Part VIII -- Crash Course
Vader wondered how anyone could sleep in such a ridiculous position as he stared at Austin. The man lay stretched out on the couch, head hanging off one armrest, legs draped over the other. Small wonder he had chosen Vader's armor as a costume -- he was too large to make a suitable replica of any other character, excluding perhaps a Wookie. The leader of Vader's Elite didn't show any signs of discomfort, so he paid him no more mind.
The Dark Lord himself lay on an inflatable mattress on the living room floor. Mike, Trapper, and Steve were visible as gently pulsing humps beneath layers of blankets and sleeping bags, while Brigham sat up near the vidscreen and leafed through a book. Zack looked like a child's doll flung haphazardly in a chair, mouth open, a whining snore whistling from his throat. He could hear Luke stirring in the kitchen and Brigham muttering to himself as he browsed a particularly interesting section of whatever he was reading.
Silvery dawn light filled the house, signaling the beginning of a new day. The first day of his tenure on Earth. One day less before he had Lucas in his grasp. He knew the fans would highly disapprove of his plot to terminate the man, so he would have to be stealthy about it. Which shouldn't be a problem -- for the most part, Earth humans seemed pretty Force-blind, not to mention clueless.
As the room brightened people began shifting, and the house filled with yawns, sleepy groans, and pops from stretched joints. Many of the Elite were still in their costumes, not having thought to change out of them before falling asleep.
"My neck hurts," Mike complained as he massaged the back of his head.
"Comes from sleeping in your helmet," Steve replied as he kicked off his coverings. He had forgotten to wash his face before retiring, and as a result his makeup was badly smudged. "I didn't sleep with my contacts in, did I?"
"Nope," said Mike after taking a look.
"I look like crap," Liz complained as she entered the room, smoothing wrinkles out of her tunic.
"Join the club," Steve retorted.
"Men can look sloppy," Liz shot back. "It's practically expected." She glanced at Vader. "No offense. But heaven forbid a woman look sloppy in public, or she's either feminist or lesbian. And I gotta be somewhere today. So dibs on the can."
"You aren't staying to help us teach our guests about our planet?" asked Austin, moving to a sitting position.
She shook her head. "Gotta go throw myself between the cogs of bureaucracy."
"What do you mean?" asked Vader, puzzled.
"I'm renewing my driver's license," she replied. "It expires today, and I'm NOT walking to the convention."
Steve chuckled. "Talk about waiting 'til the last minute."
"Wanna hear an absolutely tasteless joke?" asked Zack.
Austin shrugged. "Why not?"
"What does it mean when the flag at White Deer County Department of Motor Vehicles is at half mast?"
"Search me."
"It means they're hiring."
Steve burst into laughter and fell on his side, shaking with his guffaws. Mike and Austin responded in kind. Trapper and Vader, not getting the joke, simply stared at Zack, while Brigham just rolled his eyes and continued reading.
"That's awful!" Liz shrieked before retreating to the refresher.
"Hey, it's funny!" Mike shouted at her.
"Cheap laughs for simple minds," Vader remarked dryly.
That only cracked the men up even more. Precisely his point.
He retrieved his neatly folded cloak from the coffee table and fastened it about his neck, then stood and entered the kitchen. Jason and Cody were sitting on stools at the counter island eating cereal while Patrick busied himself at a cooking unit, frying eggs. Luke had his nose buried in a book -- "Splinter of the Mind's Eye" by one Alan Dean Foster -- as he sipped a glass of steaming dark fluid. He suspected it was some sort of caf, but the price of wearing the respirator was that his sense of smell was virtually nonexistent.
"Good morning, Vader," greeted Patrick as he looked up from his cooking.
"I forgive you this once as you are not an official resident of the Empire," Vader replied. "But from this moment onward you will address me as 'my Lord.'"
"Man, someone's got an ego," Cody muttered, and he suddenly took an intense fascination in his cereal. Vader pretended not to notice.
"Excuse me," corrected Patrick with an understanding nod. "Good morning, my Lord."
"You're lucky, Vader -- ah, Lord Vader," Jason told him. "Pat don't say 'good morning' to just anyone. Most of us just get grunts. Care for coffee?" He gestured at a pitcher of caf.
"Thank you," Vader replied as Cody passed him a mug. He poured himself a measure of caf -- coffee. Whatever this was.
Cody watched in fascination as Vader cupped the mug in his hands. He returned the man's gaze. What in the galaxy was his problem?
"It is impolite to stare," he informed him.
"Sorry, Vader -- oops, Lord Vader," Cody replied hastily, but he continued to stare.
"Cody, you're scaring him," Jason chided.
