Super Star Destroyer Executor
In Orbit around Tatooine
"Your Highness, Jabba the Hutt has sent word that he eagerly awaits your arrival," Admiral Firmus Piett announced.
Vader, who was standing on the bridge staring out over the vile planet of his childhood, nodded his great masked head. "Very good, Admiral. Order the 1st legion to board their shuttles for the surface in thirty minutes."
"Yes, your Highness," Piett answered with a bow toward Vader's back. For a normal person, such a movement would be more or less absurd, but Vader seemed to have eyes on the back of his head, and the back of his knees, and his cape – he seemed to know what was going around him in every possible way. That Force stuff was freaky.
Lieutenant Krell, looking nauseous, now approached the hulking Sith Emperor, which caused Piett's stomach to swoop dangerously. Now what?
"Your Highness?" Krell said, almost, but not quite, with a quaver in his voice.
"What is it?" Vader said icily, not bothering to turn around.
"Sire, an individual has requested to speak with you regarding the current location of Luke Skywalker."
Vader spun around so quickly that a hapless aide, who had made the mistake of getting within ten meters of the Sith, lurched back in terror and fell into one of the pits which flanked the main walkway of the bridge, squealing in surprise as he did so.
Vader ignored the brouhaha with regal indifference.
"Does this individual have a name?" the deep bass voice demanded.
Krell gulped and said, "He refuses to give his name, but a quick run through IDENT shows that the man's image is a 99.3% match to Han Solo, a Corellian who reportedly was present at the battle of…"
He trailed off as Vader began striding off the bridge.
"I will take the call in my private chamber," the Emperor announced.
"Yes, your Highness," Piett said.
/
Vader found himself breathing faster as he entered his quarters, which was, in and of itself, a delight. For almost two decades, his breathing had been carefully regulated by the mechanics that made up half or more of his cyborg person. Thanks to B8's ministrations, he could now alter his breathing rate a little. He still had a long way to go to heal his lungs (and stomach, and face, and kidney, and spleen – no, he had lost his spleen in the lava. No spleen for him.) but he was definitely far healthier than he had been before Palpatine's untimely, but totally awesome, death.
He took a seat on his chair, one strong enough to hold his considerable weight, then used the Force to connect the holocall with the man claiming to know the location of his son. He leaned forward with anticipation, which rapidly morphed into confusion.
The giant screen lit up to reveal a dark haired man of some thirty odd years, dressed in a casual long sleeved shirt with a vest, who was turned 90 degrees to the holocam, with a group of cards in his hand. Vader had not played sabacc in many years, but he recognized it. Who was this man, who would play infantile games while waiting on the Emperor of the galaxy?
In the background of the holo, a panel had been removed from the wall; within the panel, a wire, or two, or three, were sparking slightly. Surely this could not be in the interior of the Millennium Falcon, the freighter which had blasted the Dark Lord off Skywalker's tail over the Death Star?
"Who dealt me these lousy cards?" the man demanded irritably. "Give me two more of them, Chewie! And you'd better..."
The man trailed off and turned his chair toward the screen, his face lifting into a lopsided grin. Yes, this was indeed Captain Han Solo. "Oh, there you are, Your Highness. Good morning!"
Vader stared, incredulous at the insouciant tone of the scruffy looking nerfherder on the other end of the call.
"Good morning, Captain Solo," he said sarcastically, which provoked a jerk of surprise on Solo's part.
"And you know my name!" the Corellian remarked. "That's impressive and a little creepy."
"I assure you that I have done everything possible to obtain both images and names of all of my son's closest companions," Vader said. "Naturally, you are of great interest to me."
Now Solo looked alarmed. "Am I?"
"Indeed," Vader said. "I am most grateful to you for saving my son's life."
Solo blinked at him. "Erm, when did I save Luke's life?"
Now the hairless eyebrows raised inside of the helmet, which meant, of course, that Solo couldn't see it. "You saved his life during the Death Star battle over Yavin," Vader said patiently. "Do you not remember?"
Solo's eyebrows rose as well. "You mean the time that I tried to blow your TIE up, and only succeeded in winging you so that you spun into space? That time?"
"Yes," Vader agreed immediately. "It was very well done of you, smuggler. I would have killed my son without your timely intervention. I am in your debt. Indeed, any time you'd like a thank you card, or a parade, just let me know. I would be glad to provide one or both."
Solo now looked dazed. "Erm, you're welcome, your Highness. It was my, erm, pleasure. So anyway, the reason I'm calling you…"
He trailed off, looked to the right, apparently waiting for some kind of signal, then turned back, "So I'm prepared to deliver Luke to you in return for the billion credit bounty."
