Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Firmus Piett was a man who liked routine. He liked to get up at the same time every morning  {yes he did sleep, thank you Max}. He liked the stack of data pads left on his low, glass coffee table by his exceedingly competent aide. He expected his spiced Axxilan tea in his thermos as he exited his quarters for the bridge {not caf, not yet. Just because Veers and his dirt pounders found tea less manly….} He was even reasonably adjusted to the routine of stepping onto the Lady’s bridge and seeing the dark shadow at the end of the walkway, staring out at the stars racing by. 

So, he was not best pleased to find himself on a shuttle bound planetside with Lord Vader, on a mission for the Emperor. No indeed. His place, as admiral of Death Squadron, was very firmly on the polished decking of the Executor, up in orbit, providing a very real and threatening presence, ready to leap to the Dark Lord’s command and defend his interests (him) with the most awesome firepower in the galaxy. (Tarkin’s bulbous pet project was not at all in the same class as the Lady. And it was space dust. So. Don’t even know why he thought about it.) 

Vader had been curt and forbidding when Piett carefully probed as to why he was included on this particular mission. He may be more used to the man in his routine, but he also knew better when to push. He accepted the ‘you were required Piett’ and the drop in temperature and promptly acquiesced. 

And thus, he was strapped into one of the seats in the Lambda shuttle, tugging at the collar of his heavy winter coat. He was deeply grateful for the warmth the navy overcoats provided, but as they were not yet planetside, the heat was rapidly overwhelming in the smaller confines of the shuttle. A small squad of troopers was accompanying them and Lord Vader was, naturally, piloting the shuttle. Piett smiled grimly as they made another gut wrenching dive through the atmosphere and they were all pressed to the walls of the shuttle. Apparently this was the first time with Lord Vader for some of the troopers, two of whom had whipped off their helmets and were expressing their misery into the small paper bags provided for such a purpose. 

They broke through the thin and scattered cloud cover to a planet largely covered in rocks and sand. The temperatures and seasons were both extreme, according to the information on his data pad, and they were landing on the wintery side of the planet. The Empire had a significant mining operation here-- it was not unheard of for Lord Vader to come and ‘inspire’ workers, but the timing of this visit seemed…..off to Piett. Uneasiness stirred in his stomach-- he may not be Force sensitive but he had reached his current position largely through good instincts-- and this was not sitting well with him. 

Yes they mined here, but this was an out of the way system and while large, it was by no means a crucial operation to the Empire. Sending the commander of the fleet and further, its admiral, was excessive to Piett. 

They landed perfectly in the dusty middle of the mining camp, snow and sand whirling around them as the ramp lowered and the troopers exited first. Piett rose as his lord came out of the cockpit and waited respectfully as Vader moved by him. Except that he didn’t. He paused and tilted his helmet toward the admiral consideringly.

“You have your side arm?” he rumbled as softly as the vocoder allowed. 

Surprise raced through Piett at the question. Did Vader also feel this….. Unease?

“I do my lord.”

“Good.”

He swept by and Piett followed in his wake, mind churning to process all his musings. Their boots clanged against the ramp as they came out into the weak sunlight and the welcome of the waiting station master. 

“Lord Vader, we are deeply honored by your presence…” Vader held up a hand and the pudgy, sweating man stopped immediately.

“I wish merely to see your equipment and the store of minerals you have collected to date.”

“Of course of course my lord.” He waved over another individual with a trembling hand. The temperature was -10 c yet the man’s collar was becoming quite wet with sweat, Piett noted with some disgust. 

“Show Lord Vader whatever he requests,” the station master commanded. 

“Admiral Piett will be reviewing your logs and shipments.”

Would he now? Piett thought somewhat bitterly. Surely this assignment could have been done by some pencil pushing Lieutenant! Why was his presence ‘required’? 

As if hearing him (and perhaps he did) Vader turned to him. 

“Look for any….. discrepancies Admiral.”

“Certainly my Lord.” Still incredibly unclear on what he was doing here, Piett turned to the station master and motioned curtly with his gloved hand for the man to lead the way. 

Vader was already billowing his way toward the massive equipment with the hapless attendant scurrying in his wake. Piett and the station master walked briskly ( Force it was cold!! A modicum of sympathy could be felt for Veer’s moaning about Hoth) toward the offices and crew quarters. 

The blast doors slid shut behind them and Piett appreciated the surge of warmth that surrounded them. He followed his guide down a short hallway and into a room filled with databanks and a single desk that seemed crammed in as an afterthought. He pulled his gloves off and stuffed them into the pockets of his overcoat, then removed his hat and ran a quick hand through his hair. 

“All right station master, let’s begin with your logs…..” he turned, setting his hat on the desk ---- and found himself facing a blaster held in a trembling hand. 

Piett raised his hands carefully and calmly, staring at the sweating mess in front of him, as internally he cursed absolutely everything in the galaxy to the Nine Hells. 

“This is not a very advisable course of action for you,” he stated, hazel eyes hard. 

The pathetic man, nodded shakily. “I know, I know but the money was very good and well, they got here first with their guns…..”

“They?”

The man paused as thought listening, and confirmed that he did indeed have an ear piece by reaching his free hand to his ear. And Piett struck.

He was very well aware that his diminutive stature allowed many, many beings to underestimate him. He trained hard to make sure that they only did so once. Thanking Veers and his ruthless hand to hand, Piett grasped the wrist of the man and twisted hard, turning his body out of the line of fire as he did so. He was quite adept at the move by now, but had not accounted for just how sweaty this man was. His grip slid slightly and in that moment the station master squeezed the trigger more by sheer bad luck than anything else.

Piett grunted sharply as a flame ignited in his thigh-- then he let the pain and rage take over and he took satisfaction in breaking the wrist he held and wresting the blaster from the man. Smoothly he changed it to stun and fired it in the station master’s face. He went down like a pregnant bantha. 

Piett panted, checked that the man was indeed unconscious, and proceeded to find a way to secure his prisoner, using the man’s own belt to fetter him to the desk. 

He then turned his attention to the wound in his leg. It was bad, but had not hit anything vital as he had known. He pulled out his com.

“Lord Vader.” A pause and hiss of static. “My Lord.” Nothing. Piett thumbed it to a different channel. “Piett to Executor, respond.” Kriffing hell.

His Axxilan mother would recognize and disapprove of the curses now muttered under his breath as Piett jammed his hat back on and limp-ran out the door and back the way he came. As he went, he unholstered his own service blaster. Reaching the blast doors he backhanded the controls and prepared himself, blaster in each hand as they hissed open. 

The winds swirled but other than the distant clanking of  machinery, nothing seemed amiss, as he chanced a quick glance outside. Piett knew well however, that appearances were deceiving, which was just as well. The moment he stepped outside a blaster shot splattered right by his head. Well kriff.  

Chapter Text

Vader only partially heard the chittering of the man behind him as he looked down into the immense pits being mined with a variety of enormous machinery and droids. The Force was urgent and he reached out within it, gripping the handrail with his black gloves. He had assumed Palpatine was merely trying to keep him from chasing after Luke, giving him busy errands so that he remembered whose property he really was. But when the wizened Sith had informed him that he was to take the Admiral with him, Vader paused.

“Is that a problem Lord Vader?” Palpatine’s yellow eyes gleamed at him from beneath his cowl.

“No my Master. I am merely--- curious, at your choice.” Vader was not certain he should reveal his uncertainties but then, Sidious liked to know that he was succeeding in keeping all his various pawns off balance. Vader opened his shields a crack to allow more of his surprise to surface.

Palpatine chuckled, but there was no real humor there. “Is he not competent my apprentice? He seems to have received your approval. I believe he has lasted fully 8 months as your admiral--- a remarkable feat indeed.”

Vader noted the evasion and merely inclined his head. “He is competent my master, as you say.” 

“Then you may consider this as my approval too Lord Vader.”

The Sith Lord released the rail and moved further down the platform, the attendant scurrying to keep up and still listing off the attributes of the mining operation as he went. Did Sidious know? Vader mused. Did he sense that Vader was plotting his overthrow? It was expected eventually-- the rule of two denoted that. But Sidious would cling to every last shred of power. He may suspect that the Admiral of Death Squadron was in on the potential coup. He surely did not know of Luke’s involvement however. Perhaps, Vader mused, it was also time to bring in Veers.

Vader rounded a corner that brought him back to the large central courtyard where his shuttle waited. It took him mere seconds to realize that the squad of stormtroopers left with the shuttle were not to be seen. The Force spiked and red death sizzled from his hand as he turned and deflected the hail of blaster shots that ripped from locations all around the compound. He spotted a small cluster of the assailants on the platform about the offices and raised his hand. Three beings were flung violently from their perch to crumple in a mess of distorted limbs onto the frozen earth below. A blaster bolt scorched his armored shoulder, but the only damage was the smell of melted plasteel. Across the way, Vader sensed Piett before he saw the man, taking cover in the entryway to the offices, his olive green coat blending in well with the drab building. Piett was firing two blasters with reasonable skill. The stormtroopers were nowhere to be seen, which did not bode well for them. 

Vader used the Force to activate his comlink as he batted away more bolts and searched above him for the targets. 

“Piett!” Nothing. He was too far to hear him without the com-- they had clearly been jammed. Vader sighed and reached for the man’s thoughts. He had not attempted it on his admiral as of yet. 

Piett.

He sensed the jerk in the admiral’s stance as he fired again at a green togruta taking cover by a piece of machinery. Then…

My….my.. Lord?

Get to the shuttle, start it up. I will come to you. 

Understood. 

His admiral was unnerved, he could feel that with grim amusement, but then Piett was the right choice for this rank. He was holstering one blaster and preparing himself. Vader reached to snap the togruta’s neck and Piett took the moment to run for the shuttle. He was limping, Vader noted in frustration, not able to move as fast as he desired. Nonetheless, he flung himself under the shuttle and brought his blaster to bear at the attackers who were now starting to come out into the open-- a challenging number of them too. Vader flung a hand out, straining in the Force, and a shockwave threw them off of their feet. 

Piett had managed to punch the buttons on the shuttle and the ramp was descending as Vader battled his way to it. The admiral threw his blaster inside, and hauled himself over the rim of the ramp before it hit the dirt, making his way inside to start it up. He raced back to the opening to make sure Vader was there. A bolt hit the Dark Lord’s armored cloak and the admiral drew the second blaster to return fire when his whole body seized in a blue blast and he toppled from the shuttle to land hard below. Vader reached with the Force just as a large black ship rose from the deep mining pits, bringing its guns to bear on the shuttle. 

Vader switched tactics, using the Force to close the hatch as he flung himself to the cockpit and activated the shields. Several blasts rocked the shuttle as he seized the controls and rose into the air. He flipped the Lambda around and returned fire, but he was very clearly outgunned and Executor was not receiving his hails. Still jammed. He did one more run over the compound, reaching for Piett’s life force as he did so. It was faint, but there. Alive, but unconscious still. Figures were converging on the fallen admiral and Vader paused just long enough to make sure they were taking him alive, before he shot up into the atmosphere toward his Lady. 

Chapter Text

General Maximilian “Iron Max” Veers drummed his fingers on the wall of the turbolift, willing it to go faster. It was not a nervous habit as some (Firmus) might consider it-- merely a way to pass the time as he travelled from one spot to another on their massive Lady. Captain Venka had commed him minutes before, ‘requesting’ his presence on the bridge in what could only be described as a strained voice. Granted, serving on Lord Vader’s flagship implied that strained voices would be the status quo, but Venka had been around long enough that this seemed out of character. Particularly as Vader wasn’t on the ship at the moment. 

The doors hissed open and Veers strode onto the bridge swiftly-- ignoring the salutes of the men he passed and homing in on Venka who was pacing agitatedly at the end of the walkway. 

“What is it Captain?” Veers wasted no time, pulling them towards the large viewport so as to be out of earshot of the other men. Venka looked physically ill, he realized. 

“Lord Vader is returning, General. He just transmitted an image--” Venka gestured behind him where Veers assumed the analysts were working  “and ordered us to identify the ship in it. It’s a terrible resolution General, and I thought perhaps you could lend a hand.” 

Veers felt a swell of anger rise in his chest “You called me up here, interrupting training man--”

“They took the Admiral.”  Venka swallowed nervously. 

Time stopped.

“Who is they ?” Veers hissed, stepping into Venka’s space.

“I… I don’t know sir. It’s why I commed you. Lord Vader reports that the troopers were killed and then a large amount of-- smugglers? Possibly? Swarmed them. Just as they were about to escape, it appears the Admiral was hit with a stun blast and fell.”

Veers clenched his hands tightly behind his back. Firmus never should have been on this kriffing mission in the first place. 

“A black ship drove Lord Vader off General, and he is demanding we trace it. Veers, the image is terrible , taken from the Lambda’s exterior camera and…” 

“How does Lord Vader know that the Admiral is still alive, Captain?” He sounded cold-- Iron Max indeed. 

“He just--- does Veers! It’s Lord Vader! Shall I comm him back and question his feelings ?” 

Veers reigned himself in. Vader’s certainty was all they had-- he would take it. 

“All right.” He took a breath. “Where’s this image?” 

Venka moved toward the right hand pit and gestured for one of the analysts to hand him a datapad. He retrieved it and gave it to Veers. It was indeed a blurry image. Veers could see that the ship was black and bulky, but he could see why Venka was having a semi-quiet panic attack. It was a terrible image. He chose the flank of the ship and zoomed in by 50%. Was that a symbol? Or just a laser burn? On an inspiration he programmed the pad to view the image in infrared, as he so often did with his AT-AT periscopes. It outlined the sharp angles and shadows that the black ship wasn’t showing before. And there it was-- faint but there. 

“Captain Venka!” 

The Captain came to look over his shoulder. 

“That is the symbol of the Black Sun, Captain.” 

“Are you certain Veers?”

“Look here and here” the General pointed-- “those are the sunbursts of light. That’s too regular to be random scoring.”  Venka took the modified pad and handed it over to the analysts. 

