That night
Luke Skywalker carefully removed his boots and outer garments, and collapsed into his bed. The pillow was soft, the bed was long enough for his rather slight frame, and he was thankful. Rest in an X-wing cockpit, even with the benefit of Jedi hibernation trances, was no substitute for real sleep in a real bed.
The day had been long, busy, and emotionally challenging, and Luke found himself quickly growing drowsy. He had intended to ponder his father's holographic message more thoroughly, but decided now that his brain needed sleep more than cogitation. His last conscious act was to reach a drowsy Force tendril out to his sister Leia, who was sleeping in one of the other bedrooms in the pod. The other occupants of the pod, Han Solo and Lando Calrissian, had not returned to their rooms yet. Han was probably working on the Falcon, which was, as usual, displaying erratic mechanical problems. Calrissian was probably off indulging in the rather sedate carousing possible on the Mon Calamari ship.
Luke Skywalker drifted completely off to sleep.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
He walked into the kitchen at home.
"Oh Luke," Aunt Beru said with warm smile,"You woke up early from your nap. That means an early bedtime for you tonight."
"C'n I have a drink, pease?" a little voice lisped.
His own voice.
"Of course, sweetheart, and here's a snack."
The little hand reached out and carefully took the cup full of water in one hand, and the cookie in the other hand.
"Go sit at the table, Luke," his aunt instructed.
"Where is Unca?" little Luke inquired.
"He's not home yet, my dear," his aunt responded, "You got up early so he's still working."
Luke's tiny eyebrows furrowed. He felt Uncle Owen nearby, so he wasn't way out near the vaporators where Aunt Beru had taken him once. That had been exciting. He loved the long metal struts and strange noises that the machines made. He liked machines.
Slowly, carefully, Luke Skywalker climbed the stairs into the dining area. Then, with a quick backward look toward the kitchen, he kept walking out into the courtyard, eagerly stuffing the cookie into his mouth.
Up the stairs he went, slowly, for they were big for such short legs. He carried the water carefully and took an occasional sip. He knew, even at such a young age, that water was precious.
There was Uncle Owen, off in an area next to one of the workshops. He ran quickly over to him. Uncle was busy doing something, and didn't notice his nephew approaching.
What was his uncle doing? Digging a hole? Why? Could he help?
"Unca, can I hep?" Luke asked.
His uncle started in surprise, then looked at Luke with a frown.
"Luke, I thought you were taking a nap," he said gruffly. His face looked funny. There were streaks of wet under his eyes.
"I up," Luke explained.
He heard his aunt calling rather frantically, "Luke, Luke, where are you?"
"He's over here, Beru," Uncle Owen bellowed.
Auntie quickly ran up to both her husband and nephew, and gave Luke a hug. She looked at her husband in surprise, then dismay.
"Oh Owen, must we do this so soon?" she asked pleadingly.
Uncle Owen shook his head, "Luke is growing up, Beru. Soon he'll be able to remember. Best to do this now."
Luke was distracted by a small pile of sand next to the hole. A few wet drops had fallen onto the sand, making it different. He had noticed that before, that wet sand was different than dry sand. He looked cautiously at his aunt and uncle. They were busy talking. Carefully, sneakily, Luke poured some of his water onto the sand. Oooh, now there was a pile. He reached one small hand into the wet pile. It smushed together very nicely.
Thankfully, the grown-ups kept talking and didn't notice his rebellious waste of water.
Aunt Beru was looking at a big stone that had been standing next to the place where Uncle was digging a hole. It had been there for as long as Luke could remember. Luke had climbed on it once, only to be shooed away by Uncle Owen.
"She would be so proud of Luke," Beru said.
"Yes, she would," Owen answered quietly.
There was a long pause.
"Owen, I really don't know that it would be dangerous to leave it…"
"It's got Anakin's name on it, Beru,"Owen interrupted, "'Beloved mother of Anakin Skywalker and Owen Lars'. Even out here, having Anakin's name on a tombstone isn't safe for Luke, you know that. Once I break it up, and bury it, any memories of her among the locals will fade away. You want Luke to be safe, don't you?"
