On Endor we were met by commander Pellar, a tall, smiling man with dark hair, beautiful, vivid hazel eyes and high cheekbones. He is a nice man, gentle, compliant, but very strong inside his soul. The soldiers constantly feel his calm authority above them. So, we were not surprised that everything is in superb order in his realm. The meeting is very quick and businesslike. Moff Jerjerrod listens to his subordinates with serious attention. His threatening, furrowed, light eyebrows slowly smooth out and his dark, cold glance becomes more serene. His Excellency the Grand Moff is satisfied and decides to be a magnanimous. Commander Pellar can relax-- there will be no ferocious rebuke today.

After that we had a nice lunch in a big glass pavilion. Between greenery the TIE-squadrons flashed past like silver swarms. From time to time the big dark shadow of a patrolling AT-AT slowly and threateningly moved near us. War had become part of our everyday life.

It became clear to us that Lord Vader was waiting for something or somebody. The officers of the outer guard reported to him constantly, in hushed tones. After one report he suddenly and swiftly left us, telling us in passing that we were free until the next morning. Something very important must have happened. We looked at each other, perplexed and anxious, but nobody was so crazy as to ask him about it. Only a madman would ask the Dark Lord about the secrets in his life if he didn't want to talk about it.

That evening we were on our own, as all meetings and reports were finished and all orders made. We decided to spend the rest of the evening outside. Commander Pellar warned us that was probably not a very good idea-- there was something dangerous in the moon's forests, somewhat odd, strange, nasty little creatures lived in the forest. Nothing reliable was known about them, but one thing is well known, that they liked to eat people. The precedents had already happened. Pellar was very polite but insistantly recommended us not to abandon the guarded zone or, at least, to take somebody along for escort. Ewok attacks were very possible. He fell silent because the Moff's lips were starting to shake and his fine nostrils turn white and flaring. I was worried about a new fit of wrath-- he very jealously protects his authority and goes into a rage when somebody wants to impose some decision on him. Fortunately the commander understood this in time. Jerjerrod resolutely refused to take an escort and the commander bowed his neck respectfully. We left the bunker and its hospitable "host".

The night was wonderful. Endor's pale sky was covered with billions of stars and looked bottomless. The trees, like enormous black columns, rustled in the heights. Silently we left the big glade in front of the main bunker and turned into the deep forest, where high above our heads were crowns of gigantic trees interwoven and roots lay in the deep darkness below. It was absolutely quiet; only sometimes some broken branch snapped or some unknown invisible creature made a noise in the grass under our feet.

I felt the heat of his slender, nervous hand through his soft black-leather glove. A deep, narrow stream crossed our way. Suddenly a wild idea to make mischief with my arrogant and unapproachable lover occurred to my mind. Carefully and absolutely innocently I embraced his waist and before he could suspect or object, I caught his thin light body in my arms and swiftly flew over the stream with one jump. It is good to have the ability to change the weight of your body in a fraction of a second. I enjoy it every time I use it. But he didn't know about that particular secret talent and cried out in surprise.

We landed in soft moist moss near the trunk of a gigantic fallen tree. His face appeared so strange and beautiful in the unsteady, twinkling light of stars... Odd purple and green fires twinkled in the pupils of his are dark and bottomless eyes... In that cold woodland darkness he looked like one of the beautiful and deadly dangerous human-like spirits which sometimes lived in the woods in unthinkable dark antiquity, which sometimes gave their intoxicating, ruining, poisoning love to mortals.

I put my hand under his neck and lightly touched his soft lips with my finger tip. Yes, the arrogance, hidden meaning and even the cruelty-- all these things belong to those lips. But I know them very differently. I know all about his hot, lustful body, which I held now in my arms, yet every time it's like the first. Carefully I took off his belt and unbuttoned his uniform. By contrast to the night cold his body burns my palms. He likes cold places, and the cold is good for him. Slowly, as in sleep, I caressed with my lips his small, stubborn chin, his thin, soft throat, going down and softly teasing his nipples with my tongue. His breathing became more frequent and hard. I went further down. His body arched in my arms. He clenched his teeth, trying to hold back any sound, while his greedy arms closed with a mortal grip around me. The sweet spasm exploded inside us like a newborn star.

