Showing posts with label Darth Vader. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Darth Vader. Show all posts
Friday, March 24, 2023
Superman Confronts Darth Vader
Thursday, December 24, 2020
Lego Advent Calendar Haiku 2020 Day 24
This sweet Christmas Eve over a
Kitschy snake fountain
Thursday, May 23, 2019
Monday, November 26, 2018
A Job for Supermen
Episode V: A Job for Supermen
It is a dark time for the Rebellion. Although their base on Yavin IV remains hidden from the Empire, the Death Star has intimidated all but a few brave star systems into capitulating to the Emperor's tyrannical rule.
While in hiding from the dreaded Imperial Starfleet, Ben Kenobi has drawn upon all his knowledge to teach his two wards, Luke Skywalker and Clark Kenobi, the ways of the Force. Luke, strong in the force and eager to learn, rises to the rank of Jedi Knight. But Clark, skeptical of the old Jedi Order and blessed with great power of his own, has abandoned the Rebel cause to pursue truth and justice on his own. Working on the fringes of Imperial space, he has used his great abilities to free slaves and 'droids on many worlds.
The evil lord Darth Vader, obsessed with finding young Kenobi, has dispatched thousands of remote probes into the far reaches of space...
***
The Star Destroyer Abbadon dropped out of hyperspace at the edge of the Yavin system, launched a probe droid, and jumped back to lightspeed to continue its search pattern. Several hours later, the probe droid detected life on Yavin IV and touched down in the teeming jungle that covered most of that verdant world. A single eye glowing with malevolent purpose, the multi-armed robot probe hovered precisely one metre above the swampy earth and silently recalibrated its sensors. Then, it slid smoothly through the air, making its way toward an ancient structure in the distance. Its cameras captured a rebel U-Wing returning from some covert mission.
That was enough. Its antennae quivered. Light years distant, the captain of the Abbadon pumped his fist in satisfaction.
"Put me through to Lord Vader. It's taken us five years, but we've found the Rebel scum."
***
The winged warriors of planet Starhaven cheered as Clark Kenobi brought the former Imperial Governor to them, neatly bound in a girder twisted around his body that pinned his arms to his torso. The bald, grey-mustiached despot fumed and sputtered empty threats--threats that died on his lips as a force of Starhavenites marched out of the Dawn Palace with the Governor's elite guard of Stormtroopers their cowed prisoners.
Windspear, leader of Starhaven's resistance, saluted Kenobi.
"On behalf of my people...thank you, great liberator."
"You liberated yourselves, sir," Kenobi said. "I just gave you a little hand to get started."
With that, Kenobi launched himself into the sky, his red cloak fluttering in his wake. Windspear called after him, knowing from experience the young man could hear even though he was already out of sight.
"Starhaven never forgets, young superman. Where you go - we will follow!"
Clark heard. Windspear's voice was just a whisper carried by the last feeble traces of Starhaven's thermosphere, but the message couldn't have been clearer. Clark's eyes were sad even as they glowed red-hot, vaporizing the Empire's orbital intimidator satellites and communications arrays. One more planet freed, one more chance that a freed but wounded people wouldn't be content to be rid of the Empire, would instead take to the stars in search of revenge.
"Hey kid, are you coming in or are you gonna hang out in orbit and mope for a while?"
Clark turned to see Han Solo waving at him through the cockpit window of the Millennium Falcon. Clark waved back and flew to the dorsal airlock. Moments later, he joined Solo at the old freighter's controls.
"Well, if it isn't the Superman himself."
"Come on, Han. You know I don't like it when they call me that."
Han shrugged, eyes wide with innocence. "Hey, I'm just saying what they're all saying out here on the fringes of space. You have to admit you've made quite an impression on the locals. Heck, some of them are putting up statues, calling you a god."
Clark glared. "That isn't true."
"Kid, you may not want it to be true, but great power attracts followers. A lot of people just want to be led, whether it's a guy like you or someone like the Emperor."
Clark was stunned. Solo immediately realized his mistake.
"Hey, kid, listen, I don't mean that you're anything like him..."