“Find everything you can about Black Sun activity in this sector. Then find out why our sensors didn’t pick up that ship.” The bridge doors hissed open and a familiar dark figure strode through. 

“Do it as fast as possible!!” Venka urged in a half whisper, before straightening to face the Dark Lord. 

As he approached, Veers could smell burned plasteel and see the damage to Vader’s armor and cape. The Sith Lord himself seemed undamaged, but the temperature on the bridge was alarmingly frosty. 

“Well Captain?” Vader questioned, striding right up and towering over the Captain. Both officers straightened. Veers gave Venka the side eye, urging the man to have the courage to report. 

“Yes my lord. We believe that the ship is one belonging to the Black Sun. There is an image on the flank which seems to be their symbol and---”

“Why did it not show up on our sensors Captain?” 

Venka licked his lips. “We… we are working on that as we speak my Lord…”

“Captain!” One of the analysts was brave, Veers reflected, volunteering information in Lord Vader’s presence. 

“Sir, the ship was shielded-- the minerals they mine here-- some of them are used for cloaking of that nature..”

Vader was already nodding. “Yes, it was hidden in the mining pits. Indeed that would cover the signature.” He paused considering and Veers only then noted that their commander was holding something in one hand. 

“General Veers.”  He snapped back to attention.

“My Lord.” 

“Walk with me.”

Shooting Venka a side glance (the man looked ready to melt with relief) he moved to Vader’s side and they went back toward the blast doors. Once they were in the halls outside the bridge, Vader spoke. 

“Coordinate with Captain Venka and his crew. Find me all possible routes that ship could have taken and any bases that the Black Sun has set up here. Xizor will regret this day for the rest of his miserable short life.” 

“Yes, my Lord.”

Vader paused and Veers stopped with him. 

“Keep this search confidential General. As far as the crew is concerned, Admiral Piett was killed in this action.”  

“My Lord?” Veers couldn’t hide his confusion and a  flash of fear ran through him. “I was given to understand you believed the Admiral survived the attack.”

“He did General. Though it was intended to kill me.”   Veers did not know how to respond to that. 

“Report to my quarters after the shift change General Veers. I need to fill you in on a great many things.” Vader lifted the hand holding something and Veers realized it was an Imperial officer’s hat. 

“And speak of this to no one.”

“Of course my Lord.” 

Vader strode away. Veers was left with his mind whirling. Piett’s hat. Vader kept Piett’s hat. 

***

Vader sensed the General outside his quarters before the door signal chimed. He waved a hand and the door hissed open. 

“Enter General.”

The tall man stepped through, removing his hat and coming to stand at attention before Vader’s desk. 

“At ease.” Vader rose and turned to gaze out of the viewport. He could sense the turmoil in the man, something he did not often sense in the ruthlessly competent commander of the Thundering Herd. Curiousity, anger and fear for his….. friend, Vader had all but forgotten the term after 20 years without friendship, You were my brother…!!  No. Vader came to his decision. 

“General, I promised you more information.”

“Yes my Lord.” 

Vader waved a hand. “The security feeds in this room are suspended. We may speak freely.”

Veers quirked an eyebrow, but remained admirably stoic. 

The Dark Lord continued, “You were promoted to this position by myself General because you are skilled, ruthless and loyal. I am asking for that loyalty in particular beyond all other things. What is your view of the Emperor?”

The spike of fear from the Force was unmistakable, but Veers had an excellent Sabaac face. 

“He is a… powerful leader, my Lord.”

“I am not interested in the obvious General. Your candid and t ruthful opinion.”

The man gave a brief pause and then squared his shoulders. “He seems more concerned with power grabs than the Empire he has built my Lord. Our military is more feared than respected, and he uses corrupt and evil beings to suppress the citizens of the Empire.”

Vader knew Veers was waiting for the choke hold. 

“At ease General. I suspected as much. And you are correct in your assessment. What do you think of me?”

“My Lord?”

“Do you trust me?” 

“Am I being candid again my Lord?” Gallows humor from the General. Vader felt a surge of appreciation.

“You are.”

“You have no… patience for incompetence and are ruthless in enforcing that. However, you are a commander who leads from the front. You do not ask us to do anything that you would not do.”

“Thank you General.” Vader could feel the veracity of Veer’s statement. “This incident has forced my hand to bring you in on my intentions sooner than I expected. But I believe you are a crucial part in this enterprise. I assume you recall the events that transpired at Bespin?”

'I’ll never join you!'  His son… .falling endlessly, Vader desperately trying to steer him through the Force to one of the maintenance tubes….

“Indeed my Lord.”

“Luke Skywalker is my son.”

A beat. Veers shifted his stance.

“I ---- was not aware my Lord.”

Vader smiled under the mask. “As most are not. While he has no interest in joining the Empire, he came to realize the …. benefits of overthrowing the Emperor by working with us.”

“And, does ‘us’ include Admiral Piett, my Lord?” 

“It does General. I believe that Death Squadron will follow me. I think that my assessment of your division would include them as well. Is that accurate do you think?”

“I believe so my Lord.” 

“I sense Palpatine’s hand in this General. It was by his insistence that Admiral Piett came on this mission. To what end I am not sure as I am certain that I was to be killed. Perhaps he thought he would take out the admiral most loyal to me, and thus most threatening from a military standpoint. Regardless, we must retrieve Piett and determine what position the Black Sun holds in Sidious’ plan.”

Veers eyes blew wide-- “Wait, Sidious? As in Darth Sidious ?”

“You have heard the name I see.”

“Yes, in rumors, but the Emperor…..?” 

“Indeed. He is my master and a Sith Lord.” 

Veers was internally reeling, Vader sensed, but then his resolve strengthened noticeably. 

“What would you have me do my Lord?”

Vader’s comm pinged.  He thumbed it on. “I was not to be disturbed Captain.”

Veers could almost hear Venka gulping from here. 

“Yes my Lord, but the Emperor commanded….”

“He is waiting now?”

“Yes my Lord.”

Vader cut the connection. “You must leave now General.”

Veers bowed and left. One more reason to appreciate the man-- he never wasted time dithering. Vader calmed his thoughts and reinforced his mental shields. Then he strode to the dais and knelt. After a suitably humbling amount of time passed, the giant form of Sidious came into being.

“What is thy bidding my master?”

“Lord Vader. I am informed that you were attacked on this mission, is that so?”

You know it is you ancient spider.

“It is so my Master. I am unharmed as is the fleet.”

“Yet missing an admiral I’m given to understand.” 

Vader clenched one of the fists resting on the dais. 

“Indeed. However, we shall be sure to ….”

“My condolences Lord Vader. And who have you appointed to take his place?” 

Vader thought furiously as the psychological chess game ratcheted up. 

“I have Captain Venka as acting admiral, my Master.”

“Yes, well, perhaps I can also search for a suitable candidate for my most elite squadron.”

“That would be most generous.”

“But now my faithful servant, I have need of you on another mission. There are rumors that the Rebels intend to sabotage Kuat shipyards. Go there and ensure their safety.”

Vader could not quite suppress his anger. 

“Do you have somewhere else to be Lord Vader?” 

“No my Master, I merely tire of the Rebel’s overwhelming hubris.” 

“Patience Lord Vader-- their destruction draws near.” Palpatine ended the call and Vader knelt still taking in deep breaths. 

He could not go after Piett personally-- the Emperor made it clear he was watching. What was not clear, was whether Sidious knew that Piett still lived. He hoped.  

The dark Lord rose and strode to the viewport-- mind racing. Once they traced Piett’s location he could send Veers and a squadron or two without rerouting the entire fleet. It was risky, but not unheard of for him to send the Thundering Herd on separate missions. 

But finding the admiral without alerting Sidious to the fact he was looking…. If he stretched out for Piett’s presence now, Vader was sure that the Emperor would know. He growled and slammed his hand onto the ledge by the viewport. The Force was the swiftest way to locate the man, other ways were painfully slow…...Vader paused, and would have been breathless if the respirator let him. 

Luke.

The only other Force user who could even recognize and potentially trace Piett’s signature. 

Vader breathed and let himself relax into the warm current of the Force. He shielded his mind, confident in his son’s ability to do the same. 

Luke. He put all his urgency in the word. And waited. 

Then in a warm sunburst of Force brilliance---

Father?

Chapter Text

Luke looked back at the murky green planet as it became smaller through his canopy. He had tidied Yoda’s little hut and collected the various books, papers and items he thought important before leaving for the last time. He had many questions amongst the grief he felt at losing another mentor.

Could one choose to meld with the Force? He had seen Obi-Wan cut down and disappear but Yoda’s passing was different. Was it something unique to each Jedi? Did  he get a choice or did his actions in life determine his fate? 

He sighed and pulled back on the hyper-drive. What he needed to do, he should do away from this system and any possible chance of tracking his movements. He commed Leia ( his sister!!) to let her know he would be delayed in returning, slightly longer. He could feel her displeasure and while he understood, he was also perversely happy that he had a twin to share these emotions with. 

Of course the reason he had a twin had reached out to him mere hours ago to throw him off balance again. 

While he and his father were not what he would describe as close, they were now allies in their clandestine arrangement, and Luke was working toward the point where he could present their plan to the Alliance High Command. Of course he first needed to deal with a new pile of poodoo in the form of explaining to his sister their relationship, and then add in the even more delightful aspect of that. 

Oh yes, and Father? Yeah he’s alive and murdering his way around the galaxy. Remember that time he tortured you and blew up your planet? Good times.

But Vader continued to surprise Luke as they communicated sparsely. He could feel his father’s loyalty to his fleet and his men. He felt the repulsion for his master. His brief stay on the Executor had given Luke a first hand look at the human face of Imperials. It was easy to dehumanize them when sitting in an X-Wing or when seeing emotionless helmets. But they had at least been civil-- kind in the case of the Imperial doctor who helped him and gave him a new hand. Vader had tasked his newly minted admiral to keep an eye on Luke when he could not, and Luke had discovered that he and Firmus Piett might share some sentiments when it came to the exasperating tendencies of the resident Sith Lord. 

A new facet of Vader had now come to light with his urgent call to his son. Luke did not sense fear-- no that wasn’t quite the right word. But the tension was there and the wrongness that his father felt, his anger over something that he saw as his, taken from him--- Luke did not yet dare confront his father about that. Force forbid his father allow himself something as un-Sith like as a friend .

Luke knew that this was a risk-- a rather high level one. But his father had reached to him for help. And kriff it, Luke liked the wiry admiral, who was able in subtle ways to work alongside and even influence his father. He too would hate to see the Lady without her admiral. 

“Artoo, we’re coming out of hyper-drive now. Stay alert for any signals and let me know. I need to meditate.” The droid beeped acknowledgment as the stars slowed and Luke stopped in the vast emptiness of space. 

Luke took deep calming breaths and relaxed as much as he could into his seat. He unclenched his hands. This would be challenging-- he did not know the man well and as Piett was not Force sensitive his signature would not be strong. Do or do not, there is no try. Luke sank deeply into the calm waters of the Force. He could feel the energy of the stars and systems-- he let it feed him-- he was part of it. Then, he brought up an image in his mind-- intelligent hazel eyes, weary quirk to the mouth, long suffering sighs and shared frustration with the son of his commander on the glossy bridge of the flagship. Carefully, Luke opened himself and reached . The presence of myriad beings flowed by him like rippling streams, some brighter than others. He was calm, he was part of the stream and yet outside it, then he…… he felt something faint, something familiar. Luke pictured himself grasping a thread and pulling it gently and firmly. 

The impression became stronger, and then images, fleeting through his consciousness:

Darkness. A grey, scuffed wall. His head hurt. All of him hurt. Faces, alien and human looking down at him. Saying something. A kick and pain bloomed in his side, to join the hot, pulsing agony in his leg. Dragging. Sound suddenly coming through.

“....missed Vader, son of a Hutt, but this is his pet admiral. He can get us to Vader.”

A cruel alien face with small horns running along it. 

“Well you might not be a complete waste then Jengel. Bring him.”

Hands grasping, pulling, slamming him onto a hard surface. He can’t move his hands or feet. 

A female voice, “are you certain Bal’ Esh? He said to kill Vader, not capture a worthless human!!” 

Suddenly that horned face up close. “But you’re not any worthless human are you, admiral ? Give me Executor’s command codes and I’ll let you die quickly.” 

Then …. PAIN. 

Luke surfaced gasping, and wiping sweat from his eyes. His head throbbed as he stared at his chronometer. He had been in the trance for 2 hours. He was ashamed that his hands were shaking-- he felt ill. His father had not mentioned that he had been the target of an assassination attempt, merely that the mission had gone south for unspecified reasons. Who was the ‘he’ the smugglers mentioned? Xizor himself? Or someone else? He shook himself. These musings could wait. He needed to share what he had seen and felt with Vader. 

Father. 

The response was immediate, and devoid of emotion. 

Have you found something Luke?

Yes. Can I share it with you now? Are you alone?

A pause. I am now. 

Luke opened his mind to his father. 

***

Vader took a deep breath of the purified air in his hyperbaric chamber. He needed to breathe on his own terms and his own pace after his son had shared what he found. He needed time now to comb through that memory for all the details to trace the lines his son had, and determine where his wayward admiral was. While he would sink deeply into the Force do so, he was not reaching for Piett’s signature and thus, the Emperor would be none the wiser as to what he was doing. Another deep breath and he closed his eyes against the bright interior of the chamber. 

Darkness. The grey scuffed wall. No, he needed to go further back. Luke’s presence-- the feeling of the Force rippling over him. Finding a thread he recognized. Vader concentrated on that thread. It glowed like an Alderaanian spider web in the moonlight. Vader sifted through Luke’s feelings (comradeship, shared exasperation, the familiar long-suffering sigh of the admiral) and focused intently on where that strand went. He saw it against the blackness of space weaving in between systems and star clusters. He paused and reflected-- that system was Takodana. He tucked that tidbit away and continued tracing the strand. It was growing fainter and finally he reached a place where he must guess at the trajectory. He pictured the mining system and then the location of Takodana. From there……. The answer grew like a dawning sunrise. 