"I'm just curious," he shot back. "How do you... uh... I mean... how are you gonna... well... do you have to take it off to eat?"
In answer Vader raised his free hand to his chest, struck a button, and raised the cup to his lips. At least he retained his ability to taste, even if this coffee of theirs was bitter enough to curl a Neimodian's lips.
"Oh, I see," Cody observed, nodding. "You can open that vent thing in your mask. I always wondered how you ate."
"I can only manage it for short periods of time," he replied, closing the vent again. "Is there another beverage available? How you can drink this swill is beyond me."
"Emily made the coffee, so blame her if it's bad," Jason told him as he rummaged through some sort of cold-storage unit. "We've got milk, orange juice, some soda... Patrick, where'd the beer go?"
"Threw it out," Patrick replied.
"Dang it." He removed a jug of light orange liquid and slammed the unit. "You were always the prohibitionist in the family. Try this."
"You know, the eating question brings up another interesting question about Vader's necessary functions -- ow!" Cody yelped and rubbed his shoulder, which Patrick had slapped with the spatula he was holding.
"A question whose answer is for me to know and you to speculate," Vader finished for Cody.
When he laid eyes on Luke, he wanted to deal out a slap of his own. The boy was grinning stupidly at him like a child bursting with a juicy secret. It was a smile that quite clearly said "I know something you don't." Vader groaned inwardly. Was he always this transparent?
"What is it?" he demanded.
"Oh, nothing," Luke replied, busying himself with his reading.
Vader was about to probe his son when Brigham stumped into the kitchen, holding a blue-covered book whose pages were edged in gold leaf. He muttered to himself as he hoisted himself onto a counter.
"You don't look so good, Brig," Jason noted. "Coffee?"
Brigham shot him a dirty look. "You know I don't drink it."
"Well, excuse me for being a good host," Jason huffed. "You look like you've been up all night stewing over something. How 'bout some Pepsi instead?"
"That's 'cause I HAVE been up all night stewing over something," Brigham replied, catching the can Jason tossed at him. "I've poured through the scriptures for hours, and I can't find a danged-blasted reference about alien life anywhere!" He took a long swig and wiped his mouth with his fingers. "You'd think our religious leaders would give us a little fair warning, but no!"
"Religion doesn't answer all questions," Luke noted. "Some you have to figure out for yourself."
"Still, something this important could be mentioned at least once..." began Brigham.
"Who's the one who was quoting something about 'I, the Lord God, have created worlds without number' the other day?" Amethyst said, walking into the kitchen. "Mornin' Luke, Lord Vader."
"Yeah, it says that somewhere," Brigham confessed. "But it says absolutely nothing about the life on those worlds actually dropping by for a visit."
"And you're gonna go atheist over it?" inquired Amethyst.
"Of course not! It's just... frustrating, that's all."
Jason looked about to reply with some derogatory comment, but the unmistakable whine of a blaster and the rending sound of shattering glass cut him off. Someone began screaming, and Jason and Patrick were instantly on their feet.
"What was that?" gasped Jason. "It came from the bathroom!"
"Boba Fett!" Patrick cried, running out of the room.
"Whaddaya mean Boba Fett?" demanded Jason as he followed his brother.
Amethyst groaned. "Liz woke Boba up, huh?"
"Boba Fett was sleeping in the bathroom?" asked Vader in disbelief.
"Yup."
Liz entered the kitchen, fuming mad, her dark hair in wild disarray. Liberty was close behind her, trying vainly to calm her down, and Fett and the Osmonds came in last. Fett was still clutching his blaster and looked as if he itched to use it again.
"What happened?" asked Austin, jogging into the kitchen. "Anyone hurt?"
"No, just startled," Liberty told him, tugging on her cloak. In one of those odd and totally inappropriate observations one tended to make in times of crisis, Vader saw her cape had been embroidered in metallic thread and bore an elaborate image of a serpentine beast that resembled a cross between a krayt dragon and a colo claw fish.
"Well, what happened?" Austin repeated.
"Liz went into the bathroom without realizing Boba was in the tub. He was still half-asleep, so he took her as a threat and shot. Thankfully he missed, but it looks like we need to replace the mirror."
"A lesson, Liz," Fett rasped. "Do not surprise an armed man."
"Lesson for YOU!" Liz shot back. "Look before you pull the trigger!"
"Maybe you both need to exercise a little more awareness from here on out," Austin suggested. "Can you do that?"
They glared at each other before reluctantly nodding.
"Good. Now Boba, could you sweep up the glass in the bathroom please? Liz, you can shower in the upstairs bathroom while he cleans up."
"Hasn't even been twenty-four hours and they've shot at us!" grumped Liz. "At this rate, we're all gonna be dead by Nova-Con!"
