Who Wants To Be A Sith Apprentice (…Anyway)?
Author's Notes: Title inspired by the game show 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?'
For those unfamiliar with the Discworld novels, the character of Death speaks in capital letters (and without speech marks) – so please don't think that I am shouting in the story!
Year: 32 BBY (Before the Battle of Yavin)
A few months after the close of Episode 1…
Chapter One:
The First Candidate
"Installation Kappa Omicron 100 to Shuttle Delta 2. You are cleared for entry at Hangar One."
"Roger, Roger," replied the co-pilot, who then froze as he saw the bulbous eyes of the pilot seated next to him. The expression on the other Neimoidian was giving him what had to be a withering stare.
"What?" asked the co-pilot.
"Just say: 'Acknowledged. Wilco. Over and out! Whatever! Not 'Roger, Roger', you dolt! We are not battle droids!"
"Can't I have even a little fun, doing this boring job?" the co-pilot protested. His grey face was unable to flush red. Instead, it turned a darker shade.
"Silence! Let us concentrate on landing this craft smoothly. Then we can be rid of that freaky-looking, red-eyed guy in the back…"
The Neimoidian shuttle approached the newly-built, white-coloured station that was situated in mid-space. As they turned the craft in on the allocated approach, the forcefield entrance to Hanger One came into view…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Some minutes later, four red-clad guards were escorting the tall, bulky male passenger from the shuttle. They passed along a series of gleaming white corridors and past a couple of well-guarded checkpoints. Finally, the captain of the escort operated a door with his electronic key. As the door slid open, he gestured with his head towards the half-lit chamber beyond.
The passenger could not see the expressions on the faces of the guards. They wore crimson masks that blended with the rest of their long red battle-suits and scarlet cloaks. Only a narrow, dark visor allowed the passenger any chance of seeing their eyes – but he saw only saw a dark slit.
Never seen that before. Must be a new uniform…, thought the visitor.
"In you go, Citizen Ameel," the captain gruffly announced through his mask.
The burly, blue-skinned arrival nodded back down at the captain, who stood a head below him. Then, cracking his wide knuckles, the Chiss visitor bent down and passed through the doorway, which resealed itself behind him.
The visitor remembered to straighten himself up. The chamber – like the corridors – was tall enough, even for him… But the doorways required a little care…
He turned and quickly checked over the door. The voices of the red-clad guards, and the hums of their consoles could not be heard. It was a sound-proof barrier.
Satisfied, the Chiss looked around the chamber – then frowned, seeing that he was alone. The only feature of note, amidst the dimly-lit, rectangular room was a wide dais at the far side. There was also a comfortable-looking red seat placed before the dais, facing it.
There was no sign of any other exits.
The visitor grunted, and checked the time on his wrist monitor. He was on schedule – so where was the one that he was supposed to meet?
Panicking a little, he put down his bulky-looking travel bag, and pulled out from his sock the list of instructions he had received…
The dais lit up with a sudden 'hum'. A flickering blue column of light reached down to the glass circle on the dais from the projector overhead. Within the projected image, a cowed figure, arms folded together, was staring at the arrival.
"Welcome, my Chiss friend. Be seated."
The voice of the hooded host was calm, but authoritive. It conveyed the tones of a man with many years behind him. A man who was used to being obeyed without question.
The visitor grunted again and sat on the provided chair. From his end of the holo-relay, the host appraised the younger male. Taller and more muscular than the average Chiss, the candidate looked like he could snap a man's neck with his bare hands. Indeed, he had done just that to some of the battle droids sent to hunt him down, within the secret testing ground on Neimoidia. The rest of the robot squad had perished, due to the Chiss's skill with a minimum of weapons, plus the use of the lightsaber he had managed to track down, as part of his physical trial.
The lightsaber itself had been returned to the Neimoidian overseers at the end of the trial, of course. The prize of having the lightsaber for keeps could only go the next successful Sith Apprentice…
Yes… Physically, the Chiss candidate looked promising, the Dark Lord of the Sith thought to himself. But it was now time for the interview, so that he could be certain…
Then the candidate spoke.
