CHAPTER 12: Reflections
It was a good idea bringing those children, mused Vader as he strode into the Imperial base, his legs stiff from sitting for 14 hours in a cramped position. I thought they would be difficult to win over, but already the boy respects me. He is willing to be trained. Two apprentices. It'll be against Sith protocol, but the emperor need never know of this. I'll have Jixton destroy any evidence of the existence of those two. He can be trusted.
Vader thought about that.
Perhaps the boy could pose as an unsuspicious character, perhaps the son of an officer. Yes, that would be best. Admiral Peitt would be the ideal candidate for the father when we are on the Executor. It won't be long.
The boy is braver than I thought. He asks his captor questions freely without fear; he will be a magnificent spy.
The Death Star was an unnecessary great loss to the Empire. It was simply another one of Master's eccentric pet projects and it's destruction only stirred more rebellious feelings among the populace. At least Tarkin will no longer be a problem. Why the Emperor placed that egotistical mongrel in a superior position utterly escapes me. Then again, they both did share an uncanny love for toys.
The girl will be harder to train than I expected. She has much spirit. But she is clever and gifted with a silver-tongue, though she will learn quickly whom not to use it with.
I doubt a bounty on the Princess will make her capture any easier, but it would be ridiculous not to issue one. The emperor will most definitely want the head of the pilot that launched that proton torpedo shot. I'll take care of him later; there are other matters to tend to.
***
There is a very popular food in Nancuun that everyone, from tribes people to mechanics and even Kela herself eats. A dark green vine with leaves the size of your palm carpets the trees of the jungle planet. And on these vines grows what Nancuunis revere as their tropical home's startlingly gentle rose, but what foreigners describe as a repulsive mix between a nut and a flower. Bunches of seed, they are really, wrapped by cardboard-strong petals the color of red clothes dye. Open up these flowers, pour the seeds with vine leaves on a rock oven, metal on a hot motor engine, or a frying pan, and you have a sticky, crunchy leaf meal called pilk. Foreigners hate it's sour taste and unusual texture, but everyone else grows to depend on it for a quick and easy source nutrition that wasn't fruit or expensive meat.
Maybe that's why, after about almost a day without food, Nikki caught herself looking left and right for familiar shades of scarlet to pluck and wondering if her pilk pan, a heat-absorbing metal sheet, had fallen off her speeder during the chase. The lieutenant, who was up front with Vader, luckily hadn't noticed. Nikki didn't really want to think about Rogi now.
For the first time in her life Nikki felt conscious about the way she dressed. Wool and denim were virtually the uniform at home, and now, she was drowned out, or rather, marooned, by waves of stiff gray suits with shiny little insignias.
Home. It was never my home, that planet, but a kingdom to rule. No, it wasn't even that. It was a tool for my survival. But wait, you have to admit, you did feel some compassion for those people, like it or not. Nancuun had to have been more than just some device to you all these years. Whatever it was, it wasn't home. And neither was the laboratory, for that matter. Rather, it was my birthplace, if you could call it that. Could one say I was born? The engineers never did bother explaining to us the method of our creation. All well. I never did like science.
Just as Nikki ended her reverie she found herself and the others standing before the door.
"These and the quarters 3 doors down are the only available quarters, milord," piped the lientenant. The young blond officer was no longer stiff as a tree from anxiety, but he knew that he hadn't stayed alive by letting his guard down.
"That will be all, lieutenant," dismissed Vader.
Rogi and Nikki, waiting at opposite sides of entrance, locked eyes. Nikki didn't dare take her eyes off his lest he think he had succeeded in 'scaring' her. Rogi calmly kept his glance. The staring contest ended with a tie when the door slid open with a hiss.
Nikki spilled into the room and found not luxurious ambrosial accommodations but basically a bunk room. One bed against the wall, a mirror, an entrance to what seemed like a refresher, a chest, and that was pretty much it, if you don't count the lights. Not that it mattered to Nikki.
"I call this room!"
Rogi stole one look and turned to Vader.
"How long exactly are we staying here?"
"For as long as needed. After that, we'll be boarding the Executor, my flagship."
