My Side of the Story

The best way to explain my relationship with Sidious is to invoke one of your thespians, LL Cool J and the film In Too Deep, in which Omar Epps (me) plays a detective who goes undercover to defeat LL Cool J (Sidious) who controls the flow of drugs into and out of the Ohio System. The detective moves up the ladder of LL’s organization, and wins the gangster’s trust. Even though he witnesses horrible atrocities, he also glimpses signs of generosity, love and loyalty in his Dark Master. The detective’s Commander senses that he is becoming like the gangster and may be too far down the path to return to his own true identity. Ultimately, Epps has to choose which part of himself to remain true to when he finally confronts the gangster on his crimes.

Even though Sidious did not harbor any generosity, love or loyalty within him, his power with the Dark Side was what bound me in his service. I will not tell you the path Epps’ detective chose in his struggle; but, I hoped when my time came I would find it within me to do the right thing in my struggle.

My search for my son and my efforts to protect Leia were a good match with my new duties as commander in chief of the imperial forces, and my task of finding the rebel base. The search afforded me plenty of opportunities to eliminate dangerous, high ranking “incompetent” Imperials. In the event that I found the Rebels, I would also find my son and at the same time be in position to provide protection to Leia and the Rebel leaders.

The damn mask was a curse. Trying to breathe through that thing was like trying to suck a milkshake through a straw. I’ve never had an Earth milkshake, but being one with the living Force, I know this sensation from having communed with some of you who are strong with the force, even if you are not aware of it.

During this period I looked forward most to my respites in my meditation chamber where I was able to remove that cursed mask and breathe on my own. In my meditations I would speak with Qui-Gon who would help me in guarding my feelings from the constant scrutiny of Sidious. Together Qui-Gon and I worked on getting the force to flow again through my living parts. I dreamed beautiful dreams of being truly alive and not sustained by this wretched machine. I often dreamed of Padme. I tried to summon her spirit, but it never came to me whole, only in fleeting glimpses of memories or sensations. These memories and sensations were often followed by thoughts of my Son, or the Princess. I guessed that Padme’s goodness was influencing me to meditate on the goodness within myself, the part of myself that Sidious would never control, and that I must keep hidden from him at all costs.

Sometimes the costs were grave. Like with the attack on the Jedi Temple I was left no recourse but execute Sidious’ commands; say, hire a bounty hunter to assassinate some political agitator or another, destroy a rebel outpost, or to enslave an entire planet. It was sort of a slow torture I had to endure. Ever since that fateful duel with Obi-Wan, I knew that I could never become strong enough to challenge the emperor alone. I also knew that I was the only one who could bring the Force back into balance. At times I felt helpless, especially when compelled to act as the Emperor’s fist. I committed these atrocities, for which it’s impossible to repent, but I did so at a distance, as if watching my mechanical self operating beyond the control of the better part of me.

When Sidious finally figured out what I had known since the battle of the first death Star– that the boy pilot was the son of Anakin Skywalker (that’s me) and that the Sith had a new enemy –I played dumb so he wouldn’t suspect me of plotting against him. I wondered if it wasn’t actually my optimism about the boy, that had emboldened me in my mission that was causing the tremor in the force that Sidious felt.

It was with a sort of detachment I tortured Yoda’s friend the Wookie, and Han Solo, careful not to kill them, but intensely enough that Leia would experience their pain. I had sensed that the Force was with Leia, although it was obvious that she hadn’t undergone any Jedi training. I realized that her emotions were the most critical key to summoning my Son to me.

The plan worked, but when I finally faced my Son, in my exuberance to test his skills to determine his worth as an ally in my scheme to destroy Sidious; I lost myself. Perhaps it was too much to ask of a fledgling Jedi to repel heavy objects hurled at him in the passion of battle. Maybe it was my harsh exterior, or the fact that I hit him with a large piece of machinery and knocked him through a window into a seemingly bottomless shaft. Whatever it was, just like his mother, Luke was not receptive to my offer to destroy the Emperor together and rise to rule the Galaxy. He chose instead to hurl himself into the shaft and down below the city to take his chances hanging off a metal grid and wait for a ship to rescue him. I cynically figured the fucking Millennium Falcon would show up to rescue him.

I was heartbroken and feeling quite melancholy at being, universally misunderstood. My mask with its monstrous features and the influence of its mechanics exerted over my mind– I’m sure by Sidious’ design —just didn’t let me interact personally. It robbed me of my humanity. As I reflected on this I stood in disbelief as the Millennium Falcon blasted into hyperspace carrying my Luke with it. So dark was my mood, that I couldn’t even summon the strength to strangle Admiral Piett for his incompetence.

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