"Ur… Are you Darth Sniffious, then?"
The creeping smile on the hooded figure's face abruptly vanished. The candidate's flat voice did not…bode well. The Sith Lord could not have known it – but the voice of the Chiss visitor was somewhat similar to the Abominable Snowman in a certain Earth cartoon featuring Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck…
"I am Darth Sidious! Do not get my title wrong again! And you are Citizen Ameel. Correct?"
"Uh, yes. Ordo…"
"Although what?"
"No! Ordo. That's my first name. I am Ordo Ameel. I know I just put 'Ameel' on me application form – but my mother told me, if I ever found myself going for a big job I had to be honest at the interview."
"Ah, yes… If I remember correctly, your application form was written in blood…"
The candidate gave a moonbeam of a smug smile and nodded. His blue-skinned head bobbed. "Used the blood of a Chiss rat, sir. Though that it would make me form stand out…"
"Too true it did…," Sidious muttered. Then, speaking louder, he raised his lowered face towards the candidate. "So… Let me get this straight. Your full name is…"
"Ordo Ameel, sir."
The future tyrant of the galaxy rolled the name around in the dark recesses of his mind, and then scowled. "That is not a suitable name for a Sith Apprentice."
"Huh? Why not, sir?"
"Because it sounds like 'order a meal'!"
"Uh, well... I do eat a lot to maintain my strength, sir. So it's only fitting…"
"That is enough. I will have to call you 'Citizen Ameel', for now…"
"Or you can use me nickname, if yur like, sir. My tribal folk used to call me 'Wird Hatt'.
"Wird…?" echoed Darth Sidious, not certain if his cloth-hidden ears were working properly. "Do you not mean 'Weird'? W-E-I-R-D?"
"Uh, no sir. My tribesfolk weren't that well educated, when it came to learning Galactic Basic Standard. They spelt it W-I-R-D. And 'hat' with two 't's."
Sidious raised a hand above his face and rubbed his forehead, feeling somewhat taken aback by what Ameel was telling him. "And…why, pray…, did your people give you such a nickname?"
"Huh-huh! I'll show yur, sir." The red eyes of the Chiss candidate did not exactly light up – but they seemed to widen and turn a shade paler. He rummaged in his huge travel bag. An assortment of items were emptied out, including a sleeping bag, a packet of tablets, and what seemed to be a souvenir model of the Royal Palace of Theed, on Naboo. With the price ticket still attached.
"Um, sorry… It's dropped down to the bottom. Ah, here it is…" With his gaze focused on the depths of his bag, Ameel did not take in the sight of the holo-Sidious rubbing his face with growing consternation…
By the time the Dark Lord of the Sith had dared to look at Ameel again, he was startled to see the smiling blue-skinned candidate wearing a silver helmet, complete with Viking-style wings.
Sidious eventually managed to speak. "What in Bane's name…?"
"It's me lucky charm." Ameel beamed. "I wore it during me physical trial. Saved me from 'em droids shooting at my head. Had it given to me by me family, when Pappa died. It was his, yur see. But thur tribefolk didn't seem to think much of it, and called me 'Wird Hatt' from that time on…"
"Take…it…off," Sidious rasped.
The goofy smile on the Chiss's face dropped like a stone. "Uh. But it's me good luck charm, sir! Can't I wear it for this interview?"
"At this moment, you don't need luck. You need a miracle…," Sidious hissed, his thin lips trembling. He raised his voice. "Put…it…away!"
Looking like a kid deprived of his favourite toy, Ameel sullenly re-stuffed his helmet into his travel bag.
"And those tablets…? What are they?" The Sith Lord pointed at the box he had spotted, still lying on the floor from Ameel emptying out his bag.
"Uh. They're to guard against travel sickness during space flight, sir. I get it bad, sometimes."
The cloaked holo-figure was deathly silent for a long moment. Then he slowly spoke, carefully weighing his words. "You do realise that a requirement of the job of being a Sith Apprentice is that there will be a lot of travel involved?"
