Dedication: To the little ones in my life who’s imagination and sense of fun still has the ability to fill me with wonder.

At least I got to keep the Skywalker name.

I don't want the horrible Lars name and I don't see how Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru would want it either. But then a lot of people don't see why I have a different name from the rest of my family. I like that. It makes me feel special, different and that weird word beginning with the letter 'U' that I don't know how to spell yet.

Uncle Owen said that Skywalker was my father's name, that he had been a navigator on a space freighter a long time ago before he died but surely a navigator wouldn't have a name like Skywalker. With a name like that he'd definitely be a pilot. Yeah, definitely a pilot. So I decided to ignore what must be a lie about my dad ('father' sounds far too formal to me, like I'm in a military family or something). I want to be a pilot too but with an uncle like Owen Lars, I'm going to have to wait till I'm all grown up before I can have that sort of fun.

Because for sith's sake, I'm nearly eight years old! Seven is a big important age and it's not like I'm dumb or anything. I know you have to stop so you don't hit anything and that a wrong move can kill you. At least I can walk in a straight line and finish a sentence unlike all the space pilots in Anchorhead. Grown ups are so silly. Always swearing and blaming things on me when they know fine well that I didn't do it.  And they are very strict so I can't have any fun.

Uncle Owen is a very strict uncle. Even Bigg's dad or family are never always that mean and cross. When Bigg's dad got angry though you knew it was time to go home but Uncle Owen always seems to be angry and it is not like I have another home to go to so Uncle Owen can calm down. Uncle Owen tells me off a lot, mostly for stuff that I can't quite explain. I can't tell my uncle how I knew the hydrospanner was under the couch and Uncle Owen seems to think it was me that had put it there. I'm not stupid you know! Hydrospanners go in the toolbox, not under the couch and so it wasn't me that it put it there. It didn't matter how many times I argued that it wasn't me, Uncle Owen had the presence of mind to hit me over the head anyway.

That was this morning and my head still hurts. He gave me a thwack around the bony part of your head Bigg's calls your temple (weird name for a bony part).  Beru told Uncle Owen off though, saying that he shouldn't be too rough with me and that I must have been playing with it because there is so little to do out here. Its all sand, sand, sand and more sand. I hate sand. But Owen said that I knew tools were not to be played with and that I should do as I'm told. Well, maybe Uncle Owen should listen to what he's told for once cause I told him many times that it wasn't me.

I'm not putting up with it anymore. I've put up with Uncle Owen's moaning for seven years even though I can't remember the first two. I don't mind Aunt Beru though but she didn't believe me either. Soon Uncle Owen will come out here to me all full of sorries and ask me to help him repair something but I know he'll end up shouting again eventually.

Sure enough there he is with that horrible tool in his hand, playing with it, fidgeting (See? I told you it wasn't me who was playing with it). He gives me a smile and comes over but I'm not going to smile back. My uncle kneels in front of me, still playing with the stupid spanner.

"Luke, do you want to help me fix the vaporators?" Owen waved it in my face, hoping to alight my love of anything that had the capacity to blow up (it was surprising how many things did have the ability to blow up, especially after my hands had tinkered with them).

"No."

"But you love working with machines, Luke," He ruffles my long blonde hair (he was complaining about the length of it yesterday), pointedly ignoring the small bump that's formed on the bumpy part of my head.

"Yeah but you keep saying I'm doing it wrong and then you yell. Its not fun at all."

"I won't yell Luke, but it would help if you did what I told you."

"I'm always doing what you tell me."

"I don't call hiding tools under the couch doing as I tell you, Luke!"

"That wasn't me!" I yell angrily, louder than I meant to.

Uncle Owen's face went very red then, his cheeks puffing out with rage but before he can even think of doing anything, I've ducked under his arm and started running. Running really to nowhere in particular but I stumble to a halt after nearly colliding with a tall man who gets in my way.

"Getting into trouble young Luke?"

The voice makes me look up into the caring eyes of an old man, his ginger hair greying with age, his face lined with worry lines (its kinder than saying wrinkles, my Aunt Beru says).

I can't help but grin, standing up to brush the sand off my clothes. At the sound of my Uncle's voice the grin disappears but this time it's not me that's annoyed him.

"You! What are you doing here?" My Uncle yells at the man, his face growing increasingly red till he begins to resemble a strawberry I saw in a book at school.

"I'm here to see young Luke here," the man smiles at me fondly, "you've gotten a lot bigger since the last time I saw you. And you look so much like him..."

"Like who?"