Vader opened his eyes. The Force was granting him kindness. The Rugosa system. He punched the controls on the chamber and the mechanical arms sprang into action, replacing his equipment and armor. Vader rose and stepped from the pod, striving to objectively consider all he had learned from Luke’s memory.

Piett was alive, well and good. And would seemingly remain so until he gave up the codes for Executor. Vader had enough faith in the man whom he had placed at the head of Death Squadron to know that would never happen---- Piett would die first. Which of course, was the problem. Vader did not like the sense of disquiet this brought him. It was too close to something that Anakin might feel. 

Unbidden Luke’s voice spoke in his head Would that be so bad? To feel human? Ruthlessly, Vader shoved that down.  The admiral was an important piece to the plan--the men were loyal to him, had trained with him. Also the possibility of the Emperor sending his own choice was not to be tolerated. He would be watched even more closely than he was sure he already was. 

No it was pure pragmatism that necessitated retrieving the admiral. So the question still remained-- how was he to go about it? 

Vader reached for his comm: “General Veers. Meet me on hangar deck 57.”

Chapter Text

Piett shuddered and twitched on the cold and filthy floor of his cell. He knew who he was, he knew that his position was terrible, but other than that his brain was not capable of coming together-- too scattered to the winds as it tried to cope with his pain. He tried to breathe deeply through his nose, which was a  mistake and ended with him retching helplessly at the foul stench in the cell. 

He couldn’t even ease that, as his hands were still shackled behind him, pulling aching shoulders into unnatural positions. 

When he was able, he wiped his mouth on his olive colored undershirt (they had taken his uniform jacket) and tried deep breaths through his mouth. It helped. His heart slowed from it’s frantic pace and his mind slowly began to coalesce into some semblance of logical thought. 

They wanted Executor’s codes, because… because… Lord Vader. Had they killed Lord Vader?

A shuttle rising into the air as black rushed into the edges of his vision….

No, he lived, of that he was sure. But they had failed and thus wanted the codes to get to Lord Vader. To dirty his beautiful Lady with their disgusting, smuggler boots to assassinate his commanding officer. Well. He would travel to all the 9 levels of Corellian hell before that happened. And it seemed they were all too happy to oblige him. 

“The codes admiral…” the female Corellian sing-songed as--- Bal’Esh was it?--grinned at him from his position in front. Cold, rough steel circled his wrists and ankles, keeping him prisoner against the upright metal slab and holding his arms out and above his head painfully. 

“Eat…. Hutt… spit” he panted, trying to prepare himself for what had already happened an uncountable number of times. It wasn’t enough. 

Bal’Esh’s horned face looked falsely pained. “Admiral. Is that how one speaks in the Core? Must be that crass Axillan upbringing.” And he punched the button on the remote he held. Blue lightning crackled around and through the helpless Imperial. Piett bit through his lip, blood trickling over his chin but finally succumbed to the scream building inside him. Too much! Too much!! His body arched violently, trying to get away from the agony. Distantly, he felt his right shoulder pop and then as suddenly as it came, it stopped. 

He trembled with residual nerve damage and the increasing agony of a dislocated shoulder. He knew that not all the moisture on his face was sweat or blood, but couldn’t be bothered to care. 

“Such strength from such a small being,” purred Bal’Esh, running a sharp talon down his leg to dig into the blaster wound on his thigh. Piett arched again at the fire that ran through him. 

The Corellian moved around to the front and frowned at him. “That’s infected. We’ll have to give him some treatment if we want him to stay alive long enough to give us what we want.” 

“Fine.” The Dathomirian snorted and moved away. Piett was distantly aware of his pant leg being ripped and the cold shock of a bacta patch was slapped over his injury. Then a sharp sting into his shoulder. Antibiotics, he realized. Just enough to make sure he didn’t die of sepsis or gangrene. Lovely.

He could hear them talking to the side, but was too focused on controlling the pain so he couldn’t pick up much until some underling came crashing through into the cramped room.  

“The Prince has sent the shuttle Bal’Esh and he says that we will find the Imperial uniforms….”

“Shut up you stupid fool!” snarled Bal’Esh, striding over to his subordinate and backhanding him viciously. “Get out and do not come back in here.”

“Hard to...find… good  help,” Piett said, mustering up a smirk.

The smuggler moved swiftly to grip his face in a large rough hand. ‘Mocking me is most unwise, human.”

“Entertaining… though,” Piett managed. He doesn’t remember much after that. 

The admiral carefully moved inch by painful inch toward the wall where he used the purchase to sit up. His shoulder screamed at him, but he could breathe easier by sitting up. His mouth was cloyingly dry and he wondered if they realized how quickly they could kill a human by dehydration. Although, Piett mused, his death would solve numerous problems. He knew that Lord Vader would not come for him--it was too risky with all the plans they had laid. Clearly Xizor had connections inside the Imperial navy if he had procured a shuttle. He could not give the command codes and risk these people boarding the Lady. Given their recent performance however, he didn’t think they would succeed at getting to Lord Vader. Surely the Sith Lord would sense their presence. Piett puzzled over that. Yes, the plan was shoddy if they thought they could board Executor and sneak to Lord Vader’s quarters and assassinate him without him being aware. Piett may not understand a great deal of the Force and its workings, but he knew enough of his commander to know that Vader could read thoughts. His touch on the admiral’s mind at the mining facility had solidified that knowledge. 

So what could this motley group hope to do? 

The answer came to him suddenly and left him breathless with the implications. Why bother attempting a suicide mission to kill a Sith Lord if you could just blow up the ship he’s on? Piett tried not to let  himself be overwhelmed at the idea of his ship dying in a ball of bright fire-- -the hundreds of thousands of lives taken…..

He let his head fall back against the cold wall. He must not give the codes. It was not in Piett to give up-- thus taking his own life was not something he considered. But, he could be as obnoxious as possible---- speed up the process as it were. 

What if they got the codes another way, after they killed him? If only he could send a warning….But escape was something that he had given up on after the second day. His body just wasn’t capable, no matter how eager his spirit was. 

Would Lord Vader inform his mother? Max certainly would. He could take some sort of comfort in that he supposed. 

He closed his aching eyes, picturing her face….

Admiral?

His eyes snapped open. He was alone in the cold metal cell. He listened intently, but aside from the distant thrumming of --engines? Generators? He thought he might be on a space station---he did not hear voices. 

Admiral Piett?

This time it was as if something had brushed his mind--- there was no other way to put it. It was familiar, but not like those frantic moments when Lord Vader had called to him in the mining camp. Feeling slightly foolish, he thought,  hello?

Relief that was not his own flowed over him. It was a ….strange sensation to say the least. 

Admiral, this is Commander Skywalker. 

Oh. oh. 

I can’t hold this connection long Admiral. The distance is too much and as you are not Force sensitive, it has more challenges. My Father wants you to know that he has located the system you are in. They are working on a plan. 

The Sith Lord, his commander, was coming for him? He felt a wave of bitter amusement from Skywalker.

I have found, Admiral, that when my Father considers something as….. belonging to him, he will move the galaxy to get it. How long do you think you have?

There was no use putting up false bravado here--- Skywalker, like his father, would sense the lie. 

Two days? Possibly more if they remember to give me water.

A flare of anger, but not at him. For him? 

A sigh through their connection .  You really do undervalue yourself sir. Hang on-- we’re coming.

We…?

Again Skywalker’s amusement. He could almost see a fond shake of the head. Well I’m part of this kriffed up group of plotters now Admiral. Besides, I think I owe you at least one. I’ll try to communicate later.

And the connection was gone. But it left something in its wake for Piett. 

Hope. 

***

Veers sat in one of the senior officers’ lounges with his (5th?) cup of caf and considered the datapad in front of him. He ignored the view of the stupendous Kuat shipyards they were currently orbiting in order to focus on the planets that were contained in the Rugosa system. 

Vader had sent him the most likely trajectory and left it to Veers to work out the most logical planet at the end of the route while he went down the shipyards to inspect their security. The irritation flowed in waves off of the Dark Lord and Veers was glad not to be on the shuttle accompanying him. 

How Vader knew both the trajectory and the system which they sought was a mystery for another time. Piett was the one who dealt with the Force magic up close and personal. Veers usually had his interactions with Darth Vader via comm--- these meetings in the last several days were more than he had with the commander in the space of a year. 

He glanced across the table to the empty seat and mentally berated himself. It did  not do for the General of the Thundering Herd to get sentimental while preparing for a mission. Never mind that he missed bouncing his ideas off a diminutive admiral whose idea of a hot beverage was that spiced Axillan nonsense. 

Veers shook himself and refocused on the datapad. He had narrowed it down to three planets. Two, he considered highly unlikely as they were dominantly water worlds and exceedingly inhospitable to all but a few species. Still. On that minute chance, he kept them on the list. The third planet he felt was the most promising-- but even that just didn’t quite seem to fit the bill. He sighed and took a sip of lukewarm caf as a shadow fell over him.

Venka looked like he had been dragged behind a herd of kaadus. Come to think of it, he probably would prefer that to his current situation. 

“May I join you General?” the acting Admiral asked, gesturing to the seat opposite of Veers. 

Veers felt illogically irritated and territorial, but that wasn’t fair to the man. He grunted and waved a hand-- Venka sank into it and leaned forward to bury his head in his hands as a service droid hovered up. “Caf sir?” it asked.

“I’m off duty,” Venka spoke into his hands. “Corellian brandy.” Veers raised an eyebrow but he wasn’t the man’s minder and Vader was not on board so…..

The droid trilled off and Venka removed his hat. Veers noticed he hadn’t changed his Captain’s bars yet and commented on it. 

Venka gazed down at his uniform blearily. “I….It just didn’t feel right Max. This is his command. I don’t want it! It’s stressful enough being a captain on this ship. I don’t know how he does... did this everyday without drinking himself into a stupor!” 

Veers smiled grimly to himself. He was likely the only one on board who had ever seen Firmus three sheets to the wind and it was rare. If his friend was drinking like that--things were bad. The last time it had happened was the night of his… promotion. Veers had actually taken the bottle out of his trembling hands that night and hauled Piett to his bed in the newly refurbished admiral’s quarters to make him sleep. Veers had crashed on the couch--both men exhausted for vastly different reasons after Hoth. 

“Well Acting-Admiral Venka you’ll have to get used to it.” Venka studied him. 

“How are you if you don’t mind my asking General?”

Veers was puzzled for half a second before his brain caught up. Right, the story to the men was that the admiral had been killed in action. The pall over the whole ship was unbearably heavy. Veers took another sip of caf and wished his very humble friend could be here to see how well liked he was. Venka was the only other one who knew that Piett had been taken alive. 

“Lord Vader is keeping me busy” Veers gave him a partial truth. “He has hinted that there might be need of a ground mission in a nearby sector soon.” I hope very soon.

The droid hummed back over with Venka’s brandy. He took a huge gulp and set the glass down hard, eyes watering slightly. Veers raised an eyebrow. 

“Lord  Vader will be back shortly,” he remarked carefully. Venka shot him a glare. 

“Why do you think I’m drinking?” 

Veers sighed. “All right then, make yourself useful.” He slid the data pad toward the man. 

“I’m tracing this trajectory here” he traced it with his stylus, “and I’ve narrowed the likely end point to these three planets. However, none of them seems to fit precisely.”

Venka frowned. “What sort of ship?” 

“The one that took him.”

Venka flushed. “Right sorry. Okay, I was reasonably good with sector geography. Those two are water worlds-- really unlikely a ship of that design would go there, but I can see why you haven’t completely eliminated them. What’s this planet that you’ve highlighted?”

“Drexel.” 

“Mmm. Yes I see why you’re not completely convinced. Still too far from Ryloth to make sense and really close to wild space.” 

“Why did you discount Socorro?”

Veers finished his now cold caf. “It’s too near Hutt space-- Black Sun wouldn’t be stupid enough to have a presence there.” But even as he said it, Veers was reconsidering.

“Yes, but they import metals. And look how close they are to this known spice run. It’s a lucrative location and they’ve grown bold under Xizor.”

Veers drummed his fingers on the table. Venka zoomed in closer. “It’s worth a shot Max.”

“I’d want to scout it first.”

“Oh yes?” Venka scoffed. “How do we do that unobtrusively? Also, I realize this may have escaped your notice, but we’re at Kuat. ”

Veers suddenly slammed his hand down on the table and rose. Venka swore and grabbed at his drink. “Veers….!”

“I need to contact Lord Vader. Thanks for the help admiral. ”

Venka grimaced at him and raised his glass in salute before downing the rest of it. 

Chapter Text

Vader had long ago waved off the shipyard commander and walked down the gargantuan walkways of the Kuat dry docks alone. In this section, brand new star destroyers were being built and he gazed about unseeingly-- his mind far from here. He wondered if Luke had managed to ‘talk’ to Piett. When his son had suggested it initially, Vader had scoffed. Such a feat was rare indeed for a non-Force sensitive. But Luke’s bright optimism was becoming increasingly hard for Vader to resist, and his clear fondness for the admiral raised unexpected feelings of jealousy in his armored chest.

Luke’s laughter rolled over their connection.

“Are you…. Is that jealousy Father? Because honestly….”

“I am not…”

“I think you are a little bit. Father, he’s a good man. He was kind to me.  I can’t believe I’m saying that about the admiral of Death Squadron---- I was sure he would be someone like Tarkin.”

Vader felt his son’s surprise at his surge of anger. “I would never voluntarily associate with someone like Tarkin, young one. I have worked for a great many years to surround myself as much as possible with competent and loyal officers.”

“Loyal to whom?” his son asked over their connection. Then, Vader felt his hesitation. 

“What is it Luke?”

“I just wondered----well we’re in this now regardless, but…..when did you decide to overthrow the Emperor?”

A pause. 

