke."
"If only it were that simple," Vader murmured, more to himself than to her. "The Emperor is not a forgiving man. He believes there is no accident that cannot be prevented."
"Pur-vented means stopped, huh?"
He nodded.
She considered that.
"I think your boss is really mean," she concluded finally.
Her frankness startled him. That a mere child could recognize the Emperor's cruelty and he couldn't bring himself to admit it was remarkable. Had his desperate need for a master, a father figure, blinded him so much to the Emperor's sadistic definition of a student-master relationship?
He looked back at Rachel with renewed respect, only to see that she had once again jammed the book at him.
"Could you PLEASE read me a story?"
With a sigh Vader took the book from her. It was the least he could do.
"You'll like this one," she said delightedly as he glanced at the title -- "Rumplestiltskin" -- and flipped past the title pages.
"Once upon a time," he read, "there lived a miller in a faraway kingdom who had a beautiful young daughter. One day the king was riding through the land to visit his subjects, and he stopped at the miller's home to talk. Now the miller was a bit of a liar, and so he told the king 'My daughter can spin straw into gold...'"
It had been a long day, and Luke was glad of the chance to go outside and enjoy the evening air. The Osmond's house lay on the very edge of this town and so offered a beautiful view of the thickly forested park Star City bordered. Magnificent evergreens perfumed the air with their pungent earthy scent. A breeze touched the trees and set their needles to whispering. In the distance a bird trilled, answered by the chatter of some small, territorial animal.
Rachel trotted out the door and spun around, giggling, no doubt glad for a chance to stretch her legs. Luke couldn't help smiling at the girl, so young and innocent, free of troubles and worries. He had been that way once, but he had longed to escape that innocence and experience adventure and excitement. Now he'd had much more than his share of those, but in the process had lost something very precious -- the thing that made
this child so endearing.
"Watching her, are you?"
He whirled. He hadn't heard Vader approach.
"I thought you were going with the Churches," Luke said.
"I will, once Diana and Darcy stop gossiping." He continued to study Luke, an unnerving habit that made Luke wonder if he was examining him for flaws. "You need a great deal more training if you cannot sense the approach of a man wearing a respiration unit."
Recalling Darcy's little stealth tactic that had blown their cover in the first place, Luke chose not to reply.
Trapper and Rachel were chasing each other around in circles on the lawn now, squealing and laughing. Rachel stepped on the hem of her Tusken robes and tumbled onto the grass. Trapper flung himself down beside her, and they continued to giggle as they folded their arms behind their heads in makeshift pillows and stared into the sapphire sky.
Sensing his thoughts, Vader remarked cynically "They will grow up, as all must do. They will mature and learn that the existence they thought was simply black and white is various shades of gray. And with that revelation will come the shedding of youth and all that it entails -- naiveté, foolish imaginings, impossible flights of fancy. It is inevitable."
"You sound as if you know that from experience."
"I should think you would know that as well."
"For me, the moment I lost my innocence was the moment I learned that which I loathed with all my soul and that which I longed for with all my heart were one and the same." Those words came out with an anger he couldn't quite suppress.
"So you hate me."
"I hate what you have become," Luke clarified, "but not what you once were. Nor what you could still become."
There was a moment of silence that seemed an hour. Steve's car pulled away with a good-bye blast of its horn.
Luke decided to try a line from "Return of the Jedi" on his father. What could it hurt? It had seemed to soften Vader's heart in the book.
"I know there is good in you," he recited, choosing words that mirrored what he felt. "I know the Emperor hasn't driven it from you fully."
Vader didn't seem to hear. When Luke touched him with the Force he had to draw back from the violence, the turbulence, a feeling of upheaval he'd noted earlier during their viewing of "Attack of the Clones" but hadn't really considered until now.
"I can feel the conflict within you! Let go of your hate!"
No answer. Cody burst from the house, laughing uncontrollably and making remarks about Maria von Trapp. Amethyst was right behind, practically frothing at the mouth and threatening to do serious bodily damage if he didn't shut up.
"Stop it," Vader replied finally.
"Stop what?"
"Trying to play hero." His fist balled up, the leather glove pulling taut over his knuckles. "You cannot save me, Luke. No one can. It will only get you killed. If you want to save someone, save yourself." And he stormed away.
"Wait!" Luke called, running to catch up. "Father, I'm not going to give up. I thought I'd lost my father once, and I'm not going to lose him again. I know there is still a shred of light inside you, and you know it, or you wouldn't admit you needed saving!"
Vader's gaze was like fire's heat on his brow.
"Luke, you do not know the power of the dark side," he groaned. "I must obey my master."
The words dragged out of his voice synthesizer, soaked with the pain of two decades of bondage and agony. Though he'd read this very phrase in "Jedi," the double meaning of it struck Luke heavily. He was no almighty Imperial leader, but a pawn in the service of a tyrannical master. The dark side gave power to its servants, but at the same time chained them into lifelong slavery, exacting a dear price.
