Quick Author's Note -- I have read very few of the Star Wars books and none of the Rogue Squadron books, so I made up most of the pilots. Did incorporate some "real" Rogues, though.
Chapter 4
Ghede Ironmoon was an almost painfully handsome man, with the signature deep azure skin, red eyes, and jet-black hair of his species, the Chiss. He wore his hair cropped short and was rarely seen wearing anything other than a flight uniform. In fact, those around him could testify that his every waking moment revolved around flying. He didn't show the boyish enthusiasm toward it that Luke and some of the younger pilots did -- rather, he approached it as a workaholic approached his career, as something of utmost seriousness that should never be taken lightly.
Apparently he expected his squadron to do the same.
"It's not a simple matter of twisting a steergrip and pulling a trigger," he lectured, pacing across the front of the room where the squadron had gathered. "It is an art form, a symbiosis of pilot and fighter. When you buckle yourself into the pilot's seat, you become part of that intricate machine, a mechanism within it."
"Yadda, yadda, yadda," muttered Zev under his breath in Luke's general direction. "I can repeat this one in my sleep."
Luke nodded slightly but said nothing. He had a feeling Ghede wouldn't be too pleased to find his Second Commander spreading gossip about him.
Of the thirteen pilots in the squadron, seven were human -- Luke, Wedge, Zev, Janson, Hobbie, Gavin, and a woman whom Luke didn't know. The others included Ghede, a female Twi'lek named Ar'ya, a male Duros named Dekham, a female Mon Calamari named Mela, a male Sullustan named Squib, and a male Wookie whom everyone called Rocky. All wore the trademark orange jumpsuits of Rebel pilots, their gray helmets resting in their laps. And all were bored stiff by Ghede's speech. Hobbie had dozed off, Dekham was entertaining himself by fidgeting with a hydrospanner, and everyone else was staring, glassy-eyed, at their Commander, nodding at appropriate intervals.
"I expect nothing less than your absolute best in this squadron," Ghede went on with a scowl. "You will devote all your energy toward improving your flight skills. I will tolerate no slacking or shirking of your training. Am I clear?"
Everyone murmured half-hearted assent.
"Any questions?" he asked finally.
The young woman raised her hand.
"And you are?" inquired Ghede.
"Bekme Olie," she replied. The girl looked more like a perky cheerleader for a school smashball team than a Rebel pilot, with nut-brown hair, hazel eyes, a knockout smile, and the kind of figure that garnered plenty of second looks from the men of the Alliance.
"Your question?"
"Shouldn't our squadron have a name? I mean, even the Empire has an elite Death Squadron. And back on Naboo there was a Bravo Squadron..."
"Naboo?" Ghede raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't be related to Captain Ric Olie, would you?"
She beamed. "He's my father. He served in Her Majesty Queen Amidala's navy for years, and was a great pilot before the Empire disbanded Bravo Squadron."
He nodded, unimpressed. "Naboo has a reputation as a pacifist world, one of the reasons they allowed the Empire to overrun them," he noted drolly. "I'm surprised that one of their people has elected to join a fighting star squadron. Unusual."
Bekme blushed and ducked her head in shame. Luke felt himself bristle angrily. That oblique insult was uncalled for!
"Yeah, she's right!" Dekham exclaimed. "I'm tired of calling ourselves 'Alliance Squadron!'"
Ghede's scowl deepened. "This is trivial compared to..."
"Let's take suggestions," suggested Luke. "Who has any ideas?"
"How about 'KIBS?'" suggested Janson. "Stands for 'Kill the Imperial Bastards Squadron.'" Everyone but Ghede laughed.
"Dragon Squadron!" insisted Wedge. "They're the most vicious and resilient species in the galaxy, and it's fitting."
"Savage Squadron, 'cause we show no mercy toward the Empire," proposed Squib.
"No, too vengeful-sounding," dismissed Ar'ya. "Noble Squadron?"
Ghede raised a hand to silence the pilots. "The Empire has a Death Squadron, you say? Then we shall be known as Life Squadron. Matter settled."
Hobbie woke with a start. "Whozzat? What squadron?"
"Life Squadron," Ghede repeated. "Our squadron."
"Life Squadron?" demanded Hobbie. "What the stang kind of name is that?"
"You can contemplate that while on KP duty for the next week for backtalking an officer and inattendance during a meeting," Ghede replied coldly. "I want everyone flight-ready in fifteen minutes. We're going to go over some drills and maneuvers."
Everyone left the room, grumbling over the Commander's unfairness.
"KP for a week!" huffed Hobbie. "I can't help it if he's a boring stiff!"
