Yes! I have finally come up with chapter eleven, which is quite the undertaking, this being exam month at school and all.

Shoutouts:

Falcona and Luke: X as in Roman numeral, you mean? Gosh, thanks! So, how many of you Skywolves have read this thing now?

Kynstar: Yes, the slapping…I thought it would be good for me to incorporate some…er…friction between H&L. After all, opposites attract, but not without rubbing each other the wrong way occasionally. ;)

NathanPostmark: …Z…Z… (stutters) Um…yeah, that's…WHOA!! Are you sure? You really can't think of any criticism? I'll take that as a genuine compliment then…(grins) Zahn is my hero.

Jedi from Rohan: The hasty feeling might have been because it wasn't written in haste at all…I think that deserves an explanation. When I get good ideas, the ones that people such as yourself like, I really do write hastily, before the idea leaves me and the accursed Writer's Block sets in, which was what happened last chapter. Also, you'll notice that many professional published books have very little, if sometimes no narrative description in the dialogue parts. I let my characters create descriptions of their own, etc. etc. And maybe you were harder on me because you know me…(laughs) Good! I didn't want to get all tens, anyway.

Okay, people, since I didn't really get so many ratings last time around, I'm going to ask all those who haven't, or just didn't review for last chappie, to give me a rating out of 10 for this fic. Thanks, and on to the next chapter.

Of Cabbages and Kings

"Skywalker, Skywalker, Skywalker, Skywalker, Skywalker…" The ceaseless voice, more like a grating unintelligent noise, compounded inside his skull. The empty yellow eyes wanted to swallow him alive, to draw him into their festering sockets as the voice repeated in a torturous monotone: "Skywalker, Skywalker, Skywalker, Skywalker…"

A clawlike pair of hands closed in around his throat, fingers death-cold and clammy—

He sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat and shivering like a furless newborn weo-pup. Somehow the blanket he'd brought to his pilot's seat had twisted itself about his neck twice; he grappled with it, applying shaking hands to the task.

I feel cold…

Somehow it didn't matter anymore how cunning this evil was. The base fact that it was evil alone was enough to send his mind writhing away as if it had been burned by the touch.

…Death.

Dagobah reeked of death, he remembered. He began shivering more vigorously, taking the blanket around his back and shoulders to clutch the ends together in front of him. "B-Ben," he whispered. "I wish you were here…"

The cave. Remember your failure at the cave.

He didn't want to. He wanted to push the memory to the farthest corner of his mind and leave it to shrivel into insignificance. However, there was also a certain wisdom in keeping that memory alive. It was a brutal but effective deterrent for him, an added insurance against a fall to the dark side.

But the horrific grating voice still echoed within, taunting him, pulling him to the brink of its own insanity with his own name as if attempting to desecrate his lineage.

It's been working okay so far, Luke thought bitterly, remembering Bespin. Vader was another reason he'd returned to Dagobah. He already knew the truth; now he wished to act on it, to receive a wise Master's counsel so he wouldn't go off and do something incredibly stupid again.

What was that saying? Luke tried to remember. Oh, right: once burned, twice shy. Well, I've been cauterized, he thought wryly, glancing down at his cybernetic right hand. I guess that would make me think things thrice over.

A loud thud coming from the bunks made him start; he glanced back for a moment.

Mara appeared around the corner, her expression lacking most of its usual dagger-sharpness. "Remind me not to sleep in the top bunk again."

Luke winced in heartfelt sympathy. "I'll try."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, it was just a dream." He tried to brush it off, to appear unalarmed. They needed to look for Yoda; he figured the nightmare could wait. "We should start searching again."

She shook her head slowly. "I don't know. There's something here that feels wrong."

"I know. It was here when I visited last. That's not really what's bugging me." He frowned. "Last time, as I was leaving, I was able to sense him from the orbit point. We've been there for half a cycle. He's got a really strong presence; we should've felt him by now."

That familiar spark shone in her eyes, growing steadily; Mara was finally starting to wake up. Luke speculated the delay might have been caused by a blow to the head when she'd fallen out of the bunk. She came up and planted herself in the copilot's seat, gazing out at the planet's atmosphere below them. "Obviously your plan isn't working."

"Not really, no," he agreed grudgingly. Luke had been convinced he would have been able to find Yoda immediately upon arrival, but that had proven not to be the case. "Maybe we should try something else. You have any suggestions?"