But Clark was already heading aft to his quarters. He knew Han hadn't meant anything by the remark. But it still hurt. Clark knew instinctively that using his abilities, so far beyond those of mortal men, introduced a terrible imbalance in the universe. He tried to do the right thing, tried to live by the pacifist principles of his long-lost people, the doomed Kryptonians who died defenceless in a flash of the Death Star's superlaser. But the Rebellion inspired him; against incredible odds, people like Ben and Luke and Biggs and Leia and General Dodonna and Wedge and all the rest risked their lives every day to restore freedom to the galaxy.
But that just seemed to lead to more and more bloodshed. There had to be a better way - a way without killing.
I wish I was normal, he thought. I'm not smart enough or wise enough for this. I'm not even 20 yet.
There is a right and a wrong in the universe, and the distinction is not very difficult to make. It seemed so simple when the crystals he found in his escape rocket transmitted those words into his head. But the more time passed, the more he felt the distinction was sometimes very difficult to make after all, at least when it came down to the complicated details of star wars.
Han's voice chirped over the intercom.
"Hey, kid. Message from your old man. It sounds urgent."
***
Ben Kenobi leaned across the communications holo-pool, suffused in blue light. "Clark, Han - they've found us. We're evacuating Yavin. We expect an Imperial Fleet and probably the Death Star itself within the hour."
All around Kenobi, Rebel troops were packing up gear and coordinating launch priorities. Leia herself rested a hand on Kenobi's shoulder, silently urging him to sign off.
"Clark, I don't know where we're bound, and we couldn't say over an open channel anyway. Don't come; you'd never get here in time, and there will be far too many Imperials for even you, my boy. Keep the light of hope alive. May the Force be with you."
Leia embraced Kenobi for a moment - but only a moment. "Come on, Obi-Wan. The last transport is ready to launch, and we're going to be on it." She turned to address the Rebels who remained at their stations. "Everyone out! Follow me!"
***
Han turned to Clark as Ben Kenobi's holographic image vanished into static. "I'm sorry, kid. Even the Falcon isn't fast enough to get all the way back to Yavin in time to help."
"I know, Han. I hope I'll see you again."
Solo's eyebrows rose in puzzlement. "What do you--"
But faster than the human eye could follow, Clark Kenobi was gone. Solo caught a flash of dopplered light out the cockpit window, the primary colours of Clark's red, blue and yellow uniform transforming into a violet streak that glowed brilliantly for a moment, then vanished as the youth propelled himself into hyperspace.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Solo muttered.
***
Inside the stormy tunnel of light that was hyperspace, Clark Kenobi tore through reality faster than anything had gone before. His Kryptonian cells supercharged by years of exposure to the many young suns populating the galactic fringes, his entire being screamed otherworldly energy, harnessed by will alone.
Minutes later, Clark soared past the great star at the centre of the Yavin; seconds after that, he didn't even need to use his telescopic vision to see the space around Yavin IV's moon filled with fleeing Rebel starfighters and capital ships. Clark arrived just in time to see a quartet of Star Destroyers pop into existence, swarms of TIE fighters erupting from their bellies.
He spotted Red Squadron escorting a trio of transports. Clark joined the formation, nodding to Biggs Darklighter on his left, Wedge Antilles on his right. Straight ahead, Luke waggled his wings to let Clark know he'd seen him.
Focusing his bottomless will, channeling his power to speed, Clark broke formation to launch himself at the Imperial TIEs. He hoped he could dispatch the fighters before his old friends could meet them in combat, costing lives on both sides.
But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Death Star appear in the green moon's orbit.
He couldn't move quickly enough to disable all those fighters, the Star Destroyers, and the Death Star without causing more deaths than he was trying to prevent. As fast as he was, human lives were too fragile to withstand more than the tiniest fraction of his power.
He felt Luke reaching out with the Force.
I wish there was another way, Clark. But this is war. Good luck.
Clark wept as he changed trajectories, swooping toward the Death Star. Behind him, Rebel A-Wings, X-Wings, and Y-Wings clashed with scores of TIE fighters of all kinds. Space erupted in blaster fire, and death followed by the score in mere seconds.
His course fixed, Clark closed his eyes and flew at the Death Star.