He lay without moving, convulsively swallowing the cold night air. His face was covered with perspiration, as with fine pearls. Little by little his face, contorted by the spasm of passion, smoothed out, became more gentle and quiet. At last he slowly, as with great difficulty, opened his eyes. His glance is still very distant, dark and strange. A tender smile flickered across his lips and he embracing me with his thin, almost weightless, arms. I loved to see his smile. "He is always like that, when he has satisfied his desire," I was thinking in that moment and stroked his cheek with my palm.

Suddenly our idyll was interrupted by a very strange noise. I turned around swiftly to see a few odd-looking creatures--shaggy, small, with big round dark eyes-- sitting on the grass near us. They were speaking in their strange language and shaking their big heads obviously with approval. One of them had even lain down on the ground, probably to see 'the act' more clearly. They held in their paws some kind of very primitive wood spears and wore unimaginably dirty rags with beads and feathers. What in the hell was it?! The Moff rolled his eyes.

My sensors didn't indicate any great danger for us, but I preferred not to have anybody--human or animal, or human-animal-- behind my back. They really could do nothing to us, but instinctively I didn't like them. I made a movement as if to reach for my holster. Without a doubt, the creatures knew this gesture very well. They disappeared into the darkness with yelps and growling. Only fireflies poured from the disturbed branches like star rain.

I don't know how long we sat there in each other's embrace. In moments like that one even the idea of time itself loses any meaning. It just didn't exist for us. It was very odd, but for a moment it seemed in my mind as if some irreversible terrible catastrophe had already happened and we were already dead, our souls flown away, and only two dead, motionless bodies were still here near a long-time dead tree.

It got a bit light, although still far away from Endor's "sunrise". That was an enormous steel sphere slowly and heavily swimming out from behind dark crowns of gigantic trees to light Endor's sky-- our home, the shelter of our love and our one hope to stay alive in that war. We looked at the metal planet, and I am sure we had the same thoughts in that moment. Suddenly an awful curse escaped from the Moff's lips. He snuggled up to me and pressed his face against my chest. I knew the direction of his words and I agreed with him. Someone who has only a plural number on his mind, never cares about the singular. Someone who is busy organizing the destiny of abstract billions has no time to think about the fate of one real person.

It was time for us to go back.

* * *

So, hand in hand, we returned to the bunker. Again, I carried my lover over the deep, cold creek like a priceless treasure that had been given to me by the will of fate. The black water shone ghastly in the darkness, like the icy-cold dead black river between us and that side from which where is no way to go back.

Before we came out at the glade in front of the bunker, we stopped for a moment to carefully examine one another. But really it is an unnecessary caution.

We were not alone in that beautiful and magical night. The forest around us was full of sounds, whispers, frolicking. Commander Pellar met us with a strange and dreamlike expression on his tired face. I caught quick and covert glances from the officers on duty. Somewhere from the depth of the bunker voices and bursts of laughter were heard. Somebody was telling jokes, their stories the result of barracks wit of many Imperial generations. Those were the sonorous voices of young men who would go tomorrow to battle to meet their deaths.

The commander informed us that Lord Vader had already left Endor. He left an order to His Excellency to follow him separately. And, a bit hesitantly, the commander added that Lord Vader was not alone. A large group of Rebels had landed on Endor... it was completely unexpected...the scouts hadn't had time...

With these words Jerjerrod's light eyebrows arched and gathered threateningly over the bridge of his nose. The corners of his fine lips slowly pulled going down and began to tremble. His eyes were freezing, full of wrath. I knew what would follow next. Please, there is no need to do that!-- Please, your Excellency, don't do that!--

His hand still held his holster. Watch out, commander!

For another second the Moff drills the frightened pale commander with his terrible glance, then silently, without a word to us, swiftly turned around and left the bunker.

