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Chapter 6

"Ensign Mell Krevett, you've been summoned." The hovering messenger droid's voice was pleasantly neutral, but it only heightened Mell's groggy annoyance. He sat up in his bunk so quickly he bashed his forehead on the bed above him. Ouch.

"Blasters!" He snarled and swung his legs out while rubbing his face. "Who wants me at this hour?" He complained loud enough to make his roomie in the top bunk squirm and grumble.

"The individual wishes to remain anonymous at this time. Nevertheless, he outranks you." The droid hovered expectantly, but Mell only yawned and rubbed his face hard. "I am authorized to use force if you refuse to make haste." The droid added pleasantly enough.

"Oh really?" Mell Krevett muttered and stood. After stretching, he turned to the droid, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "Where am I supposed to meet this officer?"

"On the Observation Deck, tier 1." The droid promptly replied, but still didn't move. "But you would do well to address your superior with his proper title. Doubtless, he would be insulted to be referred to as 'Officer'."

He, huh? My summons comes from a man, Mell mused. Good. He couldn't stand the few women officers around here. "Well, what else am I supposed to call him?"

"You will know when you see him, I think." The droid answered. "Now do hurry. He strangled the last officer who was late to his summons."

Mell Krevett gulped. He never got dressed so fast in his life.

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Mell Krevett marched stiffly into the dark Observation Deck. Tier 1 was usually reserved for the highest ranking officers, and he felt self-conscious as he stepped through the door onto the finely polished floor. The nearly-silent door whispered shut behind him, but the only lights came from the stars outside the panoramic glasteel windows. He swallowed nervously. Maybe he'd taken too long after all and the Officer. . . or General, or Admiral, or Grand Admiral maybe, had gotten tired of waiting and left to write his name up for execution by strangling. Sweat broke out on his face and palms, and trickled down his ribs with a ticklish feeling. Maybe he'd better just return to his bunk and catch the last few winks of sleep he could. He was doomed anyway. If only that infernal mechanical noise would stop so he could focus!

Hmm, it sounded like the climate control vents were broken up here. The way the air sucked in and out, in and out. . . Oh no.

"Kind of you to take your time, Ensign." The deep voice echoed impressively and the mechanical sound of air sucking in and out could be nothing other than his breathing. What was he doing here?! Summoning Mell Krevett of all people?

"M-my Lord. . . " Mell's mouth felt dry. He couldn't bring himself to utter the dreaded word. Vader. The Emperor's personal lieutenant. Rumors of his powers and deeds were more than enough to start him sweating all over again.

"Silence." A dark shape slowly detached itself from the starscape behind and came toward him with rhythmic boot taps. The iconic helmet silhouette and flaring cape against the star-sprinkled background of pure darkness caused Mell's throat to constrict. The shape of the giant mechanical terror was materializing from the darkness of space like a ghost. He'd heard a rumor that the creepy sorcerer had choked a captain to death without even touching him. Was that even possible?

"I feel your doubts." Lord Vader hissed and lifted a gloved hand. "Shall I. . . enlighten you?"

"N-no, m-my lord, I-I believe. . . " Mell stammered and gulped hard. Oh yes, he believed.

"A wise answer." Lord Vader folded his hands behind his back, catching his cloak against his impressive mechanical body. He was perhaps seven feet tall, all black, all power, and terribly frightening up close. "You are wondering what I might have brought you here for. Your death, perhaps? Some crime you committed that you do not remember?"

Wordless with terror, Mell shook his head vigorously.

"You remember Senator Organa." It was a statement, not a question.

Mell only nodded. He didn't trust his voice to be any deeper than a squeak right now.

"I know he is a rebel." The anger in Lord Vader's voice was accentuated by a quickened rhythm in the breathing noise. "But he is too well-liked for anyone to risk indicting him without substantial evidence. Do you understand?"

