William Shakespeare's The Jedi Doth Return (6 page)

—Meep, squeak!

[
Aside:
] Tear not my friend apart, you tallow face!

[R2-D2 shocks Salacious Crumb, who jumps away.

The droid hath zapp’d me quite! O naughty imp!

O counterpart from Heaven sent, my thanks!

But now, R2, say where dost thou lead me?

Why do we swift approach the vessel’s edge?

This is most curious and passing strange,

For I could not jump to the sand, and ’tis

From here a mighty drop indeed—

[R2-D2 pushes C-3PO off the edge of the barge into the sand and falls in after him.

—Nee, hoo!

I prithee, Leia, take the gun and point

It yonder, at the deck! The barge shall fall!

[Luke is shot in the hand by a guard.

[
Aside:
] Alas, my hand, but ’tis my hand of steel,

It causes me some pain, but not as ’twould

Were it my own real flesh. Strange notion, this.

I have not time to think on it, but shall,

Another time, consider this my hand.

The gun is pointed at the deck: ’tis time.

Then let it fly, and we’ll escape forsooth!

’Tis well a rope is here to swing us o’er

Another chasm—what serendipity!

[Luke and Princess Leia swing from the barge onto the skiff.

[
aside:
] Once have I swung with him across a chasm,

Now swing we once more to the waiting skiff.

We have a way of swinging through our fears!

We all are now on board the skiff—away!

This brave event shall be remember’d, Luke,

And since I have been thaw’d, my warmest and

My most sincere appreciation do

I give thee for my rescue well devis’d.

My friend, ’tis none but what thou wouldst for me.

Now, let us flee—the droids, do not forget.

We fly indeed, by foes no more beset.

[The barge explodes and all on board die. Exeunt Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Chewbacca, Princess Leia, Lando, R2-D2, and C-3PO on skiff.

The army of the Empire gathers near

Within the Death Star’s uncompleted shell.

They all prepare to welcome one they fear:

The Emperor hath come, thereon to dwell.

[Exit chorus.

My servant Vader have I come to meet,

To hear him tell what progress hath been made

Upon this newest Death Star. Confident

I am that he shall make a good report,

For he is ever trustworthy when ask’d

To solve a problem for his Emperor.

Forsooth, the man is all obedience

When he is call’d to serve. It hath been so

For years now, ever since he turn’d toward

The dark side and became a Sith as I.

But there is more than mere obedience:

He looketh on me as a father, aye,

For truly did I train him so to do.

He doth respect and hang on ev’ry word

I utter, even when ’tis to rebuke

Or punish him for some apparent fault.

The man is like a pet most pitiful,

E’er braying for his master’s notice and

Displaying great affection e’en when kick’d.

In truth, his groveling doth make me sick.

Aye, his devotion to me I do not

Reciprocate, for he to me is but

A tool—most useful and most sharp, ’tis true—

But merely agent of my will, no more.

Yet he a vital purpose serveth in

My reign and plans, while little doth he know

That he could be more powerful than I.

A tool the man may be, but I cannot

Dispense with his keen services as yet.

But since I do consider him a threat,

I keep his leash as short as possible,

And I accept his childlike zeal for me

At least till I an apt replacement find.

Mayhap this young Skywalker—who is e’er

On Vader’s otherwise clear mind—may prove

To be his aging father’s substitute.

Was it a judgment error to inform

Darth Vader of the presence of his son?

Methinks ’twas not, for his devotion to

His Emperor and his submersion in

The dark side shall be more persuasive than

What feelings he may have for son unknown.

And furthermore, to know Skywalker is

His son shall heighten his resolve to turn

The boy unto the dark, and make him mine.

Thus would he see his Emperor and son

Together join’d, which would bring him dark joy.

’Tis surely how the future shall unfold—

All shall be well, for I have plann’d it so.

And now he comes: my humble servant Darth.

I bid thee welcome and with humbl’d mien

I bow to thee in utmost reverence:

My master, teacher, savior, rescuer.

Arise, my friend, and put thy soul at ease.

I trust the time spent here shall bear good fruit?

Indeed, my master. All the workers have

A newfound motivation for the task.

The Death Star shall completed be within

The time and schedule thou hast orderèd.

Thou hast done well, Lord Vader. I am pleas’d.

And now I sense another thought in thee?

Thou wouldst anon resume thy search for the

Young rebel Skywalker. Have I judg’d right?

My master: yes.

—Be patient, my good friend.

Thou shalt not seeker be; I’ll warrant that,

In time, the lad himself shall seek thee out—

I see with my mind’s eye it shall be so.

And when he doth come to thee, thou shalt then

Deliver him, in deference, to me.

The boy hath grown quite strong. Together we

Will bring him to the dark side of the Force.

Thy wish is mine.

—Thus have we set the scene:

All doth proceed just as I have foreseen!

[Exeunt.

Good friends, with you I shall meet once again,

Where our strong fleet doth plan to rendezvous.

[
through comlink:
] Aye, do. Th’Alliance should be gather’d now.

[
through comlink:
] And Luke, my deepest thanks are due to thee,

For I did doubt that thou a Jedi wert.

But thine example brave hath shown to me

A power I ne’er would have believ’d was real,

Except I was its benefici’ry.

Thou didst not overlook thy friend in need,

But came back for his rescue unafraid.

Now truly, friend, ’tis I who owe thee one.

[Exeunt Han Solo and Princess Leia.

Beep, squeak, meep, beep, squeak, whistle, whistle, meep?

’Tis right, R2, we go to Dagobah—

A promise must I keep to my old friend.

[
Aside:
] This glove I place upon my injur’d hand,

The hand that in the fight with Jabba was

The sore recipient of blaster’s touch.

O hand, replete with wires and gears that move,

With glove of black I cover the machine

That lies within the skinlike covering,

Which once a medic droid hath grafted on.

How strange this hand, which feeleth like my flesh

Yet is such stuff as droids are made of. Cold

And dead, yet living, this is a device

That serves me well but represents a dark

And dismal fate. Aye, with this hand I have

Become yet one step closer to the man

Whose path I fear, yet wish to understand:

Darth Vader, who my father claims to be.

Indeed, I do believe his claim is true,

But shall ask Yoda to confirm his words.

If he my father is, what shall it mean

For the Rebellion and for my own soul?

Shall my relations govern all my days,

Or may I yet escape mine origins?

Shall all the father’s sins be visited

Upon the child, or shall I triumph yet?

Be with me, all ye Jedi past and gone—

I fly unto that place where first I learn’d

From Yoda, who is small, yet greater e’en

Than all my pow’rs or Master Obi-Wan.

With joy, I fly from here to see his face,

With hope, I fly to him to learn the truth,

With fear, I fly to him to know my path,

With expectation great, I fly to him.

Look now, he comes—alas, how ag’d he seems!

That face thou dost make:

Look I so old to young eyes,

My body so frail?

Nay, nay, good master! Perish such a thought.