A/N: Back again :) I've been meaning to post this bit here for awhile, but unfortunately had to wait until 1) the main fic was completed and 2) grad school gave me a few minutes to breathe. Happily I have conquered Darth Economics and his nefarious apprentice Darth Accounting, although Darth Marketing is lurking in the shadows and Darth Statistics refuses to die. Still two, there are. Anyway.
Up next on the Chopping Block: alternate version of Chapter 13 from Meet The Skywalkers, when Piett returns to the Executor. Having had the brilliant idea of shipping Piett off alone to Coruscant to meet further family members, I found I had written myself into a corner. The most common-sense thing for Piett to do would be to...just stay on Coruscant, where the ship was supposed to be coming anyway. Unfortunately this would have left my POV character away from the most interesting part of the action, which would be aboard the ship when it returned. So, I needed to find a good excuse for sending him back to Eriadu. I decided to fall back on that classic plot device, Technical Difficulties. It is (at least I imagine it is) extremely complicated to tow a 19-kilometer ship in hyperspace, even if you are living in a galaxy far far away. Call it the GFFA equivalent of the whole Suez Canal thing. Obviously if there is an engineering project this major going on, the admiral has got to be there to supervise things.
Here's how that plan went:
Me: soooo how exactly does Piett travel back to Eriadu?
Muse: easy! with all the extra engineers and so on they need for the towing project
Me: like who?
Muse: hmm. be cool if there was an in-universe engineer we could borrow
Me: let me check Wookieepedia
Muse: i LOVE Wookieepedia
Muse: hey LOOK the engineer who designed the Executor was this Lira Wessex chick! She's AWFUL, and can you imagine how FURIOUS she'd be at how messed up her ship is, and OMG wouldn't it be so much fun to pit her against Vader and Piett, please please please can we write about her please
Me: *scribblescribblescribble*
Muse: meh
Me: *delete, scribblescribblescribble*
Muse: meh
Me: omg will you just COME UP WITH SOMETHING? how hard can it be?
Muse: look, now I have to figure out how this whole project goes and how to resolve the whole arc and also what the hell is Luke doing this whole time and should he stay on the ship wouldn't Vader want him to leave since this is taking so long what kind of father is he anyway leaving lil Ben this long and...waittasecond...WTF does ANY of this have to do with Piett meeting Skywalkers? This subplot is derailing the whole point of the story, no wonder it's not working! What were you thinking?
Me: THIS WAS YOUR #*&^ING IDEA
Except it was a lot more than 2 false starts before I got wise to the problem :( In the end I did manage to keep the engineering stuff firmly in the background; instead of sending Piett back the whole way with the engineers, I sent him part of the way with Mara so he could meet Ben, and when he got back to the Executor, I sent him off again on a long solo flight with Vader where I worked in another "meeting" with Shmi, all of which kept the compass pointing in the proper direction. Plot navigation gets hard, y'all.
That said, it was definitely a subplot with charm...because, of course, there is no way in hell Darth "I can fix anything" Vader would leave something like this to the professionals. I salvaged some of the fun by inventing the much less involved shuttle project for him instead, but it killed me to get rid of this scene, so here you are :)
From Meet the Skywalkers: Ch 13, Alternate Opening
"Welcome back, sir!"
Venka, in a decided breach of decorum, seized Piett's hand and pumped it like a man trying to bail out a sinking rowboat. Piett cast sharp looks at the rest of the side party assembled to welcome him back to the Executor.
She'd looked like she was still a going concern, as much as he'd been able to see of her on the shuttle hop over from the Fortitude. Appearances, of course, could be deceiving.
"Thank you, Captain," he said, extracting his slightly numb fingers. "It's good to be back." Whatever had Venka in a dither, it almost certainly began with a Darth and ended with a Vader, and Piett had a sinking suspicion as to what the galaxy's most lethal tinkerer was up to. "I understand our contractors for the preliminary stages of the project arrived yesterday?"
Venka cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. We've begun structural surveys to assess the anchor points KDY recommended for the towing procedure."
Piett's stomach plunged. He'd developed a sharp ear over the decades for listening to the things Venka did not say.
For instance, he had not said that it was the contractors who'd begun the surveys.
"Excellent work, gentlemen," he said, laying on the Obnoxiously Cheerful Commanding Officer tone with a trowel. "I can see I'm not needed here!"
Painfully obligatory laughter answered him. Oh gods, how bad was it?
