Docking Bay #78
Star Destroyer Eclipse
In Orbit Around Mustafar
Admiral Firmus Piett waited for his private shuttle to settle on the floor and then deliberately, and reluctantly, released his restraints. He stood up and strode down out of the cabin, down the ramp, and onto the shiny floor of Docking Bay #78. It was, in his mind, a little too shiny. The Eclipse, as Emperor Palpatine's flagship, spent all of its time in orbit around wherever the Emperor was at the moment. This meant that she never was in battle, and Piett thought with a mental sniff of disdain, that the floor likely was only scuffed by shuttles such as his own. It was nothing like Executor, with her glorious squadrons of TIE fighters. Eclipse was no warrior, not like the Lady, who was currently floating with lethal elegance some one hundred kilometers away. It was odd for both ships to be in orbit around the same planet, but Vader and Palpatine had apparently decided to have a meeting around Mustafar, which was weird but above his pay grade.
"Admiral, if you will come this way, please?"
Piett nodded at the young lieutenant and followed him with a stoic expression and a rapidly beating heart. He did not like this at all. He belonged on the bridge of the Lady not this boring behemoth. Moreover, the Emperor totally freaked him out, and there was a good chance he would be executed today – not because he had done anything wrong, but because both Vader and Palpatine were hard, quixotic souls who were well known for lashing out and murdering people randomly with freaky Force magic.
But he could not, of course, disobey an order, and here he was.
The young lieutenant guided his superior onto an elevator and entered in a floor number. The two men stood in anxious silence for a full thirty seconds, and then the door opened and Piett followed his guide around a corner and into a large conference room.
Here, in spite of his considerable self-control, Piett jerked to a halt. Darth Vader stood at the head of a long conference table with at least twenty chairs, 19 of which were filled with high ranking officers and council members, all male and all but himself part of Palpatine's inner circle.
Except for one. At the head of the table, seated in the most impressive chair, was the young Rebel Luke Skywalker, dressed in black.
Luke Skywalker.
Who had been haunting his dreams and his daily updates for so many months.
Why was this Rebel Scum sitting in a position of authority, without binders on?
"Sit down, Admiral Piett," Darth Vader boomed, gesturing to a seat next to the young Rebel. He obeyed with alacrity and sank down into his seat.
"Gentlemen," Vader said, with such irony that Piett jerked toward his master. He needed to keep his mind focused on what was going on or he would probably find himself more or less dead, probably more.
"I have called you here," the behemoth Sith continued, "to announce that as of three hours ago, Emperor Palpatine is dead."
A gasp ensued, one that Piett shared, and then silence fell, a dark and terrified silence, with the men around the table gazing with wide eyes and horrified faces.
"May I ask, my Lord, how he died?"
The voice was, Piett realized, his own, and he marveled at his own … stupidity … in speaking during such a delicate time.
"Of course, Admiral," Vader boomed and gestured regally, whereupon several large screens detached from the ceiling and turned vertical to reveal a most incredible scene which had been caught on holocam, that of Vader attacking Palpatine, and then Palpatine floating into the air with his royal guards grabbing his boots, and then the guards being sliced in half by Skywalker, and then the Emperor being dunked into lava and dying. There was no sound to the recording, but there did not need to be. If this was accurate, Emperor Palpatine was indeed dead.
The recording cut off and Piett turned an astonished gaze on his master, only to have his eyes shift to the face of Luke Skywalker, who was smiling smugly.
"You killed the Emperor?" the Admiral croaked, and once again cursed his own need to talk.
"Yes," Vader replied drily, "though I had assistance from several strong Force Sensitives. But the most important message to you is not regarding the former Emperor, but the young man before me. This is my son, Luke Skywalker."
Piett, very abruptly, was suffocating. There was no air in his lungs, and his brain hurt and…
Oh yes, he needed to breathe.
He breathed.
He was not, in fact, dying from astonishment.
Though it was a close call.
"What?" a male voice demanded from behind him.
Piett could not turn away from the young Rebel in front of him, but he recognized the astonishment in the tone of whomever had dared to speak.
"Luke Skywalker is my son," Vader declared, his great mask tilting slowly and menacingly to face every man seated at the table. "My wife gave birth to him some twenty three years ago, and the Emperor murdered her a little while later. I took part in the assassination of the Emperor because he betrayed me in the worst way possible by murdering the woman I adored."
"He didn't know earlier," Luke Skywalker explained helpfully. "About my mom."
"I did not," Vader agreed, and began stalking around the table in a thoroughly terrifying way. "Once I knew the truth, I worked with several others who wished to have the Emperor destroyed. Now that he is, I am taking control of the Empire, with my son as my direct heir."
There was a collective intake of breath, and Piett, whose eyes were fixed on the heir in question, watched the young man's blue eyes widen and his face pale.
"What?!" the boy sputtered. "No, I am not!"
Vader spun around, his cape swishing dramatically, and said, "You are my son. Therefore, it is your destiny to rule."