"No, don't you start Kenobi! I've told you before. You can't come here!" my uncle yells, pulling me behind him as if the man was going to attack me.

"But Owen..."

"No! No! No, Kenobi! You can't have him!" my Uncle turned to me and hissed. "Back to the house Luke!"

For once I decide to do as I'm told and set off at a run for my house even though I really don't want to. Why Uncle Owen is so mad I really don't know and perhaps its better not knowing. I don't go into the house, I sit at the entrance, trying to pick up parts of the conversation. But Uncle Owen's hisses, which reminds me greatly of Biggs's pet desert snake, are too quiet for me to hear. The man tries to argue his case, not angrily mind, but he puts his view through forcefully without much effort. There's no point in arguing with Uncle Owen though, he always wins.

I hear snippets of "foolish ideals" and "people that shouldn't have gotten involved" but I'm right anyway. Uncle Owen wins the argument and the old man looks crestfallen. He gives me a sad look before heading back to his ancient speeder.

"What was all that about Uncle Owen?" I ask curiously as he comes towards the house.

"Never you mind!" he hisses, pushing past me to get inside.

Well!

I'm not putting up with this anymore!

As soon as Uncle Owen is out of sight and out of mind, I slip around the side of the house to the man and his speeder. He's fiddling around with the controls, obviously trying to fix some error and sure enough I see a few sparks from the wires in his hands. There are some mechanical parts and blankets in the back and I dive in without him noticing. Mere seconds later and the blankets hide me from view. In actual fact these blankets are kinda warm and comfy...

The whirl of the engine sends me off to sleep.

I wake up what I guess to be is hours later because the sky is black baring the glittery stars and I'm very, very cold. I push the blankets off of my body and then wish that I hadn't. With a violent shiver I pull the blankets back around me and lie for a few moments shivering. I wonder where I am and begin to wish I hadn't jumped into this stranger's speeder and fallen asleep. Thinking about it now in the cold, it seems one of the silliest things I've ever done.

Aunt Beru is going to be very scared and worried about me, she might even cry. I'm not happy that I've probably upset her but thinking about Uncle Owen's reaction makes me think that I might be better off staying here. Oh! He's going to be so mad!

Tatooine is so scary at night. All the shadows look like Krayt dragons and Sandpeople wander freely around the desert. Biggs said sometimes they catch you and eat you. I hope he was only pretending. I don't want to wake up in something's stomach.

It's so cold! I shiver and shiver and struggle to get warm without much success wishing I was in my own comfy bed back at the farm.

And then I feel something else funny that I can't explain, like what happened with the hydrospanner. I feel for a few moments that I'm wrapped in a nice warm blanket made of light and that I'm telling my Aunt and Uncle that I'm OK. The next thing I know is the stranger has run out of a small hut I hadn't noticed before, his eyes wide with alarm. I can see him but he can't see me. But like with the hydrospanner, he just knows that I'm here. I don't understand but I just know.

His eyes turn from alarm to surprise to shock and then to amusement, lifting me out of his speeder, blankets and all. I'm a little too big to be picked up like this anymore but this old man manages just fine, seeming to know how cold and tired I am.

There is not an actual lot inside the hut, just the basic things you usually find in houses although not as many and definitely not as new. He sits me beside a big old fashioned heater which I'm sure I've seen in a museum or something and I pull my blankets away from it, for some reason afraid they might catch on fire. The man puts a cup into my hand full of a brown liquid he says is Hot Chocolate. At first I don't feel like drinking it but it smells lovely and tastes even better. It heats me all up inside and I feel even more sleepy.

For a few minutes the old man sits across from me, just smiling and staring thoughtfully as if I remind him of someone he used to know. It makes me smile cause I feel like I know him too. But Uncle Owen says its rude to stare so perhaps it was better to talk.

"What's your name.....sir?"

The man chuckles under his breath, finding my question funny. I don't find it funny at all. I was trying to be polite! He notices my distress and laughs.

"My name is Ben, little one."

"But my Uncle Owen called you Kenobi," I'm confused. I'm always confused.

"Yes, but your Uncle calls me a lot of things. Crazy old wizard. Mad hermit. I'm sure there are many others."

"Why? Why does he call you such things....Mr... Ben..."

"We just don't get along. In fact when he finds out that you're with me I'm sure he'll have many choice words to say to me that are too rude for you to hear," his eyes twinkle mischievously.

"Well, if I don't go back then he won't be able to be cross."

"Wouldn't you miss him? Or your dear Aunt Beru?"