***
Governor Tarkin paced the glossy obsidian floor of the Death Star's bridge, chewing on his thumb.
"He's coming," Tarkin hissed. "He's here. Here! How? It's impossible. He was on the other side of the galaxy!"
Darth Vader gazed at the schematic that showed the arrogant young Superman closing in on their position.
"Your lack of faith in the Emperor's wisdom saddens me, Tarkin. We didn't expect him to be here, true, but so much the better. Prepare yourself, Governor. At long last, tonight we extinguish the Rebellion...forever." He turned to address the tactical director. "Target that individual with the superlaser and fire."
The officer was stunned. "F-fire on one man, sir? The superlaser? Isn't that...overkill? It will take us 30 minutes to rech--ggkkk!!!"
"I said fire," Vader repeated, his fist clenched, an invisible cord strangling the tactician.
"Vader, he can't fire unless you release him," Tarken pointed out, though he, too, was mystified.
Vader paused for a long moment, then relaxed. Coughing, the red-faced director repeated the order to his subordinate, who relayed it to the gunnery officer in the superlaser chamber.
Deep in the heart of the Death Star, a massive crystal pulsed with emerald energy. Harvested from the blasted remains of Krypton, the raw jewel provided all the power necessary to vaporize planets.
The Emperor, when he bestowed this gift to Vader, called it Kryptonite.
Thursday, October 18, 2018
The Quality of Mercy
Millennium Falcon
Gliding through the great black emptiness of space proved as simple as gliding through the arid skies of Tatooine. With the power of years of stored energy from Tatooine's twin suns flooding his cells, young Clark Kenobi ate up the distance between the Millennium Falcon and a dozen approaching TIE fighters.
For not the first time in his life, Clark held the power of life and death in his heart. Ben Kenobi had done his best to teach him about the dark side and the light side of the Force, but Clark felt no connection to it, even though Kenobi--and Luke--claimed it permeated the universe. And while he hadn't said so, out of respect for the old man, Clark found it odd that the Jedis seemed to see nothing wrong with the way certain beings could own and control other beings, just because some beings were arbitrarily deemed slaves, and others masters. Clark knew slaves--'droid, alien, human--he liked better than masters.
It didn't help that the history books Kenobi had asked him to read seemed rife with contradiction. Clark wasn't naive--he knew from personal experience the Empire was capable of acts of profound evil--but the Old Republic the Empire had replaced was certainly oppressive in its own way, raising armies of clones seemingly devoid of free will and using those clones to suppress dissent.
Clark didn't think himself particularly wise. But the education crystals Jor-El had included in the rocketship that saved his son suggested different philosophies. Kryptonian philosophy held the values of compassion and egalitarianism in high regard. And the people of Krypton knew of other worlds, lost, distant planets like Oa and Earth and Thanagar that raised champions to fight for truth, justice, and the oppressed.
Clark did not wish to contradict a man he revered, and a foster brother he admired. But nonetheless, he felt there was a right and a wrong in the universe, and the distinction was not very difficult to make. To murder, to bully, to oppress--these things were wrong. To pursue kindness, freedom, to improve quality of life for everyone--these things were right.
So when the first TIE fighter came approached, Clark knew what to do. He could not allow any harm to come to his friends, so he would stop the Imperials. But he would do it his way.
Clark floated to a stop and used his heat vision to sear the wings from the first TIE fighter. The three constituent parts floated away helplessly, the fighter's pilot utterly bewildered.
Clark's alien lungs held several tons of compressed air, which he blasted out in small doses to freeze the next two ships solid, leaving the pilots shivering in their cockpits.
The next TIE drew a bead on him and started shooting. "It tickles," Clark thought to himself as the superheated plasma evaporated harmlessly off his skin. Clark ripped the hatch of that fighter open, yanked out the pilot, and tossed him at a fast but safe speed back toward his home fleet. Clark's X-Ray vision revealed the pilot's air would last more than long enough for one of his colleagues to retrieve him.
Clark was busy tearing the wings off another TIE when he saw blaster fire from behind damage another incoming fighter. Clark turned to see the Millennium Falcon approaching, her dorsal and ventral guns spitting fire at the TIE squadron.
