So this is a short piece I was toying around with. A what if Vader had found Luke on Tatooine, written from Admiral Firmus Piett's perspective. Standard disclaimers - I don't own Star Wars or it's characters, nor do I make money off it.
Seven
There were days when Admiral Firmus Piett wished he had not become Admiral of the flagship Executor. One truly had to be insane to try and reach the higher ranks of any branch of the Imperial military, but working directly under a dark lord of a Sith was basically considered downright suicidal. But if Piett was being honest, it wasn't so terrible.
Darth Vader, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces, was as one would expect: extremely demanding and with high expectations. One did not have the luxury of simply "doing one's best" under his watchful eye; if you wanted to survive the dark lord, you had to be quick enough to think exactly the way he would and anticipate his demands. This was a skill Piett had so far found himself particularly in-tuned to, or at least better than his predecessor Admiral Ozzel had been.
Today was one of those days that Piett had no idea what to expect, leaving him on edge. For the past day, he had been following Lord Vader around with a contingent of storm troopers through the harsh terrain of Tatooine, but with what end goal Piett could not figure out. So far, three homes were burning under the harsh twin suns, and everyone else had hidden themselves away from sight. Of course, Piett knew hiding from Lord Vader was impossible.
"Surround this home – let no one leave."
The storm troopers moved off immediately, Piett remaining at Lord Vader's right side. Knowing better than to pick at his curiosity, Piett remained silent as he followed Lord Vader into the home, seeing the face of an expressionless woman standing in the way as they tried to enter.
"He's already gone."
There were very few people in the entire galaxy that would be so brave as to stand before any imperial officer and deny them entrance, let alone the Supreme Commander. A small part of him had to admit he respected the woman for it, despite knowing it would be her downfall.
"Stand aside, we have business here." Piett stepped forward, only to be waved down. Stepping down immediately, the woman sneered at him.
"You train your dogs well."
As soon as the words left her mouth, it was like darkness flooded the room like high tide covering the shore. Shock filled the woman's face as she fell to her knees, choking on her own fear, unable to say anymore.
"We both know you are lying, Beru. The boy is here. That useless husband of yours tried to lead us astray, but I can sense him."
Tears streamed down the woman's face – apparently her name was Beru. Now Piett's curiosity was peaked: the dark lord knew her. But who was this "boy" they were looking for?
"Admiral, search the house with your guards for a young child. If any harm comes to him, know your lives will be forfeit." Lord Vader did not even turn his gaze from Beru to relay the order, Beru letting out a choked, "No! Please, what do you want with him? He's just a little boy!" that Piett simply ignored.
Leaving Lord Vader with the woman, there were few places to hide in the small house. Almost immediately, Piett found the child staring out at him with wide, innocent blue eyes from under a small bed, trembling. For a moment, Piett felt pity for the young child, emphasizing with the feeling of strangers invading for unknown reasons. Steeling his heart, Piett knew that the lord he served would never invade Tatooine without good reason, and this child had to be it.
Not knowing exactly what the child was wanted for, Piett knew if Lord Vader wanted the boy dead, he already would be. "It's alright. I won't hurt you – can you please come out?"
The boy shook his head, trying to push himself further back against the wall. Sighing, Piett sat down before the bed, hoping he could coax the boy out before his lord came to investigate what was taking so long.
"If you don't come out, I'll just have the storm troopers move your bed." Piett said sternly, hoping his tone of voice would show he meant business.
"Where is my Aunt?" the boy asked instead, ignoring Piett.
"Your Aunt?" That was interesting – so he wasn't the woman's child.
Looking around the room, Piett only saw a few worn toys and a couple very worn outfits. It was clear this was a poor family. Then again, who lived on a planet like Tatooine by choice? One toy in particular took his attention, a small model speeder that's paint was chipping and the pieces were falling off. It was clearly well loved.
"Do you like speeders?" Piett asked, the boy perking up immediately. Nodding shyly, the boy seemed to inch a little closer.
Giving what he hoped was an easy going smile, Piett held out a hand. "Would you like to come see my speeder?"
