The Executor

Main Docking Bay

In orbit around Corellia

6 hours later

Admiral Firmus Piett pulled himself straight as the shuttle ramp lowered, as the familiar inhalations and exhalations smote his eardrums.

He certainly hadn't expected to see (cope with) Lord Vader today. The Executor, with Piett in command, had been innocently in orbit around the nearby planet of Exodeen. Work crews on the planet's surface were vigorously harvesting the local pta fruit, preparatory to having it shipped to various worlds for the production of potent alcoholic beverages for the benefit of the galaxy's elite.

The Executor was providing security for the crews and transport ships to protect them from pirates, while also working on a minor but pernicious shielding issue.

It was a relaxing task - so relaxing, in fact, that Piett had given himself the evening off so that he and other high ranking officers could watch the Championship shockball game in the officer's mess.

Then came the shockball heard round the galaxy, which resulted in the Imperial Thrones losing. And then, even as Piett sought to drag his shocked jaw off the floor, the holocams had caught Darth Vader fighting, yes, fighting, with a short slight figure clad in blue and green, and carrying a matching green lightsaber.

Luke Skywalker.

And then, there was a food fight, followed by the evil Skywalker (thankfully) being stunned. Soon after, Piett had received an emergency transmission ordering the Executor to Corellia as quickly as possible.

So here he was, standing in the docking bay, waiting for his lord to descend. On one hand, Piett was vaguely morose because he liked commanding the Executor himself. On the other hand, he was relieved that Lord Vader should be in a reasonably decent mood.

At last, at last, the slippery sand rat was in custody. Luke Skywalker, who had haunted his days and nights and meal times and bath times. It was incredible that someone so young and visually unimposing could cause such an enormous amount of trouble.

Admiral Piett was very very glad that this epoch of Imperial history was over, the search for Luke Skywalker. He looked forward to the boy being dragged in chains into the highest security cell on board this ship, there to wait for interrogation and death at Lord Vader's leisure.

The heavy tramp of feet heralded the arrival of Lord Vader, and Piett pulled himself even stiffer.

"So she loathes you to the very depths of her being," an unfamiliar voice commented. "Not to be rude, but so do thousands, probably tens of thousands, of other beings in the galaxy."

Piett looked up in bewilderment, and then nearly fainted from shock.

As expected, Darth Vader was here, but trailing slightly behind him was the slight figure of ... of ... of Luke Skywalker.

The youth had changed into a black outfit and, for reasons that were not remotely clear to Piett, was apparently carrying his deadly lightsaber. And where were the binders? The shock collar? The giant net? The ball and chain?

Vader stepped off the ramp and onto the docking bay floor. After a slight nod of acknowledgement to his admiral, he turned to face the young Rebel.

"None of those other beings is Padme's daughter," the bass voice intoned oddly.

Oddly because Piett had survived for a very long time by reading Darth Vader far better than most people. This tone was downright weird. Vader sounded ... sad? Even despairing.

The boy, whose face was surprisingly gentle, said gravely, "She's a good person, you know. If you show you are willing to make changes ..."

"It is hopeless," Vader interrupted him, and then turned to Piett.

The admiral was fighting hard to maintain a semblance of calm in the middle of this thoroughly bizarre conversation.

"Admiral, when can the Executor depart for Endor?"

"My lord," Piett responded carefully, "We were in the middle of a shielding test at the time of your urgent signal to proceed post haste to Corellia. I would prefer to complete certain analyses before going into hyperspace for the longer journey to Endor."

Vader tilted his head slightly, "How long will the testing require, Admiral?"

"I believe we will have completed our analyses in three hours, my lord."

"Very well," the Sith responded with remarkable calm. "Come with us, Admiral."

Piett gestured for the stormtroopers standing at attention to go away, then followed the unlikely pair into the private elevator which led to Vader's quarters.

Once inside the capsule carrying them upwards, the admiral shrank against the wall and tried to be as invisible as possible as the conversation started up again.

"So it really isn't all about you, you know," Skywalker said in what could only be described as a reprimanding tone. "Just because you think she won't respond well doesn't mean you can't do the right thing."

"And what is the right thing, from your perspective?" Vader replied wearily.

"Oh, I don't know. Don't be a raving psychopath. Drop the enormous bounties on us. Work on peace. That kind of thing."

There was a long pause, while Piett focused on breathing regularly. Why ... how ... was Skywalker still in one piece?

"She seemed ... attached, to the smuggler," Vader suddenly intoned solemnly.

"As in, in love? Yes, she's in love with Solo."

"And I essentially killed him by carbon freezing him and delivering him to Boba Fett. Yet another reason that any kind of reconciliation is impossible."

"What do you take us for? We rescued him a couple of weeks ago!"

"You retrieved Solo from the Hutt? Remarkable. I would not have presumed the Alliance had sufficient funds for such an endeavor."

"Oh, I tried to negotiate, and he refused. He dropped me in to be eaten by his pet rancor, and I killed it. Then he tried to throw us to the Sarlacc, which is this ugly creature with a big toothy mouth and tentacles which is buried in the sand in the desert ..."

