Quick Author's Note: No, the Austin in this story is not the Austin Powers in the Mike Myers movies. It was just the first name to pop into my head and I didn't recognize it right off the bat. Didn't find out the mistake until someone pointed it out and by then it was too late to go back and change it. My bad.
Part III -- Close Encounter of the Third Kind
Luke roused, his head throbbing as if a Gamorrean thug had buried his vibroax in his skull and left it there. He gingerly opened his eyes, but had to close them again when the bright sunlight inflamed his headache. He recalled striking his head on his X-wing's console, but nothing after. Most likely he'd crash-landed somewhere, though how he'd come out of the wreck with nothing more than a migraine was mind-boggling.
Someone was kneeling beside him, tightening cords around his wrists. Alarmed, he cracked one eye open. The familiar battle-scarred helmet, its bearer invisible behind the T-slit visor, stunned him.
"Boba Fett?" he whispered in amazement. How could he be alive?
"You are awake, Skywalker."
That voice... hard, resonant, mechanical...
A pair of black boots stood by his head, a long sable cloak swaying behind them. Luke's eyes crept up the armored shins, taking in the leather-garbed body, the control-laden belt, the powerful gauntleted hands and the massive shoulders and chest, bearing glossy ebony-colored armor and a droid-like chest panel respectively. The man's breath hissed and whooshed like a hollow wind through his skeletal mask, a mask that formed a crude, shattered parody of a human face. Light arced from the domed helmet and played across the angles and planes of the mask in bizarre patterns.
/He's more machine now than man/ Obi-wan had said. Had the old Jedi told Luke this to convince him his father was no longer human? Did old Ben truly believe that, that there was no man beneath that armor to redeem and therefore no reason to spare his life? Luke had once believed the Dark Lord to be nothing more than a murderous beast, but now, though he feared the Sith's anger and power, he felt an odd pity for him. What
tragedy had broken apart his body like this? What horrible event had reduced him to being "more machine than man?"
"On your feet, Skywalker," Vader demanded.
Luke managed the task only with a lot of grunting and squirming -- having his hands bound made it difficult to get up. Then he wondered why he'd bothered standing at all, for Fett clobbered him alongside the head with the butt of his blaster and sent him sprawling. Agony blinded him for a moment, and Vader's angry shout rang painfully through his skull.
"You'll not do that again, bounty hunter!"
"For... my... ship..." Fett sounded like he was choking on something as he defended himself.
When his vision cleared, Luke was treated to the incredible sight of Fett, booted feet a good handspan off the ground, back pressed to a tree, Vader's fist clutching his throat. The hunter groped at the gloved hand, trying desperately to loosen the Dark Lord's strangling grasp. Vader watched his futile efforts disdainfully, then drew close to him until his mask was mere centimeters from Fett's visor.
"If you threaten Skywalker again, in any way, I'll finish what the Sarlaac began," he hissed dangerously.
Abruptly Fett fell to the ground in a heap, his frantic gasps audible through his helmet as he gulped in air. Vader spared him a contemptuous glare before returning to Luke's side. Luke writhed to his feet again and met Vader's gaze as calmly as he was able.
"The Emperor seems to have underestimated you, Skywalker," Vader noted. "Your capture proved all too easy."
Luke craned his neck to peer around Vader. Three ships sat in the clearing -- his X-wing, wires trailing from its rear to mark where vital equipment had been gutted from it; Vader's TIE, looking very much like a bird with broken wings as it lolled awkwardly on the uneven ground; and Fett's Slave, smoke or steam issuing from its engines in thin ribbons. He couldn't suppress an amused smile as he turned back to the Dark Lord.
"So you've captured me. Will you take me to your ship now?"
"Someone should have taught you not to be flippant," Vader snarled, holding a cautionary finger before his face. "Our intended transport has suffered damage." He inclined his head toward the Slave. "You can thank your blasted droid for shipwrecking us."
Artoo tootled merrily from a nearby tree, which he had been strapped to with a plasteel tow cable.
"What about my X-wing? We can all fit in there if we squeeze."
Vader eyed him suspiciously. "One would almost think you wanted to face the Emperor."
"I'm only asking why, if the Emperor wants me so badly, haven't you taken me to him yet?" He wanted to believe that Vader didn't have the heart to turn his own son over to his master. That would be some proof -- a mere shred, but still proof -- that there was still some vestige of good in his father.