"Can it, Liz," Liberty snapped.
"We will not allow such a situation to occur again," Vader assured him.
"Thank you," said Austin gratefully. "So once everyone's eaten breakfast, shall we begin our little Earth Culture and Society 101 class?"
Liz fixed Austin with a skeptical look. "Have you ever attempted to explain American culture to someone who's had absolutely no contact with our country?"
"Well, no," confessed Austin, "but how hard can it be?"
***
It was pretty hard, and Austin wondered if it would be a better use of his time and energy to simply beat his head against a wall.
It wasn't entirely their guests' fault. The problem lay in having so many "teachers." Everyone had agreed their visitors should learn the most important information first. The problem was, no one could agree just what was the most important information. They had managed to explain their calendar and monetary system, but after
that everyone had different ideas as to what should be taught next.
Privately Austin thought they should talk about the conventions themselves, since Vader had expressed interest in attending them. But Amethyst insisted they should know something about pop culture -- "It would be pretty much a dead giveaway if someone asked them about the new 'Lord of the Rings' movie and they didn't have a clue," she had reasoned. Sparky suggested a geography lesson, while Cody demanded a chance to talk about the Expanded Universe. Conrad thought explaining Earth slang and figures of speech was necessary; Darcy argued a lesson on Earth fauna and flora was in order. Brigham, inexplicably, found this to be the perfect forum for introducing Mormonism to their guests.
"Will everyone SHUT UP?!" screamed Fett, cutting off the argument just as Amethyst and Cody were about to come to blows again.
"One thing at a time!" ordered Austin. "You're confusing them when you all talk at once!"
"So let me get this straight," said Luke. "Your planet's surface is seventy percent water, but you call it Earth. Your government is called a republic or a democracy, but Republican and Democratic parties are two separate things. Your country's ruled by a president named Corran Horn..."
"Corran Horn is a Jedi Knight in the New Jedi Order series," Cody corrected. "The president's name is George W. Bush."
"I thought the Jedi was Joseph Smith."
"That's a different guy..." began Brigham.
"Okay, so your president is from a country called Texas... and who's Elvis again?"
"A musician," Sparky clarified.
"Oh, he's the rapper, right? Or was that Harrison Ford?"
"My point exactly," Austin said. "Let's do this one subject at a time..."
"Can I talk first?" begged Cody.
"I suggest," Austin replied, "that we discuss the most relevant things first -- namely, how to survive at Stellar-Con. Everything else can wait. And Brigham, quit trying to convert them. You're off your mission, remember?"
"Just trying to do the Lord's work," he protested, but he put away his pamphlets anyway.
"What do we need to know to survive at Stellar-Con?" asked Vader. "You say it as if we're going into a battle."
"You are, in a way," Diana replied. "Fans of other science fiction books and movies often come here to harass us. And they especially like to pick on those who try to pass themselves off as Star Wars characters. So its important for you to blend in as much as possible."
"First order of business, you'll need to go by different names," Conrad added.
"Well, what do you suggest?" asked Luke.
"Hmmm." Liberty cupped the chin of her mask in one hand as she considered. "Luke, you'll go by Nick Sorenson. Fett'll be Robert Francis, and Lord Vader we'll call David McKnight. That work?"
The three of them nodded assent.
"I'll whip up some IDs for you tonight and get 'em to you in the morning," Steve offered.
"I say show them 'Return of the Jedi' so they don't get confused when somebody brings up Ewoks," Zack said.
"No, that's not necessary..." began Luke.
"'Course it's not," Trapper interrupted. "I saw you reading the book when I went into the kitchen for a drink this morning."
"Did you really?" demanded Emily, more amused than upset.
Luke blushed. "I've actually been skimming more of your books to see if they were accurate too. 'Splinter of the Mind's Eye' was completely off target."
"Oh," Cody said, looking rather dejected. "I guess that means all the books are wrong."
"'Jedi' might still be right," Conrad pointed out.
"We'll worry about 'Jedi' later," Austin said sternly.
"About Stellar-Con," Darcy said. "Rebels and Imperials -- or those dressed like them -- tend to hang with their kind. So don't mix with Rebs unless they invite you to do so. Luke, you'll have to stay in your snowtrooper gear awhile. Be nice to kids -- they'll be everywhere. Oh, and don't do this." She held up one hand in the Trekkie sign. "Sorry, but I had to show them. Don't pound me."
"We won't," replied Zack.
"I wouldn't have thought about making that gesture if you hadn't told us," Luke said.
"Just thought I'd warn you. Star Trek fans do that, and Trekkies and Stargeeks have a bit of a rivalry between them. At the cons, giving the Trekkie sign is the same as giving the finger." She saw Luke's blank expression. "An upraised middle finger basically means 'Screw you.'"