Mara cast a dry look on him. "You're trying to be witty with me."

"No, I'm not."

"Shut up, Skywalker, and think. Is Yoda the sort of being that would up and leave for a short while?"

He let out a snort at her inadvertent pun. "He hasn't got anything down there in the least that resembles a starship. If he's gone, either he went with someone or he was captured…" Luke blinked and shook his head at the thought. "But that couldn't have happened."

"Couldn't it have?" she questioned rhetorically, looking out at a mass of Dagobah's roiling clouds clustered together, forming the maddened center of a violent storm. "Is there anyone besides you, Kenobi and me that knows he's alive?"

Luke sat back, avoiding the impulse to roll his eyes. "How would I know the answer to a question like that? I'm just some farmboy that popped in on him one day for a lesson or two."

"It could be, if he was captured, that they're after you," Mara offered pragmatically. "The link would be difficult in the extreme to find, even from the best information sources, but one right connection can mean the difference."

Luke bit his lip. "But he wouldn't be captured just like that. Even the Empire would have a tough time of it, assuming they would be able to find him in the first place. All he's got is a mud hut, but he might as well have a cloaked fortress."

A soft tone rang out from the communications panel.

Luke and Mara exchanged glances.

"Could that be him?" she asked.

"No, he hasn't got any communication devices there either. At least, not that I saw."

Mara nodded, and flipped on the tracing inhibitor. "If it's not him, it could be someone that wants you. I'll answer it."

Leaning forward, she depressed the button. "Identify yourself."

A gravelly chuckle emitted from the unit. "Discover me, can you not?"

"Master?" Luke sat upright.

"Find me, you will, at these coordinates. Transferring the trajectory to you, I am. An unknown ship it will be, but do not be alarmed. Friends of mine, the Aing-Tii are."

"Okay…" Trying to collect his wits, Luke watched the navicomputer screen display the projection. "We'll be there shortly."

"Hmm. Much we have to discuss, I feel. With your friend, as well." With that, the transmission ended.

Mara lifted an eyebrow, partly at the twisted syntax. "He's friends with the Aing-Tii?"

Luke shrugged. "I've never heard of them before. Must be a group of some kind. Why? Do you know them?"

"No one knows them." She shook her head. "At least, that's what's generally assumed. They're a clandestine organization of monks that live somewhere in the Kathol Sector, I believe. Except for that, and their different patterns of technology, not much is known about them, or their species, which no one cared to mention to me."

Luke gazed poignantly out the window once more, his crystalline blue eyes shifting from the planet below to the stars light-years away. "I guess we can break orbit now."

"Did you really?"

He turned around at the voice he'd been expecting, had sensed coming all the way down the hall and through the door, with something equaling an eagerness for the confrontation.

"Did you really tell her?" Han's voice was threaded heavily with a deep cynicism, a sort of "I told you so" directed at everybody and anybody.

Obi-Wan ignored the fact that Han had walked into the tiny bedroom without so much as a knock and stood from his seat by the bed and small viewport where he'd been meditating. "Yes, I did. I told her the truth."

"It's tearing her apart," Han snapped, beyond caring what anyone would think about him and the princess. "I went in there and she was crying. She was crying. Does she strike you as the kind of person that would do that just for fun?"

Obi-Wan straightened his posture and stared at Han with an ice-cold glitter in his eyes. "This matter does not concern you."

The never-heard contemptuous tone from Obi-Wan was the absolute final straw in a pile that had been accumulating slowly ever since his last days on Hoth. Han lashed out, his fist driven by some incredible pressure within, and solidly punched the shorter man before him in the face.

The blow harder than he'd anticipated, Obi-Wan stumbled backward and fell into his chair, cupping a hand to his bleeding nose.

"I've had enough of this self-righteous Jedi attitude," Han snarled, his voice rising. "It's time you started treating people like people, and not some handy tools that you can save the galaxy with—"

"Han!" Obi-Wan rose again, wiping his nose with the handkerchief that had been lying conveniently on the small night table.

The voice backed with steel along with the fact that Kenobi had never yet used his first name stopped Han in his tracks.