"Our friend here," Vader replied, nodding at the panting bounty hunter, "has removed your ship's hyperdrive and drained your fuel cells. It is currently inoperable."
Oh. So much for that theory.
"Why don't you untie my hands?" Luke offered. "I won't be able to run from you anyway, since all our ships are grounded."
"True," replied Vader, nodding. "But you could attempt to destroy us and contact your Rebel friends. Not that it would do you much good. Imperial communications barriers prevent unauthorized transmissions from entering or leaving this system."
"Then you'll untie me?"
"No. Your friends may come looking for you. Until I decide otherwise you will remain bound."
Luke hoped against hope that Han and Leia wouldn't attempt any heroics to rescue him. With Imperials in this system, it wouldn't be wise to stage a rescue. Better he die than untold numbers of Rebels be captured or slain.
Vader paced slowly, considering. He removed a chrome-plated cylinder from his belt and caressed it thoughtfully with his thumb. It was Luke's lightsaber, the one he had crafted to replace the weapon he had lost on Cloud City. He ignited the blade, examining the brilliant green rod of energy it emitted, studying the grips and seams as if checking for flaws in the design.
"I see you have constructed your lightsaber," he mused. "You are indeed powerful. More powerful than I anticipated." He met Luke's gaze. "You will prove to be an excellent student of the dark side."
"I won't turn," Luke declared with more bravado than he felt, "and you'll be forced to kill me."
"If that is your destiny..." Vader began, then broke off and turned abruptly.
Luke followed his gaze and saw the cause of the interruption.
A young boy, no older than eight or nine standard years, stared wide-eyed at them. He was dirty from head to toe, with wild auburn hair and knees well-worn from hard play. He wore mottled blue-white pants with metal studs at the corners of the pockets and a simple dark short-sleeved shirt printed with the logo "Spongebob Squarepants." He stared, captivated, at the lightsaber like an insect hypnotized by a lit candle. Then his gaze went to Vader, then Luke, then Fett, then the three incapacitated ships, and his expression became a mixture of wonder and terror.
Before Luke or Vader could say anything, the boy turned and ran back into the woods yelling "Mooooommmmm!!!"
"By the Maker," Vader whispered in stunned awe, "the survey was wrong. This planet is inhabited."
Part III -- Close Encounter of the Third Kind
Luke roused, his head throbbing as if a Gamorrean thug had buried his vibroax in his skull and left it there. He gingerly opened his eyes, but had to close them again when the bright sunlight inflamed his headache. He recalled striking his head on his X-wing's console, but nothing after. Most likely he'd crash-landed somewhere, though how he'd come out of the wreck with nothing more than a migraine was mind-boggling.
Someone was kneeling beside him, tightening cords around his wrists. Alarmed, he cracked one eye open. The familiar battle-scarred helmet, its bearer invisible behind the T-slit visor, stunned him.
"Boba Fett?" he whispered in amazement. How could he be alive?
"You are awake, Skywalker."
That voice... hard, resonant, mechanical...
A pair of black boots stood by his head, a long sable cloak swaying behind them. Luke's eyes crept up the armored shins, taking in the leather-garbed body, the control-laden belt, the powerful gauntleted hands and the massive shoulders and chest, bearing glossy ebony-colored armor and a droid-like chest panel respectively. The man's breath hissed and whooshed like a hollow wind through his skeletal mask, a mask that formed a crude, shattered parody of a human face. Light arced from the domed helmet and played across the angles and planes of the mask in bizarre patterns.
/He's more machine now than man/ Obi-wan had said. Had the old Jedi told Luke this to convince him his father was no longer human? Did old Ben truly believe that, that there was no man beneath that armor to redeem and therefore no reason to spare his life? Luke had once believed the Dark Lord to be nothing more than a murderous beast, but now, though he feared the Sith's anger and power, he felt an odd pity for him. What
tragedy had broken apart his body like this? What horrible event had reduced him to being "more machine than man?"
"On your feet, Skywalker," Vader demanded.
Luke managed the task only with a lot of grunting and squirming -- having his hands bound made it difficult to get up. Then he wondered why he'd bothered standing at all, for Fett clobbered him alongside the head with the butt of his blaster and sent him sprawling. Agony blinded him for a moment, and Vader's angry shout rang painfully through his skull.