"I am familiar with the Sarlacc."

"Really? That's kind of a Tatooine thing, as far as I know; most people don't know about it. Anyway, I broke free and jumped from a sand skiff to Jabba's sail barge and started cutting people down. And Leia. Leia! She grabbed a chain and threw it around Jabba's neck and strangled him! Our R2 unit took this great holo of Jabba, dead, with his big fat tongue sticking out. Han has that holo permanently installed on the Falcon's cabin wall."

The elevator door opened now, and Vader and Skywalker exited and turned right, with Piett following shakily.

"I am pleased the smuggler lives, for her sake. Nevertheless, the political situation is fraught with difficulty. I suspect politics is not your preferred prevue ..."

"You've got that right ..."

"But she will certainly understand the complications, even as her mother did before her. Even if I do reach out, why should she trust me?"

"She won't. But she does trust me. Let me talk to her."

The two had stopped now in front of a door, a rather mysterious door, the one down the corridor from the Dark Lord's private suite.

Piett kept his gaze rigidly ahead, fixed on his Lord's left shoulder panel. What was this?

To his unnerved surprise, Skywalker suddenly turned and looked directly at him.

"Admiral? I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I'm Commander Luke Skywalker."

Piett's eyes widened in horror, and he shot a worried glance at Vader. The Dark Lord was standing in a pose which bespoke, to Piett's experienced eye, that the Sith was deep in thought.

"I know who you are, Skywalker," he finally grated out.

The youth actually chuckled, "And I gather that I am not one of your favorite people."

To his surprise, Piett actually found himself angry, "You destroyed the Death Star with more than a million men on board, Skywalker."

The young face grew grave, "And the Death Star destroyed billions on Alderaan, Admiral, and was preparing to destroy billions more on other worlds."

"They were traitors," Piett began passionately, only to stop talking when Vader abruptly moved forward and placed a gentle hand on Skywalker's shoulder.

What?

"No political arguments, young one," he said firmly but not angrily.

The boy looked abashed, "My apologies. I'm sorry, Admiral."

Piett found himself taking refuge in an old habit he had developed in his academy days, counting his teeth with his tongue. He found it grounded him in stressful situations.

"Very well, Son, you may contact the princess," Vader suddenly said.

Piett tried to inhale and exhale simultaneously, choked on his own spit, and found himself hacking uncontrollably, doubled over in a paroxysm of shock.

A moment later, a hand was beating on his back rhythmically, even as the young voice spoke soothingly, "Just breathe slowly, Admiral," and then, "Really, Father, you need to break yourself of the habit of just throwing that information abruptly at people."

Piett lifted his head and found himself straightening with the helpful support of ... of Darth Vader's son.

He knew he was probably going to die for collapsing like a Doshian jellyfish in front of his superior, but at the moment he was too flummoxed to really care.

"Skywalker is ... is your son, my Lord?" he gasped out with words that sounded odd to his own ears.

"Indeed," the Dark Lord said, his arms folded. "It should have been totally obvious, given how vigorously I have pursued him."

"I assure you it wasn't obvious to me," Skywalker responded irascibly, removing his supporting arm from Piett's, "And I was the focus. I just thought you were being Sithly and psychotic. I promise you it did not so much as cross my mind that we were directly related!"

"That was Kenobi's doing."

"And yours. Why didn't you send me a hololetter? Or go on Relinka Spetzv's talk show on Imperial Center and announce our relationship to the galaxy? "

"Would you have come to me?"

"Maybe? Even probably? I would have gotten the real story out of Kenobi and proceeded from there ..."

The door slid open to the mystery suite, and Piett sucked in a gasping breath. There had been much speculation, even betting, over this suite – who it was for, what was in it. There was speculation that there were Loth-bats inside, or baby horranths with big spiky teeth, or deathly battle droids, or severed limbs floating in bacta. With Vader, it could be almost anything.

The door slid open and Piett briefly caught a glimpse of expensive flooring and couches and chairs as Vader and Skywalker entered in.

"Kenobi is dead, young one," Vader commented in a patient voice.

"Yeah, but he appears as a ghost to me sometimes ..."

Piett closed his eyes and leaned against the corridor wall, his head throbbing painfully.

Days like this he wished he'd followed his uncle into the dye trade. Surely spending days being sprayed by purple and green dye would be more manageable.

"I hope these quarters are adequate, Luke?"

The tone was uneasy even through the vocoder.

"They are wonderful, Father. Thank you. Is that ... is that a stuffed woolly bantha. I love it!"

Vader suddenly popped back into the corridor unexpectedly, causing Piett to straighten so quickly that his neck spasmed.

"We will depart for Endor in three hours, Admiral," Vader said absently.

"Yes, my lord."

"Oh, and Admiral?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"The Emperor is dead."

Oh whatever.

Firmus Piett went ahead and fainted.

Author Note: Thanks for your encouraging reviews! Crack fic is new to me so it helps to know this fic is enjoyable. Thanks again to my husband for his editing and support.