This is a work of fan fiction and all canon characters, scenes, and concept are the property of LucasArts. Original characters and plot property of Gerald Tarrant.
Please do not repost this fanfiction without permission.
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Thirteen: Crossing Paths
As Daral rounded the corner, he found himself in a narrow alleyway dark and sheltered from the sun by overhanging eaves. Bits of wires and remains of equipment, as well as old bones, littered the ground next to the walls. He swallowed, looked down the alley to see where Ters had gone.
The blue alien, Mugga, was rummaging in a pile of trash outside an old, scratched metal doorway. The doorway was open, revealing a darkened room inside. Daral jogged over to the door, sweat soaking the back of his shirt, and stopped, glancing inside warily.
"Come on in, kid," a voice called from inside. "You won't get any cooler by standing in the sun."
Hesitantly, Daral put one foot inside the raised doorway, then stepped inside. The room was dark, cool, musty smelling like all the other buildings. He blinked, let his eyes adjust to the absence of the glaring sunlight. Slowly the blackness resolved into the rough walls and floor of a small but neat cubicle. The room itself was no more than eight or ten paces across and was roughly square in shape. The walls, as with all walls in Mos Eisley, were made of split and peeling plaster, and the floor was dusty. A bed stood in the far corner, though at second glance it appeared to be made of two mattresses piled one on top of the other. There was a small food synthsizer area built into the opposite wall and a doorway to a refresher and shower cubicle stood next to it. A stuffed chair with most of the stuffing ripped away and a dented gambling table with the circuits ripped out sat by the food synthesizer unit. There was no other furniture in the room. The other half, from the nearer wall to the doorway where Daral stood, was littered with what looked like wires, screws, data chips, bits of metal, and electronic circuits. Two metal boxes, both locked with a blinking fingerprint recognition lock, stood on the far side.
The man, Ters, squatted by the pile, picking up parts and then throwing them back. He looked up as Daral entered, then stood. When he spoke, his voice sounded slightly embarrassed but defensive. "It ain't much, but I make do."
Daral shrugged, tried to keep his disgust out of his voice. He had never seen a more rundown place in which to live. An image of the family estate on Coruscant sprang into his mind. He roughly pushed it aside. "It's more than what I've got right now."
He had no way of knowing if Ters had heard his disgust, but if he had, he said nothing and his face did not change. Instead, he waved a hand at the synthesizer. "Make yourself something to eat."
The blue alien bounded into the room, gave Daral a squinting look, and jumped up on the ragged blanket on top of the matresses, watching Ters with great interest. Ters looked at Daral, then at the alien, and something like a smile spread across his face. "I'd introduce you to Mugs here, but I fear you two have met under more unpleasant circumstances. Mugs is my co-pilot and fellow smuggler. Together we traverse the boundless galaxy, making honest deals and gracious offers. Right, Mugs?"
The blue alien squealed and dived under the bedcovers. Daral suppressed a grin, the first time he'd wanted to smile since he'd left the Academy. Copilot? That blue alien? It looked like he had a lot to learn about the smuggling world.
He sat down at the metal gaming table, hesitated, then punched a combination into the synthesizer that he hoped would be edible. A moment passed, then with a whir the food slid out of a small opening, depositing itself neatly onto the table. Daral took a deep breath, tasted it. It was actually quite all right. His stomach growled. He had not realized how hungry he was.
As he ate, he watched Ters out of the corner of his eye. The man had taken several wires and circuits and was welding them together with a small hand laser. Noticing Daral's look, Ters put aside the laser and walked over to the table, punched in an order for himself.
"We're staying here tonight," he said, offhandedly as his food slid out. "Then we're leaving at the crack of dawn tomorrow. Not much traffic then. We should be able to slip out unnoticed."
"Unnoticed?" said Daral. Ters stopped eating, turned his gaze on him. The man's eyes were uncomfortably searching. He pushed on. Whatever he could learn about this man, the better. "I thought everyone in Mos Eisley was a smuggler. Or criminal. Or whatever."
Ters shrugged, resumed eating. "So they are. Of one sort or another. And the officials don't really care, even the stormtroopers, just as long as everyone pays a duty fee for docking. But...let's just say I've acquire a reputation around here."
Daral grimaced before he could stop himself. Great. Of all the smugglers in Mos Eisley, he had taken up with one of the worst. It would serve him right if they got shot down trying to leave Mos Eisley.