I found him on the landing platform. He disappeared inside the ship, without looking at me or anybody else. Soon I heard his metallic, wrathful voice. He was shouting at the crew. I was frightened and in pain to see that sudden transformation of a man, who was lying so peacefully and tenderly in my arms only a few minutes ago. Some of the crewmembers tried to justify themselves, but that intolerable high voice rumbled with uncontrollable fury, "Get lost, bastards! Get out of here, or I will send all of you to the tribunal!"

I couldn't bear that deafening iron voice. In the cabin, through the slightly opened door I could see him-- his face contorted by malice, his lips shaking wrathfully and mercilessly, the muscles vibrating on his cheekbones. The captain tried to object. "Go away. Now." Jerjerrod pronounced suddenly and distinctly. The officer bent down and disappeared.

Quiet fell in the passenger section. We flew in complete silence. I looked at him from the side. He was sitting straight, gripping the armrests with both hands. I don't know this man. I don't even recognize his face, although I know its features. This is an absolutely strange and unknown man. I don't try to speak to him. Even if I would try-- it would change nothing. He covered himself with silence like an invisible barrier. Right now he was unattainable.

On Death Star 2, a large group of TIEs flew out for a mission. Then, at once, the enormous hangar became quiet and empty, like a big room after all the children ran out. It's a poker game-- the commander of the regiment cast everything he had into the black abyss and now playfield is empty. He was standing in the middle of the empty silent hangar, a short, thick-set, silver-haired man, looking into the black emptiness which was covered with billions of stars. He will get everything back, or he will lose. It's a game of life and death, for victory or defeat. In the history of the galaxy, such a game was never known before. The terrible dialectic of war--the ability to take cover, to save one's life and the ability to fight till the end, to that was devoted our lives.

The Moff decided to visit the central DS-army hospital to visit the badly wounded commander of a TIE division, who was his old friend from his time in the Military Academy. This was a tall, very skeptical, hard and incredibly cultured and educated man. Short-cut hair, light green-gray eyes, strong bronze face. He had been horribly burned.

In the hospital there are hundreds of gloomy, suffering eyes. A young, small female trooper was the colonel of the medical services. She wore a heavy knot of beautiful glossy black hair on the back of her head. Her amber eyes were weary, and her face white with fatigue. She had almost lost her voice. She had been working on him all day without a break. Some operations are so difficult and dangerous that only a human hand can do it, not droids. Suddenly she smiled. "Can you imagine, I was cutting off his burned flesh, while he recited love verses to me. What a man!"

Jerjerrod talked to the wounded commander. He answered with a quiet voice, without any bitterness, insult, pain or reproaches, like some wise man, a scholarly philosopher, who talked about the cruel but natural laws of life. Jerjerrod's face was tenderness itself and his eyes shone with such great kindness and compassion, that it was impossible to imagine him a cold, proud, arrogant and ruthless man. It seems that some part of human nature will always be an incomprehensible secret for me. It's inexplicable.

After the visit to the hospital the Moff walked swiftly along the corridor, his terrible steps resounding from the metal walls and floor. The large retinue of staff officers can hardly keep up with him. The expression on his face is just indescribable. In one word-- it's awful. It looks like "staff company" is going to have a very stern discussion.

* * *

Executor.

On the bridge in semidarkness Admiral Piett stood near the enormous observation window. In the last moment before the attack, he looked like a predator, the embodiment of attention and cold power. He was absolutely motionless, only his steel-gray eyes fixedly following the terrible picture of the battle between our TIEs and the Rebels. It was an awful sight-- small imperial TIEs and Rebel X-wings were tearing each other apart, shooting point-blank, burning. And all that was going on inaudibly, as in the wild worst nightmare. All the horror, all the last thoughts, all the tremor of human hearts and minds are in these last moments of machines' lives.

Some rebel X-wing plowed into the deck, burst into the ball of white flame and disappeared forever. A few seconds late almost in the same place an Imperial TIE-fighter fell down and exploded like a small newborn star. In front of our eyes another unknown, but very brave, young, cheerful and strong man perished. And he didn't want to die either.