Skywalker stood up, his eyes now squinty with outrage, and pointed at the behemoth. "It is not my destiny to rule. I hate politics. I hate meetings. I want to fly. A lot. This is ridiculous!"
Piett turned toward his lord and master, waiting with bated breath for the Sith to start throwing furniture, or attack Skywalker, or ... something.
A door slid open opposite him, and three individuals stepped in, all dressed in civilian attire, with the last being of all people the Corellian Han Solo, who, last Piett knew, had been captured in Cloud City and dunked into carbonite. How had the man escaped? Why was he here, and also not in binders? So weird!
The other two humans, a male and female in their mid-thirties, looked oddly familiar. The woman, who was petite, boasted chocolate-colored eyes and dark hair down to her shoulders. Where had he seen her before? For that matter, the man looked familiar too...
"Listen to me," the thirty something man said, turning toward the Sith, "there is no point in you and Luke arguing about this. You aren't going to be ruling the Empire for long, because bluntly, it needs to be dismantled in place of a New Republic, with democratically elected leaders."
"Sentients are stupid!" Vader roared, which provoked the woman to stride forward and actually poke the cyborg in the blinky lights.
"People are not stupid!" she snapped and then shrugged and admitted, "Well, some of them are, but autocratic dictatorships are far worse. Besides, trust me, neither your son nor your daughter are going to go along with being Emperor or Empress or whatever..."
"Leia, we are leaving!" the unknown man cried out, and Piett narrowed his eyes. Leaving where? And Leia? As in Leia Organa? But no, that made no sense as this woman was in her early twenties not mid thirties!
"Vader," the man continued, turning piercing blue eyes toward the Sith Lord. "These are Padme's children, and you need to work with them, not try to convince them to do things your way. They are both super stubborn, so..."
Both of the Unknowns disappeared into thin air, and Piett pinched himself in the neck to make certain he was, in fact, awake and not in the midst of some kind of weird fever dream. Given how peculiar this day was, he was surprised when the pinch actually hurt.
"The other Luke and Leia are right, Father," Luke Skywalker said passionately. "I won't help you run the Empire, and neither will she. It's up to you, of course, but we'd rather die than be part of this stinking Empire!"
Piett's darting eyes went back and forth between father and son. He could hardly believe that Skywalker would be so stupid as to yell at Darth Vader, even if the cyborg was the young man's father. It seemed more or less suicidal…
"Very well," Vader said, and his shoulders noticeably slumped. "I am willing to dissolve the Empire in favor of a democracy, but I require one thing from you."
The young man crossed his arms and glared at his sire. "What do you want?"
"For you to stay with me and help," Vader replied simply.
Skywalker's forehead creased, and he said, "Well, of course I'm gonna stay with you. I always wanted to know my father, like so so so much. The only way you are getting rid of me is if you chase me away."
"Well, then, I think we have a plan," Vader replied, regally ignoring the horrified gaping of the men around the table.
"What will happen to me?" Solo asked reasonably.
/
Leia Organa's Private Office
Home One
Somewhere at the edge of the known galaxy
Hiding from the Empire
Four Days Later
For the tenth time, Leia Organa watched the silent vid which supposedly showed Emperor Palpatine being dunked into lava.
The news, which had spread to this far corner of the galaxy, that Palpatine was dead and that Vader had been involved in his assassination and that Vader was now running the Empire was certainly vitally important if it were true. The recording was a good one, but the lighting of the lava world – supposedly Mustafar, but who knew? If this was some kind of a trick, it could be generated from pink screens in a holo studio! – made it hard to make out the details. She thought that the man next to Vader was Luke but that seemed too much to hope for, because why would Vader keep Luke safe, which it seemed like he was? Probably a pink screen was involved.
If it was not, well, Palpatine might be dead, and that was very interesting, and also a relief because it meant lots of meetings and work and it kept Leia from having to think about the losses in her own personal life. Han was gone, trapped in carbonite, probably now in the clutches of the evil gangster, Jabba the Hutt.
Luke was gone too, poor Luke, who had tried to rescue her at Cloud City and instead had walked into Darth Vader's trap. He was probably dead, or, worse yet, was working for Vader? That seemed impossible…
The door opened, and she glanced over with vague irritation for being interrupted, which morphed into total, stunned, incredulous astonishment.
"Han?" she croaked.
He took two long strides into her small office, and she stared at him, with tears springing to her eyes, and he reached out his hands and pulled her up and into his arms, and he smelled like sweat and engine oil and … and … like Han. Han!
"How … how…?" she whispered into his ear.
"I will explain everything later, Leia," he murmured back, and then pushed her back just enough that he was able to plant a long and loving kiss on her lips.
She returned the kiss with enthusiasm, and then they both laughed with joy when they came up for air.
The Corellian said, "Leia, will you marry me?"
"Of course I will," she replied without thinking. "I love you, Han."
"I love you too, Leia."
/
There will be one more chapter on this timeline.