"You can always leave, kid," Ters said. The smuggler was looking at him again with that searching look. "If you stay I promise you that you won't be murdered in your sleep or anything like that. I told you I don't deal in that business. But it's your choice."
Daral did not look at him. Instead, he got up, leaving his half-eaten food, and went to the doorway, staring out into the alley. Ters was right. He did have a choice. He could still back out. He shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to think through the thick fog that had seemed to obscure his thoughts ever since he left Carida. What had made him follow this bum anyway? Pure impulse. He must be mad. He should back out, leave, go anywhere, anywhere but here. He had his own path, his own life, and no commitment to anyone. He had a choice.
His mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. What choice? If he had a choice between staying here tonight or roaming the streets of Mos Eisley in the dark, he would stick with staying here.Between death and perhaps life. Maybe tomorrow he could actually make it off this planet to somewhere. It would not too bad, after all. They would be two renegades, two fugitives fleeing from the galaxy that had rejected them. At least he would have found someone like him.
"Kid," said Ters's voice behind him, dark and serious. "Taking up with me... that makes you a smuggler. You sure you don't want to back out? You still can. You know what you're gettin' into if you come with me. You're gonna have to run for the rest of your life. Run from everything you've always thought of as safe. You realize that?"
"Yes," said Daral softly. Yes, I know. Running...is not an issue any longer.
He let the waves of despair rush over him, looked up into the sliver of blue sky above the overarching eaves, listening to the hot afternoon stillness, and silently damned the Empire and all its minions to a bloody end. Revenge would be his. Whatever the means, it would be his, somehow, someway. For all the Empire had done to his life.
"Lord Vader," said Harkov, bowing slightly from the waist.
The ghostly, three-dimensional image of Darth Vader shimmered on the holonet projector surface, as domineering and darkly fear inspiring as in real-life. "Admiral," he said. The mechanical breathing did not alter. Steady, measured. "How goes the war?"
"Well enough, Lord Vader," Harkov said, swallowing. Rumor had it that Vader could kill from afar, strangle a man with an invisible hand without being present in the flesh. He didn't know how great Vader's killing range was, but the more distance between him and the dark lord, the better. "We have engaged the enemy twice. The first time, as we entered the system, the second, only two days ago."
"Excellent." Vader's dark voice grew even darker with satisfaction. "What else, Admiral?"
"My lord, we captured a Ripoblus freighter in the first battle between us, the Ripoblus, the Dimok, and smugglers." Vader showed no sign of emotion at the news of the four-way conflict. "The freighter...contained illegal contraband."
"Illegal, Admiral?"
"Illegal for the Ripoblus to possess, my lord."
Vader nodded slightly, fists rising to his hips. "Yes. And what do you intend to do about this...illegal contraband?"
"My lord," Harkov said, and stopped. What could he say? That he was going to raid Ripoblus storehouses like Admiral Mikov had done? That would be enough to earn him instant stranglement, or at least removal from command. That he was going to let them alone? It was a no-win situation. He waited.
After a moment, Vader said, "I see you are fully aware of the situation you have encountered, Admiral."
Harkov nodded stiffly, trying not to nod too stiffly. "Yes, my lord."
There was the faintest hint of dark amusement in Vader's voice as he said, "You are in command. Admiral Mikov was a fool. You, I trust, can hold your own over your situation. Do whatever you feel necessary."
So Vader wasn't about to admit that he had been wrong. Harkov swallowed again. "Thank you, my lord."
"So," Vader said. "Ripoblus, Dimok, and smugglers. You have not mentioned the last two groups."
"The Dimok manufacture their own weapons. We captured a weapons lab in the last battle. As for the smugglers...who knows? They could be the ones supplying the Ripoblus with their weapons, but I doubt it. They seem to be at odds with both the other two groups."
"A three-way war." Vader's voice was flat.
"No, my lord." Harkov lifted his head slightly. "A four-way war, now."
"I see." Again, that faint tinge of amusement. "Do you require more assistance?"
Harkov felt a flash of blind fear, then quickly covered it. No. Vader could not know. He could not. "No, I think not. My forces are sufficient for the task. All three groups use old model ships-Y-wings, Mark II Headhunters, Corellian Corvettes. Though there was a modified frigate in the last battle that looked relatively new. And a few Rebel cruisers."