"I'd miss Aunt Beru but Uncle Owen never lets me have any fun. He's always yelling and saying that I'm doing things wrong. He doesn't understand that I'm doing my best," I put the cup down angrily and its a good thing its empty otherwise it would have slopped everywhere. "He doesn't understand me and I don't think he even wants me around. I don't think he loves me."

For some reason my words stir something in the old man. I see small hints of sadness, despair and regret.

"You remind me of a young man I used to know Luke...a long time ago."

He sounded so sad that I didn't know what to say. What was there to say? I thought perhaps I should have asked who he meant but he didn't seem to want to talk about it much. We spent the next ten minutes in silence, both looking at the heater as if it was telling us something important.

"When am I going to go home?" I ask, hoping he'll say that I don't have to.

"In the morning Luke. Its too dangerous with all the sandpeople around, we'll have to wait until morning."

I don't like sandpeople. They scare me.

The old man sees my fear and laughs affectionally. "Oh, do not worry Luke, I promise you won't wake up in someone's stomach."

I am going red. I can just tell. I don't like being laughed at. People always make fun of me. Ben reaches over and messes my hair up as if I'm his nephew or something. Then he spots the bruise and sighs deeply.

"Oh, where did you get that?"

"For hiding tools under the sofa," I like making him laugh.

"That was not very nice, Luke, now was it?"

"Neither was getting hit over the head!"

"I can see why you do not wish to go home then Luke," he puts his fingers on the bruise. At first I think its gonna hurt but then I feel the big warm blanket made of light come back. Soon all the soreness is all gone. "Does this happen often Luke?"

"Not really. Mostly he just yells a lot. It's weird how he still has a voice after all the yells."

"What was different this time then?"

"I don't know," if I can't explain it to my Uncle then how can I tell this old man? "He was looking for the hydrospanner but I hadn't touched it. It was under the couch and I knew it was there. I don't know how I knew but I did. When that happens, Uncle Owen gets very angry. He doesn't like me knowing things I'm not supposed to know."

"What sort of things?"

"Like knowing what he's gonna say before he says it. Finding things that he's been looking for and he can't find them. This one time I made his stupid generator machine work even though the repair man couldn't fix it."

"How did you manage that?" Ben frowns at me.

"I hit it. Told it to work or it would go in the bin or go to the Jawas. The machine did not like those ideas," I start laughing, "it behaved itself then!"

The old man is thinking again. I swear if he thinks as much as my uncle yells I'm surprised he still has a brain for all those thoughts.

His brain must need a break though cause he stops thinking for a while to tell me I should be going back to sleep. But I've slept all day and don't feel very tired now. Ok maybe just a teeny bit, or even just a little bit, but I don't want to sleep. My head is full of times when Uncle Owen gave me into trouble for doing some weird things. But my body is a traitor. I feel myself yawning. And then I yawn again. My eye is itchy and keeps trying to close on me.

The man is thinking again but this time I don't care. I just wanna sleep for a while. But it looks like he wants to sleep as well. He has his eyes closed and he's muttering under his breath. He must be really tired if he can't talk loud enough for me to hear.

I feel very tired now. The nice warm blanket of light is back and promises a good safe sleep. Old Ben puts some more blankets around me and puts a pillow under my head. I still don't want to sleep but I can't help it....

I have the best dream ever.

It's all I can think about while Old Ben tries to fix the speeder again. Apparently it has a problem with starting up. I suggest giving it a good thwack and telling it to work but I just put him off his work. The wires seem very fiddly.

I spend my time waiting by drawing starships in the sand. I draw funny ball shaped ships with vertical wings that roar through space. And I draw ships that make up letters of the alphabet. My favourite is the one with the x-shape wings.

When old Ben is finished, he admires my work for a few moments, wishing he could take a picture. He suggests we should hurry into the speeder before it breaks down again. I want to ask him why he can't just buy a new one but I guess that he doesn't have much money. Uncle Owen doesn't have a lot of money either.

I hate sand but the sand dunes and the twin suns are actually quite nice. I like the suns best when they are setting though. I watch them before Uncle Owen sends me to bed and turns off the power. I just wish they didn't make the planet so very hot.

"Did you have a good sleep?" I ask my new friend while the speeder soars above the sands.

He nods.

"I had a great sleep last night!" I smile out at the sand dunes. "I was in a ship and I was flying it. And my Dad was there with me."

Old Ben is sillier than I am. He slams on the brakes and looks at me horrified.

"Your father?"

"Yep!" I can't help but grin. "He told me all about the controls and said that I'm a very good pilot."

"What was he like Luke? What did he look like?"