“Three years ago.”  There was no need for more information. Luke had clearly put it together. Vader felt the turmoil of his emotions. His son was still figuring things out--- more, he was hiding things, but Vader was trying. He would not force his way in. He hoped for Luke to tell him when he was ready. 

“I’m going to try contacting your admiral now Father----”

“He is not my….”

“----I’ll do my best to let you know what I discover as soon as possible. Let me know if you make any progress on the location.”

“Luke---”   

A beat.

“May the Force be with you.”

“And you Father.”

Vader realized he had reached a turn on the catwalk which led him to the next star destroyer bay. He considered whether to continue or go past it to the area where the super star destroyers were being created. The Lady was the first of her kind, but two more Executor class ships were in the works. Both he and Piett were conflicted by that--- yes, it made some sort of sense for the strength of the fleet but there was something special to be the only ship of her kind. 

As he gazed that direction, his comm pinged. 

“Lord Vader,” Veers’ voice came through. “I think I might know the answer to the problem you gave me.”

Vader nodded in approval. Given that Palpatine had spies everywhere they could not be too cautious. The Lady had her own way of supporting them, but this was not an internal comm frequency. 

“Thank you General. Inform Acting-Admiral Venka that I shall be returning shortly.”

Was that a small snort? 

“Of course my Lord.” 

Vader turned and walked back toward his shuttle. 

***

Veers waited next to Venka in Darth Vader’s personal hangar bay. He was a solid wall of calm next to the Captain’s nervous tugging at his uniform while the Lambda shuttle came smoothly in for a landing and techs ran out to anchor her. 

“Would you stop that!!?” he hissed out the side of his mouth to the unfortunate man. “I could have told you he returns suddenly when he wants to. You should have known that already.”

“You could have said you were contacting him to do that, Max!!”

“Mmm. I could have yes. I should definitely delay urgent information for the Supreme commander of the Imperial Fleet so you can sober up.” 

Venka shot him a murderous glare, but it did have the effect of straightening the man’s spine as the ramp lowered in a hiss of steam and the dark monster from the Rebellion’s nightmares came forth. 

“My Lord,” Venka stepped forward. 

“...Admiral. I would like you to assemble a team to analyze how well the construction of the two Executor class destroyers is progressing. Make sure  you include some of the Lady’s engineers. I want very thorough comparisons and recommendations. This is the sort of task I expect to take several days at least.”

“Of ….of course my Lord.”

Venka hesitated slightly but as Vader was clearly finished he snapped a salute and strode briskly out of the hangar. Vader inclined his helmet toward Veers. 

“You will show me the readiness of the 501st for a swift tactical mission General.” 

Recognizing this as the reason for them to be conferencing together, Veers nodded. “Yes my Lord.”

They walked to a turbolift and entered. “Lady,” Vader addressed the ship, “the General and I would appreciate complete security for this conversation throughout our travels.” An almost imperceptible flicker of the turbolift’s lights acknowledged the Dark Lord’s request. 

“You may speak General. What did you find?”

“My Lord, I believe the Black Sun may have a base on or near Socorro. It best matches the information you gave me.”

Vader considered this. “Quite near Hutt space.”

“Yes my Lord. We considered that, but…”

“ We ?” 

Veers was not one for nervous swallowing. But the plunge in temperature caused his eye to twitch slightly. 

“Yes my Lord. Captain Venka was able to offer his geographical assistance.”

The temperature abated slightly as the turbolift slowed and the doors hissed open. 

“And where did this assistance take place General Veers?”

“A senior officer’s lounge my Lord. No one else was present and we did not discuss anything other than a logical route based on the information given. You can view the security footage my Lord.” 

Vader waved a hand dismissively as they walked down a short hall and into one of the vast hangar bays that housed the troop and equipment transports to drop the Thundering Herd onto any planet where they were needed. 

“Very well. Let us proceed to those AT-ATs over there. What do you propose General? Socorro is a significant distance from Kuat. Sending you and even a small part of the 501st will be noted.”

“Indeed my Lord.” Veers reached up to point at various parts on the underbelly of the AT-AT, continuing the show for any of the techs and engineers doing their duty. However, Vader’s presence alone was an effective deterrent for anyone to get too close. 

Now for the delicate part of Veers’ plan.

“However, I believe that I may have a solution. I read a report quite recently that detailed increased Rebel activity in the nearby sector of Hutt space. On ahem, on Tatooine actually.”

Most senior officers were aware of Vader’s --- strong -- feelings about Tatooine though they didn’t have any information as to why that was. Veers was treading lightly. Vader stiffened and Veers plunged in. Might as well pull the ears off the Gundark in one go. 

“It occurred my Lord that Commander Sky--that is---- it occurred that the Commander could conceivably be in the area and could perhaps be prevailed upon to scout out the situation as it were?”

Vader was silent. Veers went on.

“Perhaps if …”

What could only be described as a sigh, came through the vocoder. 

“I had hoped not to involve him more than he already is. However, as he is quite unexpectedly keen to join us on this endeavor, your plan has merit. He should be contacting me soon with an update on the admiral’s status.”

Veers gaped and promptly shut his mouth against such an undignified reaction. 

“Apologies my Lord, but how…?”

“The Force is a mysterious thing General Veers and the Commander is quite powerful. Unsurprisingly,” he added. 

Father?

Vader turned away from the General to inspect a mighty rear leg of the great metal beast.

You were successful?

I was briefly able to talk to him after he realized he wasn’t going insane. 

Vader smiled grimly. Two Skywalkers in his head in the space of days. Yes, that was enough to make anyone question their sanity.

And?

A slight hesitation from Luke and Vader was not anxious in the least.

He is very brave, but even brave men can’t live for long without water Father. He estimates two days, maybe more but….

They are torturing him.

Yes. He did not say anything, but I could feel.... Father, you must let me help.

As it happens son, I think I must ask that. 

You know I have offered!

General Veers believes he has located them near Socorro. You wouldn’t just happen to be closer than we are?

A pause. He had given his son few reasons to put his faith in his father like this. Then---

I am. You need me to find their base. 

I do not wish you to endanger yourself son…

Dark humor from his child. 

I think that ship has sailed Father. 

Then good luck young one.

Vader could almost feel the eye roll. 

I’ll report soon.

Vader turned back to Veers who was clearly unsure of what he ought to be doing while Vader seemingly stood still and stared into space. 

“General Veers.”

The General snapped quickly back to attention. 

“My Lord.”

“The commander has informed me that he was successful in making contact.”

A sharp hiss of breath from Veers but he kept his features impressively schooled. 

“The admiral believes he has two days, not much more. The commander is willing to scout the area as your initial hunch was indeed correct concerning Rebel whereabouts.”

Veers opened his mouth and Vader raised a hand.

“I anticipate your concern General which is why we are going to operate on the idea that all of our hunches and trajectories are correct for the sake of time. Therefore, gather your best division. You leave in 2 hours for Socorro. I will inform the commander to wait and make contact with you when you enter the system. As far as our fleet is concerned, you are doing just what you told me--- following up on suspected Rebel activity in the area.” 

Veers nodded sharply. 

“And General. My personal doctor will be accompanying you. Make sure he has all the supplies that he needs.”

Veers looked visibly ill and furious at the same time. 

“Do you desire me to take any prisoners my Lord?” he asked in a tone that made it clear what he desired.

“Find their leader and bring him to me. I will personally find who he works for.” 

“It will be an absolute pleasure my Lord.”  

“Then good luck General Veers.” 

Vader turned and left the hangar while Veers commed his aide. 

We’re coming for you Firmus. Please keep being the tough bastard I know you are. 

Chapter Text

Luke Skywalker had the bad habit of chewing on his lower lip. He did it while thinking and Leia had pointed out that he did it while he practiced his katas as well. He did it frankly in every combat scenario. Leia. If, no-- when she found out about this little jaunt-- because she would eventually--- she was going to kill him. Sithspit . It would be messy too. 

It couldn’t be helped. Luke banked his X-wing as a small greyish brown sphere came into view. He had come out of hyper-space significantly far away from the planet to keep as much stealth as possible. He would get as close as he could without being in range of any scanners and then reach out for his Father’s admiral. 

Despite Leia’s potential reaction, he knew this was the right thing to do. And, once she calmed down, he hoped she would see that as well. But thinking about her, and telling her all that he needed to tell her, sent him down a sarlaac pit he really shouldn’t gaze down right now. 

Artoo warbled at him. 

“Yes you’re right. Turning engines off now.” Luke flicked several toggles and the X-wing slowly drifted, bereft of power. Luke looked at Socorro. 

“Artoo? Do I see something orbiting the planet?”

The little astromech tweeted and burbled. 

“A station. If I was a Sabaac player--” 

A disrespectful blat sounded from the droid.

“---thank you for that Artoo, which I am not , but if I was I would bet on that being our elusive Black Sun base.” 

Luke reached out. The Force was becoming as natural to him as breathing. He thought again of his target, searching through the life signatures he sensed teeming on the station…..

“Aahh!” Luke put up a hand. He had not shielded himself well enough. Steeling his mind, he tried again, carefully pushing on the admiral’s already anguished mind. 

Sir?

I can’t, I can’t, I…. must. Please…

Admiral. 

Luke did his utmost to push strength and calm at the man--- to give him relief as best as he could. 

Commander….? So. Much. Pain. 

I’m here sir. Can you, can you try to show me where you are? Any time it can save us….

A gasping cry across their connection. Luke strained so as not to get pulled in. Flashes into his mind---- blue lightning * make it stop--- make it stop* a grey plated room with a metal grid ceiling. Not unlike an Imperial holding cell but larger. A large Dathomirian coming to stand in front of him, looking singularly furious. A door over his shoulder, beyond that a hallway…….

Luke was viciously backhanded in the face--- no, no, get some distance. He watched as the Dathomirian (Bal’Esh, supplied Piett in his mind) snarled at the Admiral.

“He wants results yesterday Imperial. I will start breaking every bone in your pathetic body until you BEG to tell me the codes!” 

Luke felt the horrible flash of fear from Piett as Bal’Esh swung a metal rod at an arm already dislocated.

No! Luke cried out in his mind and then white hot agony that wasn’t his then….. Darkness.

Luke came back to himself in the X-wing, Artoo trilling anxiously. 

“No, no I’m fine Artoo I promise just….” Luke was more shaken than he wanted to admit by the fact that it was not the Admiral’s pain that was affecting him as much as his fury on behalf of the man. He wanted to destroy--- to rip the arms off that Dathomirian son of a Hutt. No. No that way led very clearly and directly to the Dark Side with a bright flashing sign. Luke took several deep breaths. He was here to rescue not destroy-- not if he could help it. 

The Force suddenly trembled in anticipation and Luke was therefore not altogether too surprised when two large Imperial assault transports dropped out of hyper-space impressively close to him. Luke punched buttons to power up his X-wing again. There was no way the station at Socorro had not noticed that, so time was now precious. 

His comm chirped. “Rebel X-wing this is General Veers. That better be you Commander Skywalker.”

Veers? As in ‘Butcher of Hoth’ Veers?

“Yes General.”

A beat. This was strange for them all. 

“What’s the situation Commander?”

“As you see sir there’s a station orbiting the planet. That’s our target. I’m guessing they know we’re here now.”

Luke did not mistake the grim satisfaction in the General’s tone.

“I’m counting on it Commander. Let’s go. We’ll open up a… landing site. Hope you’re ready for this.”

“Yes sir.”

****

Veers waved a hand at the communications officer to cut the transmission with Skywalker. The X-wing raised its pylons to attack position and its engines glowed orange, but it waited---Skywalker was quite happy then to take his orders from the Imperials.

Not the strangest thing I’ve dealt with in the last few days , Veers pondered. 

“Attack pattern delta. Make sure not to hit any of the life support. We have an admiral to retrieve intact.” 

The ships lunged forward with the swift eagerness of a wolf pack-- which in some ways they were. The General looked back into the hold where some of his men were visible. The open helmets on his officers revealed grim, but determined faces. They may be army, but Piett was one of the few naval officers who commanded respect across the various arms of the military. They would not be forgiving. Veers checked his blaster again. He had done so already three times, but he could acknowledge  that he found it soothing to know he could deal out as much death as possible. And oh he intended to deal in death today…..

The station was now firing its guns--- red fire lancing into space, but the Imperial shields were strong and Veers had to give grudging respect to Skywalker’s piloting-- he danced between the shots, returning fire with ease. Already he had taken out one of their port side weapons. 

Like Father like son indeed.

“Sir we have targeted their main power generator.”

“No, our weapons would be too powerful. The whole station will go up.”

“Skywalker!” he barked on their channel.

“General?” The X-wing rolled beneath another barrage skillfully.

“Take out their main power. Be precise Commander.”

“Understood.”

“Provide covering fire,” Veers ordered as they came within a mile of the station. Both Imperial ships opened full fire and Skywalker dove below it, heading to the bottom of the station where the power was located. Within seconds a significant but controlled explosion rocked the station and suddenly the battery went dead as did most of the visible lighting. After a beat, what was clearly some emergency power flickered back on. Nonetheless a clock was ticking for the life support of the station. 

“Let’s get in there,” Veers stated coldly, pointing toward the damaged docking bay on the starboard side. The Rebel fighter was already swooping into the small hangar bay above the larger docking rings. He would beat them to it. 

“Commander--” Veers began over the link.

“Don’t worry General. Team effort-- I’ll just--- make sure there’s no immediate welcome party for us.”

Several of the pilots rolled their eyes and Veers snorted. 

No respect or discipline in the Rebellion apparently. If any of his men had interrupted like that…..

The two Imperial transports docked. 

“In and out!” Veers shouted. “The leader must be taken alive. Blast the rest to whatever hells you happen to believe in.” The doors opened.

***

Piett was slow to surface this time. It was comfortable in the grey nothing. It didn’t hurt, he didn’t have horned aliens spitting in his face, he just….. floated. 

But consciousness was a demanding mistress and slowly he peeled his eyes open. Well the left one at least. The right side of his face was too swollen from the backhand Bal’Esh had given. 