"How. . . do you know, m-my Lord?" Mell Krevett's voice ended in an undignified squeak. He cringed. Stupid! Don't ask questions like that of Lord Vader! Even if he and Admiral Tarkin never found any indication of rebels two weeks before when they'd searched the Tantive IV, that didn't mean anything.

"I know." Lord Vader didn't sound amused. "Do I detect more doubts?"

"N-no, no, of course not, my Lord." Mell's voice broke into a whisper and he quaked with closed eyes, waiting for Vader to crush him for his insolence.

"Your task is to expose Organa's true sympathies." Vader went on, oblivious to Mell's secret terror. "Can you do this, or must I kill you and summon another?"

"No, my Lord, and yes my Lord, I will do it." Mell Krevett breathed a little easier. If Darth Vader said that Organa was a rebel, he was a rebel. The evidence would show up. . . hopefully. For his own sake, he must find that evidence. "You. . . need me to. . . testify against him?" Mell hesitated in a semi-normal tone.

"No." Lord Vader spun and marched back to the window. His breathing was rapid now, revealing his fury and anxiety. "The Senate would never accept that. You must catch the criminal in his own den."

"I must. . . spy on him?"

"Use any means possible. Enlist any help you require. Get undisputable evidence. But I warn you: if Organa gets wind of this through your fault, your end will be swift indeed."

"Y-yes my L-Lord." Mell stammered, wondering how he, a lowly ensign could hope to succeed where even Lord Vader had failed. He decided to boldly venture further. How hard would his task be, exactly? "But, aren't you the second-most powerful man in the Galaxy, my Lord? Why can't you take care of him?"

Lord Vader spun, his cloak flaring, his helmet shining where the starlight caught on it. Mell regretted his question and shut his eyes.

"Forgive me, my Lord." The young man whispered. "I'll do what you say. No more questions."

"One word of advice, Ensign Mell Krevett." Lord Vader's breathing was under control now and he walked slowly toward the young man again.

"Yes, my Lord?" Mell whispered and opened his eyes.

"Two and a half weeks ago you met Organa's daughter."

Mell felt a weakness in his knees. He still hated the young Captain's son who'd stolen her from him. "Yes, my Lord. The Princess Leia."

"She is a distraction. Do not let her interfere in your task."

"Of course, my Lord." Why do I feel disappointed about that? Mell wondered.

Lord Vader cocked his head as if he was testing the young officer, which he probably was. "Aren't you going to ask what your pay will be on completion of your task?"

"Ah. . . " Truth be told, Mell Krevett would have been perfectly happy to get out of that room alive, never mind the pay-raise. "I was waiting for your discretion, My Lord." He boldly replied, and winced, hoping it wouldn't be taken as too bold.

Darth Vader nodded slowly, as if approving. "The Emperor graciously offers you a commission on our new battle station. You would do well to accept."

"I will, my Lord, as soon as I deliver your evidence." Mell swallowed hard and shifted his sweaty feet. "If I may, My Lord. . . "

"My time is not yours, but carry on." Vader didn't sound vexed, but he'd as much told him that he was already past time.

"Who. . . who exactly recommended me for the task? I doubt you're the type who uses a randomizer on a database."

Lord Vader was quiet for a moment, except for the rhythm of his mechanical breathing. Was he assessing the question, Mell wondered. No, he could feel it. The dark lord was probing his mind. What a distinctly uncomfortable sensation. He shivered right before Lord Vader spoke again in a softer tone. "Your commander, Admiral Tarkin suggested you. He also requested you for the position in the battle station. He will command it as well, when the time comes."

"Thank you, my Lord." Mell Krevett bowed, feeling that the interview was over. He felt a thrill go up his back. What would his mates think when they heard this? They wouldn't believe it surely!

"A last word, Krevett." Lord Vader added and raised a hand. "You are now my property." Mell's heart quickened again and his happy feelings evaporated.

"My Lord. . . . " He hesitated.