Clark flew up to each turret and shook his head "no" at his foster father and brother in turn. Stunned, the elder Kenobi and Skywalker let their guns fall silent as Clark zigzagged across the TIE formation, freezing some TIEs, melting the wings off others, or simply smashing their laser ports with his indestructible fists. Then, he gathered up the fighters he'd completely disabled and gently shoved them back toward the star destroyer in the distance.
The immediate crisis past, he flew back into the airlock and returned to the Falcon's passenger lounge, where Ben and Luke were waiting.
"Clark that was...incredible," Luke said.
"Indeed," Ben said. "You showed remarkable restraint. But this is a time of war, Clark. Those men you spared have killed innocents before, and could kill again."
"You don't know that," Clark said. "For any one of those men--or women--it might have been the first time they were called out to fight. Most of them probably only joined the Imperial Navy because they needed work."
Ben was about to say something, but at that moment Han Solo barged into the room, having left the cockpit to Chewbacca.
"What the hell were you thinking out there, kid? I mean - I'm still not even sure I believe exactly what I saw, and I sure as hell don't know how you did what I think I saw you do, but I'll tell you I don't know what scares me more: that you can do all that, or that you can do all that but you let all those bastards live!"
"Han, come on...he's just a kid, you can't expect him to be a killer..."
Han pointed at Clark. "A kid, huh? When's the last time you saw a kid who could shoot I-don't-know-what from his eyes? Or who could freeze things by blowing on them? Or, for that matter, who can not only fly, but can fly without a ship, and without a spacesuit, IN OUTER SPACE? Am I the only one who thinks something's just a little strange here?"
"With the Force..." Ben started.
"Don't start with that crap, old man."
"Hey, that's not nice," Clark said.
Han's eyebrows lifted. "Well. I'm SORRY. But it's been kind of a crazy day for me."
Luke waved a hand. "Han, I think what's most important is getting out of here. Did Chewbacca have any luck with--"
Just then, they all felt the hull shudder slightly as the ship leapt back into hyperspace.
"I guess that's a yes," Luke said.
Han smirked. "Nice, job, Chewie!" he jogged back to the cockpit.
"We must discuss this further, Clark."
The boy yawned. "Later, Ben? I'm kinda tired out."
He wasn't. He felt like he could take on the galaxy.
Luke and Ben turned away reluctantly. They shared an uneasy glance. And while Luke had no way of knowing it, Ben's thoughts turned back to another time when he'd mentored a young boy of fantastic potential...a failure that changed the path of a galaxy for the worse.
Star Destroyer Validator
"There was nothing we could do, Lord Vader. I don't know how he did it, but he wrecked every fighter in the squadron. He could have killed us all, but he made sure we'd get back to the fleet."
Vader said nothing. But he trembled slightly. Boiling inside was a rage he'd not felt since he killed that fool Anakin Skywalker, his former best friend, the great betrayer.
The force the pilots described took the form of a teenager. A teenager who could wreck starfighters with a glance. A teenager with such control and compassion that he could not just disable an enemy, but humiliate him with his mercy.
It was intolerable. It was an affront to the Dark Side, to the natural order of the universe.
Vader didn't even look at the twenty-four survivors of the sortie against the Millenium Falcon. Behind his death mask, his eyes closed as he reached out with the invisible tendrils of the Force and slowly, sadistically crushed the throats of each and every pilot the young superboy had spared. They fell to the hangar deck, some twitching for a moment or two before going as still as their dead compatriots.
Vader knew he had a greater calling now. Wiping out the insignificant Rebellion meant virtually nothing compared to his burning need to find and destroy the being that so casually spat in the face of everything Vader believed.
No one is that good, Vader thought. Not Kenobi, not Skywalker, not Yoda, not even Padme. I will find you, young one. I will find you, and before I destroy you, I will rip through that facade and reveal your Dark Side for all to see.
Gliding through the great black emptiness of space proved as simple as gliding through the arid skies of Tatooine. With the power of years of stored energy from Tatooine's twin suns flooding his cells, young Clark Kenobi ate up the distance between the Millennium Falcon and a dozen approaching TIE fighters.