Aunt Beru sighed, "Of course I do. It's just … she was such a wonderful person. And died such a terrible death. It seems so wrong to blot out all that is left of her on this planet."
"Luke is left, Beru."
"I know, you're right."
Luke peered up. Auntie had wet spots under her eyes now too.
Were they crying? Grown-ups didn't cry.
"I so wish Anakin could have met his boy," Beru said suddenly, "He would have loved Luke so much."
"I wish a lot of things about Anakin," Owen said gruffly, "He should have stayed here and not run off with those crazy Jedi. If he had stayed, maybe none of this would have happened."
Beru shook her head sadly, "Only a Jedi could have found her, Owen, you know that. Your father tried and nearly died trying to get her back. At least she got to see her son before she died."
"In the end, he was too busy trying to save the galaxy to save his own mother, Beru."
Luke quivered at the harsh tone in his uncle's voice and looked up. Were they fighting? They never fought.
Beru noticed him and directed a warning look at her husband. She picked her nephew up gently, "It's Ok, Luke."
"Owen," she added softly, "Maybe we should change his last name to Lars, as Kenobi suggested."
"No," Uncle said after a moment,"Luke is all that is left of her family line. There are other Skywalkers in the galaxy. In 15 years, when Luke is grown up, no one will likely remember or care about Anakin Skywalker and if they do care, it won't be obvious that Luke is related to him. I won't take her name away from her grandson, Beru."
Aunt Beru nodded, "And Anakin's name will live on as well."
Luke felt Uncle Owen's mood grow dark.
"I don't care about Anakin."
Aunt Beru looked at her husband pleadingly,"He died a hero, Owen. Don't forget that."
"He died a hero, yes," Luke's uncle responded angrily, "He was too heroic to stay here on Tatooine and live a normal life. Shmi told us how his eyes were always on the stars, how all he wanted to do was leave this 'dustball of a planet.' So he did, he left her behind. He left us all behind."
Beru spoke up firmly, "You can't blame Anakin for hating Tatooine, Owen. He spent the first 9 years of his life here in slavery, and then when he came back…"
Both of Luke's relatives looked solemnly at the gravestone.
Owen relaxed.
"You're right, Beru," he said apologetically,"As usual, you're right."
He knelt down by the gravestone and brushed a loving hand on the surface, then looked up at his wife and nephew.
"You're right," he repeated, "Once he escaped, Tatooine was the very last place you would expect to find Anakin Skywalker."
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In the Mon Calamari ship, Luke Skywalker woke up suddenly and sat up. With an audible groan, he ran his hands over his face and over his short cropped hair.
Was he really so dense that the Force had to hit him over the head quite so firmly?
Well, he knew where his father was, now.
The question was, what to do about it?
The next morning
Admiral Firmus Piett gazed out of the small viewport in his cell.
"Cell" was really a strong word for it. Yes, the door was locked from the outside. Yes, he wasn't allowed out. But still – there was a reasonably comfortable bed, a small table and 2 chairs, a small refresher, and a food preparation unit that delivered food and drink at regulated intervals.
So far, the main horror had been boredom, and even that wasn't too terrible. To his astonishment, he had been provided with a datapad with selected reading material. He had fully expected the selections to be anti-Imperial drivel, but in fact he found a hodgepodge of randomness, with articles on the preparation of moonglow jostling with a peculiar book on fixing T-16 Skyhoppers.
And at times, the position of the ship on which he was imprisoned was positioned such that could gaze at his "Lady", the Executor. So far, those blasted rebels didn't seem to be cannibalizing her for parts.
He sighed. What was he doing here? For the 89th time, he went through his reasoning.
1. Darth Vader had defected from the Empire.
2. Vader had given his admiral the option of either staying with the Executor or staying with his men stranded on the prison planet.