Vader went on as if Mell hadn't spoken. "You are no longer an Officer aboard the Terminator. You are an ISB agent until your task is complete. As such, you will not speak of your assignment to anyone. On pain of death. Death I will personally administer. Understood?"

Mell felt anger at the unfairness of it all rising in his gut. He'd worked hard for the commission here! How could it be ripped away from him like this? How could he be thrust into the Imperial Security Bureau against his will? He'd be cast down to a lowly agent when he'd worked for an Officer's position? He would refuse the assignment! Forget the lowly honorary position on a 'new' battle station! He didn't ask for this!

He opened his mouth to speak, but an invisible cord wrapped around his throat, cutting off the words. No, it was fingers. He felt a hand close around his throat. He frantically choked on his breath and reached up, clawing desperately at his neck. There was nothing there, but Vader's hand was still raised, contorted into a claw that was slowly closing. How. . . ?! The squeezing grew worse until his vision and senses swam and pain soared up from his knees.

I take it back! His mind screamed. I'll do the job! I'll be an agent and get a commission on that battle station, wherever and whatever it was! Anything to stop this airless torment! Please, just stop! I'll do whatever you say!

Instantly, he was released. Gasping and moaning, almost crying, Mell Krevett found himself bowed over on his knees, frantically rubbing his throbbing neck with shaking hands. The spots vanished from his vision and his lungs no longer screamed with agony. Free. But. . . from what?! Had Vader really choked him with nothing but his mind and a raised hand? He would certainly never even think about the unfairness of it all again. It was far more unfair to be deprived of one's breath.

"Remember this, young Krevett:" Lord Vader gazed down at the shaking young man. "Do not question orders. Follow them. And you might live."

"I. . . under. . . stand." Mell wheezed.

"I certainly hope you do. I wish you success." Mell could hear a sly smile in Vader's next words. "But I will not hold my breath."

Painfully, Mell Krevett stumbled to his feet and careened toward the door. The interview was over, and he wanted to get as far away from the dark lord as he could. As the sleek door hissed open, Vader called after him with amusement in his deep voice.

"One more thing: The station you'll be dreaming about? It is called the Death Star. Remember the name, young Krevett. It does one good to meditate on death."

"Yes, my Lord." Mell croaked and stumbled from the room as fast as he could.

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"Are you going somewhere, Father?" Leia poked her head into her father's bedroom. He jumped slightly at her voice and grinned, a folded pair of pants in one hand and pair of socks in the other.

"Back from School already? How's my Princess this afternoon?"

"Well, I've been home for nearly an hour already." Leia chuckled. "Bo said to ask you if you'd rather have Grilled Aak Steak or Oppee Soup for dinner."

"We're having a Naboo day today, eh? I won't be here; you pick." Bail chuckled and turned to put the pants and socks into his small travel valise. "I didn't realize it was so late already."

"Where are you going?" Leia stepped into the room and watched her father take a fresh tunic down from a hook in the closet. She glanced down at the valise and counted the clothes. He had to be planning on being gone for at least three days, maybe more. But he always over-packed. It was a nervous habit of his.

"Oh, a meeting." Bail answered shortly and tossed the shirt into the open bag. "You think four tunics are enough?"

"Not if you plan on staying in such a nervous sweat." Leia teased good-naturedly and caught her father's hand. It was clammy and sweaty. "What's the matter, Father? Is it a meeting with the Galaxy's Friends?"

Galaxy's Friends. Bail smiled. His daughter came up with that code name for the rebels after Mon Mothma had explained to the girl that they sought to be the true friends to the Galaxy by casting out its enemies.

"I'm afraid so, sweetheart." Bail kissed his daughter on the head. Her prettily done hair smelled like Mandalorian Lilies. "We got some disturbing rumors from intelligence about some kind of giant deep space battle station. If they're true, it would explain a lot. Like why the Empire destroyed whole worlds to get at crystals and minerals more efficiently. And why some worlds like Malastare and Lymus have been pretty much turned into giant factories producing material, but no ships. We're going to meet and decide what we're going to do about it, if the rumors are true."