The Jedi softened his expression. "I angered you deliberately to show you something, Han. Leia needed to know this, to know what she must deal with. Better for her to be prepared for something later than for it all to overwhelm her at once." He dabbed carefully at his throbbing nose again. "Your response was to punch me. Think of what she could do when angry if that was backed by a larger and darker power. I do not employ my powers lightly, Captain Solo, nor do I encourage it of anyone else."

Han absorbed this silently, and swallowed the tightness in his throat. "I'm sorry," he acknowledged bitterly. "I guess I really don't know what's going on, huh?"

Obi-Wan's face twisted slightly into contrition. "You're not the only one. There's something at work beyond the grasp of sentient psyche. Remember my teleportation?"

Han nodded once.

"I doubt I could do that again. I believe I was at the whim of the Force. If there are any tools being used, it's not by me, and it's with a true and final purpose."

The captain mulled this over. "You know, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm having a hard time convincing myself that this Force stuff is still a load of nerfshit. After what I've seen…" He shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what to think anymore. I've been feeling sort of left out of it, you know?"

"I apologize." Obi-Wan winced and sat back down, holding a hand to his nose. "There have been too many things I've instigated here. Jedi are far from perfect, as you know," he said with a wry look, "and perhaps my own battles are conflicting with what needs to be done. My abominable pride is difficult to suppress at the best of times."

Han stared down at him, realizing what that statement would have cost anyone. "Well, I'm thinking sitting down and nursing your bloody nose while admitting your pride is a pretty good effort at humility."

Obi-Wan's mouth quirked into a smile. "I've envied you, you know that?"

Han's look of mild surprise magnified ten-fold. "What?"

"I've wished sometimes that I could be totally Force-blind, living on luck and my wits instead of relying on grounded thought and humorless serenity. I've wanted, now and then, to live on the other side of the law, just to see what it would be like." He looked out the viewport, and Han thought he heard a slight wisp of misery in the quiet voice. "I almost never wanted to be even the smallest part of the grand scheme of things. Kessel take responsibility; Force knows I've had to cope with it for most of my life. How many times I only wanted to disappear, to dissolve into a careless galaxy."

"Then what kept you with it all?" Han shook his head. "With the Jedi, with looking after Luke and Leia all those years?"

Obi-Wan's melancholy smile changed into just a smile, at its purest form. "Luke and Leia, and the memory of a dear friend."

Han paused in thought, seeing things were turning out differently than he'd previously supposed. "Well, I guess now's as good a time as ever to leave, then."

"Leave?" repeated Obi-Wan, feeling that Han was talking about more than simply exiting the room. "For where?"

The captain jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I've got a debt to pay off. Jabba the Hutt's been breathing down my neck for too long now, and I've got the money, so I'll be off to Tatooine for a while to straighten things out. I wasn't going to leave before because of Leia, but she's got you, so I guess I'll be going." He turned to leave.

"Wait," interjected Obi-Wan, and Han paused to listen. "I won't stop you from going, but consider that Leia needs you more than anyone else right now."

Han turned to regard the Jedi for a moment, then grinned. "What with the bounty hunters and all, this is the first time I've ever been able to say it's nice to be a wanted man."

He had been part of the Jedi Order. He had been the commander of a task force in the Clone Wars. He had gone into and come out of conditions and repercussions that might have killed a lesser man. He had known love, hate, friendship, and betrayal. He had a nearly unobstructed connection to the Force and had learned to use it well, to the point of it becoming a reflex. He had discovered new and different ways to use his powers. He was second only to the ultimate driving power behind the Empire. He was the Chosen One.

Yet still something was missing, some part of his soul and desire left unfulfilled, after all these years spent in pursuit of destiny. It felt, now, like an unspeakably massive waste of time, a depressing thought even for the lord of the Sith. This oppressive feeling had a major influence upon his currently surreptitious decision, one he'd been secretly contemplating for years, weighing the possibilities.

And now all these thoughts, feelings, and potentials rushed in upon him while he stood on the bridge of the Executor, gauging the stars with hidden eyes. "Admiral Piett."

The man was beside him instantly. "Yes, my lord?"

Vader turned solemnly to look down upon his subordinate. "Tell me, Admiral, who I am," he said.

Piett blinked, obviously confused. "You are Lord Vader, second-in-command of the Empire, my lord."

"That is incorrect." Vader had the satisfaction of seeing Piett's eyes widen and lips part in astonishment. "I wish to set this ship on a new vector."