"Captain, if you'll come with me and bring me up to speed on our status. Gentlemen"—to the remainder of the side party—"don't let me keep you from your duties."
He marched briskly down a few halls, ostensibly in the direction of his office. He and Venka stepped into the first lift. Between levels he hit the emergency stop. "Where is he?"
"Stern Compartment Zerek, Level 12," said Venka glumly. "I believe they're stress-testing the aft terminal segment of the centerbeam."
"They?"
"Yes, sir."
…
After chasing the trail through four different engineering access compartments, Piett and Venka finally caught up with Lord Vader in Stern Compartment Usk, Level 2, where with one revolving forefinger he was spinning off the five-meter-wide locking ring on a gigantic bolt labeled in luminescent orange letters DANGER CRITICAL STRUCTURAL SUPPORT DO NOT UNSECURE, and with the other was upbraiding the pasty-faced Chief Engineer for his disbelief in the Force's ability to provide whatever structural support was necessary while the bolt was under inspection.
Venka froze, face whiter than one of the Princess' dresses. Piett considered just turning around, heading up to B-deck, and locking himself in his office until they either made it to Coruscant or imploded. Whichever way the dice landed, it was out of his hands. Nothing—except maybe Skywalker, but the novelty had to be wearing off there—could capture Vader's attention like a complex mechanical problem, and a hyperspace towing procedure on this scale had never before been attempted. He'd probably been up to his helmet grille in detailed plans before Borsk Fey'lya, in his suspiciously new capacity as Chair of the Senate Naval Budget Subcommittee, had even started torpedoing contractor proposals.
Perhaps he could get Skywalker to talk the man out of-
"A little farther," called a voice from below, and Piett screwed his eyes shut in resignation for a moment before peering down.
Skywalker was grinning up at them through the grille over the access crawlspace, just visible behind the untwisting locking ring. Some sort of snakelike optical scanning device was coiled all over him. "Welcome back, Admiral. That's enough, Father." He squirmed back beneath the bolt, feeding the snake scanner into the loosened joint.
Vader's helmet swiveled onto Piett, who suddenly recollected that they hadn't spoken in person since the, er, incident of two weeks ago. Five hair-raising seconds crawled by.
"Admiral."
"Lord Vader."
And that, it seemed, was that. Vader turned back toward the loose bolt, dismissing as of secondary importance both Piett and the poor Chief Engineer, now practically dancing with dismay. Piett took a moment to internally brace, then stepped up beside Vader with a well-rehearsed air of polite and unconcerned interest as—no doubt for the sole benefit of the Chief Engineer—he ignored Skywalker's comment and spun the locking ring a few more dizzying revolutions.
"Might I ask, sir, why you are disassembling the ship under our feet?"
"Whatever taste for dramatics you have acquired during your absence, Admiral, you would do well to discard it. I am not 'disassembling' the ship."
"I can't help but notice, sir, that it says DO NOT UNSECURE."
"It is secure," Vader growled.
"Of course I realize you can support it yourself, my lord," Piett agreed, manfully not pointing out that a loose locking ring two revolutions from the end of the bolt's threading would count in no engineer's book as secure, "but it seems that one distraction at the wrong moment could-"
"Why do you think he is here?" Vader indicated Skywalker irritably.
Piett's couldn't resist. "I assume it's because he enjoys destroying Imperial military infrastructure, sir."
"I heardthat," Skywalker said. The Chief Engineer clutched a railing and fought not to swoon.
"But you cannot very well deny it, my son," Vader rumbled. Piett puffed his chest a little in satisfaction. About time the proper battle lines were restored around here.
A momentary pause from Skywalker. "Guess not."
Piett could hear him smirking. Rebel scum.
"As you can see, there is no cause for hysterics, Admiral." Vader crossed his arms, not deigning to look at said admiral. "We merely required space to conduct an optical scan of the socket. It will not be loosened further, and I am not about to drop it." He fairly spat the last two words, supremely offended.
Piett nodded hastily to soothe his bruised ego. "Of course I have every confidence in you, my lord."
"No doubt."
"If I didn't, sir, I'd have had a coronary years ago." He cleared his throat. There were almost two Chief Engineers now, the man was so beside himself. "I think we're nearly done here, Master Chief. I'd like you to step up to Deck Besh Prime and meet Ms. Wessex. She'll be overseeing the towing procedure—"
"She will be overseeing what I permit her to oversee," a thundering bass corrected him acidly.
"—and I'm sure your input will be essential to her work. The Captain will introduce you."
