It's Saturday night and my daughter is in her room, sound asleep and quietly snoring. I've finished all my chores for the day and prepped my lectures for next week, so I am killing time before I go to bed by checking out what's up for grabs on eBay. Sounds pretty pathetic, doesn't it? Professor, divorcee with two and a half year old, and at home on the weekend surfing the 'net instead of out doing something else, but that's been the story of my life of late.

Tonight there isn't much interesting for sale. The usual badly made Jedi robes, the odd decent Vader helmet, and other odds and ends I usually find when searching for Star Wars costume pieces. Bored, I put in another query just using Vader as the search term.

Up pops a long list of action figures and toys. Scrolling down through it all, one entry catches my eye, so I click on it.

And promptly start laughing.

'Oh, man,' I say to myself. 'This has to be a joke by one of the guys in the 501st.'

I read the description again. Dinner with Darth Vader. At the Manarai Restaurant on Coruscant, no less. And the seller is listed as Palpatine, based here in my home city. No bids on it yet and several days before the auction ends, so to amuse myself, I flag it as an item to watch and go to bed.

A few days later, I am working my way through my e-mails and find an auction ending notice from eBay. Time to go see if anyone actually put a bid in on that dinner, I decide.

No one has. It seems everyone else has decided it's a joke, too.

'Alright,' I tell my little girl who is busy scribbling in her coloring book. 'Mommy is going to have some fun and see what happens if she bids on this.'

I enter $50, hit the place bid button, and turn my attention to back to my child. If I win the auction, I'll hear about it soon enough.

The next morning, the first entry I notice in my inbox reads: You Have Won eBay Item: Dinner With Darth Vader.

'Mommy won,' I tell my daughter as I start chuckling. 'I don't know exactly what I have won, but I have won it.'

She looks at me, obviously wondering what I am laughing at.

'Never mind, sweety,' I add. 'Mommy's just being a bit silly.'

This is just too good. Time to pay, though. Still, $50 for dinner and what should be an entertaining evening is a good deal. I add the information requested - my name, address, and phone number into the message window and hit enter.

'Paid up now,' I say to her once I have signed off. 'Now we'll see if it's a joke or not, and just who it is, too. I suppose it could be kind of fun, if it's one of the local 501st guys who I know.'

She dumps her oatmeal on the floor with a crash, and looks over at the upside down bowl.

'Messy,' she calls, pointing at it. 'Mommy fix.'

I let out a sigh.

'Whoever he is, I hope he doesn't mind a two and a half year old coming along for dinner,' I wryly note.

I answer my master's summons promptly since how he had worded it had made the meeting seem urgent. When I enter the throne room, he is alone, so I climb the stairs and kneel before him as I normally would.

He doesn't say anything for quite some time. I don't bother trying to hurry him and let myself slip into a light meditation instead. When he has had enough of making me wait, he will give me my orders.

'I have a task for you, my apprentice,' Palpatine finally speaks.

'What is thy bidding, my master,' I give my usual response.

He sits back in his seat and begins laughing. This is not a good sign. Normally when he indulges himself in this way, it bodes ill for whoever has his attention.

'It won't be an onerous duty,' he suggests, 'but it is a necessary one.'

I tip my head up from where I had been staring at the floor and look at him.

What is he up to?

Now that my focus is directly on him, the Emperor steeples his hands and smiles at me. He is most definitely planning something from the look on his face, and I am sure I will not like what it is.

'You need to socialize more,' he abruptly announces.

'What?' I say in surprise before I can stop myself.

Socialize? Why? That's a pointless waste of my time. I only go to formal functions when it is necessary or I have been commanded to appear. Expecting to be told I am to show up for some boring court ball or state banquet, I prepare myself to hear exactly that.

'I have arranged a date for you,' Palpatine slyly states, watching for my reaction. 'It will be with a woman from a remote planet who has chosen to meet you. From what my spies have discovered, she should be most suitable match for you.'

I freeze in place. What? Is he insane?

'You have done what?' I blurt out.