For not the first time in his life, Clark held the power of life and death in his heart. Ben Kenobi had done his best to teach him about the dark side and the light side of the Force, but Clark felt no connection to it, even though Kenobi--and Luke--claimed it permeated the universe. And while he hadn't said so, out of respect for the old man, Clark found it odd that the Jedis seemed to see nothing wrong with the way certain beings could own and control other beings, just because some beings were arbitrarily deemed slaves, and others masters. Clark knew slaves--'droid, alien, human--he liked better than masters.
It didn't help that the history books Kenobi had asked him to read seemed rife with contradiction. Clark wasn't naive--he knew from personal experience the Empire was capable of acts of profound evil--but the Old Republic the Empire had replaced was certainly oppressive in its own way, raising armies of clones seemingly devoid of free will and using those clones to suppress dissent.
Clark didn't think himself particularly wise. But the education crystals Jor-El had included in the rocketship that saved his son suggested different philosophies. Kryptonian philosophy held the values of compassion and egalitarianism in high regard. And the people of Krypton knew of other worlds, lost, distant planets like Oa and Earth and Thanagar that raised champions to fight for truth, justice, and the oppressed.
Clark did not wish to contradict a man he revered, and a foster brother he admired. But nonetheless, he felt there was a right and a wrong in the universe, and the distinction was not very difficult to make. To murder, to bully, to oppress--these things were wrong. To pursue kindness, freedom, to improve quality of life for everyone--these things were right.
So when the first TIE fighter came approached, Clark knew what to do. He could not allow any harm to come to his friends, so he would stop the Imperials. But he would do it his way.
Clark floated to a stop and used his heat vision to sear the wings from the first TIE fighter. The three constituent parts floated away helplessly, the fighter's pilot utterly bewildered.
Clark's alien lungs held several tons of compressed air, which he blasted out in small doses to freeze the next two ships solid, leaving the pilots shivering in their cockpits.
The next TIE drew a bead on him and started shooting. "It tickles," Clark thought to himself as the superheated plasma evaporated harmlessly off his skin. Clark ripped the hatch of that fighter open, yanked out the pilot, and tossed him at a fast but safe speed back toward his home fleet. Clark's X-Ray vision revealed the pilot's air would last more than long enough for one of his colleagues to retrieve him.
Clark was busy tearing the wings off another TIE when he saw blaster fire from behind damage another incoming fighter. Clark turned to see the Millennium Falcon approaching, her dorsal and ventral guns spitting fire at the TIE squadron.
Clark flew up to each turret and shook his head "no" at his foster father and brother in turn. Stunned, the elder Kenobi and Skywalker let their guns fall silent as Clark zigzagged across the TIE formation, freezing some TIEs, melting the wings off others, or simply smashing their laser ports with his indestructible fists. Then, he gathered up the fighters he'd completely disabled and gently shoved them back toward the star destroyer in the distance.
The immediate crisis past, he flew back into the airlock and returned to the Falcon's passenger lounge, where Ben and Luke were waiting.
"Clark that was...incredible," Luke said.
"Indeed," Ben said. "You showed remarkable restraint. But this is a time of war, Clark. Those men you spared have killed innocents before, and could kill again."
"You don't know that," Clark said. "For any one of those men--or women--it might have been the first time they were called out to fight. Most of them probably only joined the Imperial Navy because they needed work."
Ben was about to say something, but at that moment Han Solo barged into the room, having left the cockpit to Chewbacca.
"What the hell were you thinking out there, kid? I mean - I'm still not even sure I believe exactly what I saw, and I sure as hell don't know how you did what I think I saw you do, but I'll tell you I don't know what scares me more: that you can do all that, or that you can do all that but you let all those bastards live!"
"Han, come on...he's just a kid, you can't expect him to be a killer..."
Han pointed at Clark. "A kid, huh? When's the last time you saw a kid who could shoot I-don't-know-what from his eyes? Or who could freeze things by blowing on them? Or, for that matter, who can not only fly, but can fly without a ship, and without a spacesuit, IN OUTER SPACE? Am I the only one who thinks something's just a little strange here?"
"With the Force..." Ben started.
"Don't start with that crap, old man."
"Hey, that's not nice," Clark said.
