Chapter 9
As the weeks passed, Life Squadron came to enjoy Vader's company more and more, while Ghede became more and more uptight over the squadron's "immaturity."
The Commander had finally wised up as to who had given his droid its newfound musical talent and fixed it himself. But when he went to his fighter later that day to lead Life Squadron in more drills, he discovered a pile of underbaked muri-cake on the seat – by sitting on it. And when he left the X-wing unattended to change his clothes, Hobbie snuck aboard it and festooned the interior with brightly colored paper streamers while the other pilots decorated the outside with refresher tissue.
That stunt, naturally, got the entire squadron grounded for a week. And that punishment, naturally, earned Ghede more surprises. His laundry turned every color of the rainbow, snakes and other creepy-crawlies found their way into his bed and X-wing cockpit, his flight helmet kept disappearing only to reappear in the oddest places (like the top of the Blackstone temple tower), and his astromech was repainted, reprogrammed, and/or dismantled so many times it took to bolting with a panicked shriek anytime it saw someone in a pilot's or mechanic's uniform.
Vader wasn't just the squadron's partner-in-crime, however. He was always willing to offer the pilots flying tips whenever they asked. They, in turn, exchanged gossip with him and invited him to their impromptu smashball or sabaac games.
The down side to all this was that, with all the pranks going on, half of Life Squadron was grounded at any given time. That only made Ghede angrier, seeing as they couldn't drill as a team anymore. And Luke was growing concerned that the pilots were slipping behind in their training.
Vader solved that problem as well. He raided the outdated equipment storage for infrared-vision goggles for every pilot, then suggested the squadron work on their flying at night, when Ghede and the rest of High Command were asleep.
The plan worked beautifully. Life Squadron would spend their days catching up on sleep and plotting new ways to aggravate Ghede. After dusk, they climbed into their X-wings and took to the skies. Only the night sentries knew of this, and since they had no liking for Commander Ironmoon either, they kept silent on the matter. And whenever Vader had a free evening, he would "borrow" Ghede's starfighter and join the squadron.
Luke was careful not to duplicate Ghede's tactics. Sure, he had them practice formations, but after going over the basic battle patterns they would play one of the combat games he and Bekme had devised together. Everyone agreed that rounds of Spy Pilot and Capture the Flag beat endless hours of Flying Dragon and Tight V any day.
Vader, for the most part, enjoyed his unofficial welcome into the squadron. He felt that he could call these men and women friends and allies. It seemed he was finally an accepted member of the Alliance.
But there was one factor he hadn't taken into account.
Leia.
***
Leia watched Janson and Mela head for the hangar, laughing together over some private joke. She didn't share their light mood. She had seen Life Squadron grow more and more detached form the rest of the Alliance, and that frightened her. How could they count on these soldiers to defend the Yavin base in an emergency if they couldn't even count on them to be present at meals and other scheduled functions?
Silently she cursed Commander Ironmoon. If he hadn't pushed the pilots so hard and treated them as immature inferiors, this wouldn't be happening. In his impossible quest to mold the squadron into the perfect fighting force, he was pushing them farther away from any desire to aid the Alliance.
She hadn't had time to worry about Luke until now – Mothma kept her busy. She suspected Mothma was deliberately giving her extra assignments to take her mind off of the fact that Vader was among them. Now, however, she intended to have a talk with Luke. Perhaps he could think of some way to solve the problem.
Toward the back of the hangar, the pilots were gathering for an impromptu sabaac game. Han and Chewie had joined them, as had…
/Vader!/ She couldn't quell the surge of fresh anger and horror that rose out of her gut. What was he doing with the pilots? She stepped just behind a docked Y-wing fighter, where she could watch them interact without being seen.
"I fold," Janson was saying.
"Already?" asked Luke. "We just started."
Janson pointed. "Whenever Ar'ya's head-tails start twitching like that, I know she's got a killer hand."
Ar'ya's lekku stiffened immediately, and she stuck her tongue out at Janson. "Not fair!"
