Prologue
Admiral Piett cringed as the sound of his daughter's violin screeched through the house. It was not his daughter- it was the violin. No daughter of his could ever, ever, possibly sound like that. Speaking of the little brat, she ran into the living room, violin in hand, at that very moment and skidded to a stop in front of Piett's chair that he was ever so cozily relaxing in. "Daddy," her soft blond curls bounded on her shoulders as she excitedly fidgeted in place, "Daddy, do you want to hear me play?"
Oh, anything but that. "Wouldn't you rather come sit in Daddy's lap, sweetie?" She thought about it for a moment and then dropped the instrument to the floor. Unfortunately, it failed to break. She climbed up into his arms and snuggled up next to his chest. This was wonderful.
"Admiral Piett to the bridge!" Piet shot strait up in bed. He reached for his commlink in frustration at being woken up from his lovely dream.
"What!"
"Sir, we need you on the bridge."
He did everything to pull himself out of his groggy state and resisted the urge to yet in a very unprofessional manner. "Why do you need me on the bridge, lieutenant?"
There was a long silence. "Well, the captain's dead." Piett resisted the urge to smack himself on the forehead. If Vader did not stop killing off his officers, there would be no one to run the ship. He sighed and climbed out of bed. "Sir? Are you still there?" He cut off the link and dressed himself. Something had to be done. But what?