He saw Vader stiffen at the mention of Rebel cruisers. "And you suspect, Admiral...?" His voice was quiet, deadly.
Harkov shook his head. "No. This place is too remote for them. With their limited resources...it could not be."
"Be vigilant nonetheless. It could be a trap."
"I am well aware of that, Lord Vader."
"Yes." The amusement was stronger now, with a faint hint of danger. Warning Harkov not to exhibit too much confidence in the face of the Dark Lord. No need to worry, Lord Vader. I guard my words well. Harkov stared at Vader, looking at that fearful shimmering form, trying not to show the chill running up and down his spine. The breathing seemed to become thoughtful, then resumed its normal pace.
"That is all, Admiral."
Harkov bowed from the waist. "Yes, my lord."
"Contact me next whenever you feel necessary. I trust your judgment in this war will bring the warring factions to a peace under the Empire."
"Yes, my lord," Harkov said again.
Vader did not move, but the connection shimmered and blinked out. Not until Harkov exhaled did he realize he had been holding his breath. His heart pounded and he felt light-headed. A conversation with Vader would do that to anyone.
He exited the holochamber and stepped into the bridge foyer across from the communications consoles. The bridge was a soft mumur of voices and clicking of bootheels on the polished decks. He turned and started down the command walkway, then stopped as he saw Captain Zeldiri coming towards him.
As the captain drew closer Harkov could make out the ever-present sneer on his face, the twist of Zeldiri's lip that he knew all too well. Zeldiri came to stand before him on the walkway, then saluted, it seemed, a little reluctantly. Harkov returned the salute.
"What were Lord Vader's orders?" Zeldiri said. But behind the words Harkov felt Zeldiri's unspoken words, same as those that had hung in the air between Mon Mothma and Madine at that first meeting so long ago. Though Zeldiri's were as clear as daylight. What mistakes did Vader punish you for? The insinuating tone rubbed Harkov's nerves raw, but he kept his composure, kept his hands behind his back so Zeldiri could not see his fists clench.
"Our situation, Captain," he said slowly, "is difficult at best."
"Yes, Admiral." Zeldiri's tone was faintly accusatory.
"I mentioned the weapons incidents to Lord Vader. Both of them."
Harkov stopped speaking, and began walking along the walkway to the viewports to the front of the bridge. Zeldiri hurried to keep up, trailing along after him like a lost child searching for its mother. Harkov reached the center viewport, looking out into space and the cold stars, pinpoint after shining pinpoint. A man could drown in the light of those stars. So many, yet so few.
He sensed Zeldiri chafing at his shoulder. The man had no patience. He was like a parasite, feeding information off of others, taking the credit for himself. He waited, would wait, would let Zeldiri be the one to start the conversation.
Finally the captain could stand it no longer. The words tumbled forth sharply. "That cannot be all, Admiral. Not all. You are hiding some-"
He trailed off as Harkov turned towards him, mouth snapping shut and throat working to swallow. Harkov pushed down the faint sense of satisfaction that gave him. This was war, and in war, there could be no bickering between allies, or all would come apart.
"Set course for Ripoblus, Captain," he said softly, but clearly, "and prepare for ground assault."
Vader stepped from the doorway of the Kuat Drive Yards holochamber and glanced around. The lobby beyond was deserted. The gleam of wall lights set in the walls reflected onto the polished stone floor, and above, a large transparent dome soared up into dark space. The whirr of a cleaning droid penetrated the soft stillness.
He let the door swoosh shut behind him and strode through the silent lobby, not waiting for the three stormtroopers he knew were behind him. His polished black boots echoed against the floor as he crossed the lobby and entered a smallish corridor off to the left. There was a door at the end of it. Vader stopped, waiting, and a mechanical voice demanded an entry code.
Inside the mask, Vader's face hardened. He had no time for the petty insignificancies of this shipyard. Gathering the dark side to him, he searched inward for the locking mechanism...found it. With all the strength in the Force he could muster, he twisted it, splintering it. There was a sharp electronic squeal and the door slid open. Vader stepped through and the stormtroopers followed with the click of armored boots.
The corridor inside was narrow. Harsh light glared off metal walls and the echoing of boots was loud against the metal floor. Like a Star Destroyer, Vader thought grimly. He moved along the corridor at a steady pace, sensing the stormtroopers following obediently behind.
