Part V -- Party Crashers
"Smashing success! Austin noted, shouting to be heard over the din. "How many guests we got?"
"I'd say seventy-five, eighty," guessed Sparky. At forty-five he was the oldest member of the Elite, and a car accident had left him in a wheelchair a decade ago. His affectionately teasing nickname stemmed from a previous career as an electrician, and he served the fan club as Austin's second-in-command. Quite in keeping with the Star Wars spirit, he wore an Imperial Admiral costume.
"I believe every year we cater to a larger crowd," Sparky said. "Hey, pass me some of those buffalo wings, please?"
The two of them stood next to the snack bar, and Austin quietly filched the wing plate and handed it to Sparky. "If it gets too much bigger, we'll have to find a bigger venue," he replied. "Nice of the Osmonds to let us use their shop, but it can only hold so many Warsies."
"There's always the lodge at park headquarters," suggested Sparky.
"Are you kidding? You have to reserve that place a decade in advance if you want to use it during a convention."
"Just a thought."
If the Emperor existed, Austin thought as he nabbed a handful of Cheetohs and pulled off his helmet to snack on them, he would be proud to see so many villains gathered under one roof. Liz manned the DJ table and was taking requests from an insistent AT-AT pilot. Grand Admiral Thrawn and a Tonnika sister executed a lively
couple dance while Mara Jade proved to a gaggle of gaping TIE pilots that girls could indeed break dance. Two clonetroopers compared armor-building techniques by the drink cooler, Jason was hitting on Aurra Sing and failing miserably, and a shirtless, chemically altered Darth Maul slurred out "Vanilla Ice" on the karaoke machine. No alcohol was being served here, but that didn't prevent a few patrons from imbibing before their arrival. All in all, it seemed everyone was having a good time.
"Oh look, new arrivals," Sparky pointed out as three more Imps -- Darth Vader, Boba Fett, and a snowtrooper -- entered the warehouse, looking rather lost and confused.
"Trapper, why don't you go welcome them?" Austin suggested.
Trapper sat cross-legged under the table, intent on whatever adventure he was concocting with his action figures.
"Trapper?" Austin repeated.
"Dad, I'm kinda busy," he complained.
"We can see that," Sparky replied. "What's going on in the plastic galaxy today?"
Trapper lifted his Emperor's Wrath Darth Vader in the air. "Darth Vader, leader of the Rebel Alliance, is leading his droid army in their first offensive strike against Emperor Jango and Prince Boba's evil Empire, while Jedi Master Artoo-Detoo sends his Padawan learners Luke and Leia to infiltrate Jar Jar Binks' criminal empire."
"That isn't how the story goes," said Rachel, who was sitting next to Trapper and braiding her Wookie doll's fur. Rachel was the daughter of Conrad and Diana Church, a family who came to the Elite's functions dressed as Tusken Raiders (but thankfully not talking like them). She took things quite seriously for a five-year-old.
"I know!" Trapper snapped. "But they're my figures, so I can do what I want with them."
"Trapper, our new guests don't appear to know what's going on," Austin said. "Kindly introduce them and clarify things."
Trapper "shot down" one last stormtrooper with the appropriate sound effects, including Wilheim scream, then crawled out from under the snack bar and headed toward the trio.
"Quite a son you have there," Sparky told Austin. "Spending the summer with his old man, is he?"
Austin snorted in disgust. "If you can call it that. He has to be back in Chicago by July 19."
"Really?" Sparky's eyebrows flicked upward in mild surprise -- he had the most mobile and expressive eyebrows Austin had ever seen. "Melissa keeps calling him back sooner and sooner every summer. Last year it was July 25, the year before August 1. What's next, the two-hour summer?"
"Woudn't doubt it. I don't care that she hates me; I just wish she wouldn't use the visitation as a weapon of vengeance."
"And this can't be good for Mini-V."
"Got that right. He hates it when we fight. And I can tell her vindictive attitude is hurting him too."
"Have you considered taking this to a judge?"