"And he had no right to treat Bekme like that," Mela replied.
Rocky barked, and the translation device he wore on his shoulder kicked in. "Why isn't Luke Commander? Everyone knows he's the better pilot. Luke destroyed the Death Star and captured Darth Vader, and what did Ghede do? Knocked off two TIEs before his repulsors got hit and he had to retreat."
"He does have a lot of experience," Wedge said in Ghede's defense. "After all, he risked his life helping us evacuate the Dantooine base..."
"And demands we remember that every time we so much as breathe in his presence," Zev snapped.
"Hey Luke!"
Gavin, a dark-haired mustached pilot, clapped Luke on the shoulder, grinning broadly all the while.
"Do I know you?" asked Luke.
"Not personally," he replied. "But I've heard a lot about you from a relative of mine. You knew my cousin, Biggs."
Luke's mouth fell open. "You're a Darklighter?"
"Yup. Gavin Darklighter. Biggs told me about a certain blond bush pilot who was the best in the Outer Rim territories and was going to make a name for himself someday. Turned out to be prophetic. Way to enter the Alliance with a bang, eh?"
Luke laughed. "Believe me, I never intended to be a hero."
"Few real heroes aspire to the calling," Gavin replied. "Hey, sorry about Biggs. I'm really going to miss him."
"Me too," Luke replied wistfully.
"Excuse me?" Bekme interrupted, coming up at that moment. "I couldn't help but overhear..."
"Sure you could," Gavin teased.
"...but did you just say you're Luke Skywalker?" she went on, ignoring Gavin.
"Guilty," Luke replied. He'd gotten pretty much used to people approaching him as if he were a holostar.
"Wow," she breathed. "The man who destroyed the Death Star and captured Darth Vader. You must be brave."
"I... didn't really capture Vader. He was half-dead already when I found him. And I couldn't have destroyed the Death Star without Han's help."
"But you fired the torpedoes," Bekme pointed out. "And I'm sure Vader could have killed you at any moment."
"He has amnesia," Luke explained. "He doesn't remember how to use the Force or even that he's the Emperor's right-hand man."
Gavin whistled. "What are they going to do with him?"
"Last I heard, High Command was going to make him a Rebel."
It was Gavin's turn to gape. "A Rebel?!"
"My reaction exactly," Luke murmured.
"Somehow I can't picture Vader fighting on our side," Bekme said.
"They'd better keep him out of Life Squadron," threatened Gavin. "Or I resign."
Luke decided a subject change was in order. "So Bekme, what's Naboo like?"
"Oh, grasslands, forests, swamps," she replied. "Far cry from Tatooine, even if they're fairly close space-wise. The Empire controls the cities, but the wild lands belong to the native species, Gungans."
"You're pretty gutsy to join the Rebellion when you come from an Imperial world," Gavin said admiringly.
"It was my dad who got me into the Rebellion, believe it or not," she replied, a sad smile on her face. "He served Queen Amidala, and he used to tell me that she would have been disgusted by the violence in the galaxy today. She abhorred the unnecessary use of force."
"So that observation made you join the Alliance," Gavin observed.
"That's why I'm here," she answered.
"Are you three flying today or not?" demanded Ghede, approaching at that moment.
"Keep your flightsuit on," humphed Gavin quietly -- but not quietly enough.
"KP tonight for insubordination, Darklighter," snapped Ghede. "And you as well, Olie, if you don't put some speed into your step."
She blushed again and stalked toward her ship in a huff. Luke was about to follow but was stopped by Ghede's arm.
"A word, Skywalker."
"With you, Commander, it's never just a word," Luke quipped, trying to be funny. But his humor was wasted.
"I would appreciate it if you keep your banter with the pilots to a minimum," he ordered.
"What? But they're my friends!"
"You are not their flight buddy, Skywalker. You are their Second Commander. They should respect you as a leader. If they consider you a friend, they'll think you will let them get away with foolish behavior. Flaws will develop in the squadron -- dangerous flaws. If you want Life Squadron to be an efficient fighting force, you should treat them like soldiers."
"Like lesser beings, you mean?" Luke asked disbelievingly.
"No, like an officer treats troops. With discipline. Am I clear?"
Luke rolled his eyes. "This is outrageous. I'm not going to act like a snob around the squadron! Find another Second."
"You are my Second Commander, Skywalker, and you'll do as I say." Ghede slid on his helmet and turned to his fighter.
"I'm beginning to hate this job," Luke muttered, going to his X-wing.