When the station gave a might shake, Piett thought at first they had devised some new torture for him as all his injuries were jostled instantaneously. Sparks danced in his vision, but when no new pain came he was able to focus more. 

A panel in the ceiling was hanging down and--- was that an alarm? An explosion he dimly realized--- the station was being fired upon. 

Now he could hear frantic voices and then the Corellian woman rushed from the room, blaster drawn. But where was…..?

“So they are coming for you after all Admiral.”  Bal’Esh stepped into his view once more, his own blaster ready and holding a wicked knife in his other hand. 

“I must admit, we did not anticipate that. Vader does not bother to pick up his tools--- he just gets new ones.” 

Piett didn’t bother to rise to that insult. He couldn’t be bothered and he was so tired…..

Suddenly Bal-Esh was in his face again. “Well this makes things easier. We were going to go to him, but if he is coming here, you get to watch us try out this marvellous little creature.”

Piett realized that the Dathomirian was wearing a small, backpack that looked as though it was made of …. Vines? And amongst them a small lizard creature…..

Piett’s blood ran cold. Ysalamir. The rare, Force suppressing lizard. He struggled to pull himself together as the station rocked again. 

“Lord Vader….would never … come here himself,” Piett managed. 

“I have been given to understand otherwise,” his captor grinned.

“By… whom?”

“Ah, ahh, Admiral. I ask the questions, not answer them. But I think, pleasant as our time has been, it’s time to make sure that your Sith Lord realizes how fruitless it all was.” 

And suddenly, Piett was breathless and it took a moment to realize that Bal’Esh had stabbed him in the stomach. 

“Do try to live until he comes in won’t you? I do so want his reaction when you die in front of him.” The smuggler grinned and yanked out his blade. 

Piett coughed and tried to draw in more air, but it wasn’t enough. He could feel the hot wetness of his own blood spilling out of the supernova that had erupted in his gut. Kriffing hell. Not the way he’d ever seen himself going…

His captor’s comm crackled. Piett couldn’t catch what was said, but the reaction was powerful.

“WHAT?? Are you certain….? Son of a Hutt !!!” He slammed off the communications and whirled back to Piett just as blaster fire erupted loudly from the hallway behind them. Swiftly, Bal’Esh moved to Piett’s side and pressed the cold snub nose of his blaster to his head. Piett wanted to feel some hope, he did, but the wound in his stomach told him that even if salvation was at hand, he wouldn’t live to see it to fruition. Still to die with some friendly faces around would be better than nothing….

He shook himself slightly and the blaster ground into his face painfully. As though I can do anything. But it was not in him to give up. Not now--- not so close. Underneath the sounds of the blaster fire, Piett could distinguish an odd sound that was both strange and familiar as it crackled and hissed----

--- and then the doorway was filled with a green glow and a slight figure moved cautiously into the room. 

“ Jedi “ spat the Dathomirian. 

***

Veers had to marvel at the young Jedi in front of him. When he and his men had disembarked and reached the hangar level, there was remarkably little for them to do. The reason for that was a young rebel, still wearing the hideous orange flight suit bottoms favored by the Rebellion, paired with a simple black tunic. There were numerous bodies of various species around him, but his blaster was on his belt and his lightsaber--- oh yes, Veers knew what that was-- was extinguished in his hand. 

“General,” the young man nodded seriously. “I believe there are roughly 400 beings on this station.”

“Clear them out,” Veers ordered his men, not taking his eyes from Skywalker. He heard the sound of his orders being obeyed. Skywalker seemed to know what he was waiting for. 

“If you are willing to follow me sir, I believe I can locate the Admiral.”

“Yeeees. So I’ve been told.” 

The young commander quirked an eyebrow at him. “By…?”

“Your Father.”

“Ah.” 

“Lead on then commander.”

“Um, just the two of us?” Skywalker asked.

“Do we need more for what we’re about to do?” asked Veers, murder apparent in his eyes. 

The rebel bit his lower lip. “I suppose not.” He moved swiftly toward the exit, snapping his green blade on as he went. Veers patted the knife strapped to his thigh and thumbed the safety off of his blaster. Skywalker held  up a hand before they entered the hall and then proceeded without looking . 

“I don’t know if I believed it before now,” Veers muttered softly. Skywalker threw him a questioning look as they jogged swiftly down the deserted hall. 

“You’re using, this... Force, just like he does.”

The commander’s mouth quirked. “Not exactly like he does General. But yes, I’m still trying to believe it myself.” 

Veer tucked that away for a later time and suddenly Skywalker was hauling him down and purple death sizzled over their heads. The General returned fire, killing two and Skywalker twisted  with his hand and three more flew back into a wall and slid to the floor unmoving. Veers gave him a weighted stare. 

“All right then, you’re useful. Let’s go.”

He actually got a smile for that and then the rebel was off, sprinting down the hall and veering toward a left turn. 

“General,” he called, “aim high at your 10 o’clock.” And they skidded around the corner, Veers bringing his blaster to bear and killing three beings in quick succession while the young show off flipped over two more to end up behind them, and cutting them in half with one stroke. He jogged further down a corridor where the lights were flickering, before he paused at an open door and Veers just knew .

Skywalker slowly entered, Veers behind him, both of them with weapons raised cautiously, and even though he had tried to brace himself for it, Veers was still hit hard by the sight of his battered Admiral--- friend, brother in arms -- and the huge Black Sun smuggler who was holding his blaster firmly to his head.

“Jedi,” the Dathomirian spat at them. “Not the one I thought I’d get, but fine. I’m prepared you see.” 

And Veers felt the young man in front of him hesitate.

“That’s right,” sneered the smuggler, “stay right there or he dies now.”

Veers took the moment to shoot a longer look at Piett. He looked awful, clearly unable to hold himself up and pinioned in place by cruel binders that had left blood running down both arms. But Veers, trained in combat triage, had zeroed in immediately on the fresh dark stains at his middle. He raised furious eyes to meet the exhausted hazel ones-- eyes that had a tired certainty to them. Veers shook his head slightly. 

Don’t you dare Firmus, he thought angrily at his friend. Not now, not this close. Please….

Then Skywalker was speaking, “Who wants my--Lord Vader dead?” 

The alien laughed incredulously but Skywalker was moving so very slowly in front of Veers. 

“I’m not telling you that Jedi. I’m dead anyway for failing to get him. The least I can do is take you all with me--- starting with our friend the admiral here. He doesn’t really have much time.”

Veers realized suddenly that Skywalker, even with his slight frame, had covered the alien’s view of Veer’s left side. Keeping his hand steady on the blaster which he had pointed at the smuggler, Veers carefully moved his hand to the knife strapped to his leg. You better know exactly what I’m doing you wormy little Sithspawn , he thought loudly at Skywalker. 

“No.” Said Skywalker calmly. “You won’t. Now General.” And with super human speed he flung himself out of the way as Veers threw his knife from the waist. It snicked solidly into the meaty thigh of Bal’Esh. But Skywalker wasn’t done moving. Even as the smuggler roared in pain, the Jedi had rolled to his feet and flipped through the air, the green blade arcing down to take off the arm holding the blaster to the admiral. Hand and blaster fell to the floor, but Dathomirians were notoriously hard to kill. And something was….off in Skywalker’s movements. 

Veers noted all these things, but was already putting them into second place in his mind as he moved to Piett’s side, holstering his blaster and running his hands near the base of the binders around the Admiral’s booted ankles. He found the release and moved up to his wrists. He stared into his friend’s face, trying to shove away the fear at the sight of the dark blood trickling from his mouth. 

“Hello.”

Piett quirked his mouth slightly. “General.”

“I’m releasing these now. We both know you’ve got nothing, Firmus, so your job is simply to hold on.”

And Veers would hate forever the sadness in the Admiral’s eyes. The binders clicked and Piett was folding into his arms, incapable of any independent movement. Skywalker’s fight raged on behind them. Why hadn’t he ended it? 

Veers lowered them both to the floor, trying not to reflect on how much of his friend’s blood he was sitting in. 

“All right, you know the drill admiral. Is the worst wound the stomach?” 

“Yes,” Piett whispered. “Though, my heart, I’m not sure….so much lightning.”

Veers clenched his jaw as he understood the primary use now of where his friend was kept. Even now, Piett was shuddering slightly against him. Veers was ripping the field bandage out of his waist pack and pressed it hard to the wound. Piett moved feebly at that. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Veers murmured, hating himself. “Skywalker, end this Huttsucker!!” 

“Ysalamir,” Piett mumbled, brown head rolling back into Veer’s shoulder.

“What?” Veers shifted to hear the admiral more clearly.

“On….. his…back. Lizard...thingy. Force suppressing…” 

Trust Piett, even terribly injured, to notice important details. Veers pressed his left hand over the bandage, which was getting alarmingly wet and gripped his blaster again. He understood now. He lifted it, waiting for the smuggler to move into his line of fire and then aimed for the pack. He fired three times. Bal’Esh stumbled and went to a knee and it was as if someone had plugged Skywalker into a direct energy source. Which, in a sense, they had. He kicked the Dathomirian in the face with impressive strength and whirled, sweeping his lightsaber down-------when they all froze at one word. 

“No.” 

And Darth Vader strode into the room. 

Chapter Text

Vader sensed that the conflict was nearly over as he exited hyper-space in his modified TIE. Luke had confirmed for him that this was indeed the base for the Black Sun-- more, that their hunches were correct and Piett was there as well. Veers had commed him for the same information not long afterwards, and Vader was in his private hangar bay moments later. 

He had left Venka hyperventilating at Kuat. The man wasn’t to know that he had planned all along to join in this fight. If Sidious was paying attention, he would know he had left. But now Vader could claim Veer’s communication and Xizor’s possible involvement as extremely legitimate reasons to go and see for himself. 

And if he returned with a missing admiral, so much the better. 

He landed his TIE neatly next to Luke’s X-Wing and reached out in the station. He could sense all the beings and most of them were the 501st, ruthlessly doing their job. But the bright star of his son was missing. Vader felt fear then-- Anakin, felt fear-- and he reached instead for his admiral. 

Piett’s life force was there, but so weak. Vader moved swiftly to the corridors, comming the commander of the 501st and ordering the doctor and a grav sled to his location. 

Luke. Silence. He continued to pass numerous bodies, many clearly killed with a lightsaber. He had made it this far. Was he unconscious? But even then, he would feel his son’s presence. He turned once more down a hallway and suddenly Luke’s light bloomed like a radiant star into his mind. 

Vader entered the room and took it all in swiftly. Luke poised to kill the staggering alien in front of him, green blade hissing. His son was clearly all right. 

Veers was to his left on the ground cradling Piett, pressing a hand to a very red pressure bandage--Vader could feel his fear in the force.

“No.”

Everything stopped. 

“He is mine.” 

Red death ignited and he came further into the room. 

Father---no. 

Son. You cannot stop this. What you can do is save the admiral. You have learned healing yes? 

Uncertainty. Hesitance. Not much. I’m not very good yet….Vader felt his son pull himself together. But I’ll try and do it. He didn’t understand the black humor coming from Luke at that statement but that was now not his chief concern. He raised a hand and the Dathomirian was suddenly hovering in the air. 

Even in his dire circumstances-- the smuggler wheezed out a laugh. 

“Oh the irony. Your”…he coughed.. “admiral, was so certain you would not come. But he knew you would! You are weak!!!”

Vader closed his fist and the alien’s remaining arm snapped.

The Dark Side hummed around him and he stepped forward.

***

Luke flung himself to his knees beside the two Imperials, running a swift eye and the Force over the injured admiral. 

“Stomach.” Veers said tightly. “I don’t know what kind of voodoo you can do Skywalker, but I’ll give you my division if you can save him.” He looked down at his friend--- Piett’s eyes were closed and he was limp against the General’s chest. 

The young Rebel just nodded and moved to take the bandage from the wound. Both men strove to ignore the horrible sounds happening behind them.

“What are you doing, he’ll bleed out!” Veers exclaimed.

“Please trust me,” Luke answered, “he already is.” 

Veers huffed through his nose, but moved his bloody hand away, bringing it up instead to steady Piett’s horribly twisted arm. 

Luke took a shuddering breath and placed both hands over Piett’s stomach. He could feel the wrongness--- infection, so weak, nerves so shredded from electric shock. Luke shook his head and tried again. 

He pictured blood vessels knitting together, tissue carefully building upon itself. He strove to feel the damaged muscles and the organ beneath and willed them to come together---he thought of the way that a tree was connected to the earth, how the water flowed and gave life-- stars that were knit into galaxies. He saw all of that flowing through him as well and through the admiral.  Someone gasped and Luke came back to himself, panting and sweaty in a way he hadn’t been throughout their combat. 

Beneath his hands, Piett took a deep breath. Then another. Carefully, Luke lifted them away. The wound was closed. It was still red and angry but he could feel it was no longer life threatening. He lifted weary blue eyes to the stern visage of Veers. 

“I think I got it.” The relief that flowed from the man could be felt even by someone without the Force.

“He’s still in danger,” Luke countered, “he needs…” But he was interrupted as the General’s eyes went wide at whatever was happening over his shoulder and Luke felt the satisfaction in the Dark Side as a hideous crunching sound occurred. He turned to see what was left of Bal’Esh drop to the floor and his Father extinguished his lightsaber. 

In the same moment, thundering feet were heard in the corridor. Veers lifted his blaster and tightened his hold unconsciously on Piett, as Luke drew his lightsaber. But Vader remained unperturbed as a grey haired man jogged into the room and Luke realized with relief that an actual doctor was here. He stood to move aside and the man must be something, because he didn’t even look at the Sith Lord or the Jedi-- he had eyes only for his patient. Several troopers crowded in as well, a grav sled between them. 

And suddenly there was a profound and serious silence only broken by Piett’s labored breaths and the small sounds of the doctor examining him. 

“Hmm, yes, the knife wound to the stomach. I take it someone with Force abilities worked on this?” 