'It was rather simple, actually,' he continues, ignoring my outburst. 'I placed the equivalent of a personal ad on one of their sales listings, to see what would happen, and she purchased it. Or rather I should say she bought an evening with you. The results should be rather entertaining, don't you agree?'

I choke a little, causing my respirator to wheeze. There is no way I am going to co-operate with this.

'I am not going to spend an evening with this woman,' I growl in protest.

My master rises and points a finger directly at me.

'You can and you will,' he orders, leaving no doubt that I had better comply. 'I will not risk my reputation for keeping my word, even on some backwater planet, because you refuse to follow my wishes. You will go fetch her from her home world, bring her back to Coruscant, and take her to dinner at the Manarai, just as the contract I agreed to states. If I find the results amusing, I will let you return her to her home. If not, I will see to it that she stays with you permanently, as your guest.'

I draw myself upright and stand there, clenching my fists and shaking with impotent rage. How dare he do this to me. My private life is my own - it is the only thing I have left which is my own and not under his direct control. He has no right to foist this woman, this complete stranger, on me.

'You will obey me, my apprentice, or face the consequences for defying me,' he reminds me in a softer tone of voice, in that warning tone he always uses before he attacks or punishes.

I quickly consider my options. If I am belligerent, he will simply force me into doing as he pleases. Despite what I want, the obvious choice is to acquiesce.

'One evening? Dinner and that is all?' I decide to pin down precisely what is expected of me.

'That is all,' Palpatine agrees, then adds another condition, 'and I require a recording of your dinner with her as proof. What you do with her for the rest of the evening,' he goes on, his smile reappearing, 'is up to you, but I don't need to see it.'

My fury spikes again. As if I would ever do what he is suggesting. Or let him see it if I did.

'Lord Vader,' I state with as much dignity as I can muster under the circumstances, 'does not fool around on first dates.'

With that I spin about and stalk out, not bothering to wait for a dismissal. My master knows he has pushed me too far and for once lets me leave without a reprimand for my rudeness. Still, I have the distinct and infuriating impression that he has managed to out-manoeuvre me in some way.

By the time I reach my castle, the file on the human female I am going to dine with is waiting. There is no holo or flat image with it. It does contain a quick description of her background, co-ordinates for a hyperspace jump, and the location where she lives on the surface of her home world.

I see no reason to delay and send a brief message using the antiquated method indicated: 'Lord Vader will be at your residence at 18:00 tonight. Dress appropriately for a formal engagement.'

Hopefully she will know what is expected of her.

It isn't until the following Friday that I receive a message about my dinner date. Rather than an invitation, it reads more like a command: 'Lord Vader will be at your residence at 18:00 tonight. Dress appropriately for a formal engagement.'

'How typical,' I growl. 'Expects me to drop everything at his convenience. Just for that I am wearing one of my Padme gowns.'

I give my daughter a kiss on the top of her head.

'And miss sithling will wear one of her pretty dresses, too.'

The two of us spend the day outside, in the backyard and on the deck until it is time to get ready. Fortunately, my daughter likes getting into fancy clothes. She thinks it is great fun. I dress her first and turn her loose in the living room with a few of her toys while I debate what to put on myself.

I end up wearing the black leather and lace number from Attack of the Clones. The message said formal, so formal it is.

At 5:55pm, I take a peek through the front window. There is no one to be seen anywhere in the neighbourhood. Maybe I am going to be stood up after all. If I am, I will leave some nasty negative feedback for 'Palpatine,' I decide.

When 6:10 rolls around, I start pacing back and forth. He's either going to be fashionably late or pull a no show.

Then there is a knock on the door.

I leave Piett and Jir at the shuttle with the four troopers I had brought for security. Not that any is needed. No one noticed my ship as it slipped under their defenses or when it landed amoung the trees. It should be simple to find the address I was given and bring my 'date' back before anyone realizes I am here.

'Stay with the shuttle,' I order my officers and troopers. 'I should not be gone for very long.'

As I move from shadow to shadow, staying under cover as best I can, I almost feel like a young padawan again, sneaking out to get into mischief or visit Padme without Obi-Wan's knowledge. An ironic smile tugs at my lips. Now, with my regulated breathing, creeping up on anyone is impossible.