Austin laughed sarcastically as he replaced his helmet. "What, my lawyer against hers? Anymore it's not justice that rules, its whatever lawyer costs more that wins a case. And she spends more on legal fees than I make in a year."
Trapper ran to his father, the threesome in tow. "Dad, they wanna talk to someone in charge."
"That would be you, International Man of Mystery," Sparky said with a grin. He knew Austin hated it whenever anyone connected his name with Mike Myers.
"Knock off the jokes," Austin shot back. To the others he said, "I'm Austin Powers, leader of Vader's Elite. May I help you?"
The Vader wannabe had the most detailed costume Austin had ever seen, down to the voice synthesizer and the blinking lights on his chest plate. He even had Vader's distinctive stance right -- shoulders back, hands on belt, an aura of confidence and sheer power about him. Probably a member of the 501st. He'd ask him for tips on improving his own costume later.
"We are visitors," the man explained, taking great pains to put Vader-esque inflections in his words. "We are unfamiliar with the area and would like information."
"Well, you're on the outskirts of Star City," Austin offered. "If you keep following Highway 48 you'll hit downtown..."
"What I mean is," he interrupted, "information about your planet."
Sparky cocked an eyebrow. "I thought this was a non-alcoholic party."
"Relax, Sparks," Austin ordered. "I know this type." At every convention there was always a group of yahoos impersonating the Star Wars characters and hitting up everyone in their vicinity for info on the planet / Rebel base / last surviving Jedi / all three. Usually the nuts were harmless, though last year a Darth Maul "reincarnate" had actually attacked a young man dressed as Qui-gon Jinn. The delusional Sith had come out of that incident with a hefty fine, the unfortunate Jedi with eight stitches and a sour attitude toward the double-cons.
"Well, sir," Austin explained, "this is Earth, a human-inhabited planet with a variety of climates and terrains and no perfected means of space travel..."
"Whoa!" exclaimed Rachel, scrambling out from under the table and staring up at the man. "You're the biggest Darth Vader I've ever seen!"
The snowtrooper snorted as if suppressing laughter.
"Yes, thank you for the observation, Rachel," Austin told the girl, and he opened his mouth to resume his explanation.
She wasn't done. "You have shiny boots," she continued, squatting to inspect his feet. "I can see my face in them."
The man backed away as if her touch would sully him.
"Okay Rachel, I'm sure he's thankful for the compliment," Austin said, gently cutting her off.
But there was no stopping the girl when she was on a roll. Looking up into his armored face, she stated, in all the frankness of the very young, "You smell funny."
"Rachel!" cried Austin, throwing the proverbial kid gloves out the proverbial window. "You know better than that!"
"But he does!" she countered.
The snowtrooper and Fett impersonator doubled over and vainly tried to stuff back their laughter. Their companion glared at them, but they continued to snort and choke.
"Really," Sparky said blandly. "Tell us, Rachel, what does he smell like?"
"Sparky, don't encourage her!" Austin protested.
"Like the slide in the park during the summer," she replied.
"C'mon, Austin, there are worse things to smell like," Sparky pointed out.
"Rachel, maybe you'd better find your parents now," Austin suggested firmly, taking her by the shoulder and pointing her away from the group. She took the hint and wandered off, Wookie in tow.
"She's cute," the snowtrooper remarked once he regained his composure. "Yours?"
"Thank heavens, no," Austin replied. "Her parents have quite a handful with her."
"I can imagine."
"Is there a spaceport on this world?" the pseudo-Vader demanded, cutting that conversation off.
Austin tried to sound regretful. "I'm afraid not. The closest thing we have is Cape Caravel in Florida, and even those ships won't get you beyond our moon. Look, why don't you simply relax and enjoy the party? I promise we won't scare you too badly."
The Vader wannabe glared at him, but his Fett-dressed comrade elbowed him and muttered "He won't be of any more help. Try someone else." His voice sounded like a running garbage disposal full of wet sand. Either he had a voice simulator too or he was going to have a royally sore throat by convention's end.
As the trio departed, Sparky looked up at Austin and demanded "What was that all about?"