"It is too late for me," Vader continued. "Do as you will, Skywalker. Your life is still your own. Mine is not. It never was."
With that cryptic remark, he departed in a swirl of black cloth.
Luke stared after him in shock.
/He has to follow his own path. No one can choose it for him./
Leia. She had said those words so long ago, when Han had delivered the two of them to Yavin and was about to leave with his reward. And like it or not, they applied in this situation as well. Luke couldn't force Vader to turn. Vader had to choose to renounce the dark side on his own.
/Once down the dark path you start, forever will it dominate your destiny./
Yoda's words, once a caution to an upstart apprentice, were now Luke's bane. If Yoda was correct, there was no redemption for his father. Vader had chosen a grim and twisted road to travel, a road with no end, if Yoda were right. And there was no turning around, no exit.
Well, Luke wasn't going to accept that. He was going to give Vader as many detours on the dark road as possible.
A metallic clang elicited giggles from onlookers as the Dark Lord hit his head trying to climb into the Church's van. Rachel scrambled in after him. Could she and her odd fondness for Vader be the key?
/Please work on him for me, little one/ he prayed silently. /Let there be something you can do for him./
He was startled to receive a reply.
/He sounds funny when he snores. I heard him last night./
/Rachel?/
/I'll help him. He's not bad, or he wouldn't have let me sit on his lap last night./
Rachel Church, a Force-strong Earth human? But it couldn't be. Could it? Luke just shook his head in amazement. Surely Vader would see that. Luke could only hope her power wouldn't doom her as it had doomed many others.
"Luke, this train's leaving!" shouted Austin.
"On my way!"
***
"And this is my room," Trapper announced, indicating the last stop in their grand tour with a dramatic sweep of his arm. "I dunno where you're sleeping, but it sure isn't here."
Luke could see why not. That there was any room for Trapper to sleep at night was a wonder. Every inch of space had been devoted to Star Wars memorabilia -- shelves and boxes and piles of it. Movie and character posters, lovingly framed, practically crammed any space not occupied by shelves overflowing with starship models and action figures. Gaps left by the varying sizes of the posters were filled with autographed photos
of Star Wars celebrities (Luke was amused to discover a Mark Hamill picture that depicted what he would probably look like in another twenty years). Toys littered the floor, the bedside table, the small desk where he probably did schoolwork, even the bed.
"Nice room," Luke noted, impressed. "Got yourself quite the collection."
"I'm not a true collector," the boy admitted. "True collectors don't open the packages. They keep all their Star Wars stuff in acid-free airtight boxes away from direct sunlight in some vault somewhere. 'It'll pay for your college tuition someday if you keep it in mint condition,' they tell me. Phooey. What good is a Battle Action Reek if you can't play with it?"
"Your logic astounds me, Trapper."
"Thank you." He motioned Luke out. "I think you have to sleep in the living room. The couch folds out into a bed, so it won't be too bad. C'mon, I'll show you how to play 'Star Wars Racer' on the Playstation! It's my favorite game."
Luke accepted with a grateful smile. Between the Earth lessons and his discussion with his father it had been a long day, and he felt he deserved a break.
***
"Are you sure about that?" Jason insisted for the fourth time. "I told you it wouldn't be a problem to fix up a spare room for you..."
"And I told you, Jason, the bathtub will continue to do," Fett growled.
Jason shrugged. "Whatever. Join us for dinner? We got hot dogs tonight."
Fett gave him a hard stare that, even through the mask, plainly said "What do YOU think?"
"Okaaaaayyyy," Jason replied. "I guess we fix a plate for you and put it in the fridge. But I don't know why you're so hyper about it. We've all seen your old man unmasked, and since you're his clone..." His voice trailed off as the hunter continued to glower. "Never mind. Uh, would you like a pillow or blanket or..."
"No thank you," Fett replied firmly.
He paced through the house, familiarizing himself with it, counting entry points and calculating different escape routes and hiding spots. His first observation was that the Osmonds' home seemed too large for two young men. His second was that the place was an absolute mess, as one would expect two bachelors' home to be. Miniature forests of mold flourished on abandoned plates here and there, and judging from the amount of clothing heaped hither and yon, they probably only did laundry when absolutely necessary. The bathrooms, thankfully, were the cleanest spots in the house.
"Why do two men need such a big house?" he asked, stepping over a stack of outdated newspapers.
"Oh, it's not ours," Jason replied. "Our grandma owns it. But she's retired in Florida, and we had to move out of our old pad in a hurry, so she lets us live here. All we pay our utilities. So what are you planning on doing the rest of the night? Pat and I're gonna be watching a movie."
Fett shrugged. "I might as well join you."
"Cool! Hope you like 'Monty Python.'"