3. Emperor Palpatine knew of the location of the prison planet.
4. If the Emperor sent troops to rescue the stranded men (and that was a big if), Piett would be the highest ranking officer left there.
5. The Emperor would be very angry at Vader's defection.
6. The Emperor would kill Piett in lieu of his errant second-in-command.
7. Unpleasantly.
Piett nodded. The logic worked. Vader himself had recommended that he trust the Alliance over the Emperor. And what did that say about the Empire that he had devoted his life to?
Besides, he admitted to a probably morbid curiosity in Luke Skywalker, assuming the young Rebel ever made an appearance. Who would have thought that…
The door opened abruptly, and Piett spun around quickly.
The man entering was young, familiar, and…
"You're short!" Piett exclaimed.
Why did he say that? Captivity must be interfering with his normally rigid self control more than he thought.
To his relief, the young man (Luke Skywalker) didn't take umbrage, but merely looked at him thoughtfully.
"I am short," Skywalker agreed.
He considered Piett with interest, then added, "I didn't inherit my height from my father."
"No, you didn't," Piett agreed cautiously.
Their eyes met.
"So he told you," Skywalker stated.
Piett was suddenly nervous. Did Rebel High Command know about Skywalker's paternity? Would the fledgling Jedi silence him to keep it from leaking out?
Skywalker abruptly moved over to the food preparation unit.
"Can I get you something to drink, Admiral?" he asked amiably.
Piett blinked. Was this some subtle plan to poison him?
No, the son of Darth Vader would have no need for poison.
"That would be most appreciated," he said formally, then added more casually, "And the more alcoholic the better."
Skywalker's mouth twisted into a slight smile.
"I'm guessing most of the alcohol on this ship is derived from something aquatic, but life is meant to be an adventure, is it not?"
There was a long pause, and then Skywalker moved away from the food prep unit with two glasses in his hands. He set them both down at the table, and slid into one of the chairs.
"Won't you sit down, Admiral?" he invited.
Piett stared at the young man for a moment, then moved over to take the seat across from Skywalker. He was quite familiar with Imperial interrogation methods, and none started out with drinks. Perhaps this was some subtle form of the Kristanki Technique? Get the prisoner relaxed, and then apply the pressure?
Piett carefully lifted the glass of … liquid…to his mouth and took a sip. Inevitably, his face twitched. What was this stuff?
"Not to your liking?" Skywalker asked, apparently sympathetically.
Piett took another drink, "I can tell it has alcohol. That's good enough for me. Shall we get down to business, Commander Skywalker?"
Skywalker leaned back and took a drink from his own cup (some strange bluish white liquid, Piett noticed peripherally) and said, "Certainly. I was told you would talk only to me. I'm not an interrogator and I have no intention of being unpleasant. Also, I have a great deal to do today. So, what's the situation? Do you have something you want to say? Do you want me to ask questions? Why did you surrender, anyway?"
Piett blinked.
No, the young Skywalker was obviously not an interrogator. They tended to be more subtle.
Except for Skywalker's father, who was rarely subtle.
A good reminder to take this young man seriously, in spite of his youthful good looks and quite gentle features. Luke Skywalker looked positively nice.
He shook his head to clear it.
"Commander Skywalker," Piett said formally, "Lord Vader informed me of his decision to defect from the Empire. While I have not defected from the Empire, per se, I am in agreement that the Emperor is no longer ruling the galaxy in a way that is beneficial for the citizens of the galaxy in general, and for his men in the military specifically. With some reluctance, therefore, I have chosen to assist the Rebellion as an advisor. I will provide information about the Executor and how to operate her. I will provide information about Imperial bases and defenses and offenses. I refuse, however, to take up arms against my comrades by commanding or directly operating a ship. Perhaps that is illogical, but it is the course I am committed to following."
Skywalker gazed at him for a long, probing moment. Ah, now that was rather like Lord Vader. How well he recognized that penetrating stare.
