Summary:
An accident reveals an old deception, and Darth Vader must make a decision that will change not only his life.
Chapter 13
Playing Games
Following Fat Bino's directions, Darth Vader quickly found Byron's, a small jeweler's shop that on the outside looked more like a pawn shop. The window displays were cluttered with all kinds of merchandise, from jewelry to communicators, from data readers to ancient leather-bound books. Vader entered and looked around. More strange, exotic, and some even downright impossible articles cluttered the little shop. The air held a musty smell that almost made him sneeze.
"Welcome, friend, welcome", a short man, the spitting image of Bino except that he was about a hundred pounds lighter, greeted him.
"You must be Byron." Vader returned the greeting with a nod. "Your cousin Bino recommended you."
"Ah, the dear Bino. Yes, yes, you must be one of his customers. I imagine it is not easy to find clothes for a person of your formidable built, is it not? I myself am lucky enough to be able to buy from the rack, but I appreciate the problem. And how may I be of service, my friend?"
"I'm looking for a necklace. Something simple, for a pendant."
Vader took the Japor snippet out and showed it to Byron.
"Ah, what a nice work. Tattooine, a Tusken design, if I'm any judge. You don't get to see Japor carvings of this quality often nowadays. And this one is old, about thirty years, if I'm not mistaken", Byron babbled on while examining the pendant.
"Thirty-three years, to be exact. I made it myself", Vader interjected quietly.
"But that leather strap is a disgrace", Byron went on as if he had not heard him. "You want something sturdier."
Vader nodded.
"I have just the thing for you. Pure, brushed titanium." Byron produced a thin chain of dull gray metal from one of the many drawers behind the counter, holding it out to Lord Vader. "Lightweight, doesn't tarnish, and strong enough to tie up a Wookie with it. Only forty five credits ninety."
It was a rip-off, but Darth Vader couldn't care less.
"I'll take it!"
Admiral Piett was on his way to the bridge, his injured arm in a sling, when he was being paged over the PA system. He quickly located a comm unit and answered the page.
"Piett here. What is it?"
"Admiral, sensors are picking up a fast courier ship. The passenger has hailed us. He insists on speaking to you."
Jix. The man had actually found a way to meet them almost half a day earlier than expected.
"Allow his ship to dock and send a security detail to escort him to my quarters."
"Yes, Admiral."
"And Lieutenant... make it absolutely clear that he is a guest and to be treated with the utmost courtesy. Understood?" He did not want to get on Lord Vader's bad side by slighting a man Vader himself had called his nephew.
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. And ask General Veers to join us in my quarters."
"Yes, Sir."
Piett cut the connection and hurried to return to his quarters. He was looking forward to the meeting with somewhat mixed feelings. This Jix person might be a valuable source of information, but on the other hand, Lord Vader had fired the man just before he jumped ship. Well, the first meeting would have to be short anyway, since Piett had to perform the service for the men who had been killed during the fights on board. It was the part of his duty which he hated most; this, and writing the letters to the families.
The droid landed Jix's courier ship in the Executor's main hangar and powered down the engines. Jix had had to call in a number of favors to acquire both the courier and the droid that piloted it, especially on such short notice, but he didn't mind. What he did mind was Vader's behavior. The man was apparently out of his mind, or he was in more danger than even Jix liked to admit.
Fear was something completely alien to Wrenga Jixton, but worry was not. And Jixton was worried.
The first thing he noticed when he left the courier were the scorch marks on the hangar walls, the second, that his escort was not wearing rank plaques. There was only one possible explanation for it. Mutiny. Was that why Vader had left? Had his crew rebelled against him and forced the Dark Lord to flee? If that was the case, Jix himself was as good as dead.
But somehow, he did not believe it. Wrenga Jixton was no pilot, and he had only a vague idea of the Executor's actual size, but he knew one thing: The larger the crew of a ship, the smaller was the chance for a mutiny to succeed. Something to do with group dynamics. There had been upheavals on small ships, whole crews going over to the Rebel Alliance, but no-one had ever heard about a successful mutiny on a Star Destroyer.
The escort's leader stepped up to Jixton and saluted smartly.
"Welcome aboard, Sir. I am Lieutenant Kel. Admiral Piett is awaiting you in his quarters. Please follow us", he addressed Jixton.
Jix took his time looking around before he answered the Lieutenant: "You've seen some action around here, my friend."
"I'm sorry, Sir, but I am not at liberty to discuss this. Admiral Piett will answer all your questions."
Hmmm... typical military tactic. Don't let the lower ranks leak out information, Jix thought and gave the Lieutenant a predatory smile. The younger man paled and swallowed nervously.