"You occasionally get role-players like that," he replied. "And they'll sometimes get physical with you if you call their bluff. The best method of dealing with them is humoring them."
Sparky shrugged. "Whatever you say. You've been doing this longer than I have."
"Yeah, I believe I've pretty much seen everything at these Cons."
At that moment a man wobbled into the building, obviously drunk and wearing nothing except a tank top with the Imperial Insignia silk-screened on the chest and TIE fighter silk boxers. He threw his arms in the air and yelled "Hey everyone, look at me!"
Austin groaned. "Okay, NOW I've seen everything."
Sparky laughed heartily. "Looks like somebody lost his costume."
Austin rolled his eyes before taking a glance at the dance floor. "The guests are getting kind of antsy. Should we bring on Lady Vader?"
Sparky smiled knowingly. "I think it's a good idea. We haven't heard Liberty sing in a long time. Hey, you planning on taking her out after the party?"
"Not tonight. You know how much energy she puts into these performances. If I took her out on a date tonight, she'd be out cold by the time we hit the restaurant parking lot."
"Even the Lady Vader deserves some time off, eh?"
"Got that right." He dusted Cheetoh crumbs from his gloves and moved off to find Liberty.
***
Vader had to restrain himself from crushing a few windpipes as two false scouttroopers snickered disdainfully in his face and walked off, muttering something about "another one of those delusional loons who's seen 'Empire' too many times." This entire affair was infuriating him. He'd expected to find some sort of Imperial ally here,
but it was becoming rapidly apparent that he'd find no such aid among these mimics. And if that copycat Austin had been correct, there wasn't even a means off planet! Unless someone aboard the Executor was intelligent enough -- or a member of the Rebellion brazen enough -- to send a search party (and he wagered nothing on either possibility) they were effectively stranded here.
But the more he stopped wrangling with his problem and simply observed this world's natives, the more he realized the true puzzle wasn't how to leave this system. It was how a planet that had no contact with the galaxy beyond their pitiful system had such an intimate knowledge of its denizens and dealings. The costumes these revelers wore were accurate to an alarming degree, down to authentic-looking scrapes and char marks similar to damages suffered by crack Imperial troops. People discussed such matters as why some Jedi disappeared upon death while others did not, the morality of killing civilians aboard the Death Star, and how Han Solo could have made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs as if they were seasoned spacers. Wisecracks and jabs were
exchanged that referred to names and events that these people should have had no inkling of:
"You really have a way with women, Lando."
"Yeah, I hail from Minnesota. Reminds me of Hoth."
"Justin here's from Kamino -- or Seattle, take your pick."
"Stang man, Anakin Skywalker's got better pickup lines than you!"
"Shut up, nerf herder!"
Fett slipped in beside Vader and murmured "I see you haven't had much luck either."
He shook his head. "How insane do they judge you to be?"
The hunter nodded at a man in a Death Star gunner suit. "He asked me if I was on drugs."
Vader snarled wordlessly and turned to find Luke. They would obviously get no help here. Their only chance to leave the planet was to return to their ships and attempt a slap-together repair job. He hadn't needed to repair anything for himself since his turn to the Sith, but he shouldn't have lost his knack. Mentally he evaluated the damage done to the Slave, judging what parts of the X-wing and TIE fighter he had at his disposal and whether they would be enough to get the Firespray running again.
/Why bother? Why try dragging your son down the same dark, twisted path you now tread? Is that fair to him? To yourself?/
He was so absorbed in stifling that sudden torrent of protest that he never sensed the girl in the clonetrooper armor sneaking up behind him.
"Hey Dark Lord! Nice costume!" she exclaimed flirtatiously.
She then proceeded to pinch him in a sensitive area.
Reflex and the Force kicked in, deciding this action was a threat. He tore his lightsaber from his belt and swung it in an arc toward her, igniting it as he did so. Unconsciously he angled the weapon to make a slashing graze across her shoulder, a mere warning of what would become of her if she laid a hand on him again.