When I reach the last darkened spot I can conceal myself in, I survey the street. It should be the house directly in front of me, the one someone just peered out the window of. For a few minutes I debate what to do. I can still go back to Coruscant without the woman, but that will result in some sort of punishment for noncompliance with my master's orders.

Reluctantly, and not sure what I am going to encounter, I cross the road, go up to the door and knock on it.

'Mommy!' my daughter cries as she runs to the top of the stairs.

I shoo her aside, open the child gate, and go down to the door.

Standing outside when I swing it open is one very tall, solidly built, black armour clad figure. He did show up. For a moment I stare. That has to be one of the best Vader costumes I have ever seen, and I have examined many over the years. It's far better than mine.

'Won't you come inside, my lord?' I finally manage to get out.

A slight inclination of his head is the only answer I get before he steps through the door. The strong silent type. He must not be using a voice amp even though there is a breathing loop running.

'Darth!' my two year old shouts cheerfully. 'Darth!'

Her bouncing up and down, and happy shrieks definitely get his attention. She always does that when she sees someone suited up. Unless it is me, of course. Then, she still calls me 'mum.'

'I was not aware you had a child,' he finally says something in a perfect James Earl Jones baritone.

Wow. He either has the voice down pat or is using a Hyperdyne to shift his lower, but I have heard those and use one myself. They don't come close to producing a voice that good.

'That's Catherine, my two year old,' I reply, 'but most people usually call her the 'sithling' instead.'

His focus returns to me.

'Sithling?' the Vader impersonator asks, obviously curious about her nickname.

Oh, boy. He isn't with the local 501st or he is new to it. Everyone in the Squad knows my daughter since I am the Squadron Leader. I let out a sigh. Explanation time and I bet he is going to react the way most do.

'Come upstairs and I'll show you,' I offer.

He waits until I have opened the gate and moved Catherine aside before he climbs the stairs. How ever his armour is put together, it allows him to move smoothly and freely - far more easily than most who wear it. When I have a chance, I think I will ask him who made the various pieces.

'Darth!' my daughter says as she tugs on my hand. 'Up!'

'No, sweety,' I scold her a little. 'You must be good and behave yourself.'

I know she wants him to pick her up. Rather than let her loose, I keep a firm grip on her and go into the dining room. The simplest way to explain things is to show him a picture of myself in armour with Catherine by my side in her black tunic and cloak.

'I have my own set of armour,' I reveal, handing him the framed photo from the top of the china cabinet. 'When she was a baby, people started calling me Lady Vader and her, the sithling. It's sort of appropriate, I guess.'

Silence.

Then, a break in his breathing.

Followed by an odd, low noise which grows louder and evolves into laughter.

'Fine, laugh,' I growl at him, pulling the picture from his hands and returning it to its place. 'That's the usual reaction I get, but I would have thought someone in the 501st who is also a Sith Lord would have at least heard of me since I am the only woman in the group who wears it.'

'I know everyone in the 501st Legion,' he calmly replies, 'since I head it, and there are no women who wear a copy of my armour in it.'

At this it is my turn to laugh. I know the Legion CO, and this fellow definitely isn't him. It's becoming plain that bidding on the dinner date was a really, really bad idea. I seem to have ended up with someone who really thinks he is Darth Vader. Maybe I had better role play along with him until I can get him out of my house and lock the door.

The door is promptly opened by a redheaded woman in an exact copy of the gown Padme wore on Naboo when I made one of my awkward confessions of love to her. Why, of all the possible dresses she could have chosen, did it have to be that particular one? I stare at her, which is what she is doing back at me. Obviously she did not think I was going to show up.

'Won't you come inside, my lord?' she finally invites me in.

I tip my head in agreement and walk into her house. She's quite tall for a woman, I note, and not as young as I first thought, either. There are a few white hairs scattered amoung the flame coloured ones.

'Darth!' a child cries from the top of the staircase. 'Darth!'

My eyes are drawn upwards to where a little girl is enthusiastically calling my title and jumping about. Her attitude stuns me. Most children are terrified of my armour and I know parents use me as a monster who will come and get their youngsters when they are disobedient.

