Summary:
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life.
Chapter 12
Choices
Darth Vader spent the last hour in hyperspace before he reached the smuggler's moon rummaging through his meager possessions for something inconspicuous to wear. It was bad enough that he was flying a Lambda class shuttle; that particular model of Imperial ships had found its way into the private market years ago. But he certainly could not run around on a moon controlled by the Hutts wearing an Imperial uniform. That would be asking for trouble. The Hutts might not care too much about the Empire, but an obvious deserter could not hope for a warm welcome anywhere.
Unfortunately, all he had was his old spare suit and the new uniforms. Not much choice there. Maybe he should cut the sleeves off one of the jackets? But no, it would still look like an Imperial uniform with the sleeves cut off.
Frustrated, Vader dumped the contents of his bag on the main cabin's floor and looked through them again. Still nothing.
Well, the clothes situation could not be helped before he reached Nar Shaddaa. The Executor was a big ship, but she didn't exactly have any shopping malls. And quartermaster's would have been pretty surprised if he had asked for civilian clothes. He picked up a jacket and stuffed it back into the bag with a sigh. His gaze fell on one of the sleeveless undershirts. It was lying on top of his suit. Mmhh.. this might be a possibility. Vader quickly changed into the tight black leather pants and white cotton undershirt and went to check his appearance in the fresher unit's mirror. A wide grin appeared on his face. Perfect! He looked like a smuggler in this get-up. His scars only added to the illusion. Of course, the shirt left much of his unnaturally pale skin exposed, but that would be no problem. Many long-time spacers were pale. People would simply assume that he had not spent much time on-planet for years.
Admiral Piett checked his chronometer for the fifth time in as many minutes. 14:00 hours was drawing nearer, and with it the most important speech of his career. To say that the Admiral was nervous would be an understatement. It was more a full-blown case of stage fright. Too much depended on what he said and how he said it. His life depended on it - literally!
General Veers watched his friend with a mixture of worry and amusement. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he asked.
Piett smiled thinly. "You still believe I have lost my mind, Max?"
Veers was spared an answer as an aide entered the small waiting room they were in.
"Sir, the PA system has been set up, audio and visual", he announced.
Piett acknowledged him with a nod. Taking deep breaths, he tried to calm himself.
"It's time", Veers murmured.
"Are your security teams prepared?" Piett asked.
The General nodded. "I used everybody I can trust, Tomas. I don't know if it will be enough, though."
The main mess hall was the largest single room on board the Executor, and yet it could hold only a small portion of the crew at any given time. Having only one mess hall in a ship that had an overall length of more than sixteen kilometers, and a crew of more than two hundred fifty thousand, would be a logistical impossibility. Therefore, the main mess hall was only one of several, though the largest, and like the others, doubled as a fully equipped auditorium. Now it was packed to capacity.
Admiral Piett stepped up to the podium and let his gaze sweep over the assembled crew members. His nervousness evaporated like mist under the sun.
"Gentlemen", he began, "this morning, Lord Vader has left the ship." Hidden microphones picked up and amplified Piett's voice, carrying it to every crewman and officer on board. Piett waited until the shocked murmurs had died down before continuing: "Some of you may know something of what has transpired in the last days. Some of you may have heard rumors. I have called this meeting to give you the truth."
"Several days ago, Lord Vader was injured during a test flight with one of the new TIE Avengers. His injuries were not severe, but medical examination revealed that, without his knowledge or consent, Lord Vader has been implanted with transmitters that made it impossible for him to breathe unassisted."
This time, Piett had to wait longer until the murmurs subsided.
"Dr. Hanley removed the transmitters, and Lord Vader is now as healthy as any of you or I. However..." Piett raised his voice somewhat to be heard over the renewed commotion. "However, Lord Vader has been in this condition for more than twenty years. More than half his life. And it was done to him deliberately. It was done to one of the highest ranking and most influential men in the Empire."
Piett paused again, letting his gaze sweep over the assembled men again. He was coming to the most crucial part of his speech.
"We have proof that the Emperor himself ordered the transmitters implanted."
One could have heard a needle drop in the silence that followed Piett's words. Inwardly, the Admiral heaved a sigh of relief. He got his men to listen to him; so far, no-one had started shooting at him. He hoped it would last.