The corridor widened gradually and the silence was broken by sharp whines of landing craft and muffled thuds. The hall ended abruptly in a set of double doors. Vader paused, preparing to open these with the Force as well, but before he could, they slid open and a tech barged out.
"Hey! Look where you're..." The words trailed off as the man looked up, saw Vader glaring down at him. He took a few stumbling steps backwards. "Lord Vader! I had no-I didn't-"
Vader wasted no words on reprimand. His presence was enough. He was silent a moment, letting the tech worry first. "Is my ship complete?"
"Ah..." the tech was sweating, sweat trickling down his forehead and soaking onto his collar. He was edging back from Vader towards the doors. "I don't know, my lord. I'm not in charge of such things...ah, I'd have to check..."
"Do so!" Vader's voice was a rumble, filled with dark menace. He hated the inneficiency of bureaucracy, always someone higher up in charge.
"Yes! Yes, my lord!" The tech turned and fled through the doors. Holding them open with the Force, Vader followed him, gesturing to the stormtroopers who obediently stepped through.
The large bay was well-lit, hot, and noisy. Computer terminals glowed against the walls and catwalks crisscrossed the air above the ground. Small tugs carrying bulky metal struts hovered just above the floor while red-faced men with flares in their hands shouted and directed them elsewhere. Cargo ships and transports lifted clumsily in and out of the bay. Piles of equipment lay on the sidelines, ready for pickup and delivery. It had the looks of an efficient shipyards, to be sure, but if Kuat Drive Yards was so efficient, why had they not finished Vader's ship? He had signed thirteen months on the contract; he had given them two years. Inefficiency was astonishing. Perhaps a demonstration was in order.
Vader dismissed the thought with an imperceptible shake of the head. Too many dealings with the Rebels had corrupted his thinking. No, Kuat Drive Yards was a respectable installation with excellent quality work and fair management. Let them alone. After all, they were only a company, and an Imperial-run bureaucratic company at that.
The tech came hurrying back, followed by the colonel Vader had spoken to upon arrival. "Lord Vader!" the colonel called.
Vader waited.
The colonel stopped in front of him, panting slightly. "Yes, Lord Vader, your ship is ready. Would you like the tour now?"
Tour? Vader half-smiled, quickly subsided at the searing pain. Inspection, more likely. A look to see if these half-witted shipyard personnel had done everything he had asked for.
"Very well," he said.
The colonel nodded, swallowed. "Yes. Well. Ah...follow me, my lord."
Vader gestured to the stormtroopers to follow him out of the the second set of double doors out of the bay. The colonel did not speak as they walked down a hallway, turned, walked down another hallway, turned, took the turbolift up to the next deck. The man's face was slightly green under the light, and Vader wondered idly if his presence would make the officer pass out. Such things were not unlikely, but they were rare and happened only to the extremely faint-hearted. Vader was not sure if the colonel qualified under the latter category.
The turbolift stopped, the doors slid open, and they exited onto a larger corridor, with techs and droids hurrying past them. The techs bowed slightly as they passed. Vader looked straight ahead, not bothering to return the salutation. A band of Wookie slaves were led past, kept in line by five stormtroopers with blaster rifles, though the creatures looked so beaten and bruised that Vader was sure they would continue down to work without any guard.
They stopped at a set of wide double doors and the colonel whipped out a card and ran it through the ID scanner. The doors opened onto a bay much like the one they had just left. Vader felt impatience running through him. "Colonel," he said softly, warningly.
"Yes, Lord Vader," the colonel gasped. Vader frowned. Perhaps he was about to pass out after all. "That shuttle, Lord Vader."
Vader looked in the direction of the pointed finger, saw a standard Lambda-class Imperial shuttle waiting, with engines running. Without a word to the colonel, he made a motion for the stormtroopers to remain in the bay, then strode towards the shuttle, black cloak billowing. He could sense the colonel's fear as the man followed closely on his heels.
As soon as the colonel had stepped onto the ramp behind him, mechanisms whined and began retracting the ramp. Vader waited inside the shuttle for it to close, then moved to one of the passenger seats. The colonel sat across from him, twisting his fingers together, talking perhaps a little too quickly as the shuttle lifted and flew out of the bay.