'I was not aware you had a child,' I state, silently cursing that missing piece of data which should have been in the report.

This will complicate matters considerably.

'That's Catherine, my two year old,' her mother tells me, 'but most people usually call her the 'sithling' instead.'

I look back at her, not sure that I heard her correctly.

'Sithling?' I ask, wondering why she would call her daughter that.

She sighs, then offers, 'Come upstairs and I'll show you.'

I follow her up the stairs after she has gone to move her daughter out of the way and open the gate for me. Her house is a hodge-podge of different styles of furniture and decoration. The area next to stairway has several couches in it and toys are strewn across the floor. It is plain that this is a mother who loves and spends time with her child.

'Darth!' Catherine says again, pulling at her mother. 'Up!'

'No, sweety,' she scolds, but gently. 'You must be good and behave yourself.'

This child wants me to pick her up? I waver between doing just that out of curiosity to see how she will react, and staying aloof to maintain my distance. Thankfully, I am handed an old style flat image before I can come to a decision.

'I have my own set of armour,' the woman tells me, as she gives me the picture. 'When she was a baby, people started calling me Lady Vader and her the sithling. It's sort of appropriate, I guess.'

The image in it is of myself - or rather a smaller version of myself, with a slightly younger 'sithling' in a black tunic and cloak beside me.

For a minute I stare at it, not sure what to say.

She dresses as me.

In a copy of my armour.

And it's a very accurate copy, too, right down to the lettering on my chest control panel.

No wonder her daughter isn't afraid of me. She has seen her mother impersonating me and has no reason to fear. They say imitation is the highest form of flattery, but I have never seen or heard of a woman wearing my armour before, and I can't think of a single reason why she might want to do so, either. At least she has an understanding of how it is for me and what my limitations are, having experienced the same herself.

I can't stop the low rumble which begins in my chest and gradually makes its way upwards. Within a few seconds, I am laughing, genuinely laughing, in pure amusement for the first time in years. Is this what Palpatine meant when he said she was a match for me? But surely he couldn't have known of her armour.

'Fine, laugh,' she growls at me, and I hear the hurt in her voice when she turns away and replaces the picture. 'That's the usual reaction I get, but I would have thought someone in the 501st who is also a Sith Lord would have at least heard of me since I am the only woman in the group who wears it.'

'I know everyone in the 501st Legion,' I quietly admit, 'since I head it, and there are no women who wear a copy of my armour in it.'

Something about my statement of the obvious makes her laugh in turn, but I don't know what it is.

'Perhaps we should go have dinner,' she hints as she leads her daughter down the stairs, to the door.

'Perhaps we should go have dinner,' I suggest, hoping he takes the hint as I lead Catherine down to the doorway.

'And your daughter will be coming with us,' he states as he follows us.

'Of course,' I answer, amused. 'What else would I do with her?'

'Good. After you, milady,' he says, waving me through the open door.

It seems I am not going to have the chance to lock him out and he's big enough that I won't be able to physically shove him out the door, either. I suppose I can manage an evening with him, if I must, but I am never bidding on a dinner date on eBay again.

Be careful what you bid on, comes unsolicited into my thoughts, because you might just get it.

I lock the door after us then look around. There is no car to be seen in the driveway or on the street. Surely he didn't walk here?

'My shuttle is in the nearby orchard,' he responds to my openly concerned looks.

Shuttle? Great. He is going to role play this to the hilt. I bet it's a beat-up old pick-up truck and he didn't want to scare me off by parking it where I could see it. This is getting better every minute.

'Lead the way, but if my new shoes get ruined traipsing through the mud, I expect you to replace them,' I grumble.

He doesn't wait for Catherine and I, and quickly strides away, vanishing between the rows of cherry trees. We are supposed to follow him, I assume, growing more annoyed every second. This is definitely not worth the $50. Maybe I should just call the whole thing off, but my stubborn streak and curiosity are getting the better of me.

I have no objections to leaving. The journey to Coruscant is a long one, and the sooner we go, the better.