"Whatever she's got, I'll bet it's not higher than a light sabaac," Han cut in, slapping down his cards.
Squib groaned. "How come he always wins?"
Chewie growled.
"Wouldn't doubt it," Rocky put in via translator.
"I do not cheat!" Han snapped.
"Whether or not he cheated, he hasn't won this hand," Vader replied, laying down his cards. "Fitting for this group – idiot's array."
Han punched his shoulder playfully as he leaned forward to collect his winnings.
Leia shook her head in disbelief. How could they accept Vader so readily? Even Luke, who'd lost a father to him, was clapping him on the back and congratulating him. She couldn't see how they could treat him like a comrade.
"Begging your pardon, your Highness."
Leia stepped slightly to the side to let Ghede by. His flightsuit was a putrid, mottled green instead of its usual orange, and he wore his flight helmet strapped tightly to his head. He approached the table with an irritated expression.
"Problem, sir?" asked Wedge innocently.
"I would like to inform the lot of you," he announced angrily, "that unless the perpetrator of this latest juvenile stunt comes forward, the whole of this squadron will be grounded for the next two weeks."
Two weeks? That was rather harsh. What had they done to warrant such a punishment?
"What prank, sir?" inquired Gavin.
"You know perfectly well what prank I'm referring to, Darklighter," Ghede snapped.
"No I don't," Ghede defended.
"And why are you wearing your helmet outside your X-wing?" asked Mela.
Ghede swept the table with an annoyed glare, then pulled off the helmet. Immediately everyone, even Leia, burst into laughter. Someone had taken a razor to the Chiss' hair, carving out a wide strip from his left eyebrow to the right side of the nape of his neck. The rest of his hair had been dyed a blindingly bright shade of yellow.
"Aw, c'mon, Commander, that color looks good on you," Hobbie assured him.
"KP for you, Hobbie, and two weeks on the ground for the rest of you!" bellowed Ghede. His crimson gaze came to rest on Vader, Han, and Chewie, who were all still snickering. "And I want you to stop consorting with these… rogues," he went on. "They're worthless freeloaders, the three of them." He spun on his heel and marched away.
"Worthless freeloaders my eye," snorted Dekham. "Vader's a registered member of the Alliance. And if it weren't for Han saving Luke's skin at the Death Star, we'd all be space dust right now."
"What's the big deal about them being rogues?" barked Rocky. "We're the Alliance. That makes everyone here a rogue."
"Rogues," Luke repeated thoughtfully. "All rogues." His eyes lit up. "That's it!"
"What's it?" asked Bekme.
"My friends," he announced grandly, standing, "from this moment on we shall not call ourselves Life Squadron, but a name that truly fits us immature, freeloader-consorting rookies – Rogue Squadron!"
Everyone cheered. "Rogue Squadron! Rogue Squadron!"
"Beats Life Squadron any day," Bekme grinned.
"The flying Rogues," Vader noted. "I like the sound of that." He stood. "Sorry to win and run, but I still need to upgrade the base's protocol droids today."
"One more hand?" pleaded Ar'ya. "I'm sure I can beat you this time."
"I'd like to quit while I still have money in my pocket," Vader explained. "I owe Forenze for the sleeping pills in Ghede's caf."
"Stang!" Zev shouted, jumping to his feet. "That reminds me! I left the dye on my bunk!"
"I'll get rid of it for you," Luke volunteered, getting up.
As Vader turned toward the base's droid room, Luke headed for the barracks. When he passed Leia, she reached out and took his arm.
"What now, Commander – oh, sorry Leia."
"Why didn't you tell me you and the squadron were becoming friendly toward him?" she asked, unable to completely keep the anger from her voice.
"Leia…" he began, flustered. "Look, I've been busy… you've been busy… things have been happening…"
"Like you just HAPPENING to forget that Vader's the Alliance's worst enemy?"