The blade never touched her. Something tugged at his belt, and on the extreme borders of his vision he saw Luke summon his weapon with the Force. A bar of green intercepted his blood-red blade, sparing the girl from harm.
Vader and Luke locked eyes, will against will, light against dark, son against father. Emerald and ruby shafts of light strained against each other as Jedi and Sith held their stances, one seeking to shield an innocent, the other to maim said being. So it was here they were to duel again, was it? He'd hoped to delay such a confrontation until they were before the Emperor, but if Skywalker insisted...
By this time the stunned girl gathered her wits enough to realize she was supposed to be afraid. Her high-pitched screams brought the festivities to an abrupt halt and all eyes to the duelists.
"It's Darth Vader!" someone shouted.
"And a stormtrooper Jedi!"
"That's no stormtrooper, that's Luke Skywalker!"
Someone heavy smashed into Vader, knocking him over. Reflexively he grabbed his attacker by the throat but found that thick plastic protected the man's neck. Instead of choking him he rolled over, pinning his opponent to the floor with one arm, holding his lightsaber just over his foe's head with the other.
It was Austin Powers, no doubt coming to the rescue of his friend. He writhed madly to escape the Dark Lord's grip, but froze when he saw the energy blade mere centimeters from cleaving his skull apart. Waves of shock and disbelief poured off him, as if he couldn't believe what his eyes were telling him.
"You're... Darth Vader," he whispered, incredulous.
"Who else?" snarled Vader.
"But... it can't be... you're not real... you can't be..."
A gloved hand clamped on Vader's shoulder, and he looked up to see Fett staring down at him.
"Let him up, Vader. We have bigger problems."
Vader realized that time had only slowed for him. The patrons of this celebration were in an uproar, screaming, gawking, arguing with each other, running madly about. Luke was yelling at the mob to calm down, but no one paid him any heed. The clonetrooper was sobbing in terror as a harried-looking Count Dooku tried to calm her
down. The little Tusken child who had "complimented" him earlier stared at him with an expression of utter awe, completely oblivious to her hysterical parents as they pulled her away.
Suddenly a piercing whistle sliced through the bedlam, and the chair-bound "admiral" pushed his mobile seat into a clear spot where all could see him.
"Everyone who's not a member of Vader's Elite leave now!" he shouted. "Emergency meeting! The party is over! Please do not call your lawyers or the police!"
If anyone was disappointed at the early ending to their revelry, none were willing to show it. Rather, they seemed eager for an excuse to depart. Vader stood and allowed his copy to right himself. He noted that neither Austin nor the child were among those leaving. With some disgust he saw that the woman who had started all this wasn't departing either.
The crowd was reduced to about twenty people once all non-members had exited the building. A Boba Fett impersonator closed the doors and locked them. Some began picking up wallets and other objects discarded in the hasty exodus. Others clustered around the clonetrooper or Austin, inquiring if they were all right. Luke was among those comforting the woman, apologizing for any trauma they had caused.
Vader shook his head disdainfully. Any trauma she had suffered was her own doing.
"All right, did anyone see all of what happened?" asked the admiral. "Can anyone tell me both sides of the story?"
"I saw everything!" shouted the Tusken girl, eager to provide information. "Darcy pinched Darth Vader's bum and he drew his lightsaber..."
"Shut up, you little tattle-tale!" the clonetrooper interrupted her crying long enough to snap.
"Darcy, be nice to Rachel!" chided a snowtrooper.
Austin raised a hand to silence the crowd and gave Luke, Vader, and Fett a long, studious stare.
"Darth Vader," he said quietly, almost reverently. "Boba Fett. And Luke Skywalker in disguise." He shook his head as if still not quite comprehending this. "In the flesh -- so to speak. Are you here by yourselves, or can we expect Han and Leia too?"
A faint beeping issued from outside. A stormtrooper opened the door to admit the astromech droid.
"It's Artoo-Detoo!"
That number struck a chord with Vader, but he put the matter from his mind. It was the least of his concerns at the moment.
"It looks like we have a lot to discuss," the admiral noted.
"Yes," Vader agreed. His gaze swept the amazed crowd. "A lot."