"Uh… Yes, sir! It's one of the reasons that got me applying…"
"Why do you wish to be trained in the ways of the Sith?"
Ameel's blue face regained its wide smile. "Too many people have scorned me in my life, sir. Thought I wouldn't amount to much."
"Really? You do surprise me…"
Not picking up on the sarcasm in the Sith Lord's voice, Ameel babbled on. "But I want all those who scorned me to know that I'm not only strong with the force, me is also deadly when I'm swinging a lightsaber around! Hur-hur! I loved seeing 'em droids fall apart into little bits. Oh. And I wanna be a Sith, so that I can slaughter the natives of Favoss."
"Favoss? I have never heard of such a planet…" Sidious frowned.
"Not planet, sir. It's the province next to the one me hometown's in. They keep beating us in the inter-province games – especially the shooting events and the quizzes. I don't wanna kill all of the Favossians, o'course. Just enough to wipe out their best shots and the brainy ones. Wanna teach 'em a lesson."
I feel like teaching you a lesson, right now…!
The Sith Lord resisted the impulse to end the conversation there and then. Instead, he took in the sheet of paper on the arm of the candidate's chair. A suspicion gnawed at him.
"That…paper…" He pointed to it. "What is it…?"
"Ur, the instructions for meeting you here, sir. I wrote them down…"
"You received those instructions, whilst in Republic space… And what name…did you write down as your appointment on that sheet?"
"Um, Darth Sniffious, sir."
"You…idiot! !" Sidious raged. "I have taken pains to ensure that the Republic forces, including the Jedi, have no idea of this meeting. Only my private staff, sworn to secrecy, know of your arrival here! And you pass through Republic space customs, with a set of instructions to meet me, with my title on them? Contrary to the instruction that you were to come here, 'with total discretion'! ?"
"Urr… Sorry, sir! I forgot 'bout the discretion bit." Ameel then smiled. "But none of them custom officers found da' instructions on me. They didn't think of looking in the socks I had on at the time…"
"Enough!" Sidious was grateful that he was wearing a hood, as he suddenly had the near-overwhelming urge to tear at his hair. He disappeared momentarily. Seconds later, he reappeared. In the meantime, a hidden door was slowly sliding aside – close to the holo-dais. He had just gone to activate the control.
"Go to the…waiting room…beyond. You will find machine facilities for food and drink. I will speak again with you…later."
Ameel's face winkled in confusion. "Uh? But I've got more to say! Is thur interview over?"
"Did it even really begin?" Sidious rasped. "Now – be gone!"
With a puppy-dog look of rejection on his blue face, Ameel stood up and started shuffling to the previously-hidden door.
"Hurry up! And take your bag and helmet with you! !" The Dark Lord of the Sith rolled his eyes.
"Oh! Urh… Sorry." Raising his hand, Ameel focused on his travel bag. After a few twitches, the bag shot across the chamber and into the Chiss's grasp. Then he quickly pedalled through the doorway like a berserk wind-up automaton that had been let loose – remembering just in time to duck his head. The sliding door resealed itself behind him.
Sidious gave a sigh of exasperation. Ameel had performed impressively in his physical trial – having the capability, agility, and potential with a lightsaber – as well as promising abilities in the use of the Force. If he did not have all of those factors, he would have been killed during his gruelling test.
However, it was now clear that Ordo Ameel, in the mental stakes, would struggle to meet the expectations required of a Sith Apprentice…
The future galactic tyrant contemplated to himself. In the room where he physically was, he remembered a little-known Sith tradition that you could sometimes reveal a person's identity by rearranging the letters of their given name. Reaching for a nearby pen and paper, the Sith Lord calmed his nerves by toying with a series of letters, written in a circle.
After a few minutes, he gave a sharp, humourless laugh. "Figures," he muttered under his breath, as he gazed at the heavily-jotted sheet in his hand. He had managed to re-arrange 'WIRD HATT' into 'DARTH WIT'.
"Half-wit, more like!" Sidious snorted. He slammed the pen and paper back onto the desk.
Just as well I have other candidates to interview, he thought to himself. The next one should be here within the hour…