"No, I understand completely," Skywalker finally said.
He took another sip of his peculiar drink, then added, "My father sent me a message, as you probably know. He stated that you are loyal to your men and your ship. If you are willing, I would like to know more about this prison planet where the Executor's crew is currently stranded. We did a search on the coordinates provided by the technicians on the Executor. According to our records, the planet listed is not habitable due to an erratic planetary tilt."
Piett heaved a worried sigh, "Your records are partially correct, Commander. The planet was considered uninhabitable for precisely those reasons. However, geographic anomalies provide significant geothermal power, and the planet is essentially an experiment to see whether it can be transformed into something habitable. The concern is that the planet is approaching a dangerous phase, when its orbit moves close to a nearby planet and its planetary tilt will change from the gravitational pull of the other planet. Records from the past are incomplete, but it seems likely that the temperatures in what has been the habitable zone for many years may alter to become fatal for humans."
Skywalker looked…concerned? Yes, concerned. Either the boy was a consummate actor, or he genuinely cared about the random Imperials facing possible extinction on that blasted planet.
"I presume the Emperor knows of the prison planet?"
"Yes, and he may send a rescue mission. Or he may not bother. If he does, he may kill everyone in a rage over Lord Vader's defection. To be honest, I chose to stay with the Executor partially because the prospect of being stranded was even less palatable than imprisonment by the Rebel Alliance."
Skywalker asked, "Besides your crew, are there still other prisoners there?"
Piett nodded, "Yes. Lord Vader only extracted known Rebels. There were many hundred slave laborers without Rebel ties."
Skywalker shook his head slightly and looked out the window, currently showing empty space.
"A tragic situation, Admiral," he said.
He turned and faced Piett, "I'll talk to Alliance High Command and try to convince them to mount a rescue mission. I'm assuming many of your men were conscripts, in which case we may be able to release them to their home worlds. Some might even be willing to join the Alliance. At any rate, I'll do what I can."
Piett was astonished. If Skywalker was genuine…
"That's very kind of you, Commander," he said, and was surprised to feel a lump in his throat. He had forced himself to not dwell too much on his men's probably fate, as he could do nothing. But maybe there was hope.
Quickly, Piett added, "And I was genuine about providing information to the Alliance about the Lady Ex."
Skywalker nodded, "I know. You have many talents and gifts, Admiral, but you do not shield well. I did a surface mind probe a few minutes ago, and I'm convinced of your veracity. I will be leaving on a mission shortly, and I hope you'll work with my colleagues regarding running the Executor. I will say I'm not sure we can staff her. You'll need to accept she may be torn to pieces for parts."
Piett grimaced and said, "She's been designed to run on minimal crew, Skywalker. There was always the possibility that many men would be lost during battle, or that most men would need to be transferred off in the event of a planetary crisis. Indeed, she has been running on a skeleton crew for the last 3 weeks, as Lord Vader made a point of transferring many men to various Imperial outposts over the last two months, no doubt as preparation for his defection."
Skywalker's eyebrows lifted, "And no one asked Vader why he was doing that?"
Piett's mouth actually gaped open with astonishment.
"You don't know your father very well, do you? No one dared question him about anything. To do so was to invite constriction of the throat resulting in permanent loss of breath."
Skywalker winced, "Yes, I have heard about that."
The young man sighed, and added, "And no, I don't know him well. We've only met once, as you probably know, and we were literally fighting for most of our encounter. That was at Bespin. Were you there?"
Piett took a deep breath, and forced himself to remain calm. His memories of Bespin were not good. Though actually, Skywalker's were no doubt much worse.
"Yes, I was promoted to Admiral just before the battle of Hoth, so I was second in command of the Executor at Bespin."
Skywalker lifted one eyebrow, "He obviously didn't kill you."
