Chapter 2AE

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'Just When Things Were Looking Up…'

'All the News That Miffs the Sith'

'Dinner at Eight and Don't Be Late'

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"Good morning, Ani! Weesa been missin'yoosa here at Imperial headquarters. Officers missing you moouy mucho." He sees the coat lying across the sofa. "Oooh looky here. Yousa got new fab fall wardrobe. Coat must keepin' yousa cold heart warm. So soft too! Deesa hundred percent bantha cashmere? Yousa lucky yousa wife have bestest taste to select clothes for dishonorable hardheaded husband."

"What brings you up here this morning, Jar-Jar? I'm extremely busy."

Jar Jar looks at the empty desk and credenza.

"Busy? What you got beein' busy for? Yousa got no work to do. General 'nerf herdin' son-in-law saw to that while yousa out on sick leave. What kinda sickness you have anyway?"

"What?"

"Heesa say yousa office streamlined now. No more useless paperwork takin' up space in desk. General Solo say yousa head nice and empty just lika blank canvass. Yousa got him to thank for that."

"I will. Sit down and state your business."

"No needin' for beein' grumpy. Yousa startin' to sound like former evil emperor Palps. Sith off deesa old block. May God rest his old rickety soul."

Jar Jar bows his head solemnly. Anakin snaps back.

"He's not dead."

"Not yet."

"Stop taking up my time, Jar Jar. What's with this so-called important meeting?"

"Oh, meesa see yousa no time for cordial preamble chit-chat. Meesa get to point expeditiously-like." He sees Anakin stare him down and growing impatient. Jar Jar continues. "Okiday, Meesa needin' to bring to your attention important issue. The GSTM sent us a memo regardin' equipment and uniforms used by various trooper forces. Theysa findin' military armory not meetin' standards for combat."

"GSTM?"

"Galactic Standards for Testing and Materials."

"Oh, I knew that."

"Ahem…Sure you did, Ani. Anyways, meesa bringin' forms for yousa to sign. Also, heresa the union demands."

"What union demands?"

"Oh, General Solo forgettin' to tell yousa? All trooper corps voted to unionize while yousa home on protest bed rest. Vote was ratified unanimously. Heresa copy of contract and bylaws. "

"They can't unionize! This is the military!"

"Troopers technically not military. Theysa be clones."

Anakin scans down the list on the digital tablet. One could almost see his blood pulsing through his veins as his anger increases. Qui-Gon sits on the windowsill across the room with his arms folded.

'Easy, Anakin. You knew this was coming.'

"Not like this…"

Jar Jar thinks Anakin is speaking to him since there is no one else 'present'.

"Yeesa, Ani, By galactic law yousa have to sign it." He points with his long Gungan index finger indicating the dotted line at the bottom. A bright red 'Post 'em' arrow is strategically affixed to the signature line. Anakin looks up from the document.

"Move your finger…please."

Anakin continues to read the contract. He tries to find a reason not to sign it. Meanwhile, Jar Jar taps on the desk, looking around for something to do. He wanders over to the bookshelf at all the family holographs and model starships. He notices Leia's stuffed Ewok and the various wedding holographs. An oddly familiar flat metal helmet rests on the top shelf to the left. The hollow of the small helmet has been soldered shut. Jar Jar can hear something rattling around inside. It sounds like bits of gravel and sand. He sniffs around the edges the holds it up to his mouth.

"Is theesa bein' crunchy candy dispenser?" He licks the bottom.

Anakin is still reading and does not respond. Jar Jar examines the metal object more carefully then begins nodding his head in a rhythmic motion. He uses the metal object like a shaker or tambourine.

"Hey, Ani, whatsa kinda instrument it be? Yousa findin' deesa on da beach of Yavin?"

Anakin is still reviewing the union contract. He casually glances across the room at Jar-jar. When he realizes what the nosy Gungan is shaking, he becomes incensed.

"Put that back!"

A startled Jar Jar fumbles and almost drops the domed and saucer-shaped object. The contents can be heard rattling inside.

"Meesa justa lookin' at the musical instruments. Meesa never knowing yousa like maracas."

"That's not a maraca! It's Watto's ashes. That's an urn, you idiot!"

"Oh! meesa so berry sowwy!" Jar Jar squeamishly tosses it back on the shelf. "Bleech!" He frantically scrapes his long tougue. Just the idea that he almost ingested the remains of the Toydarian junk shop owner cause him to lose his appetite…almost.

Qui-Gon is laughing.

'Ah-ha-ha! Leave it to Jar Jar.'

Anakin is not amused.

"Don't laugh. It's not funny."

Jar Jar walks over to the desk.

"Meesa not laughing."

" Meesa…I'm not talking to you." Anakin gets caught up in Jar jar lingo. He catches Qui-Gon laughing at him. Jar Jar is confused.