Luke raised an eyebrow to his father, who stood seemingly unmoved, but Luke could feel him working to tamp down his concern. He moved to stand by him. 

The doctor was rather astonishing, but then as Vader’s personal physician, he had to be. He had a saline drip attached and running in moments as he examined the arm Veers held steady.

“Yes yes, well I’m glad you killed the bastard my lord-- this was deliberate-- broken in three places, that will need surgery. I’ll need to reduce the swelling to relocate that shoulder. What was that?”

This last to Veers.

“I said he was electrocuted within an inch of his life,” Veers ground out. 

The doctor looked at him calmly. “Yes, that I can see. I didn’t do it General --don’t look at me like that. Your friend will live if I have anything to say about it.” He was untangling an oxygen mask and handed a hypo to Veers. “Give  him this-- in the shoulder there. It will slow down his heart, give it a chance to recover.” The mask was slipped firmly over Piett’s mouth and nose

“Yes, all right, he needs about a million antibiotics, as well as food and water and a bacta tank, but let’s get him back to the Lady as soon as possible.” For the first time the doctor hesitated as he finished a field bandage around one of Piett’s ravaged wrists. 

“What is it doctor?” Vader questioned.

“Moving him to the sled will be tricky my Lord. I don’t want to shift things that shouldn’t move and the man has some dangerously placed broken ribs as well as that arm….” he stopped with a slight ‘ump’ and Veers swore in startlement as Piett slowly moved into the air, and floated over to the sled. The troopers backed away and Luke watched his father lower his hand carefully so that the admiral was ( gently, not a word Luke associated with Darth Vader ) deposited. 

“Yes well. Or you could do the hand waving,” the doctor grumbled getting to his feet and collecting his things. Luke sent a carefully amused thought at his father and offered a hand to Veers to help the man off the floor. 

“Skywalker—— thank you.” He gripped Luke’s hand firmly and briefly. 

“A pleasure to work with you General. And isn’t that something I never thought I’d say!”

“Yes well I’m given to understand this won’t be the last time either.” 

Luke smiled as a deep voice rumbled behind them. 

“General. You will oversee the transfer of the admiral to your ship. Once we are all clear we will obliterate this station.” 

“Of course my Lord.” 

Luke moved with Veers toward the sled where the impervious doctor was finishing stabilizing his patient. Piett’s slight form was buried in blankets— only the arm, now encased in an air cast, rested outside. Luke carefully placed his hand on the admiral’s good shoulder and looked over at Veers. 

“Safe travels.” 

The general nodded and the group moved off, Veers and the doctor at the head. 

Luke turned to his father. 

“Son.”

“I can’t stay long Father.”

“I know.”

“You took a huge risk coming here. Won’t the Emperor want to know….?”

“I’m sure he already does young one.” They walked side by side back the way they had both come. 

“However, there were reports of Rebel activity in the area, which General Veers confirmed and thus I had to investigate.”

Luke smiled up at the Dark Lord. 

“After all that menace, Skywalker, could have been with them.” He felt amusement from his father.

“Indeed.”

They came out into the hangar bay where their ships rested side by side. 

“Luke….” 

He could feel his father struggling with the words. He waited patiently.

“I am… not the man… the father I should be. And I won’t be anytime soon.”

Luke felt a pang, but had already accepted this. 

“But if you can be patient, work together to defeat Sidious…”

“Father,” Luke interrupted gently. “I feel the good in you. Today’s action shows it--l--- you risked a great deal to save Admiral Piett, something’s different. Kriff, you asked me to help with that! I can be patient. And, I… I’ll be ready to tell you something soon. Something that I hope will help you.”

Luke paused at the nose of his X-Wing and placed a hand on his father’s arm. The Dark Lord shuddered slightly--- when was the last time someone had voluntarily given him human contact? 

“I’ll contact you soon. Please keep me updated on your Admiral as well.” He swung up onto the ship and moved smoothly into the cockpit. 

“He is not …..” 

Luke smirked at him as the canopy closed.

***

“Fire!” Veers commanded and both ships pounded the already battered station. He could have sworn he saw Lord Vader’s TIE advanced take a few shots before he blasted into hyper-space. In mere minutes the station exploded outward into tiny sparkling shards. He felt a grim satisfaction at so thoroughly pulverizing the place in which his friend had suffered. Speaking of…

Veers made his way back to the upper crew hold. His men had largely boarded on the lower decks to leave as much room as possible for Dr. Henley to work and the trooper who appeared to have been assisting him, moved aside as Veer signalled him to. 

Henley looked up. “Ah General. Vented some of our feelings have we?” 

The man rubbed Veers wrong in every way, but no one could deny that he was fantastic at his job. Veers moved to sit at the head of the grav sled so he could see Piett. The doctor had a cold pack on the dislocated shoulder and was working to clean an ugly blaster wound on the admiral’s thigh. A bacta patch covered part of Piett’s face and the bruising was already looking better. 

“Can I… do anything?” He asked after a moment. 

“Do you get squeamish?” Henley asked, not looking up. 

“I’m the General of the Thundering Herd,” Veers answered cooly, “clearly you don’t really know what that entails or you would not ask that question.”

“Easily offended are we? But yes, you can. I’m nearly done here and we can move on to cleaning some of these electrical burns and get bacta patches on them.” He pointed at the kit open near him. Veers located the cleaning wipes and gloves first. Then he began ripping open the bacta patches in readiness before turning to his friend. The doctor had already cut the olive henley open and he could see the angry burns scattered over Piett’s chest and neck. 

Somewhere midway through his work, Veers looked up and into the admiral’s hazy eyes. He paused, setting down the bacta patch he was about to apply and reached for his friend’s good hand. 

“Firmus? Are you with us?”

A light grip on his hand confirmed this, and Veers grinned widely down at him. 

“You, Admiral, are a kriffing, bloody vac-head .”

Henley looked up at that with wide eyes, but Piett snorted lightly, fogging the oxygen mask still covering his face. Then he moved his hand under Veers’ toward his face and shakily removed the mask. 

“Hey!” Henley  was outraged, swiftly but carefully returning it to his face, but not before Veers heard Piett’s soft murmur—- 

“ Dirt… . pounder .”

“All right, I acknowledge that you’re friends and this must be your messed up way of showing affection, but General, my patient should not be encouraged to talk. And frankly Admiral,” he turned to look at Piett “I’d rather you were unconscious for most of this so….” He picked up a hypospray and injected it into Piett’s neck. 

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Veers assured him as his friend’s eyelids drooped and he felt another light squeeze before Piett’s hand dropped back to the blanket. 

Thirty minutes later the Doctor sighed. “All right. That’s done. He’ll keep until we can get him into surgery and at least three days of bacta. I’m afraid that one surgery isn’t going to cut it for this.”

Veers, in the process of stripping off his gloves, looked up at the gruff doctor. “Will he be able to use the arm?” He felt cold inside at the thought of Piett having permanent damage. The man’s life was the Imperial navy and he loved the Executor. 

“Oh yes, General don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m his doctor after all, you should thank the Force for that. But because the breaks are rather bad I want to go carefully and that means at least two surgeries.”

Well , thought Veers as he pulled the blankets back up over his friend, Firmus is going to LOVE that. 

Chapter Text

“My master.”

Vader knelt in his usual position. He had expected this. Upon returning to the Executor, a white faced Venka had met him with the news that the Emperor was waiting to speak with him. 

Venka was the only one on board that knew he had left from his private hangar--- the man clearly did not care for the intrigue he was involved in. Vader largely ignored his panicked entreaties and paced toward his private quarters.

“You have been busy Lord Vader.” 

“I have my Master.”

“I instructed you to inspect Kuat, and lo, I find that you no sooner arrive, but you are off disobeying my orders.”

Vader shielded his mind and spoke confidently.

“I did indeed inspect the shipyards. They are well protected and progressing well. However, when I received General Veers’ report I felt it imperative that I go.”

“You thought young Skywalker was there.”

Vader allowed his shields to crack and show Palpatine his longing for his son.

“I felt him my Master-- he grows powerful.”

“And I told you to be patient my old friend. He will come to you. ”

More true than you know , thought Vader. 

“Do not disobey me again,” venom dripped from Palpatine’s voice. “I am told you found your wayward Admiral by... happy chance.”

“Yes. I will be investigating whether Xizor is betraying us with the Rebellion.”

“I would not be too concerned,” the Emperor said dismissively. “It is not profitable enough for him to unite with that pathetic rabble.”

“I would like to be sure,” Vader pushed. “The admiral was not the intended target---- I was. Naturally I wish to know more.”

A brief pause. Your move Sidious. If you forbid me I will think you protest too much. 

“Of course Lord Vader. But we cannot afford to have you spend too much of your time on this.”

“Certainly my master.”

Palpatine cut the transmission and Vader rose, pondering this interaction in combination with what he had learned from the foul smuggler.

‘Who are you working for?’ Vader crushed the Dathomirian’s left foot and the alien let out a hair raising howl. He could feel Luke plunging deeply into the force, more distantly he could feel Veers’ desperation, and the thready, failing life force of Piett.

‘I ...serve… Prince Xizor.”

‘That is not who ordered me assassinated.’ Vader twisted his hand and the right femur bone cracked audibly. Bal’Esh let out a choked scream. 

‘You are an amateur in inflicting true agony, smuggler. I will not deny that this brings me some pleasure--you have caused great….harm to my admiral. You intended to kill me.” Vader thrust into the alien’s mind and the screams increased. “You WILL show me who you worked for whether you want to or not.”

Xizor’s green visage speaking from a holocom…..’He is most displeased. Get the codes…’......Vader himself flinging smugglers aside on the mining planet……’our EMPLOYER will kill us all. It must look like the Rebellion sent assassins’.... Fear from something more than Xizor’s displeasure….

There was no more to be found but it was enough to confirm Vader’s suspicions. He withdrew from the smuggler’s mind. He could feel Luke, exhausted but triumphant and was proud of his son. Then he gathered the Dark Side and crushed…….

Vader’s comm pinged. He had hoped to refresh himself in his chamber, but he answered regardless. It was no doubt Venka.

“My Lord.” Venka indeed. “General Veers has returned. What are your orders?”

“Take the fleet toward Bothan space. Inform me when we reach Moonus Mandel-- I will have new orders for you. Is the admiral en route to sickbay?”

Vader could hear the relief in the man’s voice. “Yes, my Lord. I am told he will be in surgery shortly.”

“Good. I am not to be disturbed for two hours unless we are under attack. Confer with General Veers for anything else.”

“Yes my Lord.”

Vader rose and entered his hyperbaric chamber. He had much to meditate upon. 

***

Luke came out of  hyperspace near Sullust and the bulk of the rebel fleet stretched out before him. 

“We have you on our screens. Please identify.”

“Red Five reporting in,” Luke replied, closing his ‘wings’ as he prepared to dock. 

“Welcome back Commander-- you’re cleared for hangar bay 2.”

“Thanks.”

Luke sighed and stretched as Artoo took over to pilot them in. He wanted a shower and to sleep for days, but Leia would want to know what in the Nine Corellian Hells he’d been up to (and he expected her to use that phrase as well). He’d better grab something to eat and settle for a quick change of clothing. The conversation he anticipated having with her required him to have some amount of his wits about him.

Even now to be honest, he wasn’t sure which piece of information would be more troubling to his sister. 

So the plus side is we’re twins, the negative side-- Darth kriffing Vader is our father. Also, I’d like us to have a secret alliance with top ranking members of the Imperial military to take out the Emperor, what do you think? 

His X-Wing landed and the atmosphere rippled back in the hangar bay as the force field resumed. He could sense her before he opened the canopy. Sithspit.

He took off his helmet and tossed it to the tech crew before climbing down the ladder and into her arms. She hugged him tightly. Then punched him in the arm. 

“Ow,” he deadpanned.

“ You said you needed to see Yoda. Then you tell me it’s taking longer and you can’t tell me why and now I see laser burns on the side of your ship! Luke Skywalker I demand….!”

He put a hand to her mouth. “Leia, you’re right and I’m sorry. I have a …. lot to tell you. Can I get some food? And then you and I need to go somewhere private for awhile.”

She stared at him with her luminous brown eyes and then nodded. 

“All right. Not forgiven, but all right.” She turned and led them out of the hangar.

“How’s Han?” Luke asked trotting after her. 

“Eyesight’s back thank the force and he’s arguing with the doctor right now about being released to fix whatever Lando might have done to the Falcon…”

The doors swished shut behind them. 

***

He was warm for the first time in….well likely since he had left the Executor. Piett knew he was on board the Lady-- he didn’t have to have his eyes open-- there was an imperceptible feel when he was aboard his ship. He may not have the Force but he knew the feel of his Lady. He took stock--he could tell he’d been in bacta, his hair still felt slightly damp and he had that vague sweet taste in his mouth that he really hated. Of course he was also breathing over purified air so he was still on oxygen. He hated that too. Basically, he hated most things about sickbay which is why he tried so very hard not to end up there. He shifted slightly and was gratified to realize he must still be on the good painkillers-- nothing hurt really. He had a vague idea of where his injuries were, but he was blessedly numb. Piett opened his eyes. 

The overhead lights were off, but there was a soft glow to his left and he turned his head to see what it was. His bedside lamp was on and by its muted light, the General of the Thundering Herd was studying a data pad and looking exceedingly un-General like with his booted feet crossed and resting at the foot of Piett’s bed and his uniform jacket halfway open. He also had his blaster lying on the table which caused Piett’s eyebrow to quirk. 

Veers raised his head and just met his friend’s stare for a minute. 

“You’re not really supposed to have your boots on the bed you know,” Piett remarked. “But I suppose they do things differently in the army.” Was that his voice? Well, he supposed he was going to sound rather hoarse for awhile.

Veers grinned. “Yeah we’re not so up tight and hoity-toity as the navy toffs.” 

“How long have I been here?” He lifted a hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes and realized that his left arm was completely immobile, strapped to his chest in a sling. 

“We docked with the fleet four days ago. That severely screwed up doctor, you know Vader’s personal one---

“Henley,” supplied Piett with a faint smile. 