"Ah," was all Luke said.
"What of the droid?" Vader asked. "Someone we met on the way here mentioned a Droid Builder's Club..."
"Artoo's waaaaayyyyyyy too close to the real thing to pass off as a fan creation," Brigham replied.
"That's 'cause he IS the real thing!" Rachel pointed out.
"I know that!" Brigham replied. "Which is why he's gonna have to be a no-show. How having an astromech tag along hasn't given you away before now is nothing short of a miracle."
As if on a prearranged cue Artoo bolted into the room as fast as his wheels could carry him, shrieking like a banshee. From Patrick's bedroom came a loud insistent beeping which Patrick went to investigate. Only a moment passed between his departure and a loud spate of completely un-Patrick-like speech.
"What the hell?! What did he do?! ****ing droid playing ****ing Mr. Fixit with my computer!"
Artoo tried to hide behind Sparky's wheelchair. The Elite's second-in-command craned his neck to peer behind him, then noted dryly "I guess Artoo's not welcome with the Osmonds any longer."
"He can come to my apartment," Steve volunteered. "My landlady says no pets, but she hasn't said anything about droids."
"Fett can room with us," offered Jason.
"That leaves Luke and Vader," Austin announced. "Anyone willing to put one of them up for the Eye of the Storm?"
"Sorry, but there's no way I can get my apartment de-junked in time," Mike said.
"And I'm in my apartment on the condition that I have no long-term guests," Emily added.
"Luke and I will remain together for the duration of this Eye of the Storm," Vader stated firmly.
"Sorry, Lord Vader, but I think it would be best if we split all of you up," Austin replied. "None of us are equipped to handle more than one guest for a month and a half..."
Vader stood, regarding Austin as one might regard a glob of unidentifiable matter scraped off their shoe. Until now Austin hadn't really taken the Sith's size into much consideration, but now he could fully appreciate why the people of the Empire were scared stupid of him. The guy was ENORMOUS. Not just tall, but solidly built, broad shouldered and deep chested. Austin was about Vader's height but scrawny in comparison, and so gave the appearance of shorter stature. To make matters worse, the Dark Lord was plainly irritated by Austin's last comment, and if the movies had accurately portrayed his patience level, Austin was really in for it.
"Austin Powers, Skywalker is my prisoner," he boomed. "And as such he is not to leave my sight. I have had him within my grasp and lost him enough times to know he is not one to be taken lightly. If you insist he be separated from me, I will comply, but YOU will answer to the Emperor if he escapes. And the Emperor is not as forgiving as I am."
A chorus of "oohs" came from the audience.
Austin sucked in his breath, trying to mask the fact that he was sweating like a marathon runner under Vader's scrutiny.
"Lord Vader..." The title came out an octave higher than Austin would have liked, and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Lord Vader," he repeated in a calmer tone, "let me ask you -- if Luke gets away, where is he going to go? Back to your ships? By your own admission all three of them are currently broken down or otherwise unable to take off. He has no way to leave the system, no way to contact the Alliance, and no chance of making it very far on this world without being tossed into a mental ward for psychosis. In short, he is not only a prisoner of you, but of this world. I don't think you have to worry much about him trying to run."
Vader glowered a moment longer, then slowly nodded. "Very well, Austin. I charge you with Luke's welfare." And he sat back down.
Austin nearly passed out with relief. He wondered just how close he had come to being telekinetically throttled.
"Dad, are you having a heart attack?" asked Trapper.
He realized he was clutching his chest. "I'm fine, just a little nervous," he assured his son. "Not every day someone spars with Darth Vader and lives to tell the tale."
"Can Luke sleep in my room?"
He laughed. "We'll see, son."
"Vader can stay at my place!" announced Cody.
"No, mine!" argued Zack.
"Daddy, I want him to stay with us!" wailed Rachel.
"Sweetheart, that's up to him to decide," Conrad told her.
Vader's gaze went from Zack to Conrad to Cody as he considered the offers.
"Um, actually, I take that back," Zack corrected. "My mom won't like it if I bring in another convention guest. Last one wrecked her bathroom."
Vader stared at him. "You are how old?"
"Twenty-eight, why?"
"And you still live with your mother?"
"Classic geek, ain't he?" Cody smirked. "Don't worry, I'm not that lame. I have a dorm at the community college in King Valley, just ten miles from here. My roommates are all home for the summer, so you're welcome. As long as you can tolerate all the noise from the events center and aren't allergic to the green stuff in the shower, you should be fine."
The Dark Lord thought about that a moment, which was all it would take for anyone to make this type of decision.
"Very well," he replied. "Conrad and Diana's home it is."
