The idea of the situation getting worse was not one that had occurred to the admiral, but apparently it wasn't enough for Veers to decorate his own office and chip away at the working environment on the bridge. Piett was beginning to notice something as he went about his daily routine. Things were changing ever so slightly. He almost thought he was imagining it for a while, paranoid, perhaps because of the bridge crew incident, and then one day he something caught his attention.
Piett had been having a relatively quiet day, and he was traveling with his nose to a clip board when it happened. Perhaps that was what allowed him to see it. Something bright snagged his peripheral as he rounded a corner, and when he looked up to it, it gave him pause. It was a simple thing, a tiny little decoration affixed with nothing but a piece of tape. He wouldn't even have noticed it except that it was red. A singular, small piece of holly had been simply taped to the door. The admiral leaned in to examine the piece. "What in the blazes?" he wondered aloud, gently lifting the decoration to peer at it. "Why would-" He blinked. It was then that the plant's connection to the season clicked, and he shook his head, letting it fall back into place. Mildly frustrated, he continued on. Perhaps he wasn't just imagining things.
A week later, his thoughts drifting along a similar path, the admiral was making his way to lunch. The top officers mess should have been the one place aside from his own quarters and the bridge where he could get a bit of peace, and indeed the meal started pleasantly enough. He stood in line and got his food, and he was just about to take his tray to leave when something caught his eye. "What in the galaxy are those?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
The cook behind the counter followed his gaze and then grinned a bit. "Christmas cookies, sir. Would you like one?"
Piett closed his eyes for a moment, exasperated. He couldn't even go get a meal anymore. "No, thank you." Shaking his head to himself, he found a table against the far wall. He'd gotten himself a headache already, and he wasn't particularly in the mood to socialize. At least, he thought to himself, this "little bit of cheer" was optional. He wasn't forced to tolerate this like he was the distraction of his crew and the little decorations cropping up everywhere. This was pleasantly ignorable.
He sat and ate his meal quietly for a while, letting his mind wander over the latest reports of rebel activity. It wasn't until he'd finished that he let his mind wander back over to Veers again. He picked it up his napkin absently but he blinked as he caught sight of it. Firstly, it was blue, secondly it had a large white snowflake in the middle. Slowly the admiral grew very wide eyed. Then he noticed the decoration in the middle of the table. A tiny evergreen tree camped in its miniscule pot, staring innocently up at him. He stared at it for a moment, but he couldn't seem to find a reaction. Without another word he got up and left.
Of course, Veers never was one for subtlety, and the fling didn't last long. The next afternoon Piett found a flyer on his desk. 'Music, food and presents!' it shouted in large, boldface type. 'Celebrate the season on the twenty-fifth, lounges 301-399, all invited.'
Piett battled the incredible the urge to crumple it. He didn't even bother storming down to the general's office this round. Instead he walked, looking rather tired, and simply knocked on the door. This, he thought, spoke for itself. He didn't even give the general time to greet him once he was given permission to enter. "You don't think this is going too far?" He held up the flier and raised one eyebrow.
"Well, hello to you too." Veers hadn't looked up to him yet; he seemed to actually be doing some sort of paperwork for once. When, finally, he looked to see what the other man meant, he grinned at the sight of it. "Ah, good, you've gotten the flier. No, I don't see why this should be going too far."
"Consider it for a moment, General. You are one of the most feared men in the galaxy. If you go through with this, you're going to ruin your reputation. You're going to loose the respect you've put yourself through years of excruciatingly hard work to get."
"Balderdash."
Piett crossed his arms. "Just how so?"
"Everyone else wants one just as badly as I do; I'm nothing but the man with the position to pull it off. You're over everyone else." He smirked.
"Vader," he reminded him dryly.
Veers put up his hands. "I don't know if you've noticed yet admiral, but I don't think he honestly minds...And that's bothering you an awful lot, isn't it?" He couldn't help but grin as this realization hit him. He leaned forward with his elbows on his desk and his hands clasped before his mouth, looking rather pleased with this idea.
Piett sneered a bit. "I don't know what's going on with his Lordship. I'd have thought for certain you'd be dead over all of this by now, but you haven't received so much as a warning. I don't understand...What have you done?"