"Smashing success! Austin noted, shouting to be heard over the din. "How many guests we got?"
"I'd say seventy-five, eighty," guessed Sparky. At forty-five he was the oldest member of the Elite, and a car accident had left him in a wheelchair a decade ago. His affectionately teasing nickname stemmed from a previous career as an electrician, and he served the fan club as Austin's second-in-command. Quite in keeping with the Star Wars spirit, he wore an Imperial Admiral costume.
"I believe every year we cater to a larger crowd," Sparky said. "Hey, pass me some of those buffalo wings, please?"
The two of them stood next to the snack bar, and Austin quietly filched the wing plate and handed it to Sparky. "If it gets too much bigger, we'll have to find a bigger venue," he replied. "Nice of the Osmonds to let us use their shop, but it can only hold so many Warsies."
"There's always the lodge at park headquarters," suggested Sparky.
"Are you kidding? You have to reserve that place a decade in advance if you want to use it during a convention."
"Just a thought."
If the Emperor existed, Austin thought as he nabbed a handful of Cheetohs and pulled off his helmet to snack on them, he would be proud to see so many villains gathered under one roof. Liz manned the DJ table and was taking requests from an insistent AT-AT pilot. Grand Admiral Thrawn and a Tonnika sister executed a lively
couple dance while Mara Jade proved to a gaggle of gaping TIE pilots that girls could indeed break dance. Two clonetroopers compared armor-building techniques by the drink cooler, Jason was hitting on Aurra Sing and failing miserably, and a shirtless, chemically altered Darth Maul slurred out "Vanilla Ice" on the karaoke machine. No alcohol was being served here, but that didn't prevent a few patrons from imbibing before their arrival. All in all, it seemed everyone was having a good time.
"Oh look, new arrivals," Sparky pointed out as three more Imps -- Darth Vader, Boba Fett, and a snowtrooper -- entered the warehouse, looking rather lost and confused.
"Trapper, why don't you go welcome them?" Austin suggested.
Trapper sat cross-legged under the table, intent on whatever adventure he was concocting with his action figures.
"Trapper?" Austin repeated.
"Dad, I'm kinda busy," he complained.
"We can see that," Sparky replied. "What's going on in the plastic galaxy today?"
Trapper lifted his Emperor's Wrath Darth Vader in the air. "Darth Vader, leader of the Rebel Alliance, is leading his droid army in their first offensive strike against Emperor Jango and Prince Boba's evil Empire, while Jedi Master Artoo-Detoo sends his Padawan learners Luke and Leia to infiltrate Jar Jar Binks' criminal empire."
"That isn't how the story goes," said Rachel, who was sitting next to Trapper and braiding her Wookie doll's fur. Rachel was the daughter of Conrad and Diana Church, a family who came to the Elite's functions dressed as Tusken Raiders (but thankfully not talking like them). She took things quite seriously for a five-year-old.
"I know!" Trapper snapped. "But they're my figures, so I can do what I want with them."
"Trapper, our new guests don't appear to know what's going on," Austin said. "Kindly introduce them and clarify things."
Trapper "shot down" one last stormtrooper with the appropriate sound effects, including Wilheim scream, then crawled out from under the snack bar and headed toward the trio.
"Quite a son you have there," Sparky told Austin. "Spending the summer with his old man, is he?"
Austin snorted in disgust. "If you can call it that. He has to be back in Chicago by July 19."
"Really?" Sparky's eyebrows flicked upward in mild surprise -- he had the most mobile and expressive eyebrows Austin had ever seen. "Melissa keeps calling him back sooner and sooner every summer. Last year it was July 25, the year before August 1. What's next, the two-hour summer?"
"Woudn't doubt it. I don't care that she hates me; I just wish she wouldn't use the visitation as a weapon of vengeance."
"And this can't be good for Mini-V."
"Got that right. He hates it when we fight. And I can tell her vindictive attitude is hurting him too."
"Have you considered taking this to a judge?"