***
The lights were off in the guest room of the Church's house as Vader sat cross-legged on the bed, a hand on each knee, deep in meditation. Lost in the Force, he followed its currents and tides, feeling it course through his body, the room, the house. It was the power that he had governed and that had governed him all his life, as inseparable from him as his lifeblood. His gift and curse.
His son... his very flesh and blood. What a noble and ultimately stupid cause he had committed himself to. The boy was full of impossible hopes. Didn't he know that one caught within the dark side's grips could never be freed? Over the course of the Jedi Order's existence dozens of Jedi had switched allegiances to the dark, but no Sith or other dark-side wielder had converted to the light. It was impossible, for while the light gave its adherents the choice of leaving if they wished, the dark forbade its followers from departing its clutches.
But Luke was determined to do it. And that would be his undoing. For he was unwilling to run from Vader in his devotion to his cause, and would follow him blindly back to the Emperor. His master would then proceed to twist the young Skywalker into a being of unredeemable corruption.
/As he twisted you./
Luke was right. He was in conflict. He hated his master, but longed to serve him. He hated the power of the dark side, yet reveled in it when it rose to his bidding. Like an addict coming to grips with his addiction, he loathed and lusted for the dark. But was he so much of a power-mad monster that he would doom his son to the same fate?
"Are you asleep?"
His eyes flew open, and he looked down to see Rachel staring at him, out of her Tusken costume and dressed in pastel nightclothes. She had long brown hair that reached her knees and wide hazel eyes. In one arm she clutched Mori, in the other she held a book. And she glowed in the framework of the Force, as bright as the young Jedi trainees he had met on his first visit to the Jedi Temple as a boy.
/She's strong! How could I have missed that?/
Aloud he said "In our culture, we usually knock before entering a room."
"I did, but you didn't answer," she replied as if that excused her. She climbed onto the bed beside him and arranged herself until her pose mirrored his. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Meditating."
"What's that mean?"
"I'm listening to the Force."
"Oh."
She was silent for awhile. Confident that she would no longer interrupt him, he began to slip back into contemplation.
"Can you read me a story?"
His head snapped around to face her. "What?"
"I said, can you read me a story?" She thrust her book at him.
He was absolutely stunned at her request. In twenty-four years of servitude to the Empire, no child had ever dared approach him. His appearance was so terrifying that any children he happened to meet ran shrieking in terror. In some sectors of the galaxy parents used him as a sort of boogeyman to scare children into obedience, a practice he did not discourage. And here was this girl, asking him to read a book to her as if he were her uncle or grandfather.
At last he found words. "No, Rachel. Ask your parents."
"But I want you to!" She stuck her lip out in a pout.
"No, Rachel."
"Please?" she whined, batting her eyes in an expression that would have melted a lesser man's heart.
"For the last time, no! Now get out!"
Despite his hard tone, she only recoiled slightly, though he had spoken at a volume that would have sent his subordinate officers quivering in terror. She did put the book down, however.
"Why are you so grumpy?" she demanded.
He sighed and unfolded his legs. As long as he wasn't going to get any meditating done he might as well answer her questions.
"Rachel, do you know what a castaway is?"
"Uh-uh."
"That's what I am. A castaway is someone far from home who can't get back."
"Oh, so you're shipwrecked! Like on 'Swiss Family Robinson!'"
He nodded. "I have to get back to my Stardestroyer... my starship so I can talk to the Emperor. Do you know who he is?"
"Yeah. I don't like him. He's ugly."
He had to concede that point. "But the ships we used to land on your planet are broken and I can't get back to my big ship."
She nodded understandingly. "So you're mad 'cause you can't talk to your boss."
"Correct."
"So just tell him you're late 'cause your ships broke. Daddy's boss isn't mad when he's late for work 'cause his car broke."
"If only it were that simple," Vader murmured, more to himself than to her. "The Emperor is not a forgiving man. He believes there is no accident that cannot be prevented."
"Pur-vented means stopped, huh?"
He nodded.
She considered that.
"I think your boss is really mean," she concluded finally.
Her frankness startled him. That a mere child could recognize the Emperor's cruelty and he couldn't bring himself to admit it was remarkable. Had his desperate need for a master, a father figure, blinded him so much to the Emperor's sadistic definition of a student-master relationship?
He looked back at Rachel with renewed respect, only to see that she had once again jammed the book at him.
"Could you PLEASE read me a story?"
With a sigh Vader took the book from her. It was the least he could do.
"You'll like this one," she said delightedly as he glanced at the title -- "Rumplestiltskin" -- and flipped past the title pages.
"Once upon a time," he read, "there lived a miller in a faraway kingdom who had a beautiful young daughter. One day the king was riding through the land to visit his subjects, and he stopped at the miller's home to talk. Now the miller was a bit of a liar, and so he told the king 'My daughter can spin straw into gold...'"