"Who yousa be talkin' to then, Ani?"

"Nothing. Forget it. So, what's with this contract? I'm looking through this thing and I just don't get it. What's the problem?"

"Union rep say troopers go on work stoppage bombastic big time if yousa don't meet demands."

"Excuse me??

"Yousa got to meet demands or yousa be without imperial S-Troop. If bombastic Clone Wars II break out everybody gonna blame you, Ani. Yousa got dissa paper before."

"Oh, I threw that away."

"Dissa second notice, Ani."

"Oh. They were serious about that?"

Qui-Gon is still sitting in the window. A view of the Jedi Temple is behind him. He leans back against the window frame.

'Good going, Ani.' He says this mockingly and makes a 'thumbs up'.

Anakin rolls his eyes. He rubs his forehead and reads the document once more.

"So what's wrong with the equipment and uniforms? I think they look pretty bad ass."

"Ani, theysa not blaster-proof. What good be the armour iffa shots go straight through? And why most important part of dark lord's military got worst weapons? Thetsa needin' target practice too!"

"Okay, okay! I'm signing, I'm signing! Get out of my office! I've got to clear my head."

"That should take no time at all!"

"What did you say?"

"Meesa say Nuting." Jar Jar quickly snaps up the signed document and heads for the door.

There is a moment of silence in the office. Anakin is about to force-close the door when he remembers that his 'conscience' is still sitting in the window across the room. The dark lord releases a heavy sigh, barely glancing over at his spectral mentor. He leaves his desk and walks to the door. Anakin taps his fingers against the door as he prepares to utter some humbling words. He cowardly backs away and returns to his desk. After another heavy sigh, he presses the intercom.

"Miss Di Pesto, …"

"Yes, Mr. Skywalker?'

"Would you step into my office please?"

"Yes, sir."

The door opens and the timid but smiling secretary pokes her head in and waits. Anakin waves his hand for her to enter.

"Come in, Miss Di Pesto. Close the door, please."

"Yes, Sir."

"Have a seat."

"Okay."

"Uhm…I just want to say that I was wro….wro…ahem…ack…"

Anakin goes into a spastic coughing fit. Miss Di Pesto's eyes widen in horror as her new boss tries to speak. She grabs the silver water carafe from the coffee table. She takes a glass and fills it with water and hurries over to him. He stands and takes the glass and drinks. She takes the empty glass from him as he settles back into his chair.

"Are you alright, Mr. Skywalker?"

"I'm fine. Have a seat. I want to apologize for what you may have heard over the intercom. I did not intend to hurt your feelings. I was wro…wrong for saying anything that would offend you in any way. I hope you still want to work for me."

Agnes starts speaking at rapid-fire speed. Anakin sits stunned.

"Oh, yes, sir. Your wife told me I would need to be patient with you. She says you have a psychological need to instill fear in people to maintain control and sometimes it manifests itself into unwarranted mocking and insults of your intended victims but that there is good in you.."

"What?" His face puffs up like a Dagobah bullfrog. Miss Di Pesto quickly defuses the situation.

"Apology accepted, sir."

She smiles her cheery, bubbly smile and nervously backs her way out of his office. The door is still open.

"Miss Di Pesto…"

"Oh! Sorry." She returns to close the door. Anakin rests his head against the back of his chair and rubs his forehead. He remembers that he still has 'company' and turns towards the window where Qui-Gon sits. The Force-ghost has a big smirk on his face.

'You said the 'W' word. I'm impressed. See, a nice humble apology never hurt anyone. Your wife is going to be so proud of you.'

"She doesn't have to know."

'So, what else is on our agenda today?'

"Our agenda?"

'I could be your advisor…you know, help you make sound decisions.'

"I don't need an advisor. I'm my advisor."

'Yeah, that worked out well for you thirty-odd years ago.'

"Don't you have any other former apprentices to haunt?"

'I don't consider it 'haunting'. I consider myself something more of a life coach.'

'A dead life coach…that's just great.'

' And to answer your other question, my other apprentices are perfect and doing quite niclt these would be interested to know how your morning went with your new secretary…'

"Fine! Now you're a blackmailing ghost. I have a board meeting with the Imperial commanders. I've had enough of this. I didn't think you would sink so low."

'I've got nothing to lose.'

"Let's go. My day can't get any worse."

The meeting is uneventful. It is long and boring lasting well past lunch. Governor Tarkin drones on about troop withdrawal on Geonosis while General Tagge returns from the buffet with a plate of roast shaak on a Corellian baguette and a side salad. Anakin never has much of an appetite during these sessions usually settles for Red Bimmisaari iced tea and a mixed fruit salad with yogurt. Qui-Gon amuses himself as he observes the men discussing military strategies over a cacophony of metal utensils, china, and gulps of hot and cold beverages.