Vader wondered how anyone could sleep in such a ridiculous position as he stared at Austin. The man lay stretched out on the couch, head hanging off one armrest, legs draped over the other. Small wonder he had chosen Vader's armor as a costume -- he was too large to make a suitable replica of any other character, excluding perhaps a Wookie. The leader of Vader's Elite didn't show any signs of discomfort, so he paid him no more mind.
The Dark Lord himself lay on an inflatable mattress on the living room floor. Mike, Trapper, and Steve were visible as gently pulsing humps beneath layers of blankets and sleeping bags, while Brigham sat up near the vidscreen and leafed through a book. Zack looked like a child's doll flung haphazardly in a chair, mouth open, a whining snore whistling from his throat. He could hear Luke stirring in the kitchen and Brigham muttering to himself as he browsed a particularly interesting section of whatever he was reading.
Silvery dawn light filled the house, signaling the beginning of a new day. The first day of his tenure on Earth. One day less before he had Lucas in his grasp. He knew the fans would highly disapprove of his plot to terminate the man, so he would have to be stealthy about it. Which shouldn't be a problem -- for the most part, Earth humans seemed pretty Force-blind, not to mention clueless.
As the room brightened people began shifting, and the house filled with yawns, sleepy groans, and pops from stretched joints. Many of the Elite were still in their costumes, not having thought to change out of them before falling asleep.
"My neck hurts," Mike complained as he massaged the back of his head.
"Comes from sleeping in your helmet," Steve replied as he kicked off his coverings. He had forgotten to wash his face before retiring, and as a result his makeup was badly smudged. "I didn't sleep with my contacts in, did I?"
"Nope," said Mike after taking a look.
"I look like crap," Liz complained as she entered the room, smoothing wrinkles out of her tunic.
"Join the club," Steve retorted.
"Men can look sloppy," Liz shot back. "It's practically expected." She glanced at Vader. "No offense. But heaven forbid a woman look sloppy in public, or she's either feminist or lesbian. And I gotta be somewhere today. So dibs on the can."
"You aren't staying to help us teach our guests about our planet?" asked Austin, moving to a sitting position.
She shook her head. "Gotta go throw myself between the cogs of bureaucracy."
"What do you mean?" asked Vader, puzzled.
"I'm renewing my driver's license," she replied. "It expires today, and I'm NOT walking to the convention."
Steve chuckled. "Talk about waiting 'til the last minute."
"Wanna hear an absolutely tasteless joke?" asked Zack.
Austin shrugged. "Why not?"
"What does it mean when the flag at White Deer County Department of Motor Vehicles is at half mast?"
"Search me."
"It means they're hiring."
Steve burst into laughter and fell on his side, shaking with his guffaws. Mike and Austin responded in kind. Trapper and Vader, not getting the joke, simply stared at Zack, while Brigham just rolled his eyes and continued reading.
"That's awful!" Liz shrieked before retreating to the refresher.
"Hey, it's funny!" Mike shouted at her.
"Cheap laughs for simple minds," Vader remarked dryly.
That only cracked the men up even more. Precisely his point.
He retrieved his neatly folded cloak from the coffee table and fastened it about his neck, then stood and entered the kitchen. Jason and Cody were sitting on stools at the counter island eating cereal while Patrick busied himself at a cooking unit, frying eggs. Luke had his nose buried in a book -- "Splinter of the Mind's Eye" by one Alan Dean Foster -- as he sipped a glass of steaming dark fluid. He suspected it was some sort of caf, but the price of wearing the respirator was that his sense of smell was virtually nonexistent.
"Good morning, Vader," greeted Patrick as he looked up from his cooking.
"I forgive you this once as you are not an official resident of the Empire," Vader replied. "But from this moment onward you will address me as 'my Lord.'"
"Man, someone's got an ego," Cody muttered, and he suddenly took an intense fascination in his cereal. Vader pretended not to notice.
"Excuse me," corrected Patrick with an understanding nod. "Good morning, my Lord."
"You're lucky, Vader -- ah, Lord Vader," Jason told him. "Pat don't say 'good morning' to just anyone. Most of us just get grunts. Care for coffee?" He gestured at a pitcher of caf.
"Thank you," Vader replied as Cody passed him a mug. He poured himself a measure of caf -- coffee. Whatever this was.
Cody watched in fascination as Vader cupped the mug in his hands. He returned the man's gaze. What in the galaxy was his problem?
"It is impolite to stare," he informed him.
"Sorry, Vader -- oops, Lord Vader," Cody replied hastily, but he continued to stare.
"Cody, you're scaring him," Jason chided.
"I'm just curious," he shot back. "How do you... uh... I mean... how are you gonna... well... do you have to take it off to eat?"