***
"Stinkin' heap of rusted mynock bait," Forenze snapped, throwing her spanner on the table where the dissected medical droid lay. "Trust the makers to stick the Vocoder where the logic processor should go."
Vader looked up from the computer. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Not unless you can work miracles with junkyard rejects," she replied.
He left her to her grumbling as he continued to scan what had to be the hundredth news article detailing an Imperial raid led on a city suspected of harboring Rebels -- led by Vader, of course. The Alliance had certainly hoarded a lot of information regarding him, from Holonet articles to spy reports to bios of deceased Rebel leaders and Jedi Generals. None of what he read was comforting, and a lot of it was extremely heartbreaking.
From what he could sift out of the mess, he had been a fearsome military commander, preferring a hands-on approach to leading his troops. He had fought along with his men in the front lines, not content to direct the soldiers from afar. And he had been extremely wealthy, though he purchased few luxuries apart from a fortress on Bast and a collection of starcraft. But precious little else of value could be garnered from these files.
His heart sank as he reviewed the files he'd examined so far -- a Holonet news article of his order to raze an entire planetary sector of Falleen, an obituary of an Imperial Admiral he'd killed with his bare hands, a low-brow tabloid "reporting" the ridiculous "breaking news" that he had a secret Jedi wife hidden away on the planet of Chandrila. He could find no clue as to why he'd fallen so low. Vader was a mystery, even to himself.
"Do you really have a Jedi uncle?" Vader asked, looking up.
"You talking to me?" she demanded.
"The only others here are the droids," he pointed out. "And I doubt they have uncles of any sort."
"You read my bio, didn't you?" she asked. "I keep asking them to fix that. My Jedi relative was an aunt, not an uncle."
"Ah." He struggled to find the words. "I am... deeply sorry..."
"Oh, get over it. It's the past. You can't go back and unkill every Jedi, or the galaxy would be crawling with them. Besides, you didn't kill her."
"I didn't?"
"Nope." She swore loudly when a cog she had been twisting too hard snapped. "Jedi Master Vergere vanished seven years before the Clone Wars and was never heard of again. I think the Jedi Council was actually quite glad to be rid of her. She was always at odds with them over parts of the Code. My guess is she's starting her own Order in some dark corner of the universe."
The med center door opened, and a roguish man with tousled brown hair entered, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He was followed by an equally scruffy but far calmer Wookie.
"Good morning, Dr. Forenze," the man greeted.
"Is it?" was her reply. "Vader, meet Han Solo, smuggler, pirate, and captain of the Millennium Falcon. The pile of hair behind him's his co-pilot Chewbacca, but everyone calls him Chewie."
"A pleasure, Captain Solo," Vader greeted, standing and extending a hand.
"Yeah," Han replied without meaning it, hesitantly clasping the proffered hand. He released it rather quickly.
"And good morning, Chewbacca." He was unsure of Wookie customs and so gave a slight bow.
Chewie nodded in return, growling softly and reaching out with a paw.
"He says hi, and it's safe to shake his hand," Han translated.
"Thank you, Han," Vader replied as Chewie proceeded to grab his hand and shake his entire arm. Stang, he was strong!
Awkward silence. Han scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor while Vader waited, motionless.
"I'm not going to bite you, Han," Vader said finally.
"It's not the biting I'm afraid of," Han replied.
"I see. So what was my preferred method of killing before my accident?"
"Uh... according to the rumors... Force-choking."
"Then you will be pleased to know that I no longer know how to access the Force," he went on. "You are safe."
"Right," Han retorted, unconvinced.
Chewie whuffed.
"Oh, be quiet," Han retorted. "I have a right to be paranoid."
"Why are you here anyway, Han?" demanded Forenze.
"Mothma told us to meet her here..." Han began.
"So you two have met," Mothma observed, striding up at that moment. Dressed in white military fatigues with short red hair and a stately appearance, she radiated a sense of logical calm. Even though Vader had never met the head of the Alliance before now, he knew this could be no one else.
"Good day, Madam Mothma," he greeted, bowing.
"You called?" Han asked far more casually.
"If you intend to remain with the Rebellion, Solo, you should show some respect toward its leaders," she replied.
"I never said I'd join your little revolution, ma'am," he shot back. "I just figured I'd stick around awhile, wait for those hitmen of Jabba's to lose interest, then I'm gone."
"I see," she replied, though her smile indicated she knew otherwise. "So while you're 'sticking around,' Solo, I'm sure you won't mind taking on a task or two, will you?"
"Depends on the task," he said bluntly.
