"Excuse me, young man." says a thin, high-ranking officer that is leading a line of seven officers with various uniforms. Army, navy, whatever. "What is on the menu today?" He looks like a character from old British horror movies that shows bare breasts every twenty minutes.

"My pleasure." Roy points with his large spoon as he identifies prepared food in steaming serving pans. "We have chili-mac, mac and cheese, mac and cheese with bacon, baked chicken, fried chicken, chicken schnitzel, and assorted vegetables mixed up together."

"Is there gravy for the schnitzel?"

Roy looks down the line and finds a small pan with a bubbling brown substance. "Ah, yes." He taps it with his spoon. "Found it."

"Excellent. I'll have the schnitzel, veg, and mac and cheese, sans bacon." The officer smiles.

"Sans bacon? Is that yes or no on bacon?"

"No."

"Right!" Roy scoops the items to a plate and holds out. "You need a tray."

An officer in gray, let's say an Admiral, picks up a tray and hands it up the line. The hunter of topless vampires is about to take the tray but stops.

"That tray is wet, Admiral."

The Admiral looks at it in horror, then to Roy. "What is the meaning of this? Why are your trays wet?"

"That's how they come out of the dryer." Roy smiles. Behind him, Jordy pokes his head out of the scullery, his eyes pop, and he runs to the serving line. He grabs the tray from the Admiral and pulls a towel from his apron.

"I got that, sir." Jordy dries the towel. "I'll come around and dry all the trays for you."

"Why does the Death Star's dish dryer not dry trays?" the slayer of fanged Playboy Playmates asks the Admiral.

"Maybe it is not being used correctly, Governor."

The Governor looks to Jordy. "Are you using the dryer correctly?"

Jordy sees the Admiral slightly shaking his head so the Governor does not rip open his asshole. "I will double check that our procedures are correct, sir."

"I saw you shake your head, Admiral! No lunch for you! Go back to your workstation!" Governor Tarkin looks to Jordy. "Thank you, young man. I will see that this problem is corrected."

"Thank you, sir." Jordy hands Tarkin the tray, and Roy puts the plate on it.

"Would you like a salad with garlic bread-sticks." Roy points to the salad bar. "We have garden salad, three bean salad, four bean salad, cucumber salad, and a carrot and pea salad with bow-tie pasta."

"Four bean salad, please."

Jordy dries six more trays and hands them to the remaining officers and Roy serves them. Tarkin turns to look for an open table large enough for his group, then spins back around.

"Oh, fuck," Tarkin mumbles to a general. "Not at once, everybody look at the back table by the window." All six officers look to the back table at the same time. They see Darth Vader having chili-mac with a large iced tea. "I said not at once, you dumb shits. Follow my lead."

Governor Tarkin walks sideways about ten feet and slowly turns to look at tables. He sees an empty four person table close by and sits at it. The next three officers scurry to sit with him. The remaining officers sit at the closest table.

"Ah, that went well." Tarkin grins. "Maybe he didn't see us." As he grabs for the salt shaker it moves away from him. "Bollocks." The general on his left magically slides away from the table, spins around, and shoves up to the other officers. Tarkin feels warm air wafting onto his neck. It is synchronized to metallic breathing.

"Lord Vader." Tarkin gives his most charming grin. "Would you like to join us?"

Darth Vader drops his tray onto the table and sits down. "Yes, I would." He looks at the other officers, scaring the shit out of them. "I saw your little maneuver, pretending not to see me. I felt your presence before you entered the canteen."

"So you did." Governor Tarkin spreads his napkin on his lap. "Sometimes we like to turn work off and chat about other things. With you it's shop talk all the time."

"This is a big fucking space station." Vader shakes his fist. "There's a lot of work to do and a lot to talk about."

"Not while on our lunch break. Occasionally, I'd like to hear how Colonial Waco's niece is doing in primary school." Tarkin looks to a young officer that is wiping sweat from his forehead. "Colonial?"

Meanwhile, Jordy is watching the drama from sixteen feet away. He crunches up to Roy who is serving a lowlife lieutenant. "Hey, buddy. Do you know who that guy is over there? It's Governor Tarkin."

"Oh. What is he governor of?"

"The Death Star." Jordy shakes his head. "He's the Grand Moff. The Big Kahuna. The Grand Poobah."

"I thought Jeff Vader ran the Death Star."

"No, Vader protects it." Jordy smirks. "His name is Darth, not Jeff." He watches the ejected officer pick up his lunch from Tarkin's table and lightly walk back to his table. "That was a mistake." The officer starts choking and collapses.

"He's choking!" Roy yells and runs around the serving line. Jordy grabs his arm. "Let go! He needs the Heimlich maneuver!"

"No, he doesn't! Just watch."

"Vader!" Tarkin grabs and throws down his napkin. "I told you to stop doing that! You've choked to death seven officers this month alone. Yes, I know about all of them!"

Vader waves his fork and the officer can breath again and he climbs into his chair. "Your dumb monkeys keep forgetting the power of the Force and I have to remind them of it." He takes a sip of iced tea. "Okay, you want to chat about other things. Continue. I will not interrupt." He holds out his hand and the small bowl of Splenda slides into it. He empties a packet into his tea.

"I'm sorry to speak out of turn." A general leans in. "Lord Vader, can you show us how to do that?"

"Of course. The Force flows through every living being, including you idiots." Vader waves his hand and the chair slides out from under the previously choked officer, dropping his ass to the floor.

Tarkin and the officers laugh. "Oh, good one, old boy," says Tarkin. "Yes, please show us that trick."

Jordy chuckles behind the buffet. "I need to learn that myself. Huh, Roy?"

"Is there a ghost moving our furniture?"