“Yes, well, him , he had you right into surgery. Say what you will about him--”

“And you do,” interjected Piett.

“Damn straight I do-- anyway, he got to work on that arm and then right into bacta. Which you came out of roughly an hour ago. Thus, my presence.”

Yes, Piett faintly recalled being on the shuttle. I’ll be here when you wake up.

The admiral felt a surge of affection for his friend. 

“Max, thanks for--”

Veers held up a hand. “Don’t you even begin to thank me for something that literally every man on this ship would do for you. Besides what would we do without our resident Vader-whisperer?”

Piett blinked. “Our what now?”

“Well you’re the longest serving senior officer under Vader ever. So the men naturally think you’re a legend. But he listens to you Firmus. I’ve been around to see it.”

Piett was shaking his head. “He listens to his son. Which may or may not be a good thing. At least he was predictable before. Now…..”

“Now he does things like show up to save idiotic Fleet Admirals.” Veers sat forward  and set his datapad on the blankets. Piett gaped at him. 

“No….he...he sent Skywalker, I remember. I had him talking in my head Max.”

“Yes, well he also saved your life with the Force while his father crushed Bal’Esh very slowly. You were unconscious for that part Firmus and I’d rather not experience that ever again.” Veers looked at him gravely. “You are not allowed off this ship ever.”

Piett chuckled. “I’m reasonably sure that’s not up to you General.” Then his smile faded and he seemed to be bracing himself for something. “If...if I can still command a ship.”

Veers mentally berated himself for not filling his friend in earlier. 

He opened his mouth to respond when he was rudely interrupted.

“I think I told you General that one of the conditions upon which I allowed you to remain, was to inform me when my patient was awake.” 

Dr. Henley had his arms crossed and was scowling at them both hideously. 

“Admiral, thanks to my tremendous skill and ability you will of course be remaining in command of this ship. I’m sorry to say you’ll need two more surgeries on that arm-- not one--but that can’t be helped.  General, what can be helped is not letting the admiral talk too much and get some rest. I’m told you have numerous divisions at your command, I assume you do some actual work then?” 

Veers rose, grabbing his blaster from the side table and looking as though he desired to use it. He holstered it and took his data pad from the bed. 

“I’ll see you soon Firmus. I’ll do my best to release you from this sarlaac pit.”

Piett smiled as the General left and Henley moved to check his readings. 

“That man has no finer sensibilities,” muttered the doctor. “This is the best sickbay on the ship-- remember that Admiral.” 

“Yes sir,” Piett yawned. 

“Ah ah, not yet Admiral. You need to eat something first. Then you may sleep as long as you like.”

Piett rolled his eyes. “When can I leave….?”

Henley whirled on him, getting a finger in his face, strangely reminiscent of Darth Vader. 

“You leave at my discretion Admiral. I am the one who declares all of you fit for duty or not. Second surgery tomorrow and we’ll see how your other injuries are progressing after that.” He helped Piett sit up and handed him a cup of basic Anaxian chicken broth

“All right and then?” Piett pressed, taking a careful sip. Henley snorted.

“Lord Vader-- you--the loud mouthed General, you’re all the same--- no regard for  your health.”

“Thank you?” 

“ Not a compliment Admiral. You’ll be here 4 days and after that you are released to your quarters, absolutely no active duty yet.” 

Piett groaned internally, but finished the broth and discovered he was utterly spent. He glared at Henley’s smug face. 

How Lord Vader puts up with that man I’ll never know. Aaand that’s a weird role reversal to think about. 

Piett went to sleep. 

Chapter Text

Vader paced the bridge of the Executor. All was as it should be-- the Lady was clearly pleased to have her admiral back and hummed sweetly through the stars. Indeed the engine room reported their surprise, wondering if some unexpected upgrades had been done at Kuat. Vader permitted himself a smile at that. He placed a hand on the smooth metal bulkhead and while he did not feel the ship the same way as he would sentient, biological beings, the Lady definitely responded to him. 

Right, right, she sang to him. Functioning optimally. Admiral on board. Commander on board. 

The crew had been informed of the happy news that their admiral not only lived but had been rescued in a brave action by General Veers and his Thundering Herd. The pall over the ship had been lifted and Vader could see the officers in the bridge pits working with more energy in their steps. Naturally they knew nothing of his involvement. Success. But…….

Vader paused in his favorite spot and looked out at the stars, hands clasped behind his back. The reaction of the crew-- while gratifying for Piett-- concerned the Sith Lord. His admiral was well liked, respected----- loved . What had the Dathomirian said? He knew you would come. The ‘he’ wasn’t referencing Piett. Which could only mean Palpatine was aware of how valuable the admiral was for Vader’s success with his flagship. And he had no qualms in seeking to destroy that link between Vader and his Death Squadron. 

Equally as troubling--- the Emperor had moved to have him assassinated. But he was not willing to do it himself. Why not? Palpatine had no qualms in removing numerous high ranking officials if they displeased him. He had sacrificed Dooku with no regrets in his rise to power--Vader remembered that well. 

It could only be that his Master knew that such an act would divide an already shaky Empire. It confirmed that Vader himself was a leader to whom people felt allegiance. He had never cared about that. He was no politician and never acted because he desired the people’s approval. For years he merely wanted an Empire that oversaw everything and brought justice. But three years ago his whole world had been toppled once more, but this time, rather than despair in the ashes, Vader discovered he could still feel joy in the life of his son. 

He reached out through the Force. There. He felt his son-- anxious and worried, but so….happy at the same time.

I’ll be able to tell you something soon---something I hope will help you. 

Vader did not know what to make of that. But thinking of his son brought further concern. Sidious was so certain that Luke would come to him. He had foreseen it. What was his design in that? Certainly he wished to train him and no doubt replace Vader with his son. But where could his son come to him? Their small treasonous band needed to include some high ranking Rebel officials. He had always known this if it were to work. He rested his hands against the Lady and felt the nervous young Lieutenant behind him before he spoke. 

“My Lord?”

Vader turned, the Dark Side feeding on the fear pouring off the man in front of him. 

“My Lord, General Veers’ compliments and he is ready at your convenience in your private conference room.”

“Thank you Lieutenant.” The young man looked startled at that but gave him a salute.

I’m trying Luke. 

“Captain Venka,” Vader announced. Venka hurried over, valiantly and mostly successfully stifling his own panic. There was perhaps hope for the man yet.

“You have the bridge.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Vader stalked out, his cape revealing his greater hurry. He was eager to plan and appreciated having brought Veers fully into their circle. His private conference room was close to the bridge along with the larger, bridge officers’ conference room and the admiral’s private conference room. For this meeting however, this would be the most secure. 

He paused outside and reached out-- identifying the individuals within and scanning the room for anything suspicious. 

Veers said his name and Vader focused.

----he won’t care in the slightest for kriff’s sake. Besides, he convened this meeting, knowing full well you’re not on duty yet. I can’t believe I’m agreeing with that Sithspawn Henley on this-- look what you’ve driven me to.”

Vader grimaced and entered the room, the doors sealing firmly behind him. The two men waiting for him, came to their feet at his approach. 

“Lady,” said Vader before either of them could speak, “would you secure this room please?”  A small ripple of energy went through the room. 

“Thank you. Gentlemen, thank you for coming. Please sit.” The room was not decorated and very utilitarian but the sofas and chairs were of the highest standard for the flagship. Veers and Piett obeyed, the latter clearly appreciating the relief but his discomfort was coming off of him in waves and Vader thought he understood why. It was one of possibly two times, he had ever seen the admiral out of uniform and Piett was clearly self conscious about it. 

He was looking worlds better, but obviously needed the more relaxed attire of his Imperial navy sweatshirt. His arm was still secured in a sling and he was paler than usual, but determined to attempt to sit at parade rest while his commanding officer was present. 

“Admiral, has the doctor given you a brace for your spine?”

Piett looked his puzzlement. “No…. my Lord?”

“Then do relax. I’m told these sofas are comfortable.” 

Veers didn’t bother to hide his snort. Piett shot him a look, but obeyed. 

Vader plunged right in. 

“I believe that the Emperor was behind the recent attempt on my life and subsequent kidnapping of the Admiral.” 

Deathly quiet. If Vader didn’t have the Force he would not have been able to tell Veers’ feelings from his face. The man had supreme physical control. Internally however--shock, disbelief, anger. 

Piett was more open, but he had the air of a man who had just had something confirmed. 

“He also knows that Luke Skywalker is my son and is keen to have him join the Dark Side. For now, he is not demanding that I capture him. Rather he is happy to let me believe that I am the one most keen to pursue him.”

Unbidden, a memory which was not his, of the Millenium Falcon flying into an asteroid field came to his mind. Vader glanced sharply at Piett who was lifting his hand unconsciously to his throat before he realized it and promptly settled it back in his lap.

“It is true that I have been focused on that desire, but things have changed now. My son is willingly working with us and I do not think that Sidious has yet realized this.”

Both men shifted uncomfortably at the Sith name of his master, but it was good to remind them now and often with whom they were dealing. 

“He is allowing me to ‘investigate’ this alleged Black Sun involvement with the Rebellion. This gives us some time, but I have sensed that he is planning something significant. When he will reveal this to me, or if he does, I am not clear upon.”

Vader moved to the holoprojector and flipped it on with the Force. 

“Lights please Lady,” said Piett for him and the room dimmed so that the bright lines and dots of the galaxy shone clearly. Veers rose to join the Dark Lord at the table.

“Stay there Firmus-- you know these maps by heart better anyway.”

Piett scowled but wasn’t apparently willing to risk an open argument in front of his commander. Vader quirked an amused finger and the sofa moved forward several feet. Entirely worth it for the way the admiral’s eyes blew wide and he whipped his right hand down to brace himself. 

“That is dead useful,” commented Veers irreverently. 

“ Max ,” Piett groaned. 

“It is,” Vader agreed, enjoying the next wash of astonishment from his admiral  that the General was not being force choked in front of him. He was perhaps enjoying this new sport of admiral baiting more than was befitting a Sith. He turned back to the map.

“We are currently cruising Bothan space as you know. I want to find a safe location to meet with several high ranking Rebel leaders and share our plans with them.”

“And what are our plans my Lord?” Piett asked dryly. 

Vader paused. He knew he had the loyalty of the two men in front of him-- Piett had nearly died for him days ago. He was not concerned for that. But this next proposal would be challenging for them. 

“I wish to offer an alliance with Death Squadron and the Rebel fleet.” 

“You…” Veers trailed off. 

Predictably it was Piett who finished the thought. “You want us to join the Rebellion my Lord?” 

“No Admiral. An alliance for the common interests of defeating the Emperor. And a secret one at that. There are other pieces to this that must fall in place before we reveal such a move.” 

“And those pieces are, my Lord?” Veers had recovered his voice. 

“That I cannot reveal at this time. You must trust me that those pieces are essential.”

Piett and Veers glanced at each other.

“Very well my Lord,” Piett said as Veers frowned. 

“And now Admiral I believe your presence is required elsewhere.”  Piett sighed as his comlink pinged. Veers looked at him inquiringly. 

“That would be Henley. We’ve moved up the last surgery and I’m supposed to be reporting to him now.” 

“Firmus, you push yourself too hard….” 

“I recommended that the Admiral do so, General.” Veers looked up from giving Piett a hand as the other man struggled to his feet. 

“Did you my Lord?” Veers’ tone was cold. 

“I have felt something in the Force. It would be wise for the Admiral to be back to full health as soon as possible.” 

“You felt…. ” 

“General Veers.” Piett was in full Admiral of the Fleet mode, Vader noted in satisfaction. The man continued to confirm his faith. 

“I am fully in support of this idea. I trust Lord Vader to know what he’s talking about.”

Veers still looked unconvinced, but the smaller man spoke again, “now please Max, I could use a hand getting back to sickbay. Heavens preserve us all if Henley comes looking for me.”  He turned to Vader.

“My Lord, by your leave.” 

Vader inclined his helmet.

***

Veers left Piett in Henley’s capable hands and went to one of the training rooms reserved for the ground troops. His mind was whirling as he changed and went to the track. It always helped him to think while exercising. 

Several of his men acknowledged him but Veers merely nodded, content to run alone.

Alliances with rebels. Working with Skywalker. Feelings and the Force. What was he agreeing to? He worked with facts-- with known intelligence and fact based in evidence. 

But---

But so did Piett and yet, here they were following their own Dark Lord on a quest for….what precisely? 

Vader said to trust him. Veers could not do that --- not yet. Brilliant tactician and strong leader-- he had no problem with Vader in that capacity. But now he was involved in all the magical Jedi--Sith?--Jedi? Whatever all the mystical whatsit from generations before.  

He moved to one of the sparring chambers and powered up a droid.

But Firmus trusts him. And it was largely through all the weird Force connections that they were able to save his friend. 

His fists connected powerfully and the droid bounced off one of the walls. 

And now, working with Rebels? It had almost seemed as though Vader knew that would be difficult for him. A few people still knew that Maximilian Veers had once had a son-- a son who had died at Hoth. 

And yet, meeting Skywalker, working alongside the young man and finding him… tolerable, certainly competent--- he supposed he was willing to give this a cautious try. Of course, he was committed to this treason now, so some of these musings were really inconsequential. 

Veers powered down the droid and wiped the sweat from his face. Trust. Not something that came easily to him. Faith, even less so. For now then, Veers mused,  he would carry out orders like a good soldier and not think too hard about the why. 

***

Luke was lying on his back underneath the X-Wing, Artoo twittering next to him and handing him tools, when he felt his father’s careful touch on his mind. There had been a time when that touch would have made him desire a shower and to scrub his brain clean. Now , he felt a warmth he never expected and dare he say it? Affection. Luke could not claim to have come to terms with the fact that his father was Darth Vader. No, that was a mess that would take years to undo, he knew that rationally. But Anakin Skywalker... that was a man he wanted to know--- that a lonely orphan boy longed to know. He felt  the good there as he had insisted to Leia several nights before in an….emotional conversation, to say the least. 