"I don't know really. He was very, very tall, like a giant and he had blue eyes just like mine. His face is fuzzy though."

The man starts the speeder again but he seems worried.

"He wore robes just like you Ben. Isn't that weird?" I laugh.

Whatever I said makes him relax a little. I want to go home now. I want to lie on my bed and have more dreams about my dad and I want to say sorry to Aunt Beru for being bad. Uncle Owen can yell all he wants. I don't care. I'm going to be a pilot. Just like my dad.

"He taught you how to fly did he?" Ben asks.

"Yep. I love flying."

"Well, Luke, I may not have a ship but how about we pretend we have one?" Old Ben puts his foot hard onto the accelerator and makes it go very, very fast. I laugh and laugh and feel the wind blowing through my hair, messing it up. Ben laughs too but I'm not sure if he's laughing at me or laughing at going fast. I don't think he likes going fast but he does it for me cause he knows I like it.

He goes slower when we come close to the farm though. I think he doesn't want Uncle Owen to be even madder. As I undo my belt, he puts a hand on my shoulder and attempts to tidy up my hair, laughing when I tell him that I like it the way it is.

Uncle Owen isn't mad. It's very strange. He just wraps his arms around me in a hug and holds me tight, asking me to never run off again. I cross my heart and hope to die and stick a needle in my eye if I break my promise.

For a moment I'm afraid that Old Ben and Uncle Owen will start yelling at each other again. Adults are so weird. They didn't shout. They just nodded to each other and Ben went back to his speeder, trying to get it working again. Uncle Owen hoisted me up onto his shoulders and takes me indoors to see Aunt Beru, who nearly pulls Owen's head off when she pulls me into a big hug. She hugs me so tight I can barely breathe. I missed her very much. I don't have a mum but she's the next best thing.

Uncle Owen and me spend the day looking after the vaporators. He doesn't yell but part of me knows that within a week all will be back to normal. His voice must be very strong to take all that yelling. He's a good uncle you know. Better than Biggs's uncle anyway.

But he can't replace a father. Even a father that just teaches you how to fly when you're fast asleep.

Uncle Owen doesn't have blue eyes that are just like mine. My dad does...

It's so degrading.

Requiring the use of droids to help me bathe because I am no longer able to do it for myself. I briefly thank the Force for the droids inability to look at me with disgust for my frailties.

No one ever sees this side of me. To my crew and to the whole universe, Lord Darth Vader is an embodiment of strength. To some my strength, albeit intimidating, is worthy of respect and fear. To others my strength is something to be hated and disgusted. The latter group never lives very long.

My Master enjoys both my strengths and my weaknesses. My powers have allowed him to create his vast Empire however this mechanical suit encases me forever. I am too weak to overthrow him. And he enjoys watching me struggle.

While the last remnants of Jedi Honour require me to respect my Master and to thank him for sustaining my life after growing so weak, I tire of his rule. It has only been seven years and already I see the cracks forming in Palpatine's so expertly crafted masterpiece. The Imperial Empire was created to instil order among the unruly populace, to provide employment and industry for all sentients under his rule.

However it has become apparent that Personal Interest governs this formidable Empire. Slaves of all races are forced on their knees under Palpatine's rule, racism plagues this multi-cultured galaxy and the cries for justice are no longer heeded by the Emperor. Having disposed of the Jedi Knights, Imperial Bureaucrats and Governors reign with an iron fist, instilling not order, but terror among the people.

My life has become increasingly more difficult as well as interesting however with the small number of star systems openly rebelling against the Emperor's rule. They are vastly outnumbered by the Imperial Fleet but their flame of resistance can no longer be extinguished.

The Rebels hate me.

My men fear me.

I hate myself.

I gave up my entire life, pursuing a life of hate and anger so I could bring about the order the galaxy so desperately needed. And in so doing I lost the people closest to me, my wife and my master. While my heart (albeit mechanical) burns with unresolved rage at the master who turned out to be more of a traitor than I could ever be, I suspect that I have lost even more than this. I suspect that I have lost a son. I do not know where he is, how old he is or even if he is alive or dead.

Sometimes the weaker side of me imagines that I can sense him. Last night my son laughed through the far reaches of space and time, briefly flickering in the light before disappearing again. Sometimes it seems a young girl through the vast galaxy also touches the force unconsciously, but she vanishes just as mysteriously as the boy. My Master would be concerned and angered if he knew, they would be dangerous to him but only I can sense them.

The girl is of no interest to me. Only if she comes within my notice will I have to take action. But I'm going to find my son.

I don't know what he looks like but his eyes are blue. Just like mine.