"For many years, I have served the Emperor. I was a loyal officer because I believed that Emperor Palpatine's reign is just and fair. After what I have learned in the past few days, I cannot believe that anymore."
Piett slowly lifted his hands to his chest and removed the rank plaque from the front of his uniform.
"Effective immediately, I resign my commission." With that, he broke the plaque in half and let the pieces drop to the floor.
Piett took a step back and nodded to Veers, who stepped up to take his place at the podium.
"Admiral Piett and I are more often in agreement than not. In this case, we are completely in agreement", he said, and to the astonishment of his troops, also removed his rank plaque and destroyed it.
Joining Veers at the podium, Piett spoke again: "Before he left, Lord Vader recorded a message for General Veers and myself. We both feel that you should see it."
Veers signaled a technician to play the holo cube Vader had left in Piett's quarters. Vader's image appeared on every screen on board, repeating the words Piett and Veers had already heard. When the message had ended, Piett took the stand again.
"Gentlemen, you have heard Lord Vader's message. You know his predictions have a habit of coming true. I intend to prove him wrong this time."
There was movement in the auditorium; somebody was trying to get closer to the front.
"I am taking this ship to the Rebel Alliance, and I am inviting you to join me and General Veers in this. Those of you who do not wish to come with us, for whatever reasons, will be allowed to leave in peace. You have thirty hours to decide. At 20:00 hours tomorrow evening, we will meet up with other ships of the sector fleet. All personnel who stay on board after this time will be considered traitors and criminals by the current government. I might add that I consider Lord Vader's treatment by our government criminal. Thank you, gentlemen."
With a bow, Piett stepped down again when a laser bolt whizzed past his ear.
"Traitor!" somebody yelled.
"Down!" Veers shouted, tackling Piett and pushing the Admiral out of harm's way. Then, all hell broke lose.
"Greetings, exalted one. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and friend of Captain Solo. I know that you are powerful, mighty Jabba, and that your anger with Solo must be equally powerful. I seek an audience with your greatness to bargain for Solo's life. With your wisdom, I'm sure that we can work out an arrangement which would be mutually beneficial and allow us to avoid any unpleasant confrontation. As a token of my goodwill, I present to you a gift. These two droids. Both are hardworking, and will serve you well."
On Luke's subtle signal, Leia turned off R2-D2's recorder.
"What if he goes with it?" she asked. Luke smiled at her.
"Trust me, Leia, he will not even consider it. Jabba will refuse any offer for Han's freedom, especially when it comes with a subtle threat. He is a gangster, not a diplomat. Freeing Han now, after he didn't pay Jabba back for several years, would be seen as a sign of weakness in Jabba's circles."
Leia nodded slowly. She still had her reservations about Luke's plan. It seemed too complicated, and parts of it required too many of them to fall into Jabba's hands before everything could come together and they could rescue Han. There was no way they could be sure that everybody would be at the right place in the right time except what Luke's growing Force powers told him. Still, it was their best chance to save Han, and that was good enough for Leia. It had to be.
R2 chattered excitedly. The little droid seemed to looking forward to his part. Luke patted his domed head affectionately.
"I know you and 3PO will be doing fine, R2", he said. "Now let's see if 3PO has finished reprogramming the vaporizer, and then you two can be on your way to Jabba's palace.
Nal Hutta was riding deep in the sky like a giant glittering jewel when Darth Vader landed his stolen shuttle in a docking bay on Nar Shaddaa's night side.
The Dark Lord had little trouble persuading a bored customs and immigration officer that his papers were all in order. Thank the Force for weak-minded bureaucrats! After that, he returned to his ship to catch up on some sleep. It had been a long day for him already, and there was no point in trying to shop for everything he needed in the middle of the local night.
Yawning, Vader settled into the pilot's seat, tilted it back as far as it would go, and propped his feet up on the console. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that somebody should have included beds in the shuttle's design.
"The situation is under control", Captain Durreen reported over the commlink. He had surprised Piett by being one of the first officers to sever their ties to the Empire; Piett had expected the Captain to be among those still loyal to Emperor Palpatine.
Immediately after his announcement, the Admiral had found himself being the target of several trigger-happy loyalists and was now in sickbay, nursing an ugly burn on his left arm.
"If that's what you call control, I don't want to see what you call chaos", Dr. Hanley grumbled and finished dressing Piett's wound with a bacta pack. "More than a hundred men dead, four hundred injured, and of those, about thirty aren't going to make it."