"The ship is marvelous, Lord Vader. Quite marvelous. I have never seen better construction on any craft before this one. Quite wonderful. Yes. Perhaps...ah, that is, how many more of these would you like manufactured?"
He waited expectantly for Vader's answer. Vader considered pretending he had not heard the question, but decided to answer anyway. He turned towards the colonel. "That remains to be seen colonel, after I inspect your workmanship. Inferior work is not to be tolerated in the Empire."
"Ah, I quite understand Lord Vader," said the colonel hurridly. "Of course. But I expect the ship to be much to your liking."
Vader made no reply but instead sat in silence, staring at the shuttle viewscreen overhead. The shuttle was heading away from the main KDY station. Ahead he could see nothing but stars. He could hear the chatter of subspace navigation channels from the cockpit.
As he watched, a dark blot began to spread across the stars, a space in which there simply was nothing, nothing but blackness with stars blinking fitfully around it. The blot grew larger, formed into the shape of a Star Destroyer...except larger. And it kept growing. Growing, blocking out the light, and still getting larger. As the shuttle flew closer, Vader could make out the shape. Like a Star Destroyer, but yet unlike, a giant spearhead floating in space.
"Impressive," he commented to the colonel.
"Thank you, Lord Vader," the man said quickly, as if he were afraid Vader would take back the words.
The ship was huge now, filling the entire viewscreen. Individual lights shone bright on its surface and tugs still buzzed around it, microscopic insects on the surface of a bantha. Except this ship was no bantha. Its lines were clean, crisp, magnificent, suggesting strength and menace all at once. Despite himself, Vader felt pleased. It was quite a feat he had asked KDY to take on, and they had handled it superbly. Of course...there was still the interior to consider. But the overall impression was impressive.
There was the slight pull and tug of the tractor beam as it took hold of the shuttle. The whine of the engines ceased and a slight bump indicated the landing of the shuttle. The viewscreen went dark and the intercom clicked. "Lord Vader, we have arrived," said a voice.
The ramp lowered and Vader stepped out into the docking bay. It was huge, stretching on forever in the glow of thousands of lights, with TIE racks lining every wall. It was deserted. The shuttle looked strangely dwarfed in the center of the great cavern. The colonel came hurrying up. "How large is this bay?" Vader said.
The man chewed his lip, thought. "Ah, if I'm not mistaken, my lord, it should be large enough to almost hold a ship the size of a standard Imperial-class Destroyer." His gaze turned anxious. "Is it large enough, my lord?"
Vader almost smiled despite himself. He had not known they would take his suggestions as orders. Though it was wise of them. He turned to the colonel. "Lead on."
The colonel hurried to the turbolift on one side of the bay. It was quite a ways, Vader's boots clicking on the black metal floor. The noise echoed around the room, magnified a thousand times, bouncing from wall to wall. The colonel had the lift open, waiting. "Where should you like to go first, Lord Vader?" he said.
Vader stepped inside without answering, then said, "Bridge."
The lift doors closed smoothly and the lift itself moved without a sound. Vader again felt pleased, but the workmanship yet remained to be seen. The bridge was where he had chosen to start, the most likely place where flaws in design would most likely be spotted.
A small ping announced arrival, and the door slid open. Vader stepped out into the strangely quiet surroundings. He was in the security foyer, with comm consoles on one side and a holoprojector in the middle, as in standard Imperial-class Star Destroyers, except that the foyer measurements had been enlarged at least twice, perhaps more. He turned to the main bridge, stepped down on the command walkway, past the weapons stations, boots clicking hollowly against the metal walk. As with everything else, the walkway was twice as long, the number of consoles in the crew pits twice as many.
He reached the viewports and looked out. The view was...impressive. The whole ship lay before him, stretched out into the blackness seemingly into infinity. The KDY construction yard lay out there, a blinking light in the distance. The ship was huge. Vader hooked his thumbs into his control belt, feeling the colonel coming closer.
"Lord Vader?" the man's voice was a bit breathless. "Is the bridge to your liking?"
Vader turned towards the man, considering. "A fine piece of work, colonel."
"Why...thank you, my lord!" The colonel's voice was pleased.
"I wish construction to begin on four more of these Super Star Destroyers immediately."
"Yes, my lord."
Vader turned back the viewport, ignoring the man beside him. His ship...complete. Finally. And now he could complete his search for the enigmatic stranger who had avoided his detection these long months.
Luke Skywalker.