Han's eyebrows lifted. "Well. I'm SORRY. But it's been kind of a crazy day for me."
Luke waved a hand. "Han, I think what's most important is getting out of here. Did Chewbacca have any luck with--"
Just then, they all felt the hull shudder slightly as the ship leapt back into hyperspace.
"I guess that's a yes," Luke said.
Han smirked. "Nice, job, Chewie!" he jogged back to the cockpit.
"We must discuss this further, Clark."
The boy yawned. "Later, Ben? I'm kinda tired out."
He wasn't. He felt like he could take on the galaxy.
Luke and Ben turned away reluctantly. They shared an uneasy glance. And while Luke had no way of knowing it, Ben's thoughts turned back to another time when he'd mentored a young boy of fantastic potential...a failure that changed the path of a galaxy for the worse.
Star Destroyer Validator
"There was nothing we could do, Lord Vader. I don't know how he did it, but he wrecked every fighter in the squadron. He could have killed us all, but he made sure we'd get back to the fleet."
Vader said nothing. But he trembled slightly. Boiling inside was a rage he'd not felt since he killed that fool Anakin Skywalker, his former best friend, the great betrayer.
The force the pilots described took the form of a teenager. A teenager who could wreck starfighters with a glance. A teenager with such control and compassion that he could not just disable an enemy, but humiliate him with his mercy.
It was intolerable. It was an affront to the Dark Side, to the natural order of the universe.
Vader didn't even look at the twenty-four survivors of the sortie against the Millenium Falcon. Behind his death mask, his eyes closed as he reached out with the invisible tendrils of the Force and slowly, sadistically crushed the throats of each and every pilot the young superboy had spared. They fell to the hangar deck, some twitching for a moment or two before going as still as their dead compatriots.
Vader knew he had a greater calling now. Wiping out the insignificant Rebellion meant virtually nothing compared to his burning need to find and destroy the being that so casually spat in the face of everything Vader believed.
No one is that good, Vader thought. Not Kenobi, not Skywalker, not Yoda, not even Padme. I will find you, young one. I will find you, and before I destroy you, I will rip through that facade and reveal your Dark Side for all to see.
Thursday, October 11, 2018
Last Son of the Republic
The world ended for Ensign Chadwick when he failed to establish a tracking lock on the Corellian frigate that had just jumped into hyperspace with the plans to the Death Star. He cast his terrified eyes up from the navigation well of the Star Destroyer's bridge and trembled at the scowling--somehow the mask always seemed to be scowling--visage of Darth Vader, Grand Moff Tarkin's walking nightmare. That iron scowl was the last thing he saw before his throat constricted and his heart stopped. He crumpled to the deck, the final line of the final chapter of a wholly unremarkable story.
Silent, Vader turned and made his way to his quarters. He reported to the Emperor first, of course, and only then to Tarkin. Tarkin's bluster and red-faced foaming was a mere annoyance. The Emperor's hate-fuelled snarl was something else again. Vader swore to himself that he would find those plans before they could be turned against the Death Star. Not because he thought Tarkin's new toy had any significance compared to the Force, but because the Emperor seemed to think the battlestation would be useful.
A few days later, Vader arrived on the station itself, barely restraining himself from killing that fool Tagge right in the middle of a meeting. His control was slipping; the loss of the Death Star schematics and the lack of progress in tracking them down was wearing on him. Some reports even speculated nervously that the nascent Rebels had already analyzed the plans and were even now planning some sort of doubtless futile assault.
Tarkin seemed remarkably serene about the missing plans. He scheduled a demonstration of the battlestation's power as if there were no risk at all that a Rebel fleet would soon careen out of the darkness hell-bent on exploiting some heretofore unknown weakness.
Vader arrived on the Death Star's bridge as Tarkin and an aide discussed the shortlist of targets.
"Tatooine, Dantooine, Kashyyk, Alderaan, Mongo, Krypton, Naboo, Barsoom, Jasoom. The Emperor has given you leave to choose one of these worlds for the test, sir, at your discretion."