It was a good idea bringing those children, mused Vader as he strode into the Imperial base, his legs stiff from sitting for 14 hours in a cramped position. I thought they would be difficult to win over, but already the boy respects me. He is willing to be trained. Two apprentices. It'll be against Sith protocol, but the emperor need never know of this. I'll have Jixton destroy any evidence of the existence of those two. He can be trusted.
Vader thought about that.
Perhaps the boy could pose as an unsuspicious character, perhaps the son of an officer. Yes, that would be best. Admiral Peitt would be the ideal candidate for the father when we are on the Executor. It won't be long.
The boy is braver than I thought. He asks his captor questions freely without fear; he will be a magnificent spy.
The Death Star was an unnecessary great loss to the Empire. It was simply another one of Master's eccentric pet projects and it's destruction only stirred more rebellious feelings among the populace. At least Tarkin will no longer be a problem. Why the Emperor placed that egotistical mongrel in a superior position utterly escapes me. Then again, they both did share an uncanny love for toys.
The girl will be harder to train than I expected. She has much spirit. But she is clever and gifted with a silver-tongue, though she will learn quickly whom not to use it with.
I doubt a bounty on the Princess will make her capture any easier, but it would be ridiculous not to issue one. The emperor will most definitely want the head of the pilot that launched that proton torpedo shot. I'll take care of him later; there are other matters to tend to.
***
There is a very popular food in Nancuun that everyone, from tribes people to mechanics and even Kela herself eats. A dark green vine with leaves the size of your palm carpets the trees of the jungle planet. And on these vines grows what Nancuunis revere as their tropical home's startlingly gentle rose, but what foreigners describe as a repulsive mix between a nut and a flower. Bunches of seed, they are really, wrapped by cardboard-strong petals the color of red clothes dye. Open up these flowers, pour the seeds with vine leaves on a rock oven, metal on a hot motor engine, or a frying pan, and you have a sticky, crunchy leaf meal called pilk. Foreigners hate it's sour taste and unusual texture, but everyone else grows to depend on it for a quick and easy source nutrition that wasn't fruit or expensive meat.
Maybe that's why, after about almost a day without food, Nikki caught herself looking left and right for familiar shades of scarlet to pluck and wondering if her pilk pan, a heat-absorbing metal sheet, had fallen off her speeder during the chase. The lieutenant, who was up front with Vader, luckily hadn't noticed. Nikki didn't really want to think about Rogi now.
For the first time in her life Nikki felt conscious about the way she dressed. Wool and denim were virtually the uniform at home, and now, she was drowned out, or rather, marooned, by waves of stiff gray suits with shiny little insignias.
Home. It was never my home, that planet, but a kingdom to rule. No, it wasn't even that. It was a tool for my survival. But wait, you have to admit, you did feel some compassion for those people, like it or not. Nancuun had to have been more than just some device to you all these years. Whatever it was, it wasn't home. And neither was the laboratory, for that matter. Rather, it was my birthplace, if you could call it that. Could one say I was born? The engineers never did bother explaining to us the method of our creation. All well. I never did like science.
Just as Nikki ended her reverie she found herself and the others standing before the door.
"These and the quarters 3 doors down are the only available quarters, milord," piped the lientenant. The young blond officer was no longer stiff as a tree from anxiety, but he knew that he hadn't stayed alive by letting his guard down.
"That will be all, lieutenant," dismissed Vader.
Rogi and Nikki, waiting at opposite sides of entrance, locked eyes. Nikki didn't dare take her eyes off his lest he think he had succeeded in 'scaring' her. Rogi calmly kept his glance. The staring contest ended with a tie when the door slid open with a hiss.
Nikki spilled into the room and found not luxurious ambrosial accommodations but basically a bunk room. One bed against the wall, a mirror, an entrance to what seemed like a refresher, a chest, and that was pretty much it, if you don't count the lights. Not that it mattered to Nikki.
"I call this room!"
Rogi stole one look and turned to Vader.
"How long exactly are we staying here?"
"For as long as needed. After that, we'll be boarding the Executor, my flagship."