"Was!" Luke defended. In a gentler tone he added, "He WAS an evil man, Leia. I won't deny it. Thousands died at his hand. But the Vader who hurt us is dead, or at least in a coma. This Vader only wants to help the Alliance, to do something to redeem himself."
"He can never undo what he did to me," she insisted, tears coming to her eyes. The barely healed scars from her torture at Vader's hands and the death of Alderaan burned anew. She hated this man. She wished he would vanish entirely…
"He can never undo what he did to me, either," Luke replied gently. "But a friend once told me that carrying a grudge is like carrying a pack of rocks. It only wears you out. I've decided to drop my load of rocks, Leia. Please, for your good as well as his, let go of yours."
She recognized General Kenobi's quote, and she smiled despite herself. Luke had loved Obi-wan as a mentor, yet he'd forgiven Vader, who had murdered the Jedi before his very eyes. Though she couldn't understand entirely why Luke would choose to do that, she could see the wisdom behind Kenobi's quote. Yet it was so hard to simply let go like that…
Her thoughts froze entirely when Vader stepped up beside Luke, holding a droid caller.
"Is everything okay, Luke? I heard shouting…" His voice trailed off as he locked eyes with Leia.
Panic began to rise in her. The last time she had looked into that steel-shrouded gaze, madness had nearly taken her. The pain, the shouting, the ragged mental agony as an unspeakable power invaded her mind…
"Vader, this is Princess Leia," Luke explained.
"A pleasure, your Highness…" began Vader, extending a hand.
"Uh, no," Luke ordered, taking Vader's wrist and pushing his hand away. "There's something I need to tell you about her… Leia!"
For Leia had gone, not daring to look back.
***
Vader listened attentively as Luke described Leia to him – his first sighting of her as a hologram, his and Han's impulsive rescue of her, her position in the Alliance, and above all the fact that she somehow held Vader accountable for her homeworld's destruction.
"Though I don't see why," he said in conclusion. "From what she told me, Tarkin gave the order, not you."
"Though I did torture her," Vader replied, shaking his head gravely. "I thought she looked familiar."
"I'd just keep your distance for now. I think she'll eventually reach a point where she can forgive you, but not anytime soon."
"That look of fright in her eyes," Vader said sadly. "I've seen that so many times since I've come here. Everyone here seems to have reason to hate me – and for crimes I can't even remember."
"Don't let it get you down. If you keep serving the Alliance, soon they'll see you're not going to hurt anyone."
"I wish I had your optimism."
"Oh, cheer up, you grouch."
***
An error would mean death.
Fett crouched in the center of the training room, one hand on his knee, the other on the floor. Before him, on either side, and behind him, four state-of-the-art dueling druids towered over him, each programmed to kill. Two of them – the one on his right and the one behind – had blasters built into each arm; the other two carried lightsabers. The scarlet light from their blades and photoreceptors glittered wickedly on their shiny durasteel bodies and Fett's battle armor.
He smiled beneath his T-slit visor. This was his favorite part of his Sith training.
As he waited for the first strike, a line from his master's lectures surfaced in his mind. /You need not see a threat to know it exists. Keep your sense open at all times./
The droid on his left struck first, bringing its blade down toward his back like a cleaver. In less time than it took to blink, Fett had his own lightsaber out and behind him, blocking the blow. The droid before him swept its blade low, trying for his throat.
/Your lightsaber and the Force are mighty weapons, but on occasion even they are not enough. Use all weapons at your disposal./
Keeping his saber aloft with his right hand, he extended his left and used the Force to activate his flamethrower. Bright orange waves of fire caressed the droid's body, and it broke off its attack and backed away as its survival programming overrode its battle programming to avoid charred circuits.
/If there are multiple foes, remember – a foe can also be a weapon for you to wield. Let one opponent's fatal strike bring down another enemy./
The droid on his right fired several shots, and Fett extended his hand, drawing on the Force to block and redirect the bolts. The droid behind him collapsed, a crater carved in its chest by the laser fire.