"Be careful, Daddy." Leia whispered and stared earnestly up at her father. "When will you call me?"

"When I'm on the way home, I promise." Bail gave her another kiss and turned to finish packing.

Leia slipped out of the room and twisted her hands nervously in the hall. She pulled a datapad from her belt and stared at it. An application for a Senatorial apprenticeship flashed onscreen as she turned the device on. After staring at it for a moment, she tossed it angrily in a waste receptacle. So much for telling dad about that idea over dinner. The rebellion would forever claim him.

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Frustrating. That's how Mell Krevett would describe his work the past three months. Apparently, any sympathies Bail Organa might have for the rebel cause, they hadn't interfered with his public life. The exemplary Senator, a masterful politician, a charitable friend. . . The list was nauseatingly perfect. Too perfect. Vader was right. This was a slippery fish to catch. Angry and tired, Mell flipped on his computer screen again and scrolled through the nauseating list of Bail's perfect activities the past ten years. Knowing he wouldn't find anything, he found an Imperial database, used his ISB code, and spent an hour checking up on old buddies. A few old friends had been killed in the escalating rebel attacks, and a select few had received promotions. One had suffered severe battle trauma and been sent home. Almost none of his old friends were on the Terminator anymore. He likely wouldn't be there anymore either if Darth Vader hadn't dragged him into this useless mission.

Mell sighed and typed a different search into the Imperial system. Death Star. Vader had invited him to think about it, but it wouldn't hurt to research his future position, would it? Never mind that he'd likely never finish.

The Death Star datacache was protected by multiple locks and security passwords. But the codes sent to him by Vader, or someone under his orders, were really good. Soon, he was scrolling through diagrams, statistics, and specifications for a massive battle station the size of. . . Mell blinked and stared. The size was comparable to that of Serenno's smallest moon. Impossible! A battle station of that size would be. . . well, terrifying. Not to mention powerful. A laser cannon split the station almost exactly down the middle. A cannon big enough to destroy an entire planet at full power. Mell found himself shuddering at every new piece of information. This monstrosity hadn't been tested yet. They were still getting crewmembers and maintenance crews together. He knew his own name was in there somewhere, but he got tired of struggling through crowded, tiny lines of words. He exited the database and logged in to his surveillance equipment.

Apparently, he wasn't the first agent to be put on Bail Organa's trail. The equipment had already been set up when he arrived, with ten years worth of information recorded. His habits, his schedules, his departures and returns, even the things he took in or out of his house; it was all there. And the equipment was alerting him that Bail Organa was leaving Alderaan. Or at least, had left a few minutes before. The hyperspace messaging was delayed slightly. Now that was interesting. Bail hardly ever left in such an apparent hurry, on a day when he was off, and not on his usual craft, the Aldera Sunset. He was on the Freebird. His fastest personal ship. Why?

Mell tried unsuccessfully to triangulate the man's course, but had no success. It was fishy. Bail never usually masked his Hyper-trail, but this time, he did. Why? He sat back in frustration, with anger building up. He had a feeling Bail was doing something suspicious, but how could he find out for sure?

Mell Krevett suddenly smiled thinly and sat up as a thought struck him. What do you want to bet his daughter knows where he's going? Mell jumped up and found some casual clothes in the closet of his tiny office-room. He had a trip to Alderaan to make. Maybe Darth Vader didn't think Leia knew anything, but he didn't know women, apparently. Once he got Leia talking, he'd have his catch. And maybe he'd have her too. And if she wouldn't talk. . . well, Darth Vader apparently didn't know the universal truth about women: be convincing and powerful enough, and they'd eat out of your hand. He liked that image of her. Particularly after she'd snubbed him for that Captain's son.

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Only two more chapters to go. Thank you to all who have reviewed this story! You guys are the best encouragement I've ever had!