"Then bring me to him", Jixton purred.
His growling stomach reminded Darth Vader that breakfast had been one measly, tasteless ration bar too many hours ago. His first impulse was to go back to the shuttle for more of the same. Idiot, he chided himself. You're on a planet, you have money, go find a restaurant!
He remembered passing several cafes and restaurants while on the hunt for clothes earlier and set out in the appropriate direction when he felt someone watching him, but dismissed the feeling. Here he was, a two meter tall man in a smuggler's getup, covered with scars, and pale as death. Of course people would be watching him, even in a bad part of Nar Shaddaa, and probably thank whatever gods they prayed to when he passed them without tearing them limb from limb.
Vader soon found a restaurant and sat down at one of the outdoor tables. The weather had turned out fine, and there was no reason why he should not enjoy the sun warming him along with his meal. A pretty Twi'Lek girl took his order of nerf steak, salad, and a bottle of Correllian ale.
"Anything else, stranger?" she asked when she brought his meal, slightly brushing against him as if by accident.
Vader shook his head no. Force, is she actually flirting with me? he thought. The surprise must have registered on his face, because the girl winked and added: "If you change your mind, I'm right over at the bar."
The waitress retreated, her lekku gently swinging in a way that would have driven a male Twi'Lek mad. The rest of her anatomy was not bad to look at either, both from a Twi'Lek and Human point of view.
Vader quickly clamped down on the thought. Stuff it, Skywalker, he thought. That girl could be your daughter, if she was the same species as you. Chuckling to himself, Vader tackled his food instead.
Maximillian Veers raised his eyebrows when their guest arrived at Piett's quarters. Piett looked the man over. Tall, well muscled, long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, five day stubble on his face, Jix's appearance did not particularly impress Piett.
"Sergeant Wrenga Jixton. Now that is a surprise", Veers remarked.
Jixton gave him a wry smile. "Good to be recognized, Colonel. Or is it General now?"
"It was. I resigned my commission."
"Since you seem to know this man, Max, why don't you introduce us?" Piett interjected.
"Of course. Admiral Piett, this is Gunnery Sergeant Wrenga Jixton, former combat instructor at the Imperial Academy until he was sentenced to a life term on Kessel for murdering a superior officer."
"It was manslaughter, not murder", Jixton corrected mildly.
"So, how did you come to call Lord Vader uncle?" Piett asked.
Jixton's grin grew wider. "You could say that he sort of adopted me after I saved his neck."
"I don't recall Lord Vader ever requiring rescue on Kessel." Piett frowned.
"It wasn't on Kessel."
"You should know, Tomas, that Mr. Jixton here is also the only man ever to escape from the high security prison on Kessel", Veers explained. "He is an expert in security systems, explosives, small arms, and all forms of hand-to-hand combat."
Piett regarded the tall Correllian with new respect. The man might be scruffy looking with his long hair and unkempt appearance, but he must be capable for Max to give him such high praise. That, and he had gained Lord Vader's trust, not an easy feat to accomplish.
"So, Gentlemen", Jix said slowly, "why don't we get down to business. Let's start with you telling me what the Sith-hell is going on on this ship. And why my dear beloved uncle is missing."
"Take a seat, Mr. Jixton. This might take a while." Piett waved in the direction of the small sofa with his good arm while he took the chair. "Max, I believe we should offer our guest some brandy, if you would be so kind."
"Thank you, Admiral, but I never drink on missions", Jix declined the offer.
"Believe me, Mr. Jixton, you are going to need it."
Vader finished his steak and drank down the rest of his beer, signaling the waitress for the check. The girl immediately came over to his table.
"Anything else, stranger? Another beer, perhaps?" she asked.
Vader considered it for a moment, but shook his head. He wasn't used to it, and one bottle of the strong Correllian ale had relaxed him almost too much already; he didn't want his senses muddled by alcohol. "No, thank you", he answered. "What do I owe you?"
The girl stated a number, and Vader paid, adding a hefty tip to the sum. The young waitress regarded him with wide eyes.
"Wow", she said. "I mean... thank you. You sure you don't want anything else?"
Vader laughed at that. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm married, with children." He winked at her, picked up his purchases, and left. No need to tell her that his wife had been dead for more than twenty years and his son was older than her.
"A shame, you know", she called after him. "Men like you shouldn't be allowed to get married. You're too good to be wasted on just one woman!"
Vader shook his head, laughing. He had not considered himself attractive in more than twenty years, and here this slip of a girl practically called him a boy toy. Unbelievable!