The left droid lifted its blade and assumed an offensive stance. Fett leaped to his feet to meet its second blow. Then the droid he had burned joined in the fray. Sparks and ozone filled the air, and pulses of scarlet light flashed through the chamber like blood-red lightning.
At last, bored with the game, he took a Force-assisted leap in the air. The droids slashed futilely over their heads.
/Unleash your anger. Channel it. Use it as a devastating weapon against your foe./
Drawing on all his anger, all his pain, all his hatred, Fett landed with the force of a meteorite, the heels of his boots landing squarely in the photoreceptors of the burned droid. There was a metallic crunch as the blow shattered vital components, and it buckled. Before his boots could touch the floor he brought the saber around to catch the second droid. The crimson blade exploded through the droid at shoulder level, and fragmented metal and acrid smoke filled the air as it, too, hit the floor with a clatter of useless parts.
The last droid pumped fire at him in earnest. His saber whirled in every direction as he knocked the bolts aside as casually as if they were beep-balls.
/Don't disdain old tricks. They work./
Fett extended a tentacle of the Force, grabbing the droid. Its limbs flailed as he jerked it toward him, and its photoreceptors went dark as he impaled it on his weapon. A Jedi might not fall for this trick, he thought, but then, not all the Alliance traitors were Jedi.
At last he deactivated his weapon and looked around, his chest heaving with exertion. He hadn't slept in weeks. The first thing Palpatine had taught him was how to use the Force to compensate for sleep and food, that he might free up more time for intensive, grueling training in the dark side of the Force. Normally a Sith Master would spend years training an apprentice, but times were desperate, and a second Sith was needed as quickly as possible to eradicate the threat of the Rebellion before it could leave Yavin.
Fett smiled savagely. It would be a pleasure to help the Emperor crush the Jedi. After they had betrayed and murdered his father, they deserved no mercy. And he would show them none.
The air before him shimmered, and he fell to his knees as a holo of his master coalesced at the front of the room.
"You have completed the lesson?"
"Yes, my master."
"Report to my quarters. You have much to learn yet, young one."
As the weeks passed, Life Squadron came to enjoy Vader's company more and more, while Ghede became more and more uptight over the squadron's "immaturity."
The Commander had finally wised up as to who had given his droid its newfound musical talent and fixed it himself. But when he went to his fighter later that day to lead Life Squadron in more drills, he discovered a pile of underbaked muri-cake on the seat – by sitting on it. And when he left the X-wing unattended to change his clothes, Hobbie snuck aboard it and festooned the interior with brightly colored paper streamers while the other pilots decorated the outside with refresher tissue.
That stunt, naturally, got the entire squadron grounded for a week. And that punishment, naturally, earned Ghede more surprises. His laundry turned every color of the rainbow, snakes and other creepy-crawlies found their way into his bed and X-wing cockpit, his flight helmet kept disappearing only to reappear in the oddest places (like the top of the Blackstone temple tower), and his astromech was repainted, reprogrammed, and/or dismantled so many times it took to bolting with a panicked shriek anytime it saw someone in a pilot's or mechanic's uniform.
Vader wasn't just the squadron's partner-in-crime, however. He was always willing to offer the pilots flying tips whenever they asked. They, in turn, exchanged gossip with him and invited him to their impromptu smashball or sabaac games.
The down side to all this was that, with all the pranks going on, half of Life Squadron was grounded at any given time. That only made Ghede angrier, seeing as they couldn't drill as a team anymore. And Luke was growing concerned that the pilots were slipping behind in their training.
Vader solved that problem as well. He raided the outdated equipment storage for infrared-vision goggles for every pilot, then suggested the squadron work on their flying at night, when Ghede and the rest of High Command were asleep.
The plan worked beautifully. Life Squadron would spend their days catching up on sleep and plotting new ways to aggravate Ghede. After dusk, they climbed into their X-wings and took to the skies. Only the night sentries knew of this, and since they had no liking for Commander Ironmoon either, they kept silent on the matter. And whenever Vader had a free evening, he would "borrow" Ghede's starfighter and join the squadron.