Venka seized the man by the elbow and dragged him away from his horrified contemplation of Force-sensitive approaches to structural engineering, toward the lift.
"Wessex?" Skywalker asked . "As in Lira Wessex?"
"The one and only," said Piett.
"I'm impressed. How'd you talk Leia into letting her out of Remnant space?"
"I didn't have much to do with it. The advisory committee made the recommendation."
There was a short pause, then a laugh. "By advisory committee you mean General Cracken, right?"
Piett coughed slightly. "I believe it was his brainchild, yes. Head of their intel corps, sir," he explained for Vader's benefit. "How did you know?"
"She's been on his wish list for just about forever. Probably hoping he can nab her on her way home before she reaches Remnant space."
"He would do better to have her assassinated," said Vader.
You could hear Skywalker's eyebrows shoot up. "Not a nice way to talk about an old friend, is it?"
"Friend?" Vader's tone dripped with more disgust than Borsk Fey'lya could fit into a five-hour naval budget subcommittee hearing, as Piett was in a position to know. "I do not know where you acquire these delusions."
"I think we can safely assume it wasn't from any of us, sir," said Piett.
He'd never liked Lira Wessex. He'd never met a Navy officer above the rank of commander who had liked Lira Wessex. The premier naval architect of the Galactic Empire had been famed across its domains not merely for designing Star Destroyers but for going out of her way to excoriate the military grunts who, in her opinion, mismanaged them.
"Alright, scan's finished. There's some pitting inside here, by the way, but I don't think it's anything serious." Skywalker squirmed out of the crawlspace, wiping off his hands on the grease monkey trousers he'd either borrowed or stolen from the maintenance crew. The locking ring began spinning back into locked position, and Piett could not deny himself a soft breath of relief. "I figured you would have a soft spot for her, at least," Skywalker went on, catching Piett's eye. "I mean, she designed this ship, didn't—"
Piett winced, but it was much too late.
"She designed a ship," Vader thundered, "which would have disintegrated in its first engagement if the schematics had not been heavily rewritten by a competent naval architect."
A little sigh escaped Piett. If he had to hear one more time about that feedback loop in the energy conduits that supposedly would have imploded them all the first time the shields took a hit in combat—
"If she's so incompetent why'd you let her design basically the entire Imperial fleet?" Skywalker fell in alongside his father as they crossed to the lift, Piett tailing behind.
"My remarks to the Emperor precisely."
His son's eyes glittered urchinlike. "Too bad I didn't know that twenty-five years ago, I'd've brought a thank-you note with me to the Death Star."
"You should not make light of such things," Vader snapped.
Skywalker keyed for the lift. "Of course I should. Where is light most needed if not where it's dark?"
"Do not throw Jedi philosophy at me."
"Get that spanner out of your arse then."
Vader's head whipped around. Unrepentant, Skywalker crossed his arms. Vader crossed his arms. The lift door opened between them, waited thirty seconds, and then whirred on its merry way. Piett regretted his lifelong inability to master the art of becoming invisible; pretending just wasn't the same.
Vader suddenly made a derisive sound, as if in reply to some conversation Piett hadn't heard. "You are an incorrigible idealist."
"That's what Mara says."
"I do not know why she puts up with you."
"She says that too."
Vader harrumphed in agreement with his absent daughter-in-law and turned to scowl at the lift door impatiently. "When was the last time Engineering ran a performance check on this system?"
Piett knew better than to explain. "I'll summon it again, my—"
Vader made a sharp gesture. The doors wrenched open, and a godsawful shriek of protesting machinery belched out the empty shaft before the lift car screeched to a halt in the opening. Three seasick power techs staggered out, one poor soul nearly running right into Vader's chest. Vader threw him out of the way and swooped in, stabbing keys. Skywalker shot him a stern look as the car lurched up. "What's the rush?"
"The sooner we get to Coruscant," said Vader, "the sooner I will be liberated from your continual impertinences."
Far from taking offense, Skywalker laughed silently into his hand the whole way up. When Piett caught his gaze for a moment, the mischievous delight there made him think suddenly of his own late father. They hadn't been all that close, but he remembered the times he'd been allowed out in the speeder bay to assist with some repair or project, and the way his father would grouse about him asking too many questions, while at the same time inviting ones he hadn't thought of yet. Boy, you're prattling, it's that mother of yours teaching it to you, I suppose next you'll be wanting to know what's the difference between an ionic cylinder and a sonic…
He wondered, for one daring instant, what sort of father Vader had—ye gods, man, do you want to die?