"You'll not do that again, bounty hunter!"
"For... my... ship..." Fett sounded like he was choking on something as he defended himself.
When his vision cleared, Luke was treated to the incredible sight of Fett, booted feet a good handspan off the ground, back pressed to a tree, Vader's fist clutching his throat. The hunter groped at the gloved hand, trying desperately to loosen the Dark Lord's strangling grasp. Vader watched his futile efforts disdainfully, then drew close to him until his mask was mere centimeters from Fett's visor.
"If you threaten Skywalker again, in any way, I'll finish what the Sarlaac began," he hissed dangerously.
Abruptly Fett fell to the ground in a heap, his frantic gasps audible through his helmet as he gulped in air. Vader spared him a contemptuous glare before returning to Luke's side. Luke writhed to his feet again and met Vader's gaze as calmly as he was able.
"The Emperor seems to have underestimated you, Skywalker," Vader noted. "Your capture proved all too easy."
Luke craned his neck to peer around Vader. Three ships sat in the clearing -- his X-wing, wires trailing from its rear to mark where vital equipment had been gutted from it; Vader's TIE, looking very much like a bird with broken wings as it lolled awkwardly on the uneven ground; and Fett's Slave, smoke or steam issuing from its engines in thin ribbons. He couldn't suppress an amused smile as he turned back to the Dark Lord.
"So you've captured me. Will you take me to your ship now?"
"Someone should have taught you not to be flippant," Vader snarled, holding a cautionary finger before his face. "Our intended transport has suffered damage." He inclined his head toward the Slave. "You can thank your blasted droid for shipwrecking us."
Artoo tootled merrily from a nearby tree, which he had been strapped to with a plasteel tow cable.
"What about my X-wing? We can all fit in there if we squeeze."
Vader eyed him suspiciously. "One would almost think you wanted to face the Emperor."
"I'm only asking why, if the Emperor wants me so badly, haven't you taken me to him yet?" He wanted to believe that Vader didn't have the heart to turn his own son over to his master. That would be some proof -- a mere shred, but still proof -- that there was still some vestige of good in his father.
"Our friend here," Vader replied, nodding at the panting bounty hunter, "has removed your ship's hyperdrive and drained your fuel cells. It is currently inoperable."
Oh. So much for that theory.
"Why don't you untie my hands?" Luke offered. "I won't be able to run from you anyway, since all our ships are grounded."
"True," replied Vader, nodding. "But you could attempt to destroy us and contact your Rebel friends. Not that it would do you much good. Imperial communications barriers prevent unauthorized transmissions from entering or leaving this system."
"Then you'll untie me?"
"No. Your friends may come looking for you. Until I decide otherwise you will remain bound."
Luke hoped against hope that Han and Leia wouldn't attempt any heroics to rescue him. With Imperials in this system, it wouldn't be wise to stage a rescue. Better he die than untold numbers of Rebels be captured or slain.
Vader paced slowly, considering. He removed a chrome-plated cylinder from his belt and caressed it thoughtfully with his thumb. It was Luke's lightsaber, the one he had crafted to replace the weapon he had lost on Cloud City. He ignited the blade, examining the brilliant green rod of energy it emitted, studying the grips and seams as if checking for flaws in the design.
"I see you have constructed your lightsaber," he mused. "You are indeed powerful. More powerful than I anticipated." He met Luke's gaze. "You will prove to be an excellent student of the dark side."
"I won't turn," Luke declared with more bravado than he felt, "and you'll be forced to kill me."
"If that is your destiny..." Vader began, then broke off and turned abruptly.
Luke followed his gaze and saw the cause of the interruption.
A young boy, no older than eight or nine standard years, stared wide-eyed at them. He was dirty from head to toe, with wild auburn hair and knees well-worn from hard play. He wore mottled blue-white pants with metal studs at the corners of the pockets and a simple dark short-sleeved shirt printed with the logo "Spongebob Squarepants." He stared, captivated, at the lightsaber like an insect hypnotized by a lit candle. Then his gaze went to Vader, then Luke, then Fett, then the three incapacitated ships, and his expression became a mixture of wonder and terror.
Before Luke or Vader could say anything, the boy turned and ran back into the woods yelling "Mooooommmmm!!!"
"By the Maker," Vader whispered in stunned awe, "the survey was wrong. This planet is inhabited."