In answer Vader raised his free hand to his chest, struck a button, and raised the cup to his lips. At least he retained his ability to taste, even if this coffee of theirs was bitter enough to curl a Neimodian's lips.
"Oh, I see," Cody observed, nodding. "You can open that vent thing in your mask. I always wondered how you ate."
"I can only manage it for short periods of time," he replied, closing the vent again. "Is there another beverage available? How you can drink this swill is beyond me."
"Emily made the coffee, so blame her if it's bad," Jason told him as he rummaged through some sort of cold-storage unit. "We've got milk, orange juice, some soda... Patrick, where'd the beer go?"
"Threw it out," Patrick replied.
"Dang it." He removed a jug of light orange liquid and slammed the unit. "You were always the prohibitionist in the family. Try this."
"You know, the eating question brings up another interesting question about Vader's necessary functions -- ow!" Cody yelped and rubbed his shoulder, which Patrick had slapped with the spatula he was holding.
"A question whose answer is for me to know and you to speculate," Vader finished for Cody.
When he laid eyes on Luke, he wanted to deal out a slap of his own. The boy was grinning stupidly at him like a child bursting with a juicy secret. It was a smile that quite clearly said "I know something you don't." Vader groaned inwardly. Was he always this transparent?
"What is it?" he demanded.
"Oh, nothing," Luke replied, busying himself with his reading.
Vader was about to probe his son when Brigham stumped into the kitchen, holding a blue-covered book whose pages were edged in gold leaf. He muttered to himself as he hoisted himself onto a counter.
"You don't look so good, Brig," Jason noted. "Coffee?"
Brigham shot him a dirty look. "You know I don't drink it."
"Well, excuse me for being a good host," Jason huffed. "You look like you've been up all night stewing over something. How 'bout some Pepsi instead?"
"That's 'cause I HAVE been up all night stewing over something," Brigham replied, catching the can Jason tossed at him. "I've poured through the scriptures for hours, and I can't find a danged-blasted reference about alien life anywhere!" He took a long swig and wiped his mouth with his fingers. "You'd think our religious leaders would give us a little fair warning, but no!"
"Religion doesn't answer all questions," Luke noted. "Some you have to figure out for yourself."
"Still, something this important could be mentioned at least once..." began Brigham.
"Who's the one who was quoting something about 'I, the Lord God, have created worlds without number' the other day?" Amethyst said, walking into the kitchen. "Mornin' Luke, Lord Vader."
"Yeah, it says that somewhere," Brigham confessed. "But it says absolutely nothing about the life on those worlds actually dropping by for a visit."
"And you're gonna go atheist over it?" inquired Amethyst.
"Of course not! It's just... frustrating, that's all."
Jason looked about to reply with some derogatory comment, but the unmistakable whine of a blaster and the rending sound of shattering glass cut him off. Someone began screaming, and Jason and Patrick were instantly on their feet.
"What was that?" gasped Jason. "It came from the bathroom!"
"Boba Fett!" Patrick cried, running out of the room.
"Whaddaya mean Boba Fett?" demanded Jason as he followed his brother.
Amethyst groaned. "Liz woke Boba up, huh?"
"Boba Fett was sleeping in the bathroom?" asked Vader in disbelief.
"Yup."
Liz entered the kitchen, fuming mad, her dark hair in wild disarray. Liberty was close behind her, trying vainly to calm her down, and Fett and the Osmonds came in last. Fett was still clutching his blaster and looked as if he itched to use it again.
"What happened?" asked Austin, jogging into the kitchen. "Anyone hurt?"
"No, just startled," Liberty told him, tugging on her cloak. In one of those odd and totally inappropriate observations one tended to make in times of crisis, Vader saw her cape had been embroidered in metallic thread and bore an elaborate image of a serpentine beast that resembled a cross between a krayt dragon and a colo claw fish.
"Well, what happened?" Austin repeated.
"Liz went into the bathroom without realizing Boba was in the tub. He was still half-asleep, so he took her as a threat and shot. Thankfully he missed, but it looks like we need to replace the mirror."
"A lesson, Liz," Fett rasped. "Do not surprise an armed man."
"Lesson for YOU!" Liz shot back. "Look before you pull the trigger!"
"Maybe you both need to exercise a little more awareness from here on out," Austin suggested. "Can you do that?"
They glared at each other before reluctantly nodding.
"Good. Now Boba, could you sweep up the glass in the bathroom please? Liz, you can shower in the upstairs bathroom while he cleans up."
"Hasn't even been twenty-four hours and they've shot at us!" grumped Liz. "At this rate, we're all gonna be dead by Nova-Con!"