She turned her attention to Vader. "Darth Vader, now that you have recovered from your injuries, I would like to know what you plan on doing. You are free to leave and seek your fortune elsewhere, of course. Or you may remain here on Yavin IV with the Rebellion. I can offer you a sure place in the ranks of the Alliance."
Vader was stunned. Was she serious?
"You know, my lady, that I was once the Alliance's most dangerous enemy."
"You were at one point," she acknowledged. "But you are not an enemy to us any longer. That is why I make the offer."
"I have many enemies among the Alliance. If I join, it could drive away many of your men."
"Once they see you are truly one of us, I hope they will lay down their arms."
He nodded. "I will join the Alliance. I do not remember what exactly I have done as an Imperial, for which I'm glad. But it is my hope that I can at least partially redeem myself by supporting a just cause such as the Rebel Alliance."
Mothma smiled. "Dr. Forenze, you have Vader's files updated?"
"As much as possible," she replied, wiping grease from her hands with a rag. "But with the amnesia and all, it's pretty incomplete."
"Upload it into our central computers as soon as possible. File it under Personnel."
"Vader, I'm gonna need the computer," she told him, and he moved to the side to let her sit down. "Which division?"
Mothma paused. "How would you prefer to serve the Rebellion, Vader? As a soldier? Or a technical officer?"
"With all due respect, my lady, I'd prefer a small, out-of-the-way role. It will keep my presence from reminding others of what I have done to them. Perhaps I should simply enlist as a mechanic."
"You will be listed in our files under Maintenance Crews. Welcome aboard, Vader."
He saluted. "My pleasure, my lady."
Han checked the wall chrono. "If that's over with, can I go now? The Falcon needs her hyperdrive overhauled."
"Again?" Forenze inquired. "Thought you just did that yesterday."
"That was the sublight engines."
"Why don't you just toss that heap to the space slugs and get a new ship?"
"Hey, it's in no worse shape than those med droids of yours!" Han shot back.
The malfunctioning droid now attracted Vader's attention, and he picked up a spanner and began tinkering. Contrary to both Han and Forenze's observations, it wasn't in bad condition. But someone had tried to repair the energy matrix with the wrong tools and botched the job. Perhaps, with a tweak here...
"Before you go, Solo," Mothma was saying, "I have an assignment for you."
"What sort of assignment?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I want you and Chewbacca to serve as Vader's bodyguards."
"WHAT?!"
Chewie howled.
"Please," she requested. "To say Vader is extremely unpopular here is an understatement. Hateful feelings are running very deep now. Once he leaves the medical center, he will be in great danger."
"And I'm not going to patch him up every day," Forenze griped. "Better things to do with my time."
"I'm not going to babysit him," Han declared. "He starts a fight, he's on his own. I think he's capable of defending himself."
"Han Solo," Mothma said firmly, "Vader is your responsibility. If he comes to any harm, you will answer to me. Understood?"
Han quite grudgingly complied.
"Then you are dismissed," she finished, exiting the med center.
Chewie barked.
"I don't care if he's not evil anymore," Han grumbled. "I didn't come to Yavin to be Vader's chaperone."
"I won't be a burden to you, Solo," Vader told him as he activated the droid. "I will try to make your assignment as easy as possible."
"Well, I still don't like... what are you doing?"
Forenze's eyes went wide. "You fixed the blasted thing!"
"The matrix needed some work and probably still needs replacing," Vader replied. "But it should last a few months longer."
"I'll be," she breathed. "Mechanic indeed. You can work miracles with that lost cause."
"You must know your machines pretty well," Han observed.
Vader shrugged. "I'm good at fixing things. Always have been..." His voice trailed off. Another memory had come to life.
...his mother was going to be pleased when he surprised her with this droid! Of course, Watto wouldn't be happy if he ever found just where those 'missing' components went -- all the more reason to keep See Threepio hidden until he was complete. He screwed up his face in concentration as he fastened the motivator into place. It was an old part, a mere M-17. A protocol droid really needed a KB-220 or better, but this one would have to do for now...
He shook his head. "A junk shop. I worked in one while growing up. I remember now."
"And it shows," Forenze said admiringly.
Han was really interested now. "If you're good at fixing droids, can you do bigger projects? Say, starships? Even a freighter?"
"I don't know," he confessed. "But I can try."
For the first time, Han's face broke into a wide grin. "I think we'll get along a lot better than I first thought. C'mon, I'll give you a tour of the place. Then I'll show you the Falcon. She doesn't look like much, but she's the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy..."
Chewie rolled his eyes as Han continued talking excitedly. Vader only laughed to himself, following the pair of them out. It would seem that he didn't have only enemies among the Alliance after all. After all, with a smuggler, Wookie, and medical officer on his side, what more could he ask for?