Vader stared at the Corellian with a mixture of delight and dismay. Delight because he had a good chance of getting his hands on his son. Dismay because ...his poor son, to be sold out by his own friend. On the other hand, the sooner Luke learned the truth about the galaxy, the better. Life was pain, and anyone who told you anything else was selling something.
"Very well," he boomed. "Needless to say, the boy must be unharmed. I suggest slipping something into his drink…"
He trailed off as Solo, grimacing hideously, shook his head.
"Wait just a minute, Vader," the Corellian said angrily. "I am no bounty hunter. Luke wants to go to you, he just wants me to have that billion credit bounty."
Something in the general range of Darth Vader's heart leaped three inches, spun around ecstatically, and settled down.
"Luke wishes to come to me?" Vader asked, the wonder seeping through his vocoder.
"Sure, why not? I mean, yeah, you are a scary Sith Lord, and the Emperor, and a mass murderer and slaver, but still, the Kid has always wanted to know his father. So yes, we had a talk, and I'm going to arrange to drop him off with you in some safe place, but I also like money."
"Of course," Vader agreed promptly. "Of course. I am in orbit around Tatooine at the moment, so you could meet me here if you like, or, if my son does not wish to look down upon that disgusting dustball of a planet, we can meet elsewhere. Naboo is pleasant this time of year, or indeed, at any time of year."
Solo, openly surprised, said, "As a matter of fact, Tatooine was my first stop after collecting the money, so that works well."
"Why are you going to Tatooine?" Vader asked suspiciously.
There was a loud roar from off screen, no doubt the Wookiee. Not for the first time, Vader wished he had learned Shyriiwook.
"Yeah, I know Chewie, it was stupid," Solo said, glancing to the right. "You've only told me that like ten thousand times before."
"To answer your question, your Highness," the Corellian continued, turning back to Vader, "I, erm, owe some money to someone on Tatooine."
"Jabba the Hutt?" the Sith demanded.
"Yeah. I had a little problem with a job, and, yes, he's, uh, kind of upset with me now."
"In a few hours, he will not be upset," Vader said with a wave of one gauntleted hand. "He will be dead."
Solo stared at Vader.
Vader stared at Solo.
"What?" the Corellian finally asked.
"Jabba will be dead by the end of the day," the Emperor said plainly.
"Nice. Why?"
"Why?" Vader returned, his fists tightening. "Why? Because he is a slaver, and a tyrant, and responsible for much of the anguish on Tatooine. I hate him."
"Well, I hate him too, your Highness," the Corellian returned, his dark eyes glowing with enthusiasm. "You really are you going to kill him?"
"Indeed," the Sith assured him. "Thoroughly, lethally, and very, very slowly."
"I like it!" Solo said happily.
"Well I don't!" a voice yelped from off screen, and a moment later, Luke Skywalker, son of Darth Vader, appeared in the screen next to the Corellian.
Vader found himself without words as his eyes drank in the sight of his son, his only son, his child, the only living being in the galaxy springing from the union of the glorious Padme Amidala Naberrie Skywalker and her husband.
He was so handsome, so ardent, so...so thin!
"The Rebellion is not feeding you adequately, my son!" he roared indignantly. "You are far too slender! I look forward to providing you with the proper nutrition!"
"Why don't you want Vader to kill Jabba?" Han Solo demanded a nanosecond after Vader had finished his speech.
The Sith recalled, with some difficulty, his son's words and bent a perturbed look on his son's countenance. "He deserves it, Young One."
"I have plenty to eat," Luke said firmly, "also, I totally agree Jabba needs to die, but not slowly. You shouldn't torture sentients to death. It is mean."
"Jabba deserves that as well, my son," the Sith said coldly. He had, no, Anakin Skywalker, had been enslaved by Gardulla the Hutt, predecessor to Jabba, and Vader had wanted to murder a Hutt slaver for many long years now.
"I have to go with your Old Man on this one, Kid," Han said cheerfully.
"Yes, but I don't deserve it," the young man said, his blue eyes (according to the cyborg's sensors) flashing. "I am looking forward to meeting you, Father, but not when you are coming off some nasty Dark Side high after torturing someone to death. Ick!"
Vader stared at the boy. Had he ever been so noble and idealistic? Probably not, but Padme had been, and his son, while in appearance much like Anakin, seemed to have inherited much of his compassion from his mother.
"Very well," he promised. "I will kill Jabba, but quickly and without proper enjoyment."
The boy, who had been openly tense, looked surprised. "Thank you."
"Anything for you, my son."
"In that case," Luke Skywalker said, and grinned. "Maybe Han and I could come along for the Hutt murdering party?"
"That would be most agreeable!"