Summary:
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life.
Chapter One
22 years later, on board the Executor
Darth Vader entered the bridge with measured steps, as he did every morning. Few crew members still raised their heads as the Sithlord went past them. They used to, only to avert their eyes again in fear. They used to, before Bespin. Vader had grown milder since the day he had confronted Luke. That he had almost lost his son - by his own doing! - had changed him. He had become quieter. More thoughtful. He used to act first, and think later. Too often he had his anger allowed to lead him, with disastrous results. Not anymore.
Vader stepped close to Admiral Piett, who was just signing the last watches reports.
"Good morning, Lord Vader."
Vader returned Piett's greeting with a nod. "Any news, Admiral?"
"No reports on the rebellion or Skywalker, Mylord. But the first ten TIE Avenger were delivered by transport ship last night."
"Excellent", Vader rumbled. "Have one of the fighters readied. I will make the first test flight myself."
"Already done, Sir."
Vader smiled behind his mask. "You know me too well, Admiral", he observed, turned and left the bridge. His steps were more energetic. Piett allowed himself a thin smile. Yes, he knew Lord Vader. And he admired and respected the man.
It had not always been like this. In the beginning he had feared Vader, his brutality as well as his sudden mood swings. But soon he started to rely on Vader's inspirations, and he did well with that. Vader, on the other hand, learned to rely on Piett's quiet competence, and the relationship between the two men soon grew much more relaxed than that between Vader and Ozzel had ever been.
Darth Vader strode into the main hangar. He was looking forward to trying out the new TIE Avenger. The joy he always felt when he could fly, the only freedom left for him, was doubled by the fact that these new ships were his own design. Ten of them stood on the tiles of the hangar, their hulls gleaming in the harsh light. Darth Vader regarded them with pride. They were even more beautiful than he had dreamed, sleek, deadly, the fastest and most maneuverable fighters ever built. Slowly, he stepped up to the nearest Avenger, gently laying his gloved hand on a solar panel, almost a caress. They would need a light touch on the controls, responding almost to a thought. Vader suppressed a sigh. Oh yes, he was going to enjoy flying this deadly beauty.
A young man in the coveralls of a mechanic, sporting the rank insignia of a staff sergeant, stepped up to Lord Vader and bowed reverently.
"Mylord, we have readied an Avenger for flight", he announced.
"Good", Vader acknowledged. "I will test it myself. Which one is it?"
"This one", replied the youngster, pointing at the TIE Vader had been admiring.
The Dark Lord almost chuckled. Judging by the exhausted looks of the sergeant and his team, they had prepped not one, but all ten fighters for him to choose. Such diligence was commendable.
"Good work, Sergeant. What is your name?"
"Garin, Mylord. Torb Garin."
Vader nodded and undid the clasp on his cloak. "Hold this", he commanded, handing Garin the heavy garment. "I will be back soon."
With catlike grace, Vader climbed upon the panel support, foregoing the use of a ladder. Throwing the top hatch open, he squeezed his massive frame through it to settle into the pilot's seat and strap in. The push of a button closed the hatch again. Another button opened a comm channel to the bridge.
"This is test flight one, requesting permission for take off", he spoke into the commlink.
"Permission granted, test flight one."
Quickly Vader went through the pre-flight check.
"All systems read green. Test flight one is ready for launch."
He fired up the engines, and, giving Garin the age-old thumbs-up sign, he lifted off and took the Avenger out of the hangar.
Vader opened the throttle just enough to gain some distance from the Executor before flying some basic maneuvers. He quickly became familiar with how the Avenger handled; she reacted to his slightest touch, just like he had designed her to.
Bolder now, Vader accelerated, taking the Avenger first into a loop and then into a tight spin. He was determined to take the fighter to its limits. His heart sang as the engines roared, the acceleration pushing him back in his seat. This was what made life bearable for him despite his handicaps. Flying ever more complicated maneuvers, he guided the Avenger in a wide arc back to the Executor when he first noticed that something was not quite right.