Chapter 4
Ghede Ironmoon was an almost painfully handsome man, with the signature deep azure skin, red eyes, and jet-black hair of his species, the Chiss. He wore his hair cropped short and was rarely seen wearing anything other than a flight uniform. In fact, those around him could testify that his every waking moment revolved around flying. He didn't show the boyish enthusiasm toward it that Luke and some of the younger pilots did -- rather, he approached it as a workaholic approached his career, as something of utmost seriousness that should never be taken lightly.
Apparently he expected his squadron to do the same.
"It's not a simple matter of twisting a steergrip and pulling a trigger," he lectured, pacing across the front of the room where the squadron had gathered. "It is an art form, a symbiosis of pilot and fighter. When you buckle yourself into the pilot's seat, you become part of that intricate machine, a mechanism within it."
"Yadda, yadda, yadda," muttered Zev under his breath in Luke's general direction. "I can repeat this one in my sleep."
Luke nodded slightly but said nothing. He had a feeling Ghede wouldn't be too pleased to find his Second Commander spreading gossip about him.
Of the thirteen pilots in the squadron, seven were human -- Luke, Wedge, Zev, Janson, Hobbie, Gavin, and a woman whom Luke didn't know. The others included Ghede, a female Twi'lek named Ar'ya, a male Duros named Dekham, a female Mon Calamari named Mela, a male Sullustan named Squib, and a male Wookie whom everyone called Rocky. All wore the trademark orange jumpsuits of Rebel pilots, their gray helmets resting in their laps. And all were bored stiff by Ghede's speech. Hobbie had dozed off, Dekham was entertaining himself by fidgeting with a hydrospanner, and everyone else was staring, glassy-eyed, at their Commander, nodding at appropriate intervals.
"I expect nothing less than your absolute best in this squadron," Ghede went on with a scowl. "You will devote all your energy toward improving your flight skills. I will tolerate no slacking or shirking of your training. Am I clear?"
Everyone murmured half-hearted assent.
"Any questions?" he asked finally.
The young woman raised her hand.
"And you are?" inquired Ghede.
"Bekme Olie," she replied. The girl looked more like a perky cheerleader for a school smashball team than a Rebel pilot, with nut-brown hair, hazel eyes, a knockout smile, and the kind of figure that garnered plenty of second looks from the men of the Alliance.
"Your question?"
"Shouldn't our squadron have a name? I mean, even the Empire has an elite Death Squadron. And back on Naboo there was a Bravo Squadron..."
"Naboo?" Ghede raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't be related to Captain Ric Olie, would you?"
She beamed. "He's my father. He served in Her Majesty Queen Amidala's navy for years, and was a great pilot before the Empire disbanded Bravo Squadron."
He nodded, unimpressed. "Naboo has a reputation as a pacifist world, one of the reasons they allowed the Empire to overrun them," he noted drolly. "I'm surprised that one of their people has elected to join a fighting star squadron. Unusual."
Bekme blushed and ducked her head in shame. Luke felt himself bristle angrily. That oblique insult was uncalled for!
"Yeah, she's right!" Dekham exclaimed. "I'm tired of calling ourselves 'Alliance Squadron!'"
Ghede's scowl deepened. "This is trivial compared to..."
"Let's take suggestions," suggested Luke. "Who has any ideas?"
"How about 'KIBS?'" suggested Janson. "Stands for 'Kill the Imperial Bastards Squadron.'" Everyone but Ghede laughed.
"Dragon Squadron!" insisted Wedge. "They're the most vicious and resilient species in the galaxy, and it's fitting."
"Savage Squadron, 'cause we show no mercy toward the Empire," proposed Squib.
"No, too vengeful-sounding," dismissed Ar'ya. "Noble Squadron?"
Ghede raised a hand to silence the pilots. "The Empire has a Death Squadron, you say? Then we shall be known as Life Squadron. Matter settled."
Hobbie woke with a start. "Whozzat? What squadron?"
"Life Squadron," Ghede repeated. "Our squadron."
"Life Squadron?" demanded Hobbie. "What the stang kind of name is that?"
"You can contemplate that while on KP duty for the next week for backtalking an officer and inattendance during a meeting," Ghede replied coldly. "I want everyone flight-ready in fifteen minutes. We're going to go over some drills and maneuvers."
Everyone left the room, grumbling over the Commander's unfairness.
"KP for a week!" huffed Hobbie. "I can't help it if he's a boring stiff!"
"And he had no right to treat Bekme like that," Mela replied.