The Admiral's face is as if frozen with pain and wrath, only his eyes still alive in that face, pale with hatred. In those eyes I saw the steel will, demonic bravery and firm resolve. The resolve to win. -We are living like hardened sinners, but we can die like saints.-

Suddenly he cut short the silence. "Well, how is he doing now, our Grand Moff? Is he still the same proud and lonely egoistical soul, which always demands much more than you are able to give to him? Well, get used to it. We will talk about love and other good things a bit later. Now it's time to do some real work. Listen to me very carefully. I will not speak about it twice. His Imperial Majesty has something special planned for this Rebel scum. That's good. And I have some special and I hope more useful plans for us too. Now go and bring your beloved Moff here to me. If it's possible-- with all his command. I don't like them but I am a human, not a Jedi monster. Take a transport and bring him and the others to me, even if you need to use strong-arm force. Do I make myself clear?" In that moment a close, bright flash lit up his strained face. "You love him and I need him. Soon all this crap will be over," he pointed at the window, "and we will start to restore the Empire from the ashes. He is not only just a talented engineer and administrator. He is the man who is in charge of heavy industry of the Empire and very serious skillful politician. It is a secret, silent power, but the real power in the Galaxy. Do you understand what I am talking about? From this moment I want you to be his bodyguard, his shadow, his second ego. Shortly speaking, I want you to be his shield and sword. I prefer to see him alive with us here, not there. The sooner, the better."

"Sir, do you think they are able to destroy this station like the first one?"

"My dear girl, you can't catch an old clever wampa in the same trap twice. They know that very well. But they can invent something different for us." The admiral mechanically rocked a small plinth icon on a fine golden chain between his fingers. I have noticed that habit of his a long time ago. He always did it when he must make some very important, difficult and deadly dangerous decision. "I would rather prefer to be an extremely cautious man, than to be a dead man." He turned around and suddenly smiled at me. His eyes twinkled with strange cold green fire in the darkness--like a real hungry and mean wampa. "Some people lay the blame for it on me, but this insurance has already saved many lives. As far as I know the mounting of the superlaser is already finished. And there is no need for the Moff to be there. If His Imperial Majesty wishes to die, we will not impede him in that. So, now hurry up and bring the Moff. He is a loyal, brave man, but I am afraid he doesn't quite understand the situation now." The admiral turned to the window, clearly signaling that the conversation was over and it was now time for action.

* * *

I ran along Executor's enormous docking bay with the echo of my steps ringing behind me. Only one thought beat in my mind at that moment. "So, it's begun... it's begun... begun..." Only now that I had put together all the fragments, I could see the whole picture. And this picture was frightening. For the first time the admiral had at last allowed me to look into his soul so deeply. I had seen the real dark abyss there. The mind of this man verges with genius. He is clever, brave, resolute. And he is really ruthless. But, luckily for us, that merciless Imperial commander is an honest and decent man, whom the Force and it's sister, Fate, had blessed with phenomenal aptitude for intrigue, not forgetting to give him strength and patience as well. It's all good for us because a man like him can rule the universe. And, yes, we have General Veers, who possesses the gift of deadly intrigue and has a very strong hand, but his virtues are well known to everybody in the galaxy. But nobody avoids Admiral Piett. Some not-very-clever and short-sighted persons might regard him as just a "lucky Imperial upstart." Those fools just don't have any idea how long and carefully he prepared his good luck. He is the first of the new generation of Imperials. And he will lead the others like him. That is just the question of time. I wouldn't like to be the stupid person to stand in his way. It's very odd, but every time we inevitably fall into the delusion that Fate always gives her chosen one a magnificent appearance or indescribable beauty. Oh, what rubbish!

As I jumped into the pilot's seat and put on my helmet I was thinking about the last moments of that strange conversation. I must admit I was astonished by his cold, calculating confidence and the peremptory tone with which he gave me my true role. He didn't doubt even for one second that he could trust me absolutely, and that everything would be carried out strictly and in accordance with his request, because he has the right to order. And, yes, I would do it, everything that he wanted, with great pleasure, but I would do it to save my beloved man and to betray the strange evil, the cruel and terrible will, which had arranged all of us to this point in the universe and which was now ready to take our souls. I could track down, pursue, to kill as well. But I could also save, protect, guard. I was like a surgeon's scalpel-- everything depends on who holds it in his hand.