"But…but my lord…" Piett stammered in bafflement. "The Emperor gave his direct orders for the Executor to arrive in orbit above Imperial Center."

Vader's stare looked baleful, even impeded by the mask. "I command this ship, Admiral, and I am giving you a direct order. The Executor and her entire crew are officially seceding from the Empire."

Piett remembered from a long time ago, that on the Executor, an officer (considered expendable by his senior officers) was placed close at hand by the rest of the bridge crew. This officer had two tasks; head of communications, and a special responsibility created for one sole purpose. At the mention of desertion from any rank of command above him, he was assigned to receive the news with good cheer. The creators of this failsafe had decided that the reaction of the supposed deserter would inform them if the announcement was a test of Imperial loyalty, or if it was actually true.

So it was that a certain lieutenant began to grin like an idiot.

And even though that lieutenant was faced away from Vader, the Sith lord pointed directly at him. "You will need no tests, Admiral. I am genuine in my orders. Now carry them out if you suppose you are a part of the Imperial Secession."

Piett couldn't help a bemused half-smile, and a thrilling giddiness rushed through him. They were breaking away from the Empire. He no longer had to be underneath the tyrant that called himself Emperor. What an opportunity… "Yes…yes, my lord. As you wish."

"Jorj."

He stopped humming softly to himself, but didn't turn from his vigil at the expansive viewport.

The dulcet voice came again, insistent. "Jorj. You are wanted in the antechamber."

Jorj Car'das fumbled for the control stick, making his hoverchair slowly rotate to look at the speaker.

Heray's feathery crest shifted in a lazy ripple from burnt orange to a lustrous green as he cocked his head to a profile to peer from one large black eye. "Come, Jorj. The Master wishes to speak with you."

Car'das leaned back in the chair, resting two fingers on the control stick to follow after Heray's curious gait. "Right behind you."

The Grand Hall never failed to impress Car'das; he found it difficult not to look up in admiration at the extraordinary architecture that wove itself above and around him, appearing to be half-living with a stunning crystalline quality to the numerous arches and apertures to various other areas of the massive ship, which was itself a work of art on a magnificent scale. Sounds were directed through sinuous twists and nearly converted to flute-like notes; as Heray and Car'das passed through the Hall the faint residual music reached their ears in light mellifluous tones. Up each willowy pillar rose etchings of stylized images and glyphs that appeared exotically alien to human inspection.

At the very end of the Grand Hall, the ceiling, which had already risen dozens of meters above Car'das's head, rose higher in the curve of a vast dome that possessed the same aesthetic qualities to the eyes and ears as did the Hall. A full half of the circular wall was a viewport of a size seldom seen, lending an enhanced open quality to the antechamber that put all tendencies toward claustrophobia to flight. Car'das had seen much of the galaxy by now, being in his mid-seventies, but he'd never before been surrounded by such resplendency.

Master Yoda's tiny form was dwarfed unimaginably by the antechamber, making him appear to be no more than a tiny speck of being as Car'das and Heray approached, though his presence might have filled the room as he turned around at their entrance.

Car'das's Fosh escort bowed and lightly bounded away on his reverse-jointed legs. Jorj found the species as fascinating as their architectural wonders, but turned his attention to Yoda.

"Leaving soon, I will be." The gravelly voice reflected off the walls, but instead of echoing across the room was directed upward to its metamorphosis into music near the lofty ceiling.

Car'das manipulated his hoverchair closer until he was only a meter away from the diminutive Jedi Master. "I thought you weren't yet finished here."

"Many things to be done elsewhere, I have. Told you, I did, of the instruction which I must devote my energy to. Coming here he is, for a little time, then leave we must." Yoda gazed sharply up at him. "Disappointed, are you?"

"A little," Car'das admitted. "I was hoping you'd stay around for another while. There are still a lot of things I'd like to find out."

"With the Aing-Tii, you are," Yoda said reprovingly. "Many things they know."

"But in a different way." Car'das tried to shift his seat without letting any pain flare up in his legs. "You've got a different perspective on how the Force works, and I'm still curious."

"And enjoy watching the debate, you did." The Jedi's tone made it difficult to know if he was scolding or humorously remarking upon an event.