A slight imbalance in engine power caused the little ship to drift off to the left. Frowning behind his steel mask, Vader gripped the control stick a little harder and corrected the course. The Avenger obeyed easily enough, but it still felt sluggish and unresponsive compared to its earlier behavior. And suddenly yellow warning lights began to flash.
Vader pulled the control to neutral position, allowing the craft to drift, and opened a comm channel to the ship.
"Executor, I have a problem", he announced.
"This is Executor. Lord Vader, we have you on our screen. Your engines are overheating." The voice of the flight controller was calm, unhurried, despite the situation. Vader realized the man was trained to keep control of the situation, to calm down a panicked pilot.
"Affirmative, Executor", he answered. "You'll have to pull me in. Shutting down engine..." At this moment, the warning light on the No. 3 engine went from yellow to an angry red. Vader cursed under his breath.
"Repeat, please, test flight one. We did not copy that."
Of course not, Vader thought, realizing that he had lapsed into gutter Huttese. He reached for the controls that would shut off the overheated No. 3 engine when another engine went critical and exploded without warning. Vader would have been thrown out of the seat had it not been for the safety harness as the small craft spun wildly out of control. As it was, his chest connected hard with the control stick, shattering his respirator, knocking the breath out of him. A part of the overhead control panel broke loose, smashing into his helmet, and everything went black.
"Test flight one, please respond. Lord Vader, do you copy?"
"I have him on my scope. He's alive, but he's fading fast."
Piett heard the commotion and hurried over to flight control. "What happened?" he demanded.
"It's Lord Vader, Sir. His engines went critical."
Piett paled visibly. "Pull him in. Now!" He reached over to the commlink and threw the switch. "Stand by tractor control. Submitting coordinates." He signaled the flight controller, who punched the numbers into the board.
"Coordinates confirmed. Locking on target... flight control, the target is not stable", came the slightly distorted voice from the hangar deck's tractor control room.
"Never mind, tractor control. The pilot is still alive. Pull him in now!"
"She's spinning too fast! She'll break up before we can get a grip on her."
"Do it!" Piett shouted and broke the connection. Next he opened a channel to sickbay. "Medical team to the hangar deck", he commanded in a clipped tone.
"Sickbay here, Dr. Hanley speaking. What is the nature of the emergency?"
"What?" Piett stared at the commlink.
"We're pulling in a fighter with engine trouble. Nature and extent of injuries unknown. Pilot will need full life support", the flight controller cut in.
"Understood. I'm on my way", Dr. Hanley confirmed.
Piett cut the connection and ran out, heading for the hangar deck.
A claxon blared, alerting Torb Garin and his team just as the tractor beam pulled the crippled Avenger through the hangar's electromagnetic seal. Tractor control had worked a miracle and managed to pull the craft in in one piece. Now they were about to set it down right way up. Garin ran up to the Avenger, taking care to stay clear of the beam. "Sith", he muttered under his breath and gesticulated wildly in the direction of the tractor control room. The officer in charge noticed him and caught on immediately.
"Turn her on a panel", he commanded.
"Sir?"
"Put her down on one of her panels, or they won't be able to pull Lord Vader out."
"Yes, Sir."
The controller complied and spun the small ship before setting her on the deck. Garin wasted no time opening the hatch, while his men sprayed the overheated engines with a fire-extinguishing agent to prevent them from combusting within the ship's atmosphere. That was the greatest immediate danger; outside, in the hard vacuum of space, there was no oxygen to fuel a fire. But once pulled inside the atmosphere on board a larger ship, pilots already thought to be safe had died horribly when the plastics built into their ships went up in flames.
Smoke poured from the fighter's cockpit, and Garin coughed, blindly reaching in to release the safety harness. Lord Vader's seemingly lifeless body hung partially out of the seat; Garin managed to free him and grab his shoulders. He started to pull the man out, swearing as he did so.
"I could use a little help here", he grunted. Kenny, the most junior member of his team, dropped his fire extinguisher and hurried to assist him. Together they pulled Darth Vader out and carried him a safe distance from the Avenger before laying him on the deck. Garin wiped the sweat from his brow. Where was the medical team?
Kenny's voice cut into his thought: "He's not breathing."
To be continued...