Rocky barked, and the translation device he wore on his shoulder kicked in. "Why isn't Luke Commander? Everyone knows he's the better pilot. Luke destroyed the Death Star and captured Darth Vader, and what did Ghede do? Knocked off two TIEs before his repulsors got hit and he had to retreat."
"He does have a lot of experience," Wedge said in Ghede's defense. "After all, he risked his life helping us evacuate the Dantooine base..."
"And demands we remember that every time we so much as breathe in his presence," Zev snapped.
"Hey Luke!"
Gavin, a dark-haired mustached pilot, clapped Luke on the shoulder, grinning broadly all the while.
"Do I know you?" asked Luke.
"Not personally," he replied. "But I've heard a lot about you from a relative of mine. You knew my cousin, Biggs."
Luke's mouth fell open. "You're a Darklighter?"
"Yup. Gavin Darklighter. Biggs told me about a certain blond bush pilot who was the best in the Outer Rim territories and was going to make a name for himself someday. Turned out to be prophetic. Way to enter the Alliance with a bang, eh?"
Luke laughed. "Believe me, I never intended to be a hero."
"Few real heroes aspire to the calling," Gavin replied. "Hey, sorry about Biggs. I'm really going to miss him."
"Me too," Luke replied wistfully.
"Excuse me?" Bekme interrupted, coming up at that moment. "I couldn't help but overhear..."
"Sure you could," Gavin teased.
"...but did you just say you're Luke Skywalker?" she went on, ignoring Gavin.
"Guilty," Luke replied. He'd gotten pretty much used to people approaching him as if he were a holostar.
"Wow," she breathed. "The man who destroyed the Death Star and captured Darth Vader. You must be brave."
"I... didn't really capture Vader. He was half-dead already when I found him. And I couldn't have destroyed the Death Star without Han's help."
"But you fired the torpedoes," Bekme pointed out. "And I'm sure Vader could have killed you at any moment."
"He has amnesia," Luke explained. "He doesn't remember how to use the Force or even that he's the Emperor's right-hand man."
Gavin whistled. "What are they going to do with him?"
"Last I heard, High Command was going to make him a Rebel."
It was Gavin's turn to gape. "A Rebel?!"
"My reaction exactly," Luke murmured.
"Somehow I can't picture Vader fighting on our side," Bekme said.
"They'd better keep him out of Life Squadron," threatened Gavin. "Or I resign."
Luke decided a subject change was in order. "So Bekme, what's Naboo like?"
"Oh, grasslands, forests, swamps," she replied. "Far cry from Tatooine, even if they're fairly close space-wise. The Empire controls the cities, but the wild lands belong to the native species, Gungans."
"You're pretty gutsy to join the Rebellion when you come from an Imperial world," Gavin said admiringly.
"It was my dad who got me into the Rebellion, believe it or not," she replied, a sad smile on her face. "He served Queen Amidala, and he used to tell me that she would have been disgusted by the violence in the galaxy today. She abhorred the unnecessary use of force."
"So that observation made you join the Alliance," Gavin observed.
"That's why I'm here," she answered.
"Are you three flying today or not?" demanded Ghede, approaching at that moment.
"Keep your flightsuit on," humphed Gavin quietly -- but not quietly enough.
"KP tonight for insubordination, Darklighter," snapped Ghede. "And you as well, Olie, if you don't put some speed into your step."
She blushed again and stalked toward her ship in a huff. Luke was about to follow but was stopped by Ghede's arm.
"A word, Skywalker."
"With you, Commander, it's never just a word," Luke quipped, trying to be funny. But his humor was wasted.
"I would appreciate it if you keep your banter with the pilots to a minimum," he ordered.
"What? But they're my friends!"
"You are not their flight buddy, Skywalker. You are their Second Commander. They should respect you as a leader. If they consider you a friend, they'll think you will let them get away with foolish behavior. Flaws will develop in the squadron -- dangerous flaws. If you want Life Squadron to be an efficient fighting force, you should treat them like soldiers."
"Like lesser beings, you mean?" Luke asked disbelievingly.
"No, like an officer treats troops. With discipline. Am I clear?"
Luke rolled his eyes. "This is outrageous. I'm not going to act like a snob around the squadron! Find another Second."
"You are my Second Commander, Skywalker, and you'll do as I say." Ghede slid on his helmet and turned to his fighter.
"I'm beginning to hate this job," Luke muttered, going to his X-wing.
***
"Stinkin' heap of rusted mynock bait," Forenze snapped, throwing her spanner on the table where the dissected medical droid lay. "Trust the makers to stick the Vocoder where the logic processor should go."