Forgetting about the danger he was in, the boy nodded slowly again before carefully crawling out, taking Piett's hand slowly. As soon as he stepped out into the light, his hair burned gold under the sun, Piett momentarily frozen as he took in the child that seemed born of sunshine. When Luke squeezed his hand between his small fingers, Piett unfroze, standing up quietly before simply scooping the child into his arms. It would be easier if the child started to resist again.
Ordering the troopers ahead, Piett avoided the room where Vader had been with the woman and brought the child straight to the Imperial issue speeder. As soon as the boy saw the logo on the speeder, he started to struggle, Piett having to grip onto him rather tightly.
"Let me go! Put me down! You're the bad guys!" the boy started to wail, trying to hit Piett with his small fists with very little effect.
"Calm down! I promise, I mean you no ill will." Of course, Piett couldn't promise that of the dark lord, but at least he was being honest for himself.
Sniffling, the child continued to resist despite the attempts weakening, Piett still refusing to put him down.
"My Aunt and Uncle said that logo means the bad guys are nearby!"
How interesting. "I promise, we aren't the bad guys. Your Aunt and Uncle were confused."
"Confused?"
Nodding, Piett went over to the speeder and opened the door, placing Luke gently inside so they could talk more easily. "My name is Firmus Piett, and I run a star ship." Trying to keep things simple, the boy seemed to have an affinity for ships, the bright blue eyes lighting up at the word "ship" again.
"F-firmus?" the boy stammered over the unfamiliar name.
"You can just call me Piett for now," Piett offered, "And what is your name?"
"Luke."
Smiling again, Piett offered the child a water bottle. "Would you like some water, Luke? You know, if you come with us, I can show you my ship."
Ignoring the water, Luke clapped his hands happily. "Really? I really can?" Just as suddenly, his energy dropped. "My Uncle wouldn't like me to leave, though."
"It's okay, I'm sure he'll let you come with us." Or he's already beyond asking permission from. Piett thought, still having seen no signs of Vader returning from the house.
Luke's eyes lit up again. "I would like to see it, then!" Luke seemed content now to hang out in the speeder, until he saw Lord Vader step out from the house. Immediately his attention shot towards the dark figure, who seemed similarly interested in him.
Scrambling out of the speeder, Piett couldn't stop him before the child was rushing straight up to Lord Vader, stopping right before he stumbled into him.
"Do I know you?" Luke asked, head tilted back to try and take in the dark mask towering above him. If Piett were a simple bystander, he might have laughed at the comical sight of a young child before that of the towering Sith lord.
Kneeling down slowly so they were at least closer to eye level, Vader seemed...hesitant. Piett was floored – never before had he seen the dark lord so uncertain before.
"I'm afraid not, child. Would you mind telling me your name?"
"It's Luke. Luke Skywalker."
That name was familiar, Piett freezing as his brain tried to frantically locate the information he was looking for. Skywalker...Skywalker…
"Luke. What a wonderful name...Luke, what did your Aunt and Uncle tell you about your father?"
The boy's father? Why would Lord Vader be asking about that? Piett's eyes widened slightly as his memory caught up – General Anakin Skywalker. Was this a hunt to find yet another traitorous Jedi?
"Uncle Owen said that he was a navigator on a Spice freighter, and that he died already. Did you know my father?" Luke gasped, reaching up to grab Lord Vader's hands.
Flinching, Piett had to stop himself from stepping forward to pull the child away. Even if he ran, it would be too late to save the boy from death. But much to his surprise, the boy did not die, nor did Lord Vader push the child's hands away. No, his lord's next words simply shocked him to his core: "Your Uncle lied. Your father was not a navigator on a Spice freighter...Luke, I am your father."
Piett wasn't sure who was more shocked – Lord Vader, the young child, or Piett himself. Meeting the eyes of the dark lord, Piett knew his usual composed self had been thrown out the window.
"Trooper, you will keep my son company in the speeder. I must speak with the Admiral." the Dark Lord ordered, the trooper bowing immediately before taking the blond boy back into the speeder.
"M-my Lord." Piett quickly shut his mouth, knowing how impressed his lord would be with his stammering.