"Why, I've done nothing but celebrate the season," he said quietly, still grinning. "If the feeling spreads, the feeling spreads; none of that is up to me. The things I do may be stupid and illogical; they may be curious and tolerable, or they may be a gesture of kindness in good cheer, but none of that is up to me. I perform the actions; the other people who watch me, they're the ones who interpret it and allow it to spread. They choose to take it on; I can't force them to."
The Admiral stood silently for a moment. "And when it spreads that the most successful general in the Imperial Army is hosting a Christmas party, what will they think then?"
Veers only shrugged. "I don't know; I haven't the foggiest."
"You don't care what happens, do you? It couldn't bother you less what other people think of you and your ridiculousness."
"Well, not really, but that hasn't so much been the point. It's Christmastime, Piett. We need a bit of cheer around here! I think you might need it most of all. Lighten up! Enjoy the season!"
The admiral only shook his head. "Alright, let's forget about your position for a moment then, shall we? How about the rest of the crew who decides to attend this event. Who's going to be left to run the ship, Veers? Are you going to contact the Rebels and call a truce for the day? Or perhaps you intended to invite them over for a spot of cocoa with the rest of us."
The general only shrugged. To tell him that, yes, he had full intention of contacting the Rebel forces for a momentary truce would likely only send him into a fury. Best to keep that bit to himself for now.
Piett breathed a sigh. "It's nonsense, Veers, but if you want to ruin your position, then I suppose I have no right to stop you. My apologies for interrupting your day." He turned and left without another word. What in the galaxy he was doing with his men these days, the admiral had absolutely no idea.
As he headed back to his office, slowly sliding back into a less irritable train of thought, he wondered – he couldn't help but wonder – why Vader had been so quiet on the subject. It wasn't as if he was participating in Veers' shenanigans, so it couldn't truly be said that he approved; indeed, if his mood lightened at all from his usual irritability, the difference was imperceptible. On the other hand, he didn't seem to be outright bothered by it like he was, which Piett found the strangest of all. It was almost as though he was willingly ignoring it. This man who was as likely to kill you as he was to inhale was choosing to completely ignore this holiday foolishness. No, perhaps that wasn't the strangest of all. Perhaps the strangest of all was the way he would occasionally stop and tilt his head at some decoration or posted Christmas card. It was almost as if the whole thing was new to him. He couldn't help but smirk at the idea. Perhaps it was. After all, what reason would a man like Vader ever have to celebrate a holiday based around kindness and giving?
A few days later, the admiral was on his way to the bridge, feeling calmer than he had in the past few days despite everything. In fact, the general wasn't even on his mind that morning as he stepped into the room. The first thing he noticed was the lighting: there was a haze of red in it. His brain jumped immediately to an emergency, but there were no alarms. He paused a moment, blinking, and he slowly lifted his gaze, discovering the source of the lighting. He was struck nearly dumb. "Stars..."
"No, no stars, didn't even set them blinking. I thought you might like it better that way, less distracting for your men."
The admiral whirled on him. "Veers!" He was yet too shocked to be angry.
"Don't you like it? I think it's lovely; look what it's done to the lighting in here, and besides, your men all seem to like it." Indeed, the number of smiles in the room was exponentially higher than usual. "And, I think it will do you a bit of good."
"Wh- what have you done?" Then he turned on the general and spoke quietly, though his anger was evident. "Are you actually attempting to sabotage us?"
Veers only chuckled and laid a hand chummily across his shoulders. "Oh, balderdash, why would I do that? I live on this ship, you know."
Piett continued to glare. "I have to admit to you general, I'm still trying to work that out."
Just then they heard the door open, and Vader walked onto the bridge, reacting in much the same manner the admiral had.
Piett glanced to Veers, silently wondering how much longer he would be standing there. Surely Vader couldn't just ignore this.
Vader proceed to do just that, walking to his usual position and giving a nod to the officers as he passed. "Gentlemen."
Piett had to fight hard not to let his jaw drop. Nothing: no anger, no reprimand, not even an acknowledgment. Confounded was nowhere near a strong enough word.
"Well? So? I was considering adding a few snowflakes next, but I wasn't sure if that would perhaps be too busy with all the equipment in here."
The general's words pulled him back to reality, and Piett, glared at him hard. "Don't you have other things to be doing?" he sneered, pulling away from him.
"Oh! Quite right; suppose I should be off then," he said, slapping him on the back and taking his leave.
Piett remained silent. He didn't know what he was off to do, and he didn't want to know.