Austin laughed sarcastically as he replaced his helmet. "What, my lawyer against hers? Anymore it's not justice that rules, its whatever lawyer costs more that wins a case. And she spends more on legal fees than I make in a year."
Trapper ran to his father, the threesome in tow. "Dad, they wanna talk to someone in charge."
"That would be you, International Man of Mystery," Sparky said with a grin. He knew Austin hated it whenever anyone connected his name with Mike Myers.
"Knock off the jokes," Austin shot back. To the others he said, "I'm Austin Powers, leader of Vader's Elite. May I help you?"
The Vader wannabe had the most detailed costume Austin had ever seen, down to the voice synthesizer and the blinking lights on his chest plate. He even had Vader's distinctive stance right -- shoulders back, hands on belt, an aura of confidence and sheer power about him. Probably a member of the 501st. He'd ask him for tips on improving his own costume later.
"We are visitors," the man explained, taking great pains to put Vader-esque inflections in his words. "We are unfamiliar with the area and would like information."
"Well, you're on the outskirts of Star City," Austin offered. "If you keep following Highway 48 you'll hit downtown..."
"What I mean is," he interrupted, "information about your planet."
Sparky cocked an eyebrow. "I thought this was a non-alcoholic party."
"Relax, Sparks," Austin ordered. "I know this type." At every convention there was always a group of yahoos impersonating the Star Wars characters and hitting up everyone in their vicinity for info on the planet / Rebel base / last surviving Jedi / all three. Usually the nuts were harmless, though last year a Darth Maul "reincarnate" had actually attacked a young man dressed as Qui-gon Jinn. The delusional Sith had come out of that incident with a hefty fine, the unfortunate Jedi with eight stitches and a sour attitude toward the double-cons.
"Well, sir," Austin explained, "this is Earth, a human-inhabited planet with a variety of climates and terrains and no perfected means of space travel..."
"Whoa!" exclaimed Rachel, scrambling out from under the table and staring up at the man. "You're the biggest Darth Vader I've ever seen!"
The snowtrooper snorted as if suppressing laughter.
"Yes, thank you for the observation, Rachel," Austin told the girl, and he opened his mouth to resume his explanation.
She wasn't done. "You have shiny boots," she continued, squatting to inspect his feet. "I can see my face in them."
The man backed away as if her touch would sully him.
"Okay Rachel, I'm sure he's thankful for the compliment," Austin said, gently cutting her off.
But there was no stopping the girl when she was on a roll. Looking up into his armored face, she stated, in all the frankness of the very young, "You smell funny."
"Rachel!" cried Austin, throwing the proverbial kid gloves out the proverbial window. "You know better than that!"
"But he does!" she countered.
The snowtrooper and Fett impersonator doubled over and vainly tried to stuff back their laughter. Their companion glared at them, but they continued to snort and choke.
"Really," Sparky said blandly. "Tell us, Rachel, what does he smell like?"
"Sparky, don't encourage her!" Austin protested.
"Like the slide in the park during the summer," she replied.
"C'mon, Austin, there are worse things to smell like," Sparky pointed out.
"Rachel, maybe you'd better find your parents now," Austin suggested firmly, taking her by the shoulder and pointing her away from the group. She took the hint and wandered off, Wookie in tow.
"She's cute," the snowtrooper remarked once he regained his composure. "Yours?"
"Thank heavens, no," Austin replied. "Her parents have quite a handful with her."
"I can imagine."
"Is there a spaceport on this world?" the pseudo-Vader demanded, cutting that conversation off.
Austin tried to sound regretful. "I'm afraid not. The closest thing we have is Cape Caravel in Florida, and even those ships won't get you beyond our moon. Look, why don't you simply relax and enjoy the party? I promise we won't scare you too badly."
The Vader wannabe glared at him, but his Fett-dressed comrade elbowed him and muttered "He won't be of any more help. Try someone else." His voice sounded like a running garbage disposal full of wet sand. Either he had a voice simulator too or he was going to have a royally sore throat by convention's end.
As the trio departed, Sparky looked up at Austin and demanded "What was that all about?"