"As you've learned, that boy is my son. The troopers with us today are my most trusted – they will become his guards starting today."
"Will he be staying with us on the Executor, my Lord?" Piett asked.
"Yes. The Emperor is...curious as to how the child will grow up. He will stay and learn from me." Vader turned towards the horizon, watching the suns for a moment. "I need not remind you what should happen if anything happens to the child."
Bowing, Piett knew in that moment that however long the rest of his life was, that child was now an integral part of it.
Fourteen
In seven years, Piett had developed a sort of routine with the old and young lord alike. Each day, he would wake up at the crack of dawn to read through all the ship reports before heading off to eat breakfast with Luke before the boy's daily classes. Once he ensured that Luke made it to his tutors safely (and/or actually made it to the tutors at all, as Luke was known for his disappearing acts), Piett would go and find Lord Vader and report to him for the day.
At that point, one of two things would happen: some days, Luke would finish classes and head to training with his father, leaving Piett to run the ship peacefully for a day, or as it seemed to be happening more and more often, Piett found himself trying to hunt down a rambunctious child before he hurt himself or others (or in some cases, all of the above).
Overall, the past seven years had definitely kept Piett on his toes.
This fine day was starting off to be a rather quiet one – Luke had somewhat demurely made his way to his classes that morning (which was not surprising, considering yesterday Piett had just barely managed to stop him before he took off in a Tie Fighter and Luke's father had scolded him soundly for it), until Lord Vader asked a rather odd question.
"Does Luke seem...different, Admiral?"
"No, my Lord. No more than usual." Piett answered quickly.
"Hmm. I suppose not. Very well. Thank you, Admiral."
It was another phenomenon that had occurred over the last seven years – the Dark lord had seemed to grow if anything, softer. If Luke was present, it was almost a guarantee that no one would die no matter the mistakes made. With the boy's presence, the entire ship had become more relaxed, gradual step by gradual step so that no one realized what had happened immediately, including Lord Vader himself.
Still, Piett knew Luke struggled to come to terms with having a father like Darth Vader. Luke had nothing with which to compare his father, and had no way of knowing that his father now was a much different man then the one seven years prior.
Which was why that day in particular, Piett was called down to the training room by panicked guards. "What happened?!" Piett saw a demolished droid against the wall in the room, all of Luke's guards on their knees. Right then, Piett saw his life flash before his eyes as he realized the dark lord was towering over a trembling Luke.
"Foolish boy! Do you have any idea how that could have ended? If I had not been passing, you most likely would have died."
Piett realized in shock that Luke was missing his right hand, the wound already cauterized by what must have been a light saber. Darth Vader seemed equally as shocked – it had been a long while since Piett could swear he heard a twinge of fear in the dark lord's tone. Anyone who had not spent long hours with his lord would never have picked up on it, however.
"Admiral. Take him to the medic at once. Guards, he is no longer allowed in this room." With that, the dark lord stormed away, Piett sighing.
"Call the medics immediately," Piett demanded of one of Luke's guards, quickly rushing over to the child.
"Luke, what in the galaxy happened to your hand?"
For a brief moment, Piett wondered if Lord Vader himself had sliced it off, but that would be impossible. Despite his hard outer shell, Piett knew he cared deeply in his own way for Luke and would never cause him any harm.
Mumbling something incoherent, Piett wondered if Luke was too in shock to answer.
"What was that?"
"I was stupid, alright?! I tried to fight my father's sparring droids and failed…"
Perhaps it was the shock, but Piett was surprised that Luke seemed to care more about the fact that he had failed to stop the droid from injuring him than the fact that he had lost his hand.
"Luke...your father has told you not to spar on your own. What were you thinking?" Piett now studied the smoldering droid in a new light, realizing Lord Vader had probably destroyed it himself with a crushing blow of the Force.
"My father told me only the strong will survive...if I'm not stronger than that droid, how will I survive in this world, Piett?" Luke asked forlornly.
By then, the medics had arrived, ushering Luke onto a stretcher as they began to study his severed hand.
"Will you be able to reattach it?" Piett asked when Luke was out of earshot, the medic shaking their head sadly.