Luke was careful not to duplicate Ghede's tactics. Sure, he had them practice formations, but after going over the basic battle patterns they would play one of the combat games he and Bekme had devised together. Everyone agreed that rounds of Spy Pilot and Capture the Flag beat endless hours of Flying Dragon and Tight V any day.
Vader, for the most part, enjoyed his unofficial welcome into the squadron. He felt that he could call these men and women friends and allies. It seemed he was finally an accepted member of the Alliance.
But there was one factor he hadn't taken into account.
Leia.
***
Leia watched Janson and Mela head for the hangar, laughing together over some private joke. She didn't share their light mood. She had seen Life Squadron grow more and more detached form the rest of the Alliance, and that frightened her. How could they count on these soldiers to defend the Yavin base in an emergency if they couldn't even count on them to be present at meals and other scheduled functions?
Silently she cursed Commander Ironmoon. If he hadn't pushed the pilots so hard and treated them as immature inferiors, this wouldn't be happening. In his impossible quest to mold the squadron into the perfect fighting force, he was pushing them farther away from any desire to aid the Alliance.
She hadn't had time to worry about Luke until now – Mothma kept her busy. She suspected Mothma was deliberately giving her extra assignments to take her mind off of the fact that Vader was among them. Now, however, she intended to have a talk with Luke. Perhaps he could think of some way to solve the problem.
Toward the back of the hangar, the pilots were gathering for an impromptu sabaac game. Han and Chewie had joined them, as had…
/Vader!/ She couldn't quell the surge of fresh anger and horror that rose out of her gut. What was he doing with the pilots? She stepped just behind a docked Y-wing fighter, where she could watch them interact without being seen.
"I fold," Janson was saying.
"Already?" asked Luke. "We just started."
Janson pointed. "Whenever Ar'ya's head-tails start twitching like that, I know she's got a killer hand."
Ar'ya's lekku stiffened immediately, and she stuck her tongue out at Janson. "Not fair!"
"Whatever she's got, I'll bet it's not higher than a light sabaac," Han cut in, slapping down his cards.
Squib groaned. "How come he always wins?"
Chewie growled.
"Wouldn't doubt it," Rocky put in via translator.
"I do not cheat!" Han snapped.
"Whether or not he cheated, he hasn't won this hand," Vader replied, laying down his cards. "Fitting for this group – idiot's array."
Han punched his shoulder playfully as he leaned forward to collect his winnings.
Leia shook her head in disbelief. How could they accept Vader so readily? Even Luke, who'd lost a father to him, was clapping him on the back and congratulating him. She couldn't see how they could treat him like a comrade.
"Begging your pardon, your Highness."
Leia stepped slightly to the side to let Ghede by. His flightsuit was a putrid, mottled green instead of its usual orange, and he wore his flight helmet strapped tightly to his head. He approached the table with an irritated expression.
"Problem, sir?" asked Wedge innocently.
"I would like to inform the lot of you," he announced angrily, "that unless the perpetrator of this latest juvenile stunt comes forward, the whole of this squadron will be grounded for the next two weeks."
Two weeks? That was rather harsh. What had they done to warrant such a punishment?
"What prank, sir?" inquired Gavin.
"You know perfectly well what prank I'm referring to, Darklighter," Ghede snapped.
"No I don't," Ghede defended.
"And why are you wearing your helmet outside your X-wing?" asked Mela.
Ghede swept the table with an annoyed glare, then pulled off the helmet. Immediately everyone, even Leia, burst into laughter. Someone had taken a razor to the Chiss' hair, carving out a wide strip from his left eyebrow to the right side of the nape of his neck. The rest of his hair had been dyed a blindingly bright shade of yellow.
"Aw, c'mon, Commander, that color looks good on you," Hobbie assured him.
"KP for you, Hobbie, and two weeks on the ground for the rest of you!" bellowed Ghede. His crimson gaze came to rest on Vader, Han, and Chewie, who were all still snickering. "And I want you to stop consorting with these… rogues," he went on. "They're worthless freeloaders, the three of them." He spun on his heel and marched away.