"We are at war, Doctor", Piett reminded him. "It could have been worse. I estimated a much higher number of casualties."
"You estimated?" Hanley inquired in a cold voice. "Tell me, Admiral, did you estimate that an eighteen year old boy would be killed today?" He glared at Piett. "Did you estimate how many parents would lose their sons today, because of your actions? How many children lose their fathers?"
Piett slid off the examination table and regarded the doctor calmly. "That is part of my job, doctor", he said. "I may not like it any more than you do, but I accepted it when I became an officer." He turned to leave.
"Then how can you sleep at night?" Hanley called after him.
"Actually, I expect to sleep well tonight. Because I know I made the right decision", Piett answered and left Hanley to deal with the aftermath. It was a lie. He knew the faces of the people he had killed today would haunt him tonight. And he had killed them, as surely as if he had pulled the trigger himself.
Darth Vader woke up with a crick in his neck. Note to self, he thought, you're too old to sleep in the pilot's seat. Next time, steal a ship that has proper cabins with bunks in it.
He stretched, trying to work out the kinks in his muscles, and mentally went through the list of things he needed to acquire. Cash first. Then clothes. Something to replace the brittle leather strap that held the Japor snippet. Sun tan lotion. He would need the highest UV protection factor he could find. Rations, a couple canteens, a few electronic parts. The latter to modify his life support suit. He would have time to work on it during his flight to his next destination.
Humming an old tune under his breath, Vader locked the shuttle and set out for the port town to do his shopping.
Vader expertly manipulated the bank droid into giving him access to one of his accounts without the proper chip card. He did not dare withdraw a large sum all in one, so he limited the first withdrawal to two hundred credits, requesting a replacement chip card at the same time. It was issued to him immediately. After that, he used the Force to erase the droid's memory of the last half hour. At the next bank, the Sith did not need to resort to such tactics. Using the chip card, he added another five thousand credits to the cash he was carrying, stuffing the credit chips into a small bag he had bought from part of the first withdrawal. A third bank yielded another eight thousand.
Public transport brought him to a shopping district a few kilometers from the space port. He guessed that he would have at least two days before news of the access to his accounts reached Coruscant; more than enough time for him to buy all he needed and be a good distance from the planet.
Four and a half frustrating hours and seventeen shops later, Darth Vader's mood was not so good anymore. He had tried on what seemed like an endless selection of shirts, jackets, cloaks, and pants, and still had not found anything that fit him. Sleeves tended to end somewhere between his elbows and wrists. Shoulder seams abraded the skin between neck and shoulder. Trouser legs made him look like a refugee from a flood disaster area. Did nobody on this Force-forsaken moon produce clothes for taller than average people? Vader asked himself as he entered the eighteenth shop. The shopkeeper, a disgustingly obese human, homed in on him immediately.
"Chowbasa, chowbasa", the man panted in Hutteese, waddling towards Vader with outstretched arms. (Welcome, welcome)
Vader answered in the same language: "Greetings to you also. I'm looking for some clothes."
"Ah, you are in the right place, my friend. Here at Fat Bino's, we cater to those individuals lucky enough not to be average. Whether you're small or tall, Fat Bino has the gear for you to wear."
Vader could not help but smile at the man's bad rhymes.
"Let me see what you've got in my size", he said. This time, he was not disappointed. Fat Bino was true to his claims, and soon Darth Vader was the new owner of two new pairs of pants, several shirts, and a hooded cloak.
"You know any jewelers in the vicinity?" he asked when he paid for his purchases. Bino's eyes grew wide as he saw the amount of cash Vader was carrying.
"Yes, yes", the shop keeper answered quickly. "My cousin Byron, just down the street. Tell him I sent you, and he'll make you a good deal."
"Thank you, I will." With that, Vader picked up his new clothes and left.
No sooner had the door closed behind him when Fat Bino made his way to his comm unit with a speed that belied his mass.
"Vinnie? I just had a customer here that might be of interest to you and your boys. Tall human male, has a lot of scars, and carries a lot of cash and no blaster. I sent him to Byron." He listened to the man at the other end of the line for a few moments. "Yes, I'm sure, no blaster", he repeated. "This will be as easy as taking candy from a baby. You just make sure I get my proper share, you hear me, Vinnie?"
To be continued