"I doubt it. The nerves have already been severed...it would be very difficult to reattach everything."
Sadness gripped Piett's heart. Fourteen was much too young to lose a hand.
Standing outside the medical center, Piett had stopped to check on his young Lord. The medics had reported that Luke had just woken after having his prosthetic hand attached. Still, it was no surprise to Piett that Lord Vader had already arrived first. Standing outside the door, he was about to knock when his hand faltered at Lord Vader's words.
"You must train harder if you are to defeat our enemies."
"I'm sorry, Father." Luke spoke despondently, like his mind was somewhere far, far away.
"Do not apologize, child. Do better."
With that, the dark lord swept from the room, his cape billowing behind him as he hurried back to the meeting he was missing to once more deal with his wayward son, not even giving the Admiral a glance.
Entering the room, Luke turned to stare at him with hollow eyes. "He told me to train to get better. Now he's mad that I did. What does he actually want, Piett?"
Sighing, Piett shook his head. "He didn't mean throw yourself at the sparring droids right away. You could have been killed! You know that's why he is disappointed, don't you?"
Nodding, Luke stared down at his hands. It was clear he didn't believe Piett.
Sighing, Piett settled beside him, studying the work that was Luke's new hand out of the corner of his eye. "Luke, your father is more upset that you lost your hand, I am sure."
"I doubt it. If I can't defend myself against a droid, how will I ever defeat our enemies?" Luke replied despondently, staring off towards the wall like it might hold the answers he so desperately sought.
"You are only fourteen. You will learn in time."
"Time I don't have! I am sure my father was a master by the time he was this age!"
"Well, you don't have to be. In any case, your father has forbidden you from entering the training hall alone. You will get there...just give it time, alright?" Reaching over, Piett patted Luke's real hand gently, remembering when they were the small hands of a seven year old.
Where had that child gone? Where was the sunshine child that used to find amazement in everything in the world no matter where they traveled? The teenager before him now seemed listless and lost, and Piett didn't know how to help anymore.
Again, Luke nodded. "Yes, sir."
Chuckling, Piett shook his head. "If I don't have to call you "my lord", you certainly don't need to call me "sir"."
A small grin came on Luke's face, before it faded once more to blankness.
That was perhaps the last smile Piett ever saw come from the child.
Twenty-one
"Luke! You aren't supposed to be out of bed!" Piett scolded the twenty-one year old soundly as he walked into the young man's quarters. It had been a long week, and it was far from over. Piett didn't even want to think about the paperwork he was about to face.
Tearing his eyes from the war torn galaxy visible from his view port with a sigh, Luke brought his mind back to the dullness of his bedroom. "Please. I would barely consider myself "unwell", let alone bedridden."
Piett frowned. "You may not, but both your medic and father do. How are you even standing?"
Luke turned back around, ignoring the question. Flashes of blue and green and red splayed out across the sky, drowning out the stars. How peaceful the stars could be, and yet how lethal the elements of space could counter.
"Out there, they fight over nothing. Peace! What a...a...farce," Luke's voice faltered, barely noticing as the Admiral's arms were suddenly there to steady him.
"I would hardly consider your life worthless, your highness," Piett added the title pointedly, steering the young man back over to the bed.
Three years ago, it had been announced that Emperor Palpatine had passed away in his sleep and Emperor Vader had taken the throne, naming Luke as the Imperial Prince as well as the new Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces. Of course, Piett was one of the few that knew what actually happened, and it was certainly not that Palpatine had passed "peacefully in his rest".
That very night, he had sat by as the child struggled to come to terms with the responsibilities now passed to his shoulders after helping his father defeat the tyrannical Emperor. For those past few years since, Piett had been doing his best to steer Luke away from trouble, but trouble seemed to follow Luke like a magnet.
Luke frowned, clearly disoriented. "I'm safe now?" It was meant to be a statement, but it still came out a question.
"Yes. You're safe now. After a week at the hands of those mongrols. You're safe, but you're still ill, Luke."
Laughing, Luke sounded almost hysterical, Piett worried he would have to call the medics again when the laughter turned into choked coughing, Luke struggling just to breathe. Pouring a glass of water, Piett watched as Luke set aside a handkerchief coated in blood before helping Luke take a few slow sips.