"Can it, Liz," Liberty snapped.
"We will not allow such a situation to occur again," Vader assured him.
"Thank you," said Austin gratefully. "So once everyone's eaten breakfast, shall we begin our little Earth Culture and Society 101 class?"
Liz fixed Austin with a skeptical look. "Have you ever attempted to explain American culture to someone who's had absolutely no contact with our country?"
"Well, no," confessed Austin, "but how hard can it be?"
***
It was pretty hard, and Austin wondered if it would be a better use of his time and energy to simply beat his head against a wall.
It wasn't entirely their guests' fault. The problem lay in having so many "teachers." Everyone had agreed their visitors should learn the most important information first. The problem was, no one could agree just what was the most important information. They had managed to explain their calendar and monetary system, but after
that everyone had different ideas as to what should be taught next.
Privately Austin thought they should talk about the conventions themselves, since Vader had expressed interest in attending them. But Amethyst insisted they should know something about pop culture -- "It would be pretty much a dead giveaway if someone asked them about the new 'Lord of the Rings' movie and they didn't have a clue," she had reasoned. Sparky suggested a geography lesson, while Cody demanded a chance to talk about the Expanded Universe. Conrad thought explaining Earth slang and figures of speech was necessary; Darcy argued a lesson on Earth fauna and flora was in order. Brigham, inexplicably, found this to be the perfect forum for introducing Mormonism to their guests.
"Will everyone SHUT UP?!" screamed Fett, cutting off the argument just as Amethyst and Cody were about to come to blows again.
"One thing at a time!" ordered Austin. "You're confusing them when you all talk at once!"
"So let me get this straight," said Luke. "Your planet's surface is seventy percent water, but you call it Earth. Your government is called a republic or a democracy, but Republican and Democratic parties are two separate things. Your country's ruled by a president named Corran Horn..."
"Corran Horn is a Jedi Knight in the New Jedi Order series," Cody corrected. "The president's name is George W. Bush."
"I thought the Jedi was Joseph Smith."
"That's a different guy..." began Brigham.
"Okay, so your president is from a country called Texas... and who's Elvis again?"
"A musician," Sparky clarified.
"Oh, he's the rapper, right? Or was that Harrison Ford?"
"My point exactly," Austin said. "Let's do this one subject at a time..."
"Can I talk first?" begged Cody.
"I suggest," Austin replied, "that we discuss the most relevant things first -- namely, how to survive at Stellar-Con. Everything else can wait. And Brigham, quit trying to convert them. You're off your mission, remember?"
"Just trying to do the Lord's work," he protested, but he put away his pamphlets anyway.
"What do we need to know to survive at Stellar-Con?" asked Vader. "You say it as if we're going into a battle."
"You are, in a way," Diana replied. "Fans of other science fiction books and movies often come here to harass us. And they especially like to pick on those who try to pass themselves off as Star Wars characters. So its important for you to blend in as much as possible."
"First order of business, you'll need to go by different names," Conrad added.
"Well, what do you suggest?" asked Luke.
"Hmmm." Liberty cupped the chin of her mask in one hand as she considered. "Luke, you'll go by Nick Sorenson. Fett'll be Robert Francis, and Lord Vader we'll call David McKnight. That work?"
The three of them nodded assent.
"I'll whip up some IDs for you tonight and get 'em to you in the morning," Steve offered.
"I say show them 'Return of the Jedi' so they don't get confused when somebody brings up Ewoks," Zack said.
"No, that's not necessary..." began Luke.
"'Course it's not," Trapper interrupted. "I saw you reading the book when I went into the kitchen for a drink this morning."
"Did you really?" demanded Emily, more amused than upset.
Luke blushed. "I've actually been skimming more of your books to see if they were accurate too. 'Splinter of the Mind's Eye' was completely off target."
"Oh," Cody said, looking rather dejected. "I guess that means all the books are wrong."
"'Jedi' might still be right," Conrad pointed out.
"We'll worry about 'Jedi' later," Austin said sternly.
"About Stellar-Con," Darcy said. "Rebels and Imperials -- or those dressed like them -- tend to hang with their kind. So don't mix with Rebs unless they invite you to do so. Luke, you'll have to stay in your snowtrooper gear awhile. Be nice to kids -- they'll be everywhere. Oh, and don't do this." She held up one hand in the Trekkie sign. "Sorry, but I had to show them. Don't pound me."
"We won't," replied Zack.
"I wouldn't have thought about making that gesture if you hadn't told us," Luke said.
"Just thought I'd warn you. Star Trek fans do that, and Trekkies and Stargeeks have a bit of a rivalry between them. At the cons, giving the Trekkie sign is the same as giving the finger." She saw Luke's blank expression. "An upraised middle finger basically means 'Screw you.'"