Vader turned a corner, heading for the public transport terminal, when he again had the sensation of being watched. But this time, there was no-one eyeing him curiously, or staring at him with badly concealed fear. Darth Vader could feel the hair on his neck stand on end. Somebody was following him, and his Force senses told him that that somebody was not friendly. Changing direction, Vader stepped into an alley, ready to drop his bags and reach for his lightsaber at the first sign of trouble.
"Hello, friend", a voice behind him said in Hutteese. Vader turned around slowly. A scrawny young man with blue hair stood at the alley's entrance, flanked by a Devaronian and another Human, a particularly ugly one.
"Your bags look awfully heavy", the young man continued. "Especially the small one."
By the Force, are they trying to rob me? Vader thought, incredulous.
"Perhaps we should help you carry them, friend", the youngster offered with an oily smile
"Really", Vader stated. "Let me guess. You're a little short on cash, and you would expect me to pay for your help. Right?" His words were dripping with sarcasm.
"Well, well, he's catching on fast, right, boys?" Blue Hair looked at his companions. The two snickered and flexed their muscles. Ugly took his blaster out of its holster and casually pointed it at Vader.
"There's just one little problem, boys. I don't want your help", Vader stated.
"Pity", Blue Hair replied. "Cause, you see, that's against the rules. We get to help you, or we get to break your kneecaps. So, what's it gonna be?"
Vader looked at the three with wide eyes and slowly set his bags on the ground. "You know, son, I don't think I like your game." He straightened. "I think I like it better when I get to break your kneecaps."
Blue Hair stared at him. The guy couldn't be serious! "Reality check, man", he declared. "There's three of us, and you haven't even got a blaster!"
"True", Vader conceded. "However, I do not require a blaster. Much to inaccurate and clumsy." Drawing and igniting his lightsaber in one fluid motion, Vader advanced on the trio. Ugly shot at him, and he reflected the bolt into the alley's wall, somersaulting over Blue Hair's head. The youngster was struggling to draw his own weapon when Vader landed on his feet with catlike grace and immediately kicked out at him, sending him sprawling on the ground. The Devaronian charged Vader now, a wicked looking vibro knife in his right hand. Vader brought his lightsaber down in an arc, hacking right through the metal blade, turned to avoid the fist still holding the handle, and delivered a knee to the Devaronian's groin. The other doubled over, gasping in pain. Vader used this to punch his elbow on the Devaronians neck, and the alien went down like a ton of bricks. That left Ugly, who had not dared shoot again for fear of hitting his comrade. But now that the Devaronian was down, he raised his blaster again and trained it on Vader.
"Hold it right there", he commanded. "That was a big mistake, man, hurting my friends. We only wanted your money. But this, man, this is personal."
Vader just grinned at him. "I do not think you realize the situation", he purred.
"I'm realizin' I'm the one with the gun, man, so you better put that fancy lasersword down", Ugly yelled.
Vader focused his Force powers, and the blaster was ripped out of Ugly's fist, flying straight into Vader's outstretched hand.
"Now who has the gun?" he asked mockingly.
"Oh, shit", was all Ugly could mumble before Vader had crossed the distance between them and Ugly's chin connected hard with the butt of his own blaster. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he, too, fell to the ground, unconscious. The whole fight had taken less then a minute.
"All too easy", Vader stated, dropping the blaster on Ugly's chest. Behind him, Blue Hair stirred with a groan. Vader turned around and picked the youngster up by his collar. The boys eyes were still blurred.
"You should pick a new game, friend", Vader told him and let him drop to the ground again. Clipping his lightsaber back on his belt, Vader retrieved his bags and, adding insult to injury, threw the youngster a fifty credit coin.
"Buy yourselves a holo chess", he suggested.
Half an hour later found the trio in Fat Bino's shop, nursing their injuries.
"Easy as taking candy from a baby, he said", Blue Hair aka Vinnie repeated Bino's words in a scathing tone. "Doesn't carry a blaster, he said. Damn you, Bino, did you even think to check for a lightsaber?"
"Now, now, Vinnie, calm down. How was I to know that he was dangerous? He seemed harmless enough", Bino tried to soothe his crony.
"Harmless? I'll give you harmless!" Vinnie yelled. Bino flinched and held up his hands. "That was a fucking Jedi, you brainless idiot!"
"Vinnie, Vinnie, please. Everybody knows that the Jedi are extinct. They were all killed in the purges, those that survived the Clone Wars."
"He looked pretty alive to me, you moron!"
A calculating look crossed Bino's round face. "Of course, the Empire would pay very well for information on a Jedi..." he mused.
"Oh no, you don't", Vinnie ordered.
"What? But why?" Bino asked him, honestly confused.
"Because I don't want him to come back here and play another round with us, that's why." Vinnie crossed his arms over his chest.
To be continued.