'And your daughter will be coming with us,' I decide as I trail down the stairs after her.

'Of course,' she confirms. 'What else would I do with her?'

Leave her behind, I think, but given what I have already observed, there is no way she will consent to that and no point in trying to persuade her to. To survive my master's 'date' I need her co-operation as well. There's no reason to antagonize her before circumstances require it, either. I will simply adjust my plans to accommodate Catherine and hope she doesn't create too many complications. If it comes to it, and I have no other choice, I could resort to using the child to keep her mother in line, distasteful as I find that sort of tactic.

'Good. After you, milady,' I say to her, sending her through the door ahead of me with a gesture.

She quickly secures her home and looks anxiously around. For our transport, I soon realize.

'My shuttle is in the nearby orchard,' I reassure her.

Her expression doesn't improve, and if anything becomes more concerned

'Lead the way,' she instructs, 'but if my new shoes get ruined traipsing through the mud, I expect you to replace them.'

Typical female, I note. She's more worried about her footwear than where we are going. I walk swiftly away, gaining a lead on her. Before she gets to the shuttle I need to make sure Piett and Jir are ready.

'Jir,' I call to him when I arrive at my ship, 'get the sedative patches ready. You will need ones with dosages suitable for a small child and an adult female. We will have two passengers tonight, not one.'

He blinks at me in surprise.

'She has a young daughter she will not leave behind,' I add a further explanation to my orders. 'It will be easiest to drug them both rather than deal with an unhappy and wide awake two year old for the time we will be in hyperspace.'

No, the prospect of entertaining what would probably be an upset toddler for several hours is not a pleasant one. Still, the child does seem to like me, and I find that rather ... appealing.

I pick Catherine up and slowly make my way along, doing the best I can to avoid any mucky patches. After two days of rain, the ground is saturated and puddles are all over the place. Soon, my house is out of sight and it isn't clear where 'Vader' disappeared to. I don't like this situation at all, and my danger sense starts to sound a warning. Time to go back to safety.

'We are going home, sweety,' I whisper in my daughter's ear. 'Mommy doesn't like this at all.'

As I turn around, a firm hand takes a hold of my shoulder.

'This way,' I am told as he steers me sideways. 'It isn't far.'

His arm slides lower, to my waist. So much for escaping. My concentration and eyes stay at my feet, though. There are still plenty of wet places I don't want to step in.

When I go to fetch them, I find that she has stopped and is preparing to return to her home. I set my hand on her shoulder and turn her in the correct direction.

'This way,' I tell her. 'It isn't far.'

Just to make sure she can't flee or bolt when she sees my ship, I drop my arm to her waist. Her eyes stay focussed on the ground, though. Why is she so worried about her shoes? If they need to be replaced, I will simply buy her another pair or have them copied for her.

'Captain,' I call to Piett who is ready and waiting. 'Take the child.'

'Captain,' I hear him call to someone. 'Take the child.'

'What?' I blurt out.

My attention instantly shifts from the ground to what's in front of me - which is one bright white, lambda class shuttle, four stormtroopers and a couple uniform wearing officers. The nearest of the two officers reaches for Catherine. I try to twist about to avoid him, but find myself securely held in place by Vader.

'No, you can't have her!' I yell at them.

I keep struggling, refusing to let go of my daughter who is now starting to make quite the fuss of her own. Using the freer of my arms, I slam my elbow backwards into the Sith Lord's stomach. He lets out a surprised gasp, indicating I did a bit of damage.

'Sedate her, quickly,' Vader snaps while I do my best to kick the Captain in the shins, 'before we are noticed.'

Something is slapped against my neck by the second officer, a Lieutenant by his rank plaque, and I start to get dizzy. My grip on Catherine loosens and she is ripped away from me by the Captain. Determined not to go down without a fight and intending to get her back, I keep doing my best to escape from them. There is a satisfying yelp when my foot finally connects against something vulnerable. Good. I hope it was Vader I got that time.

'Let me go!' I yell at them. 'I want my daughter back!'

'Use another sed-patch!' someone orders.