"Worthless freeloaders my eye," snorted Dekham. "Vader's a registered member of the Alliance. And if it weren't for Han saving Luke's skin at the Death Star, we'd all be space dust right now."
"What's the big deal about them being rogues?" barked Rocky. "We're the Alliance. That makes everyone here a rogue."
"Rogues," Luke repeated thoughtfully. "All rogues." His eyes lit up. "That's it!"
"What's it?" asked Bekme.
"My friends," he announced grandly, standing, "from this moment on we shall not call ourselves Life Squadron, but a name that truly fits us immature, freeloader-consorting rookies – Rogue Squadron!"
Everyone cheered. "Rogue Squadron! Rogue Squadron!"
"Beats Life Squadron any day," Bekme grinned.
"The flying Rogues," Vader noted. "I like the sound of that." He stood. "Sorry to win and run, but I still need to upgrade the base's protocol droids today."
"One more hand?" pleaded Ar'ya. "I'm sure I can beat you this time."
"I'd like to quit while I still have money in my pocket," Vader explained. "I owe Forenze for the sleeping pills in Ghede's caf."
"Stang!" Zev shouted, jumping to his feet. "That reminds me! I left the dye on my bunk!"
"I'll get rid of it for you," Luke volunteered, getting up.
As Vader turned toward the base's droid room, Luke headed for the barracks. When he passed Leia, she reached out and took his arm.
"What now, Commander – oh, sorry Leia."
"Why didn't you tell me you and the squadron were becoming friendly toward him?" she asked, unable to completely keep the anger from her voice.
"Leia…" he began, flustered. "Look, I've been busy… you've been busy… things have been happening…"
"Like you just HAPPENING to forget that Vader's the Alliance's worst enemy?"
"Was!" Luke defended. In a gentler tone he added, "He WAS an evil man, Leia. I won't deny it. Thousands died at his hand. But the Vader who hurt us is dead, or at least in a coma. This Vader only wants to help the Alliance, to do something to redeem himself."
"He can never undo what he did to me," she insisted, tears coming to her eyes. The barely healed scars from her torture at Vader's hands and the death of Alderaan burned anew. She hated this man. She wished he would vanish entirely…
"He can never undo what he did to me, either," Luke replied gently. "But a friend once told me that carrying a grudge is like carrying a pack of rocks. It only wears you out. I've decided to drop my load of rocks, Leia. Please, for your good as well as his, let go of yours."
She recognized General Kenobi's quote, and she smiled despite herself. Luke had loved Obi-wan as a mentor, yet he'd forgiven Vader, who had murdered the Jedi before his very eyes. Though she couldn't understand entirely why Luke would choose to do that, she could see the wisdom behind Kenobi's quote. Yet it was so hard to simply let go like that…
Her thoughts froze entirely when Vader stepped up beside Luke, holding a droid caller.
"Is everything okay, Luke? I heard shouting…" His voice trailed off as he locked eyes with Leia.
Panic began to rise in her. The last time she had looked into that steel-shrouded gaze, madness had nearly taken her. The pain, the shouting, the ragged mental agony as an unspeakable power invaded her mind…
"Vader, this is Princess Leia," Luke explained.
"A pleasure, your Highness…" began Vader, extending a hand.
"Uh, no," Luke ordered, taking Vader's wrist and pushing his hand away. "There's something I need to tell you about her… Leia!"
For Leia had gone, not daring to look back.
***
Vader listened attentively as Luke described Leia to him – his first sighting of her as a hologram, his and Han's impulsive rescue of her, her position in the Alliance, and above all the fact that she somehow held Vader accountable for her homeworld's destruction.
"Though I don't see why," he said in conclusion. "From what she told me, Tarkin gave the order, not you."
"Though I did torture her," Vader replied, shaking his head gravely. "I thought she looked familiar."