Vader looked up from the computer. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Not unless you can work miracles with junkyard rejects," she replied.
He left her to her grumbling as he continued to scan what had to be the hundredth news article detailing an Imperial raid led on a city suspected of harboring Rebels -- led by Vader, of course. The Alliance had certainly hoarded a lot of information regarding him, from Holonet articles to spy reports to bios of deceased Rebel leaders and Jedi Generals. None of what he read was comforting, and a lot of it was extremely heartbreaking.
From what he could sift out of the mess, he had been a fearsome military commander, preferring a hands-on approach to leading his troops. He had fought along with his men in the front lines, not content to direct the soldiers from afar. And he had been extremely wealthy, though he purchased few luxuries apart from a fortress on Bast and a collection of starcraft. But precious little else of value could be garnered from these files.
His heart sank as he reviewed the files he'd examined so far -- a Holonet news article of his order to raze an entire planetary sector of Falleen, an obituary of an Imperial Admiral he'd killed with his bare hands, a low-brow tabloid "reporting" the ridiculous "breaking news" that he had a secret Jedi wife hidden away on the planet of Chandrila. He could find no clue as to why he'd fallen so low. Vader was a mystery, even to himself.
"Do you really have a Jedi uncle?" Vader asked, looking up.
"You talking to me?" she demanded.
"The only others here are the droids," he pointed out. "And I doubt they have uncles of any sort."
"You read my bio, didn't you?" she asked. "I keep asking them to fix that. My Jedi relative was an aunt, not an uncle."
"Ah." He struggled to find the words. "I am... deeply sorry..."
"Oh, get over it. It's the past. You can't go back and unkill every Jedi, or the galaxy would be crawling with them. Besides, you didn't kill her."
"I didn't?"
"Nope." She swore loudly when a cog she had been twisting too hard snapped. "Jedi Master Vergere vanished seven years before the Clone Wars and was never heard of again. I think the Jedi Council was actually quite glad to be rid of her. She was always at odds with them over parts of the Code. My guess is she's starting her own Order in some dark corner of the universe."
The med center door opened, and a roguish man with tousled brown hair entered, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He was followed by an equally scruffy but far calmer Wookie.
"Good morning, Dr. Forenze," the man greeted.
"Is it?" was her reply. "Vader, meet Han Solo, smuggler, pirate, and captain of the Millennium Falcon. The pile of hair behind him's his co-pilot Chewbacca, but everyone calls him Chewie."
"A pleasure, Captain Solo," Vader greeted, standing and extending a hand.
"Yeah," Han replied without meaning it, hesitantly clasping the proffered hand. He released it rather quickly.
"And good morning, Chewbacca." He was unsure of Wookie customs and so gave a slight bow.
Chewie nodded in return, growling softly and reaching out with a paw.
"He says hi, and it's safe to shake his hand," Han translated.
"Thank you, Han," Vader replied as Chewie proceeded to grab his hand and shake his entire arm. Stang, he was strong!
Awkward silence. Han scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor while Vader waited, motionless.
"I'm not going to bite you, Han," Vader said finally.
"It's not the biting I'm afraid of," Han replied.
"I see. So what was my preferred method of killing before my accident?"
"Uh... according to the rumors... Force-choking."
"Then you will be pleased to know that I no longer know how to access the Force," he went on. "You are safe."
"Right," Han retorted, unconvinced.
Chewie whuffed.
"Oh, be quiet," Han retorted. "I have a right to be paranoid."
"Why are you here anyway, Han?" demanded Forenze.
"Mothma told us to meet her here..." Han began.
"So you two have met," Mothma observed, striding up at that moment. Dressed in white military fatigues with short red hair and a stately appearance, she radiated a sense of logical calm. Even though Vader had never met the head of the Alliance before now, he knew this could be no one else.
"Good day, Madam Mothma," he greeted, bowing.
"You called?" Han asked far more casually.
"If you intend to remain with the Rebellion, Solo, you should show some respect toward its leaders," she replied.
"I never said I'd join your little revolution, ma'am," he shot back. "I just figured I'd stick around awhile, wait for those hitmen of Jabba's to lose interest, then I'm gone."
"I see," she replied, though her smile indicated she knew otherwise. "So while you're 'sticking around,' Solo, I'm sure you won't mind taking on a task or two, will you?"
"Depends on the task," he said bluntly.
She turned her attention to Vader. "Darth Vader, now that you have recovered from your injuries, I would like to know what you plan on doing. You are free to leave and seek your fortune elsewhere, of course. Or you may remain here on Yavin IV with the Rebellion. I can offer you a sure place in the ranks of the Alliance."