Tarkin considered. "I see the Emperor is amusing himself by testing my mettle, even after all these years," he said, directing the comment at Vader as the assassin approached. "He knows full well that The galaxy will barely blink if I blow up a hundred backwaters like Jasoom or Tatooine. No, it'll have to be Naboo or Alderaan--"
"Krypton," Vader said.
"Eh? Granted they're heavily populated, rich, and probably provide covert support to the rebellion, but clearly Alderaan and Naboo would send a much stronger message."
"Krypton," Vader hissed. "Some weeks ago I was in the system and sensed...a presence. A pool of vast potential from the light side of the Force."
Tarkin rolled his eyes. "I hardly think one of your hunches is reason to--"
"Ah, pardon me, sir," the aide said. "But Krypton would shave a week off our travel time, which could be important if the Rebels do stage an attack."
Tarkin fell into silent thought for a moment.
"Fine," he said. "Set course for Krypton."
* * *
A few days later, Jor-El and Lara of Krypton folded baby Kal-El into a nest of red, yellow, and blue blankets, then sealed the hatch of the tiny rocket that would carry him into hyperspace - and safety.
"He's coming now," Jor-El said to the wavering hologram of Obi-Wan Kenobi. "When the Emperor destroys us, so ends the Old Republic. I send you its last son."
"May the Force be with you, my old friends," Kenobi said.
Lara caressed the rocket one final time before pressing the button that launched the craft. It disappeared into hyperspace before it even left the atmosphere, bound for Tatooine.
Jor-El and Lara had time for one last kiss before they, and all nine billion Kryptonians save one, were obliterated. The planet exploded so violently under the Death Star's superlaser assault that the planet's red star exploded as well, a completely unforeseen side effect that resulted in mild radiation burns for several thousand personnel on the sunlit side of the battlestation.
Less than seventeen hours later, a fleet of several dozen Rebel fighters burst out of hyperspace and were quickly annihilated after trying in vain to launch proton torpedoes down an obscure exhaust port. A quick analysis revealed that had they succeeded in hitting the target, a proton torpedo could have caused significant damage - perhaps enough to destroy the station. The flaw was quickly corrected.
Mere hours after that, old Ben Kenobi wandered into the twice-baked deserts of Tatooine and retrieved a wailing baby boy from his rocket.
"There, there, my boy," he said, twirling his finger through the lock of curly blue-black hair that adorned the infant's forehead. "Let me show you your new home."
The baby gurgled, suddenly content, and took hold of Kenobi's finger, giving it a small squeeze.
The boy already has quite a grip, the old man thought.
Silent, Vader turned and made his way to his quarters. He reported to the Emperor first, of course, and only then to Tarkin. Tarkin's bluster and red-faced foaming was a mere annoyance. The Emperor's hate-fuelled snarl was something else again. Vader swore to himself that he would find those plans before they could be turned against the Death Star. Not because he thought Tarkin's new toy had any significance compared to the Force, but because the Emperor seemed to think the battlestation would be useful.
A few days later, Vader arrived on the station itself, barely restraining himself from killing that fool Tagge right in the middle of a meeting. His control was slipping; the loss of the Death Star schematics and the lack of progress in tracking them down was wearing on him. Some reports even speculated nervously that the nascent Rebels had already analyzed the plans and were even now planning some sort of doubtless futile assault.
Tarkin seemed remarkably serene about the missing plans. He scheduled a demonstration of the battlestation's power as if there were no risk at all that a Rebel fleet would soon careen out of the darkness hell-bent on exploiting some heretofore unknown weakness.
Vader arrived on the Death Star's bridge as Tarkin and an aide discussed the shortlist of targets.
"Tatooine, Dantooine, Kashyyk, Alderaan, Mongo, Krypton, Naboo, Barsoom, Jasoom. The Emperor has given you leave to choose one of these worlds for the test, sir, at your discretion."
Tarkin considered. "I see the Emperor is amusing himself by testing my mettle, even after all these years," he said, directing the comment at Vader as the assassin approached. "He knows full well that The galaxy will barely blink if I blow up a hundred backwaters like Jasoom or Tatooine. No, it'll have to be Naboo or Alderaan--"
"Krypton," Vader said.
"Eh? Granted they're heavily populated, rich, and probably provide covert support to the rebellion, but clearly Alderaan and Naboo would send a much stronger message."