"Of course." Car'das smiled. "It was a fascinating spectacle, seeing the chieftain of the Aing-Tii face off against a nine hundred-year-old Jedi Master. I learned much in just that hour."

Yoda tapped the point of his gimer stick against the luminous floor thoughtfully. "Much to learn, you still have. And much to teach have the Aing-Tii. Wasted here, your time will not be."

Car'das could not resist a heavy sigh. "This sentient that's coming to you; his timing isn't exactly auspicious, is it? I can tell you were planning to stay longer."

"A diverging from one path I saw, is this. But no less real is it because of that. Rest on one future, I must never, or thoughtlessly meddle in destiny I will. A greater danger to those around me, there is not."

"Except if you turned to the dark side," Car'das thought to point out.

Yoda blinked owlishly. "One and the same, they are. To control another's life, to harness it within my own grasp, to dictate their every action and ensure a certain fate; manipulative power, that is. Dark power."

"And that's why you gave me the choice of what to do after Dagobah."

"Be you Jedi or smuggler, find your own way you must." Yoda's hooded gaze remained on Car'das. "Docking, my student soon will be, and then leave you I must."

"Can I not meet him, at least?" Car'das asked him. "You've made it sound all very interesting."

"Factor into this, interest does not. Safeguard his teaching, I must, for the sake of all we aspire. Keep your knowledge of this matter secret, you must also."

"Or you'd have to kill me," joked Car'das.

Yoda didn't smile, didn't move a muscle on his face, but Car'das thought he detected a twinkle of humor in the wizened little creature's eye.

"Very well," Car'das said at last, beginning to rotate his hoverchair. "Take care, Master."

"May the Force be with you," the gravelly voice followed as he slowly accelerated down the Grand Hall.

The sight that confronted Luke and Mara upon their return to realspace was enough to take the breath out of any sentient with lungs.

There were literally thousands of ships before them, studding the vacuum at nearly regular intervals. The oblong starships radiated at every possible point from the center of the giant sphere they had made, dozens of kilometers in diameter. Each one faced out towards the stars, away from the center, away from the main ship, keeping watch over their territory as a gigantic bristling ball. Many starships held ground inside the established perimeter, making it look nearly like a messy array around their object of defense, except for the eerie alignment.

"Well," murmured Luke, finding his voice, "here goes nothing. I'll see how close I can get before they want to establish a connection."

Mara gazed silently out the viewport as Luke piloted the little ship forward. The details of the alien starships became clearer and more precise as they approached. The hull plates looked to have been patched on randomly, but formed a definite shape nevertheless. Strange markings were etched all over the outer hull, making the entire thing look like a hieroglyphical history book. Conical shapes protruded from the ship haphazardly; for all its asymmetry, the ship might have been half alive.

The comm unit crackled to life, and a melodious alto voice warbled out. "Friends of Jedi, you are permitted clearance to the Homeship. A guide to the docking bay is being transferred to your onboard computer."

Luke ordered the computer to accept the route, and looked to Mara. "I hope we're not getting into anything nasty."

She leaned back in her seat and remarked wryly, "Oh, that's comforting. You don't even know what to expect? I thought you knew this Yoda."

"Not that well, believe me. I was only on Dagobah for a few days, really, though it seemed a lot longer then."

Mara shook her head. "Did you recognize that voice as belonging to any of the species you know?"

"It was unfamiliar," Luke admitted, reading the directions. "Nothing I've heard before. And I've heard a lot, really. Lots of different creatures passed through Mos Eisley and Anchorhead back home." He pressed the ship forward again, through the blockade shell towards the centerpoint of the sphere. "I really have no idea what these people are…but I guess we'll find out."

"In due time," Mara murmured.

The sight of the Homeship was even more striking than that of the battleships. It housed faerie-like architecture, the structure seeming delicate but more than likely built of something extremely resilient.

"It's beautiful," Luke said quietly. "Looks like we're landing between those two pillars there."

Their ship pulled through the gap, passing by the sentinel pillars that gleamed with a lucid quality, sending off a faint tinge of greenish light to highlight the clean-edged corners. The docking bay itself was expansive and wonderfully made; Luke felt somewhat embarrassed at seemingly marring it with the comparatively blockish industrial transport they had taken, clumsy and utilitarian as it looked, though it was one of the most graceful armed personal transports in the Rebellion's fleet.