"You occasionally get role-players like that," he replied. "And they'll sometimes get physical with you if you call their bluff. The best method of dealing with them is humoring them."
Sparky shrugged. "Whatever you say. You've been doing this longer than I have."
"Yeah, I believe I've pretty much seen everything at these Cons."
At that moment a man wobbled into the building, obviously drunk and wearing nothing except a tank top with the Imperial Insignia silk-screened on the chest and TIE fighter silk boxers. He threw his arms in the air and yelled "Hey everyone, look at me!"
Austin groaned. "Okay, NOW I've seen everything."
Sparky laughed heartily. "Looks like somebody lost his costume."
Austin rolled his eyes before taking a glance at the dance floor. "The guests are getting kind of antsy. Should we bring on Lady Vader?"
Sparky smiled knowingly. "I think it's a good idea. We haven't heard Liberty sing in a long time. Hey, you planning on taking her out after the party?"
"Not tonight. You know how much energy she puts into these performances. If I took her out on a date tonight, she'd be out cold by the time we hit the restaurant parking lot."
"Even the Lady Vader deserves some time off, eh?"
"Got that right." He dusted Cheetoh crumbs from his gloves and moved off to find Liberty.
***
Vader had to restrain himself from crushing a few windpipes as two false scouttroopers snickered disdainfully in his face and walked off, muttering something about "another one of those delusional loons who's seen 'Empire' too many times." This entire affair was infuriating him. He'd expected to find some sort of Imperial ally here,
but it was becoming rapidly apparent that he'd find no such aid among these mimics. And if that copycat Austin had been correct, there wasn't even a means off planet! Unless someone aboard the Executor was intelligent enough -- or a member of the Rebellion brazen enough -- to send a search party (and he wagered nothing on either possibility) they were effectively stranded here.
But the more he stopped wrangling with his problem and simply observed this world's natives, the more he realized the true puzzle wasn't how to leave this system. It was how a planet that had no contact with the galaxy beyond their pitiful system had such an intimate knowledge of its denizens and dealings. The costumes these revelers wore were accurate to an alarming degree, down to authentic-looking scrapes and char marks similar to damages suffered by crack Imperial troops. People discussed such matters as why some Jedi disappeared upon death while others did not, the morality of killing civilians aboard the Death Star, and how Han Solo could have made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs as if they were seasoned spacers. Wisecracks and jabs were
exchanged that referred to names and events that these people should have had no inkling of:
"You really have a way with women, Lando."
"Yeah, I hail from Minnesota. Reminds me of Hoth."
"Justin here's from Kamino -- or Seattle, take your pick."
"Stang man, Anakin Skywalker's got better pickup lines than you!"
"Shut up, nerf herder!"
Fett slipped in beside Vader and murmured "I see you haven't had much luck either."
He shook his head. "How insane do they judge you to be?"
The hunter nodded at a man in a Death Star gunner suit. "He asked me if I was on drugs."
Vader snarled wordlessly and turned to find Luke. They would obviously get no help here. Their only chance to leave the planet was to return to their ships and attempt a slap-together repair job. He hadn't needed to repair anything for himself since his turn to the Sith, but he shouldn't have lost his knack. Mentally he evaluated the damage done to the Slave, judging what parts of the X-wing and TIE fighter he had at his disposal and whether they would be enough to get the Firespray running again.
/Why bother? Why try dragging your son down the same dark, twisted path you now tread? Is that fair to him? To yourself?/
He was so absorbed in stifling that sudden torrent of protest that he never sensed the girl in the clonetrooper armor sneaking up behind him.
"Hey Dark Lord! Nice costume!" she exclaimed flirtatiously.
She then proceeded to pinch him in a sensitive area.
Reflex and the Force kicked in, deciding this action was a threat. He tore his lightsaber from his belt and swung it in an arc toward her, igniting it as he did so. Unconsciously he angled the weapon to make a slashing graze across her shoulder, a mere warning of what would become of her if she laid a hand on him again.
The blade never touched her. Something tugged at his belt, and on the extreme borders of his vision he saw Luke summon his weapon with the Force. A bar of green intercepted his blood-red blade, sparing the girl from harm.