A black leather covered arm across my chest hauls me backwards. I resist the temptation to bite him on the forearm because I know that won't do any good. Another plastic square is stuck on me, but this one I manage to tear off. I am not letting them drug me again. Vader's other arm wraps around my waist, pinning my hands in place at last.

'Enough,' he growls.

I ignore him and aim another kick at the Lieutenant, but he moves out of my range. Catherine is nowhere in sight, prompting me to start struggling again.

'What have you done with my daughter!'

'She's on the shuttle already,' Vader tells me, 'and sedated for the trip.'

'I don't believe you,' I snap at him, moving in a way which forces him to shift his grip.

Perfect. I know exactly where the metal prosthesis on his arm is supposed to end and flesh begin. Before he can react, I turn my head sideways and bite down as hard as I possibly can on that vulnerable few inches below his shoulder pauldron. At the same time, someone else smacks one of those patches over my jugular.

It took three hefty men to subdue little old me, and one of them a Sith Lord, is the thought which runs through my head as I finally black out.

'What?' she bursts out, snapping her head up.

From how she stiffened instantly, the shuttle she sees is not what she expected. I shake my head in frustration. How does she think I got here? In my fighter?

Piett moves to take Catherine from her, but she twists sideways. I increase my grip on her waist to keep her from escaping. We need to see to the child first before drugging her mother. And my instructions were very specific in that regard. She can't fly without being sedated.

'No, you can't have her!' she screams at us.

Perhaps I should have told her how we were getting to Coruscant before we left her house, I think with a frown. This is not going according to plan at all. The uproar her daughter is creating will surely draw unwanted attention if I don't act swiftly.

She makes another attempt to get away and keeps Catherine out of Piett's reach. I start to shift my grip, intending to pin her further, but she somehow manages to slam an elbow backwards into my abdomen. Sithspit, that hurt, I decide as she hits one of my few vulnerable spots and I gasp involuntarily.

It's time to put a stop to this before I lose my temper and hurt her.

'Sedate her, quickly,' I growl while she continues to struggle, 'before we are noticed.'

Jir is able to get close enough to slap a patch on her throat. It will take effect almost instantly, so it shouldn't be long until this farce is over. I feel her go a little limp and nod at Piett who is finally able to take Catherine from her. The loss of her child, however, brings out new energy reserves. She continues to fight, and kicks Jir - and quite hard, too, from noise he just made.

'Let me go!' she yells. 'I want my daughter back!'

'Use another sed-patch!' Piett suggests as he carries the now sleeping child away and into my ship.

I pull her back into my body with an arm across her chest. There are ways to restrain her without causing injury and I am far stronger than she is. Her struggles abate a little as she realizes I am not going to let go. The Lieutenant steps in closer, and slaps a second patch on her. This one she rips off before the drug can enter her system. I wrap my other arm about her waist and pin her hands in place to prevent that from happening again.

'Enough,' I growl at her.

My warning prompts her to defiantly kick at Jir again, but my aide has learned his lesson. He steps well out of range.

'What have you done with my daughter!'

That's what the problem is. Her maternal protective instinct is fuelling her adrenaline surges and preventing the sedative from working. Perhaps I need to reassure her all is well.

'She is on the shuttle already,' I tell her, 'and sedated for the trip.'

'I don't believe you,' she snaps at me as she wriggles a bit.

I move to prevent another escape attempt, but instead of doing the expected, she turns her head sideways and bites me on the arm. Hard. Right above the cybernetic prosthesis where my skin is the most sensitive.

'Jir!' I shout while doing my best not to let the pain I am in show.

The third patch he sticks on her lands right over the major artery in her neck. Within seconds she is unconscious. To save time, I carry her into the shuttle myself and lay her down on the floor beside her daughter. Piett, I see has taken a few minutes to make the girl comfortable, covering her with an emergency blanket from the ship's stores. He can see to her mother as well.

I drop into a chair beside them and flex my arm, noting exactly where she bit me. There's probably a large bruise and a set of teeth marks on my skin under the leather bodysuit.

'Piett,' I tell my officer once we have left the ground. 'The next time a similar situation arises, remind me to never provoke a female with offspring.'