"All right," Mara said, rising from her seat, feeling none of the self-conscious apprehensions Luke had. "Let's get this over with."

Quick, light strides carried the bundle of feathers called Heray down the hall at a running pace for a human. He was a messenger, and a greeter. Heray's clawed feet moved him forward with short bursts of energy, small for even a Fosh, though one of the fastest runners among the Aing-Tii.

Life-giving oxygen was not in short supply aboard the Homeship, nor any of the other battleships. It flooded into Heray's lungs, coursed through his veins, fed his never-satiated muscles as he sprinted forward light as one of his many feathers.

The top array, his crest, shifted into a new spectrum of color as he bounded from the Grand Hall to a side passage. The music had changed; he loved this hallway especially for that reason. This one had the tendency to lend an eerie quality to the diaphanous notes that bounded from the ceiling, making him shiver delightfully in appreciation.

One beauty cannot be traded for another, he thought to himself, comparing the faerie music of the Grand Hall to the spectral tones of the lesser corridor that led to a few of the docking bays as he often did. To Heray they were both too splendid to replace one another.

As he rounded the corner he noted, first, the pair of humans looking at their surroundings in wonder, and then directing the same look to him when his entry caught their eye, though their astonished curiosity was quickly replaced with what was probably their usual greeting expressions.

"Welcome, friends of Jedi," Heray chirped sunnily, slowing his sprint to a trot, then coming to a halt before them. Confound it, how did these humans ever come to grow so high? He looked up at them and shifted his crest to the hospitality color, somewhere between blue and green.

Evidently these humans could not read crest signals; the male shifted his weight from one foot to the other before giving a slightly uncertain bow. "I'm Luke Skywalker, and this is Mara Jade."

"Here to see Master Yoda." Heray tilted his head to the side, allowing his feathers to shift to an iridescent silver. "If you would follow me."

Every time he looked out the viewport, a veritable swarm of TIEs raced past. Every time he consulted the scanners, more carriers, more Interceptors, more Star Destroyers made their arrival.

It was fascinating how people reacted once they were given options on how to live their lives.

At this rate, Vader was tempted to begin to make plans for the conquest of Imperial Center. The sight of the sheer numbers before him was tantalizing, but only that. He knew such an offensive was doomed to failure at the moment. True victory would not be achieved in pitting soldier against soldier; the only thing really pivotal was the death and complete destruction of the man who called himself emperor, the controlling tyrant.

Why, wondered Vader, is it always concerning control? The issue was everywhere. And surprisingly, he didn't find the position of absolute command as exhilarating as he'd imagined it to be. Millions of men were gathering, assembling before him, putting themselves willingly under his authority. It made sense, after all; they were loyal Imperials, readily discarding the idea of joining any sort of Rebellion but festering under Palpatine's narcissistic dominant reign. With Darth Vader now presented as an option, though he had the blood of many an Imperial officer upon his black gloved hands, it seemed good a choice as any. Vader was no tactical idiot, to be sure; he'd learned many a thing first-hand and the hard way during the Clone Wars, and had caught on quickly to the general operation of things. He was good at inventing skillful maneuvers, both on a personal combat level and on a grand scale. Victory, or at least a better life for however much longer it lasted, was an increasing possibility under the lord of the Sith.

Darth Vader, too, was enjoying the feeling of freedom, of having cut off his master's leash, to let it be bound upon some other poor creature. Now was his time to put things the way he'd always thought they should operate.

"My lord…" Piett came up to him, holding loosely a small datapad. "We have a rough tally of the numbers; it will need revising in the near future but it's good enough to operate on now."

"Very good, Admiral. How many ships?"

"Each with a full complement of lighter ships in their hold, we have approximately four thousand, five hundred fifty-three…I mean, fifty-four Star Destroyers," Piett corrected as he saw another emerge from hyperspace. "Three hundred twelve Interceptors, and it's been reported that more bulk cruisers have arrived; the tally for those will take a moment longer."

"There have been speculations on a new form of government, no doubt," Vader mused.

"Yes, my lord, there have been some questions," Piett confirmed, sounding curious himself.

"Arrange for a meeting room. There will be a High Council, a seat for each representative of a collection of ships. We will sort out the details," said Vader, "when we come to them. There is enough organization to be taken care of at the moment."