Calmer, Luke looked towards him with half-lidded eyes. "You know...I met the Princess."
"The Princess? You mean, Leia Organa, of Alderaan?" Piett set the cup beside the bed where Luke could reach it, sitting at the edge by Luke's feet.
"Yes. She questioned me first." Luke stared off into the distance, clearly envisioning something beyond Piett. "I think that in another life, we might have been friends. You know, if she hadn't been raised an enemy of the Empire."
Coughing again, Luke struggled once more to catch his breath and Piett once more wondered if he should return him to the medical center. It seemed far to early for the boy to have been released, but Luke had insisted. "My Father wouldn't want me to be seen as so vulnerable."
"Friends? With a rebel? I doubt it. Now stop thinking about such foolish things, and get some rest." Piett patted Luke's shin, feeling the trembling that Luke was stoically trying to hide. Standing quickly, he found another blanket and pulled it over Luke, tucking him in again like he did when Luke had just entered space and shivered constantly from the unfamiliar chill.
Luke no longer had the strength to sit up as he felt himself sink back into his pillows. "Barely...barely even poisoned..."
There was a desperation in Luke's words that left a bitter note in Piett's heart. Why did the child have to throw himself so haphazardly into danger with no thoughts of the consequences?
"Yes, hardly at all. The doctors only consider it a serious poisoning when it takes two days to determine whether the patient will live or not. Or when the person in question has been kidnapped and tortured for a week, making them more susceptible to the poisons effects. Oh, and when the antidote isn't readily at hand, and the ship has to make a mad scrambled detour to get the right supplies. Oh...wait...that's exactly what happened." This was where the side of Piett that had helped raise him came out, the little blond boy held in his arms the only image on his mind.
"Lead...Father...to them...Isn't he proud?" Luke, exhausted, kept hopeful eyes on Piett.
Fighting back a tear, Piett nodded slowly, the dark Lord's earlier words coming to mind. "What a foolish child – sacrificing his life for nothing. But I suppose his methods worked."
Luke mumbled something quietly to himself once more about his father being proud, falling asleep as the poison and antidote fought their own battle inside him.
Piett frowned, settling on the edge of the bed again. Emperor Vader had personally left Coruscant as soon as word had reached him and found the rebel cell himself that had captured the Prince. Deep inside, despite the Dark master's harsh words, Piett knew without a doubt that he cared deeply for Luke.
Never before had Piett seen Darth Vader so cold as his eyes fell upon the limp form of his son in chains. It felt like ice had coated over Piett, and Piett wasn't even the source of the Emperor's harsh resentment.
Piett had just been horrified. Horrified that the sunshine little boy wasn't still alive, and that it was his body held in those chains. In that moment, he would have sacrificed anything to ensure that he could see the icy blue eyes of that child once more.
When Luke had awoken back in the medical center aboard the Executor, Piett had to stop tears from slipping down his cheeks, unable to stop himself from giving the boy a quick hug. In typical fashion, Vader had visited quickly and efficiently, leaving after only a few minutes of harsh scolding.
"Do not be so foolish again."
That is what he had left Luke with, the young man refusing to speak to Piett at all the rest of the day until he was released to his quarters. That had been just the day before, and the fight to destroy the last remnants of the Alliance base was still currently going on just outside the ship. Twice already Luke's guards had to stop him from taking a Tie out himself, and Piett had taken to checking in almost hourly to make sure he was resting.
Piett's hand found itself carding through Luke's hair, like it did when Luke was a young child in need of a comforting touch. "Yes, straight to them. You self-sacrificing fool...you're too young for this."
I hope you enjoyed!
As a short afterward, I've always loved Piett. I don't entirely know why, but I just feel like he and Luke would have had an interesting relationship. I also wanted another perspective on Vader and Luke's relationship, especially if Luke was found as a young, impressionable boy. I thought Piett's perspective would be interesting, especially as his loyalty begins to get torn between the Lord he'd sworn to serve and the boy he helped raise.
In any case, thank you for reading!