I cut and peppered through the Rebel X-wings with such great lightness that even I felt some kind of pity for them. But in my thoughts I didn't find my actions any more disgusting and criminal than the actions of others in this life, where everybody must go along his own way and finish it at the end. Now I was a lifeless steel part of that enormous invisible mechanism which carries out its function with deadly and flawless accuracy. My creators could be very proud of my perfection. But in the part of my "human" life I had a man who know nothing about my thoughts, understood nothing and was happy with me. He was the one for whom I should live my life.

* * *

The Death Star was still fighting. It still held on in the midst of that wild "round dance" of Rebel X-wings and TIEs. Only an absolutely mad person would dare hope to get out of this hell alive. To survive and break through it would need a wild, inhuman, fierce persistence and just improbable luck. I had it. There was a chirp of discharges, wild shouts, awful bad language and from time to time there was cruel cold laughter. The Rebel pilots were encouraging themselves-- they turned murder into a funny amusing game. Imperials were "targets" for them, not people. And all this audio chaos was covered by the strange, deep noise, low to the point of inaudibility. It was a sound like a voice of the steel planet itself. Suddenly a voice, very loud, distinct, yet oddly monotonous, broke through that wild chaos straight into my ear. "Okay. I can see you. You are under the station's control. Get ready to go into docking bay. Prepare for landing in moment zero. I am starting the calculations."

The phrases followed one by one with the same interval. It was as if some automaton was talking. That was strange. Usually I heard a living human voice of the controller on duty.

Something invisible stopped my TIE. I heard the grating of steel as it hit another steel surface. Then silence fell. "The Death Star. Zero. The landing is over. You are free."

I heard that dead cold voice again. I climbed out and looked around, but saw no living soul, either in the enormous hangar nor in the controller's room. Outside was a terrible battle, but here it was as silent as if for years Death had been the only one who controlled the station. On nearby walls I saw the lines of heavy armored robots, metal monsters, so innocent that they would not hesitate to destroy themselves or to destroy their own creators, if they received such an order.

The main corridor was empty too. For a few seconds I stood in front of the armored door into the main control room. I heard no sound behind that door. At last I clenched my teeth and came inside, not knowing what I might find there.

* * *

In the semidarkness Jerjerrod sat alone in the commander's armchair near the control panel. I was so frightened and astonished by his appearance that I couldn't say even one word. He was sitting deep in the armchair, clutching the armrests with his hands. He must have failed to hear my footsteps and couldn't weaken that terrible grip at once to resume a more normal position. I saw him fighting with an inexplicable and awful invisible force which tormented him from inside. He was looking into the empty space in front of him and whispering something with his ashen-pale lips. It was as if he was talking to some invisible evil spirit. At last I took a step to his side. He shuddered and glanced at me. I really was in horror from that dead, dark glance. I wanted to cry. What had happened to him since I had last been with him? Who had done that to him? Vader? The Emperor?!

His eyes were so empty it was like a cold deadly whirlwind had caught us and was now carrying us into the abyss. A wave of blind, crazy wrath and pity swallowed my mind. That was a terrible moment. I felt I was not able to say even one word which could save us. No, that was not even the horror, but the feeling of fate, an extreme heaviness of knowledge that it's impossible to escape, to hide, even to perish differently from the way the Emperor had decided.

But in the next second I felt the feeling of furious protest against such fate for us flaring up inside me. "Let's get out of here! The sooner, the better. The admiral is waiting for you."

"It's too late," he said quietly, and bowed his head again. "It's really too late. I gave my oath to the Emperor. I will stay here."

I felt awful to hear that tone, impassive, without any spark of wrath and absolutely indifferent to the awful reality. But the strange obedience with which he was accepting his own death was more terrible and agonizing of all. "Let me go, please..." he quietly whispered, looking into the emptiness in front of him again. "Why do you hold me? I am faithful to you. I believe in you. Let me go at last, please."

"To whom are you speaking?!" I asked him, feeling my hair standing on end.

"The Emperor. Don't you see him? He is here." He smiled.