"I'd just keep your distance for now. I think she'll eventually reach a point where she can forgive you, but not anytime soon."
"That look of fright in her eyes," Vader said sadly. "I've seen that so many times since I've come here. Everyone here seems to have reason to hate me – and for crimes I can't even remember."
"Don't let it get you down. If you keep serving the Alliance, soon they'll see you're not going to hurt anyone."
"I wish I had your optimism."
"Oh, cheer up, you grouch."
***
An error would mean death.
Fett crouched in the center of the training room, one hand on his knee, the other on the floor. Before him, on either side, and behind him, four state-of-the-art dueling druids towered over him, each programmed to kill. Two of them – the one on his right and the one behind – had blasters built into each arm; the other two carried lightsabers. The scarlet light from their blades and photoreceptors glittered wickedly on their shiny durasteel bodies and Fett's battle armor.
He smiled beneath his T-slit visor. This was his favorite part of his Sith training.
As he waited for the first strike, a line from his master's lectures surfaced in his mind. /You need not see a threat to know it exists. Keep your sense open at all times./
The droid on his left struck first, bringing its blade down toward his back like a cleaver. In less time than it took to blink, Fett had his own lightsaber out and behind him, blocking the blow. The droid before him swept its blade low, trying for his throat.
/Your lightsaber and the Force are mighty weapons, but on occasion even they are not enough. Use all weapons at your disposal./
Keeping his saber aloft with his right hand, he extended his left and used the Force to activate his flamethrower. Bright orange waves of fire caressed the droid's body, and it broke off its attack and backed away as its survival programming overrode its battle programming to avoid charred circuits.
/If there are multiple foes, remember – a foe can also be a weapon for you to wield. Let one opponent's fatal strike bring down another enemy./
The droid on his right fired several shots, and Fett extended his hand, drawing on the Force to block and redirect the bolts. The droid behind him collapsed, a crater carved in its chest by the laser fire.
The left droid lifted its blade and assumed an offensive stance. Fett leaped to his feet to meet its second blow. Then the droid he had burned joined in the fray. Sparks and ozone filled the air, and pulses of scarlet light flashed through the chamber like blood-red lightning.
At last, bored with the game, he took a Force-assisted leap in the air. The droids slashed futilely over their heads.
/Unleash your anger. Channel it. Use it as a devastating weapon against your foe./
Drawing on all his anger, all his pain, all his hatred, Fett landed with the force of a meteorite, the heels of his boots landing squarely in the photoreceptors of the burned droid. There was a metallic crunch as the blow shattered vital components, and it buckled. Before his boots could touch the floor he brought the saber around to catch the second droid. The crimson blade exploded through the droid at shoulder level, and fragmented metal and acrid smoke filled the air as it, too, hit the floor with a clatter of useless parts.
The last droid pumped fire at him in earnest. His saber whirled in every direction as he knocked the bolts aside as casually as if they were beep-balls.
/Don't disdain old tricks. They work./
Fett extended a tentacle of the Force, grabbing the droid. Its limbs flailed as he jerked it toward him, and its photoreceptors went dark as he impaled it on his weapon. A Jedi might not fall for this trick, he thought, but then, not all the Alliance traitors were Jedi.
At last he deactivated his weapon and looked around, his chest heaving with exertion. He hadn't slept in weeks. The first thing Palpatine had taught him was how to use the Force to compensate for sleep and food, that he might free up more time for intensive, grueling training in the dark side of the Force. Normally a Sith Master would spend years training an apprentice, but times were desperate, and a second Sith was needed as quickly as possible to eradicate the threat of the Rebellion before it could leave Yavin.
Fett smiled savagely. It would be a pleasure to help the Emperor crush the Jedi. After they had betrayed and murdered his father, they deserved no mercy. And he would show them none.
The air before him shimmered, and he fell to his knees as a holo of his master coalesced at the front of the room.
"You have completed the lesson?"
"Yes, my master."
"Report to my quarters. You have much to learn yet, young one."