"No," Piett said slowly, then added in a rush, "I fully expected him to. I was just waiting for those invisible talons to constrict around my throat when the Millennium Falcon went into hyperspace. I still don't know how you managed that."
"The droid I brought with me communicated with the Cloud City central computer and learned that the hyperdrive had been deactivated. It switched on the hyperdrive at the very last moment."
Skywalker smiled wryly, "I'm afraid bringing the droid was my only useful contribution to our escape. Other than that, I was a total liability."
Piett took a deep breath, "May I speak candidly about your father, Commander Skywalker?"
The boy turned and looked at him with his penetrating stare, then nodded and sat back in his chair, "Please do, Admiral. I am very interested in anything you can tell me about him."
Piett stood up abruptly and walked over to the viewport.
"I admire Lord Vader in many ways. He's an incredibly hard worker, a brilliant tactician, and leads from the front lines.
He turned to look at Skywalker, "Unfortunately, Lord Vader can also be needlessly cruel and until a few years ago, I would have said he was entirely heartless. He appeared to be totally devoted to Emperor Palpatine, and his main goals were the destruction of the rebellion and the conquest of the galaxy on his master's behalf. There are many other Imperials with similar goals, but only Vader was as much a danger to his own men as to the enemy. He had a reputation for bouts of rage which resulted in destruction for those in range."
Piett focused on Skywalker, who was now gazing into his drink.
"And then you appeared on the galactic scene. I remember when your name was finally uncovered as the pilot who had destroyed the Death Star. There was naturally much talk about you, about your humble origins and the incredible skill of that impossible shot. I was assigned to the Executor a few months after you were identified. It became obvious to the entire command staff that Lord Vader was completely obsessed with you. We literally had weekly meetings, and Vader had agents hunting down every scrap of information about you they could gather. When we discovered the Rebel base on Hoth, the first thing Vader said was that you were there with the Rebels.
"And then the pursuit of the Millennium Falcon, and the flight through that asteroid field, and Bespin, and your impossible escape…
"Lord Vader was different after that. He spent more time in his chambers. He was quieter. I am positive now that he was grieving. I don't know your father's past nor what made him the man he is, but there is no doubt that he cares about you, Commander Skywalker.
"Two months ago, he returned from Champala in a profoundly solemn mood. He shut himself in his chambers for three days, and when he emerged he began this bizarre course of events which led to his defection. He started shedding personnel at nearby bases. He stocked the Executor with full supplies, presumably for the benefit of the Alliance. And finally, a few weeks ago, he ordered me into a meeting room and told me that you are his son.
Skywalker turned his head now, staring at him intently. Piett, unnerved by the intensity of the rebel's gaze, turned his eyes back out towards space. He could just see the front portion of his precious Executor in the viewport now.
"He, I'm just going to say it, he loves you, Commander. As a son. He is deeply concerned about your wellbeing. I would urge you, therefore, to be careful of your own safety. You spoke of an upcoming mission. Lord Vader recently expressed considerable disapproval for the missions the Alliance sends you on, stating that they are too dangerous. If you were to be badly injured or killed, I do not believe your father would react well."
He turned back. Skywalker's eyes were narrowed, but he also nodded slightly.
"Do you think that's why my father is tying in some of his funding to my retinal scan?" he asked, "To keep me closer to the Alliance Fleet, to keep me safer?"
Piett nodded, impressed, "Yes, I have no doubt that is true. He also asked, though did not order, that I work with you as much as possible in the hopes that the Alliance would be willing to keep you nearby to obtain information easily from me."
Skywalker nodded thoughtfully, then stood up.
"Thank you very much, Admiral," he said, then smiled charmingly, "I will do my best to stay alive and well. And this mission I spoke of is actually a search for my father, so if I am injured when I find him, it will be entirely his fault."
Author Note:
I rather like Piett, especially after reading (the as yet incomplete) Meet the Skywalkers by frodogenic. If you haven't read frodogenic's stuff, do. BRILLIANT! Thanks again for those following and reviewing.