Vader was stunned. Was she serious?
"You know, my lady, that I was once the Alliance's most dangerous enemy."
"You were at one point," she acknowledged. "But you are not an enemy to us any longer. That is why I make the offer."
"I have many enemies among the Alliance. If I join, it could drive away many of your men."
"Once they see you are truly one of us, I hope they will lay down their arms."
He nodded. "I will join the Alliance. I do not remember what exactly I have done as an Imperial, for which I'm glad. But it is my hope that I can at least partially redeem myself by supporting a just cause such as the Rebel Alliance."
Mothma smiled. "Dr. Forenze, you have Vader's files updated?"
"As much as possible," she replied, wiping grease from her hands with a rag. "But with the amnesia and all, it's pretty incomplete."
"Upload it into our central computers as soon as possible. File it under Personnel."
"Vader, I'm gonna need the computer," she told him, and he moved to the side to let her sit down. "Which division?"
Mothma paused. "How would you prefer to serve the Rebellion, Vader? As a soldier? Or a technical officer?"
"With all due respect, my lady, I'd prefer a small, out-of-the-way role. It will keep my presence from reminding others of what I have done to them. Perhaps I should simply enlist as a mechanic."
"You will be listed in our files under Maintenance Crews. Welcome aboard, Vader."
He saluted. "My pleasure, my lady."
Han checked the wall chrono. "If that's over with, can I go now? The Falcon needs her hyperdrive overhauled."
"Again?" Forenze inquired. "Thought you just did that yesterday."
"That was the sublight engines."
"Why don't you just toss that heap to the space slugs and get a new ship?"
"Hey, it's in no worse shape than those med droids of yours!" Han shot back.
The malfunctioning droid now attracted Vader's attention, and he picked up a spanner and began tinkering. Contrary to both Han and Forenze's observations, it wasn't in bad condition. But someone had tried to repair the energy matrix with the wrong tools and botched the job. Perhaps, with a tweak here...
"Before you go, Solo," Mothma was saying, "I have an assignment for you."
"What sort of assignment?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I want you and Chewbacca to serve as Vader's bodyguards."
"WHAT?!"
Chewie howled.
"Please," she requested. "To say Vader is extremely unpopular here is an understatement. Hateful feelings are running very deep now. Once he leaves the medical center, he will be in great danger."
"And I'm not going to patch him up every day," Forenze griped. "Better things to do with my time."
"I'm not going to babysit him," Han declared. "He starts a fight, he's on his own. I think he's capable of defending himself."
"Han Solo," Mothma said firmly, "Vader is your responsibility. If he comes to any harm, you will answer to me. Understood?"
Han quite grudgingly complied.
"Then you are dismissed," she finished, exiting the med center.
Chewie barked.
"I don't care if he's not evil anymore," Han grumbled. "I didn't come to Yavin to be Vader's chaperone."
"I won't be a burden to you, Solo," Vader told him as he activated the droid. "I will try to make your assignment as easy as possible."
"Well, I still don't like... what are you doing?"
Forenze's eyes went wide. "You fixed the blasted thing!"
"The matrix needed some work and probably still needs replacing," Vader replied. "But it should last a few months longer."
"I'll be," she breathed. "Mechanic indeed. You can work miracles with that lost cause."
"You must know your machines pretty well," Han observed.
Vader shrugged. "I'm good at fixing things. Always have been..." His voice trailed off. Another memory had come to life.
...his mother was going to be pleased when he surprised her with this droid! Of course, Watto wouldn't be happy if he ever found just where those 'missing' components went -- all the more reason to keep See Threepio hidden until he was complete. He screwed up his face in concentration as he fastened the motivator into place. It was an old part, a mere M-17. A protocol droid really needed a KB-220 or better, but this one would have to do for now...
He shook his head. "A junk shop. I worked in one while growing up. I remember now."
"And it shows," Forenze said admiringly.
Han was really interested now. "If you're good at fixing droids, can you do bigger projects? Say, starships? Even a freighter?"
"I don't know," he confessed. "But I can try."
For the first time, Han's face broke into a wide grin. "I think we'll get along a lot better than I first thought. C'mon, I'll give you a tour of the place. Then I'll show you the Falcon. She doesn't look like much, but she's the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy..."
Chewie rolled his eyes as Han continued talking excitedly. Vader only laughed to himself, following the pair of them out. It would seem that he didn't have only enemies among the Alliance after all. After all, with a smuggler, Wookie, and medical officer on his side, what more could he ask for?