"Ah," was all Luke said.
"What of the droid?" Vader asked. "Someone we met on the way here mentioned a Droid Builder's Club..."
"Artoo's waaaaayyyyyyy too close to the real thing to pass off as a fan creation," Brigham replied.
"That's 'cause he IS the real thing!" Rachel pointed out.
"I know that!" Brigham replied. "Which is why he's gonna have to be a no-show. How having an astromech tag along hasn't given you away before now is nothing short of a miracle."
As if on a prearranged cue Artoo bolted into the room as fast as his wheels could carry him, shrieking like a banshee. From Patrick's bedroom came a loud insistent beeping which Patrick went to investigate. Only a moment passed between his departure and a loud spate of completely un-Patrick-like speech.
"What the hell?! What did he do?! ****ing droid playing ****ing Mr. Fixit with my computer!"
Artoo tried to hide behind Sparky's wheelchair. The Elite's second-in-command craned his neck to peer behind him, then noted dryly "I guess Artoo's not welcome with the Osmonds any longer."
"He can come to my apartment," Steve volunteered. "My landlady says no pets, but she hasn't said anything about droids."
"Fett can room with us," offered Jason.
"That leaves Luke and Vader," Austin announced. "Anyone willing to put one of them up for the Eye of the Storm?"
"Sorry, but there's no way I can get my apartment de-junked in time," Mike said.
"And I'm in my apartment on the condition that I have no long-term guests," Emily added.
"Luke and I will remain together for the duration of this Eye of the Storm," Vader stated firmly.
"Sorry, Lord Vader, but I think it would be best if we split all of you up," Austin replied. "None of us are equipped to handle more than one guest for a month and a half..."
Vader stood, regarding Austin as one might regard a glob of unidentifiable matter scraped off their shoe. Until now Austin hadn't really taken the Sith's size into much consideration, but now he could fully appreciate why the people of the Empire were scared stupid of him. The guy was ENORMOUS. Not just tall, but solidly built, broad shouldered and deep chested. Austin was about Vader's height but scrawny in comparison, and so gave the appearance of shorter stature. To make matters worse, the Dark Lord was plainly irritated by Austin's last comment, and if the movies had accurately portrayed his patience level, Austin was really in for it.
"Austin Powers, Skywalker is my prisoner," he boomed. "And as such he is not to leave my sight. I have had him within my grasp and lost him enough times to know he is not one to be taken lightly. If you insist he be separated from me, I will comply, but YOU will answer to the Emperor if he escapes. And the Emperor is not as forgiving as I am."
A chorus of "oohs" came from the audience.
Austin sucked in his breath, trying to mask the fact that he was sweating like a marathon runner under Vader's scrutiny.
"Lord Vader..." The title came out an octave higher than Austin would have liked, and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Lord Vader," he repeated in a calmer tone, "let me ask you -- if Luke gets away, where is he going to go? Back to your ships? By your own admission all three of them are currently broken down or otherwise unable to take off. He has no way to leave the system, no way to contact the Alliance, and no chance of making it very far on this world without being tossed into a mental ward for psychosis. In short, he is not only a prisoner of you, but of this world. I don't think you have to worry much about him trying to run."
Vader glowered a moment longer, then slowly nodded. "Very well, Austin. I charge you with Luke's welfare." And he sat back down.
Austin nearly passed out with relief. He wondered just how close he had come to being telekinetically throttled.
"Dad, are you having a heart attack?" asked Trapper.
He realized he was clutching his chest. "I'm fine, just a little nervous," he assured his son. "Not every day someone spars with Darth Vader and lives to tell the tale."
"Can Luke sleep in my room?"
He laughed. "We'll see, son."
"Vader can stay at my place!" announced Cody.
"No, mine!" argued Zack.
"Daddy, I want him to stay with us!" wailed Rachel.
"Sweetheart, that's up to him to decide," Conrad told her.
Vader's gaze went from Zack to Conrad to Cody as he considered the offers.
"Um, actually, I take that back," Zack corrected. "My mom won't like it if I bring in another convention guest. Last one wrecked her bathroom."
Vader stared at him. "You are how old?"
"Twenty-eight, why?"
"And you still live with your mother?"
"Classic geek, ain't he?" Cody smirked. "Don't worry, I'm not that lame. I have a dorm at the community college in King Valley, just ten miles from here. My roommates are all home for the summer, so you're welcome. As long as you can tolerate all the noise from the events center and aren't allergic to the green stuff in the shower, you should be fine."
The Dark Lord thought about that a moment, which was all it would take for anyone to make this type of decision.
"Very well," he replied. "Conrad and Diana's home it is."