That was too much even for me to bear. My protest turned into unruly conduct, into the real rage. "That man already cost billions of lives to us!! He condemned you and all of us to death! He betrayed us!! Can you understand that?! Do you hear me?!"

I don't remember what else I yelled. I shook his shoulders. Perhaps I even hit him. That was possible. I don't remember. I know only one thing, that in these seconds I was fighting with the man for his own life.

Suddenly I understood that he wasn't listening to me at all. It wasn't looking as if he even understood that I was here with him. I looked at him with despair. I had never seen such a haggard face before. He was in horrible shock and I couldn't blame him for that. There was really already nothing to hinder us from stopping our existence in that world. "I can't go away from here," he whispered with difficulty and looked into the emptiness again. He still was holding the firing switch under his hand.

I understood that the time to do something had come. I must save him by any cost. Even against his own will to die. The Emperor must not get this soul! My hand stretched out to his neck, aiming for the right point which I needed. Careful-- I have to choose absolutely the right amount of force-- Wait a moment. Maybe there is no need for that. Let me talk to him first.

Suddenly a deep, strong voice resounded, distinctly and awfully, behind my back. The hoarse mechanical breathing rhythmically disturbed the terrible quiet. Even without turning around, I could feel the heavy, fixed glance, as if the darkness itself was looking at me, something enormous, formless, without eyes or any borders. There was not even one star to light up that black abyss. How long had he been here? Vader took a step into the room. Jerjerrod mechanically got up to greet him for the last time.

"Commander, now I order to you to leave the station with the rest of the personnel. THAT IS MY ORDER."

"My Lord-- but His Majesty--"

"Jerjerrod, of whose wrath are you really more afraid? His or mine?"

"Yours, my lord."

"That's right. You are a clever man."

"But I am an Imperial officer and I gave the oath! I can't betray him! I must--"

At this moment the metal floor under our feet shuddered strongly and the lights flickered.

"Well, what are you going to do?" Vader asked him in a strange and suspiciously quiet voice. I understood that he hardly restrains himself.

"Whatever a man does when he knows that he will be killed. I will fight till the end. I will defend myself and--"

"And defend the Emperor?"

"Yes, my lord."

"So, you are ready to die with him. It's a fitting and very heroic death. And you are going to perish despite the fact that he put us under attack by allowing those Rebel scum to get the information about the station, it's location and even the fact that we have not enough troops to protect it from outside. He knew we were not ready, but his ambitions were much more important than our lives. Oh yes, it's a brilliant idea, particularly if His Imperial Majesty decided to get rid of possible competitors. Whatever will happen, nobody can blame him. The old bastard foresaw everything."

With Vader's words the Moff straightened, and any outward appearance of respect or even plain courtesy disappeared. In that second I wanted to interfere, to not allow Jerjerrod to say the words which would make something really irreversible. But Vader stopped me, raising his hand in a warning gesture. "You, my Lord Vader, my supervisor and 'right hand' of our beloved Emperor, are ordering to me to betray my duty, my officer's oath and to leave His Majesty?! Do you know who are you after that?!" He pronounced the words disjointedly and even abruptly. The tone of his voice, still disinterested, now completely changed and sounded like a threat or a nasty cruel jibe. He wanted to say something else, but suddenly began to sway and clutched at his chest, as something like a fine shudder ran across his pale face and disappeared. Then the something left him. He softly, almost inaudibly, fell down. The floor under us shuddered again and this time the vibration was stronger and lasted much longer. The lights on the panels started to flash wildly and I smelled burning cables and melting metal. A small group of officers and stormtroopers, their boots clattering, ran along the corridor. Someone's pale face appeared in the doorway. Vader turned around and waved his hand. The face disappeared at once. Suddenly an invisible force lifted the Moff's body and it hung in the air between us. "Take your prize," Vader said, and took a step toward the Moff. He bent down above the officer, who still was unconscious. "We have no time to squabble. The Emperor used his usual mind trick. He tampered with his brain. It was hopeless to try to convince him. I should have watched him closely at the throne hall and sent him away in time. But even for me it's impossible to follow everything at once. He deserved a better fate than to burn alive in the nuclear hell by the will of a crazy old scoundrel." Vader bent down once more and his flashing black mask glanced into Jerjerrod's face, so closely that he touched it. "He is a lucky man. He can hide in unconsciousness. I am not able to do even that much. Take him and get out of here! Leave this damned place. And that is my last order." Vader abruptly straightened and the same invisible force smoothly brought and put down the Moff in my arms. The Dark Lord turned around and with a gesture of 'Farewell', swiftly left the room. I watched him go away without looking back, as usual, swift, black, terrible, like the icy cold wind of retribution and death. Probably in that moment, when he looked at Jerjerrod's face, he already knew his fate and he his own awful and agonizing death. He was the real devil incarnate, yet his dark wounded soul was drawn to the Light, which spurned him. He wanted, but was not able, to expiate some secret old and terrible sin. He had already been punished for that sin by the cutting off of his hand and legs, but he knew that after this execution another one would follow, and it would be more awful and it would be the last. He was condemned and he knew it.