Vader and Luke locked eyes, will against will, light against dark, son against father. Emerald and ruby shafts of light strained against each other as Jedi and Sith held their stances, one seeking to shield an innocent, the other to maim said being. So it was here they were to duel again, was it? He'd hoped to delay such a confrontation until they were before the Emperor, but if Skywalker insisted...
By this time the stunned girl gathered her wits enough to realize she was supposed to be afraid. Her high-pitched screams brought the festivities to an abrupt halt and all eyes to the duelists.
"It's Darth Vader!" someone shouted.
"And a stormtrooper Jedi!"
"That's no stormtrooper, that's Luke Skywalker!"
Someone heavy smashed into Vader, knocking him over. Reflexively he grabbed his attacker by the throat but found that thick plastic protected the man's neck. Instead of choking him he rolled over, pinning his opponent to the floor with one arm, holding his lightsaber just over his foe's head with the other.
It was Austin Powers, no doubt coming to the rescue of his friend. He writhed madly to escape the Dark Lord's grip, but froze when he saw the energy blade mere centimeters from cleaving his skull apart. Waves of shock and disbelief poured off him, as if he couldn't believe what his eyes were telling him.
"You're... Darth Vader," he whispered, incredulous.
"Who else?" snarled Vader.
"But... it can't be... you're not real... you can't be..."
A gloved hand clamped on Vader's shoulder, and he looked up to see Fett staring down at him.
"Let him up, Vader. We have bigger problems."
Vader realized that time had only slowed for him. The patrons of this celebration were in an uproar, screaming, gawking, arguing with each other, running madly about. Luke was yelling at the mob to calm down, but no one paid him any heed. The clonetrooper was sobbing in terror as a harried-looking Count Dooku tried to calm her
down. The little Tusken child who had "complimented" him earlier stared at him with an expression of utter awe, completely oblivious to her hysterical parents as they pulled her away.
Suddenly a piercing whistle sliced through the bedlam, and the chair-bound "admiral" pushed his mobile seat into a clear spot where all could see him.
"Everyone who's not a member of Vader's Elite leave now!" he shouted. "Emergency meeting! The party is over! Please do not call your lawyers or the police!"
If anyone was disappointed at the early ending to their revelry, none were willing to show it. Rather, they seemed eager for an excuse to depart. Vader stood and allowed his copy to right himself. He noted that neither Austin nor the child were among those leaving. With some disgust he saw that the woman who had started all this wasn't departing either.
The crowd was reduced to about twenty people once all non-members had exited the building. A Boba Fett impersonator closed the doors and locked them. Some began picking up wallets and other objects discarded in the hasty exodus. Others clustered around the clonetrooper or Austin, inquiring if they were all right. Luke was among those comforting the woman, apologizing for any trauma they had caused.
Vader shook his head disdainfully. Any trauma she had suffered was her own doing.
"All right, did anyone see all of what happened?" asked the admiral. "Can anyone tell me both sides of the story?"
"I saw everything!" shouted the Tusken girl, eager to provide information. "Darcy pinched Darth Vader's bum and he drew his lightsaber..."
"Shut up, you little tattle-tale!" the clonetrooper interrupted her crying long enough to snap.
"Darcy, be nice to Rachel!" chided a snowtrooper.
Austin raised a hand to silence the crowd and gave Luke, Vader, and Fett a long, studious stare.
"Darth Vader," he said quietly, almost reverently. "Boba Fett. And Luke Skywalker in disguise." He shook his head as if still not quite comprehending this. "In the flesh -- so to speak. Are you here by yourselves, or can we expect Han and Leia too?"
A faint beeping issued from outside. A stormtrooper opened the door to admit the astromech droid.
"It's Artoo-Detoo!"
That number struck a chord with Vader, but he put the matter from his mind. It was the least of his concerns at the moment.
"It looks like we have a lot to discuss," the admiral noted.
"Yes," Vader agreed. His gaze swept the amazed crowd. "A lot."