The meeting concluded as a resounding success…which means no one was killed. Either Anakin's prescription meds are working well or the dark lord has grown used to the band of idiotic top brass. Qui-Gon was almost hoping someone would get out of step to justify a mild neck throttling. He even tried to instigate some turmoil just to rile up his former apprentice but Anakin does not take the bait. Between the meds and meditation sessions with Master Yoda, life with the Dark Lord has become relatively mundane. The officers file out of the conference room. Anakin is on his way back to his office. If this is all that is happening then his day is going better than he thought.

Miss Di Pesto is busily working the phones and typing memos. As soon as she sees him, she springs from her chair and follows him into his office.

"Oh, Mr. Skywalker….your wife called. She said you need to meet her after work for dinner."

"For dinner? Did she say why?"

"She just said to make sure you arrive on time It's at ..."

He cuts her off midsentence.

"The Les Galaxies de Coursaire."

"Uh…yes…how did you know?"

"I had a feeling."

"She's sending a suit here for you to change into. She wants you to look nice."

"Anything else?"

"She said to arrive with a good attitude. She said that you would know what that means."

"Fine, I'll take my meds."

"What was that, sir?"

"Nothing." He disappears in his office and force-closes the door. He does not reappear until his suit arrives. He changes in his private washroom. Qui-Gon sits on the vanity and watches as Anakin looks in the mirror to adjust the black silk bowtie. The ghost smiles wistfully.

'Wow, you sure clean up good. Your wife hooks you up with cool threads.'

"That, she does."

'If I were alive, I would dress up like that.'

"Hmm..humm."

'I would!'

Anakin tugs at the cuffs of his freshly laundered white dress shirt. The platinum Imperial cufflinks show just below the sleeve of his black dinner jacket. He checks himself once more in the mirror. Qui-Gon smiles, and then makes a sound like that of a drop of water onto a hot skillet.

'Sizzzzz. You are smokin'!' He quickly realizes what he has just said and ponders if this is the most appropriate thing to say to the Dark Lord. 'Opps…uh…you know what I mean.'

"I sure do…wiseass."

It has been over three decades since that fateful moment on the lava banks of Mustafar. Qui-Gon

Is actually 'testing' the waters to see if this is still a sore issue for the man in black. After all, that nonsense about Obi-Wan inadvertently doing a chop shop number on him was just a bad dream. Anakin pretends he does not hear the remark. He reaches for the doorknob to exit the washroom.

"Ok, let's roll."

They leave his office stopping briefly to address Miss Di Pesto on the way. She gushes when she sees her new boss.

"Oh, gee, Mr. Skywalker, how handsome you look. I mean, you're already handsome but you look so debonair."

"Are you saying that I look like a slob the rest of the time?"

"Oh! No, no…I…"

Anakin flashes a smile and very calmly leans across the desk.

"I'm teasing, Miss. Di Pesto. Thank you for the compliment."

"Oh." She giggles. "You're welcome."

"See you in the morning, Miss Di Pesto."

"Okey-Dokey!"

He stops for a moment then decides not to respond. He walks out and heads for the executive elevator. As he steps inside the elevator he begins to feel that something big is about to happen tonight. An Imperial elevator operator stands at the display panel. He acknowledges the Dark Lord boarding.

"Lobby, my Lord?"

"Yes."

Qui-Gon stands beside Anakin with his hands folded in front of his heavenly robe. The Force Ghost can no longer hold the laughter emanating from his non-corporeal form. His cheeks puff up and he lets out a snort .He mimic's the elevator operator's servitude.

'Will that be the Imperial lobby, my Lord? Ha! Isn't that a bit much, Ani?'

Anakin tries to ignore him. Qui-Gon tries again.

'Can we stop at the Imperial PX so I can grab a dinner jacket for myself? I'm joking. No need to stop the elevator for me.'

Anakin looks up at the ceiling and then down at his shoes in an attempt to ignore the ghost. Finally, he breaks into a wide smile. The trooper glances over at him. They are the only two people inside the elevator.

Once the elevator reaches the ground floor, Anakin quickly steps out and walks across the lobby floor pass the glass doors. Several Imperial naval officers salute him as well as the stormtroopers standing by the door. He and Qui-Gon are on the Imperial Plaza outside. He scolds his former mentor.

"Don't ever do that again."

Qui-Gon looks at his former protégé.

'What?'

"Don't play dumb."

'Lighten up. Ani. We're going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. This is going to be a night to remember.'

"Says you."

Anakin, for some reason has grave doubts about this evening. The medication he takes has adverse side effects. It dulls his senses and he finds it difficult to read people through the Force. This is just the way his wife likes it because it keeps him in check. Tonight he is in for a bumpy ride.