Who knows, maybe he wanted to go this way and deliberately cut off all ways back for himself. Maybe death was even welcome and the only ending for him.

* * *

I ran along the corridor, pressing my prize against my chest, like a thief. We should be looking very odd, but nobody was there to see us. The enormous main corridor was absolutely empty, full of bright light, quiet and terrible, like the road to the scaffold. The floor was shaking under my feet, while from all around the strange and frightening sound of metal grating can be heard. Sparks poured from panel contacts. Suddenly somewhere from the depth of station a horrible drone and almost human groan poured out. It was the station, like a wounded living creature struggling in deadly agony. Another second-- and I am almost near my goal. Now the main docking bay looks like a pointlessly drifting ship, where the dead metal automatons have outlived the deaths of the human crew. When I put my foot on the step of the lift, I felt the steel surface vibrating, fast and fine, and this vibration was growing stronger and growing with every fraction of a second. Such a wild vibration could be created by only one cause. The core of the station's reactor had started its destruction. That thought gave me much more speed. One more second, and my ship swiftly flew away from that steel star, which was still powerful, but already doomed. Suddenly the chaos of voices and signals in my headset for a moment was covered by an awful racket and roar, and the terrible, dazzling white light burst into the cabin through the dark glass, flooding all around with a diamond shine. It was so bright that it looked almost tangible. Every metal part twinkled like a small star. The perishing station, in the last fractional seconds of its existence, sent a beam of almost material rays to us, as if it wanted to say "Farewell" to its creator, and when the rays touched my cheek, I felt as if I had been touched by a burning hot brand.

Now we are in the shuttle's cabin. Only darkness and silence are around us. The soft green light from indicators at the control panel lights his pale face. He breathes regularly and calmly, his eyelashes shuddering, slightly touching his cheeks. I sat in the armchair near by him and clasped my hands, looking into his face. I was not sure that I wanted him wake up right now. I was even happy that he didn't see how his station, his dream and pride, perished, disappeared, turned into a gigantic cloud of super-hot gas and dust. To realize that everything is already over, to understand that so suddenly and with such inevitability-- that is much more than just defeat.

He stirred and quietly groaned. I took his hand in my palm and he became calm, pressing his cheek against my hand, like a child, with a convulsive sigh. A sorrowful wrinkle appeared at the corner of his mouth. I would turn even the memory of that Rebellion into dust and smoke for this new wrinkle on his face-- if only I could do that.

Our shuttle carried us into the dark, still unexplored space of the universe, a place populated with numerous billions of bodies of people and aliens which were killed only in the last millennium of our Galaxy, the horrible result of wars, revolutions, political murders and wild executions, rebellions and dictatorships. The phosphoric bodies mixed with whirlpools of galaxies. And we would have increased this ghostly population too, if not for the compassionate will of the Dark Lord of the Sith, whose hand in the last moment snatched us from that nightmare.

I do not fear it any more. I know that before we will be gone, irretrievable with these mournful star whirls, we still have some time-- countless billions of years till the end of life. Till the end of Time.

And maybe the Force will be with us.

We will see.