"Krypton," Vader hissed. "Some weeks ago I was in the system and sensed...a presence. A pool of vast potential from the light side of the Force."
Tarkin rolled his eyes. "I hardly think one of your hunches is reason to--"
"Ah, pardon me, sir," the aide said. "But Krypton would shave a week off our travel time, which could be important if the Rebels do stage an attack."
Tarkin fell into silent thought for a moment.
"Fine," he said. "Set course for Krypton."
* * *
A few days later, Jor-El and Lara of Krypton folded baby Kal-El into a nest of red, yellow, and blue blankets, then sealed the hatch of the tiny rocket that would carry him into hyperspace - and safety.
"He's coming now," Jor-El said to the wavering hologram of Obi-Wan Kenobi. "When the Emperor destroys us, so ends the Old Republic. I send you its last son."
"May the Force be with you, my old friends," Kenobi said.
Lara caressed the rocket one final time before pressing the button that launched the craft. It disappeared into hyperspace before it even left the atmosphere, bound for Tatooine.
Jor-El and Lara had time for one last kiss before they, and all nine billion Kryptonians save one, were obliterated. The planet exploded so violently under the Death Star's superlaser assault that the planet's red star exploded as well, a completely unforeseen side effect that resulted in mild radiation burns for several thousand personnel on the sunlit side of the battlestation.
Less than seventeen hours later, a fleet of several dozen Rebel fighters burst out of hyperspace and were quickly annihilated after trying in vain to launch proton torpedoes down an obscure exhaust port. A quick analysis revealed that had they succeeded in hitting the target, a proton torpedo could have caused significant damage - perhaps enough to destroy the station. The flaw was quickly corrected.
Mere hours after that, old Ben Kenobi wandered into the twice-baked deserts of Tatooine and retrieved a wailing baby boy from his rocket.
"There, there, my boy," he said, twirling his finger through the lock of curly blue-black hair that adorned the infant's forehead. "Let me show you your new home."
The baby gurgled, suddenly content, and took hold of Kenobi's finger, giving it a small squeeze.
The boy already has quite a grip, the old man thought.
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
The Force Unbalanced
Jedi and Sith met at the plunder pits of Tharkissian
And the Sith said,
"Share with me three words of wisdom
And you may leave this place unharmed."
The Jedi said,
"The first lesson is this:
When the wind tears your home and lands asunder,
curse not the gods, for they gave you the air to breathe."
And the Sith nodded.
Then the Jedi said,
"The second lesson is this:
If your brother should betray you, cede not the high ground;
But lift him up alongside you."
And the Sith paused, but then nodded.
And the Jedi said,
"The third lesson is this:
Listen well when the elders share with you the true secret of the Force..."
And the Sith leaned forward eagerly.
And the Jedi said,
"...it equals math times alliteration."
And the Sith said,
"What? ARRRRR! That's not wisdom! It's just a stupid pun that doesn't even make sense, there's no buildup or context for the punchline! Now feel the TRUE POWER of the DARK SIDE."
But the Jedi said,
"Energize!"
And he vanished in a shimmering cloud of matter-energy conversion.
And the Sith knelt, tilted his head back toward the stars, and said,
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
Sunday, November 06, 2005
The Fickle Finger of Fame
Yesterday I had an errand to run downtown and I wound up getting captured on film by a photographer for the Edmonton Sun. I was feeding coins into a parking meter without realizing that a large billboard of Darth Vader was looming behind me, as if making sure I was contributing sufficient change.
The photo ran in today's Sun. Obivously I can't post it here, but it's an amusing enough shot if you care enough to pick up the tabloid today.
In lieu of that photograph, here's one I shot while fooling around yesterday.
UPDATED!
See the photo online at the Edmonton Sun. Thanks to Susan Neumann for bringing this to my attention.
The photo ran in today's Sun. Obivously I can't post it here, but it's an amusing enough shot if you care enough to pick up the tabloid today.
In lieu of that photograph, here's one I shot while fooling around yesterday.
UPDATED!
See the photo online at the Edmonton Sun. Thanks to Susan Neumann for bringing this to my attention.
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