Which brought him to now. He was giving her some space as she coped with everything he had dumped on her. He desperately wished that he could have made it easier, but how did one make news like that easy to hear? 

This brought him to his father as well. It was time that he knew he had two children. And oh, Leia had resisted that idea---refused to acknowledge him as a father. 

Finally, Luke had pointed out the tactical and pragmatic reasons for Vader…. Anakin, knowing about her and she had given him permission to tell their Father. But she hadn’t liked it. 

Father?

Son. Warm affection surrounded Luke and he smiled up at the maintenance panel he was repairing. Those feelings from his father gave him hope. 

Is this time...suitable for you?

Just fixing my X-Wing from my last little adventure. 

Do you not have mechanics that can do so?

Of course. But….I like to tinker and I know my ship.

Was that… pride?

I ----too undertake all the repairs to my ship. 

Luke smiled to himself as he sealed the panel and moved to the next bit, grabbing the small welder that Artoo held out.

So I got this from you. 

Another surge of warmth from his father.

Apparently.

How is your admiral fairing?

And that was definitely a long suffering sigh over their connection. 

Thanks to you, he is recovering well. 

Luke flushed at the praise. 

It was not just me Father. Your terrifying General was just as responsible. And… was that your personal physician?

Hesitation and suspicion from his father. 

It was…..does that concern you?

Not at all. He seemed pretty fearless-- I was impressed. Also, I’m just guessing here, but...I’m thinking you don’t provide your personal doctor for just any of your men?

Your point young one? 

Oh definite irritation there. Luke plunged on despite that. His father needed to see that he was not as alone as he projected. 

Just that you need to trust that your men--- certainly your Admiral and General Veers--- they are not just afraid of you. I felt it. Veers respects you. Piett actually cares about you, and I know you brought him in on this before you brought me. It’s all right for you to admit that the regard is mutual. 

Luke knew he was treading on very thin ice here. 

Son, personal connections are not…

I know, I know--- it’s not Sith. But I don’t believe you’re truly all Sith Father. 

It is not just that Luke. People that are….were...close to me end up dead. You’ve now seen that first hand.

The pain there underneath those words was evident and Luke longed to ask-- he was sure much of this had to do with his mother. But this was not the time. 

But I didn’t see that Father. Piett is safe, for now, and so are you may I add. Or were you not going to talk with me about the fact that this was all an assassination attempt on you?

A sigh. This is why we need to meet in person son. There is much we need to discuss as we plan for this….alliance. 

All right-- when and where?

Our fleet is in Bothan space. I have been ordered to send half of it to Endor, for some project of the Emperor’s which he has not yet revealed to me. This split would allow you to sneak in and board the Executor. 

Father I think an X-Wing would rather stand out….

I was not done young one. And don’t think I can’t feel your eye roll from this distance. 

Amusement from his Father and Luke smiled in return. 

I will instruct General Veers to jump away to Dressel. You can dock your X-Wing to his cargo ship and take the Lambda we will provide. Together you will jump back and return to Executor. The General will provide an appropriate uniform for you. 

I’m not so good with the covert missions Father. He felt something from Vader. Did you just….snort?

Not at all son. Merely agreeing with you. 

For the millionth time Luke wondered what Anakin Skywalker had been like before Vader. These little bits of humor in their conversation, made him long for that knowledge. 

All right, I’ll do my best. When?

36 hours. What will you tell your Rebel friends?

They know I need to continue my Jedi training-- I can cover a lot of absences with that provided I’m not needed urgently. 

Very well. Til then son. Be safe.

And you Father. 

Chapter Text

Veers waited at attention in the largest hangar bay on the Executor. Vader was personally overseeing the deployment of half the fleet to Endor and giving Venka (who would be commanding it) last instructions. 

He waited for it……and there was the signature finger shake at the Captain. Veers thought Venka might just be growing detectable signs of a spine-- he nodded briefly and turned to his command crew barking orders, as troops and officers boarded transports to be reassigned in this large and complicated fleet shuffle. 

Executor, alongside the Tyrant and the Avenger would remain on the hunt for Rebel connections to Black Sun. The Devastator would take its sister ship, the Vengeance, and all the lighter Gozanti class cruisers to Endor.

Veers of course, had other things to do. Vader passed by him on his way to the bridge and inclined his helmet ever so slightly. Veers motioned to his hand picked men from the 501st and they proceeded to board the large cargo ship. Time to go get Skywalker. 

Veers stood behind the pilots as they launched--- one of many cargo ships carrying supplies to the others.

“Executor to Charybdis. You are clear to make your jump.”  Veers smiled to himself at the clipped precise tones he knew so well. Piett playing his own communications officer for this little job? The man was a mother hen sometimes, honestly. 

He leaned forward--”Charybdis to Executor, jumping in 3. See you shortly.”

The pilot pulled back and the stars streamed past them. A short while later, they popped back into real space near Dressel where a familiar shape hung,  waiting. 

“X-Wing, this is the Charybdis, Commander are you prepared to dock?”

“Hello there Charybdis. Ready on your orders.”

Well. Skywalker was in a no nonsense mood today then. Veers nodded and they eased closer to the smaller ship--opening their small bay for him to dock. 

Once they had successfully sealed the bay, Veers went down to meet the rebel Jedi. 

“General,” Skywalker said seriously. 

“Well, we can get you something better than that eye watering orange flight suit commander. Please satisfy my curiosity-- who exactly was it that decided this was the color needed for the crack rebel fleet?” 

Skywalker actually laughed. “No idea General, but I understand the sentiment. Maybe they wanted to shake up the monotony of all the grey and black you folks seem to favor.”

Veers handed him a tidy bundle. “Be that as it may-- I’ve got you an army commander’s uniform, you can change in the fresher over there.”

Skywalker was efficient and returned promptly. “I’ll just tuck this into the cockpit,” he said motioning with the arm holding his flight suit. 

“Thank you for this General--it even fits pretty well.”

Veers allowed himself a small smile. “Well I have a friend who’s about your height, so I just used his measurements.” 

They made their way back up to the cockpit. “I thought I might be slightly taller than him,” the commander said after a while. Veers snorted-- he was sharp.

“Don’t tell him that. And don’t underestimate him--in hand to hand without your fancy sword, I think it’s just possible he could take you.”

Skywalker raised his eyebrows. “High praise indeed sir.”

“It should be. I train with him.” 

Skywalker astutely stayed out of the way as Veers spoke to the pilots, and then joined him in the back, as the ship warmed up the hyper-drive.

“This is the plan commander. We will dock with Executor and your X-Wing will remain on board this ship to keep it hidden. You will be assisting me should anyone inquire. Obviously Lord Vader cannot meet us personally-- that would be out of character. I will show you to your quarters and Lord Vader said he could contact  you when it is time for us to…. meet.”

“I understand,” the young Rebel said softly. The ship went into hyper-speed and Skywalker went quiet. Veers couldn’t tell if he was just feeling out of place or if one of those bizarre conversations which normal people couldn’t hear, was happening between him and his father. And that was a term that he was still struggling to apply to Vader. 

They came out with a spectacular view of the flagship before them. Skywalker hummed in approval. Veers cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry-- I --I’ve always loved spaceships and last time I was here, there wasn’t much time to see her like this. I can see why he’s so proud of her.”

“Lord Vader?”

“Well he is too, but she is not as personal for him. No, Admiral Piett.” 

Veers looked at him and the commander flushed slightly. 

“Sorry-- I don’t mean to---it’s just I was in his mind a bit…”

“So I’ve been informed,” Veers said in a slightly more chilly voice. 

“I assure you sir, I would never just breach...”

“If it’s all the same to you Skywalker,” Veers said cutting him off, “I’d rather not discuss this too much. I know, you helped us find him with your…. Force ….it does not mean I like it.” 

The young commander looked suitably abashed and didn’t say anything further as they were caught in the Lady’s tractor beam and pulled on board. 

They disembarked, Veers remaining behind a moment to confer with his men, and then he approached Skywalker once more. 

“All right, cap on,” He looked at the shorter man. Well, he would do-- his hair was a bit longer than regulation, but he straightened into a reasonable parade rest. 

Veers sighed internally. There was a reason he hadn’t gone into the security services for the Empire. Clandestine meetings were really not his thing. 

“All right commander, this way……”  and the Executor rocked.

Oh hells…….

***

The bridge hummed quietly around him, and Piett soaked it all in happily. Dr. Henley had been most displeased, to put it mildly, when Vader had overridden his direction and ordered Piett back to duty. The doctor had taken a great deal of snarky pleasure pointing out to Piett that his arm was to remain in the sling if he wanted to use it again, etc etc. He had fitted it over Piett’s uniform,  muttering under his breath the whole time about ‘two days out of surgery’, 'is Vader a doctor?' (answer---no) and the like.  But even this could not dent his joy at being back on his bridge. 

He turned to look out at the stars-- quite possibly his favorite view in the galaxy, from right here. He could see his own reflection faintly in the viewport --- a bit pale still and too thin, but otherwise as it should be. He put a hand to his hat, still marvelling over that. 

He had returned to his quarters from sickbay and immediately noticed a small black box sitting on his coffee table. There were very few people who had the authorization codes to enter his quarters without his permission so Piett had a small list in his head of potential senders. A get well present, or worse, a gag gift from Max? 

He lifted the lid to find--- a hat. And a note. Puzzled, he lifted the note first. It was not in a hand he recognized and the message was very brief. 

Admiral--

This belongs to you. 

Do not lose it again-- it would be most

Difficult to replace.

There was no signature, but Piett did not need one. He lifted the hat-- it was his, the one he had lost, and there was only one other person who would have had it. He found himself unexpectedly moved by that. He put it on firmly and resolved to do his level best to be worthy of the regard shown him. 

Outside to starboard the Avenger was offloading half of her TIE divisions to the Devastator. Piett was very curious about the fleet shuffle, but the Emperor had given no indication of why they were to be split for this Endor project and that did make him uneasy. That, combined with Lord Vader’s foreboding feeling which had led directly to him resuming his duties earlier than scheduled. 

“Sir, Captain Venka is ready to depart,” called his chief communications officer.

“Put him through,” Piett said, turning back to the interior of his ship. 

“Admiral. We’re ready to be away on your command,” Venka sounded reasonably steady--- with a little more training he may be ready for promotion.

“Thank you Captain, I look forward to hearing of your arrival. Good stars.”

“Aye sir.” 

Piett turned back to watch as the great blue engines of the Devastator and her small fleet glowed and then they shot into hyper-space. 

Piett moved to the communications station. “Find out if Charybdis has docked,” he ordered. 

“Yes sir.” A beat. “Sir, the deck officer reports Charybdis is docked. Lord Vader is returning as well from…..”

Piett didn’t hear the rest.

He and half the crew were looking in disbelief at the Rebel fleet which was dropping out of hyper space in front of them. 

“Shields!!” Piett called. “Scramble the TIE fighters and get all of our transports back on board!!”

“Sir!” someone called. “Their X-Wings are firing, not all the transports can make it to Executor!” 

“Then have them get to the nearest ship and dock!”

A massive blast from one of the heavy cruisers hit the Executor’s bridge tower, sending half of the officers, including Piett to the floor. A sharp twinge of pain came from his injured arm but he shoved himself off of the polished deck and ignored it. 

“Report!!” 

“Sir, they seem to be targeting our bridge as well as the decoy shield generator!” 

Piett allowed himself an internal moment of satisfaction. He had always been bothered by that piece of engineering--- why was something so vital placed in such a vulnerable position on star destroyers? He had suggested a remodel in a more protected position but left the original generator in its old place on the Executor’s hull. Unfortunately that same overhaul had yet to be done on the smaller star destroyers. 

Another intense hit on the bridge shields and Piett put a hand to the Lady’s bulkhead to stay upright. 

“Sir, the Tyrant’s shields are weakening!”

“Try to maneuver us in between Tyrant and those heavy cruisers. Tell Black Squadron to protect her bridge!” 

The Lady shook again. Kriff they were not letting up--two of the Mon Calamari cruisers were pounding Executor-- and Piett was tired of staggering around.”Commander!” he called to the nearest officer-- not one he recognized. 

“Sir!” 

“Commander…”

“Gherant sir. I transferred over from Devastator.”

“Very good. Commander, I need your assistance in getting this damn sling off.”  Henley, curse his clever little Jawa soul, had arranged it so that the sling fitted his arm very firmly to his chest and had added a strap that attached it in such a way that Piett couldn’t reach the release with his other arm. 

Gherant hesitated very briefly and then wisely made the decision that he didn’t know the Admiral well enough to question his order. 

“Yes sir,” he replied searching for the catch and moments later Piett felt it relax. Gherant helped him move it over his head and oh , that was not pleasant. But it couldn’t be helped--- much as he appreciated the need to baby his arm, he needed the freedom of movement more-- however painful that might be. 

Another huge explosion shook Executor. 

“Admiral, hangar bay 12 took a bad hit-- they’re venting atmosphere sir. Deck chief is dead!”

Hangar Bay 12 was the largest in the fleet. Normally Piett would have sent Venka to oversee the issue, but he wasn’t here and Gherant didn’t yet know the ship well enough…..

“Get General Veers for me!” 

A second later Max’s voice came over the comm.

“Admiral, what in the Nine hells….?”

“We’re under attack by the Rebel fleet. General, the deck chief in bay 12 has been killed. I need you down there organizing repairs and getting it ready to dock again!”

“Absolutely.” Force , Piett appreciated his friend’s cool head so much. “General can you switch to a private channel?”

“Done. Firmus how’s the bridge, I can feel the pounding and they’re saying the cruisers are hitting the tower…”

“Shields are holding Max, no casualties up here yet.” He appreciated what his friend wasn’t saying though. “Is Skywalker still with you?”

A beat. “We’re both heading to Bay 12 now.”

“Good, keep him with you-- I’m sure he can be useful.”

“Are you sure that’s wise Admiral? This attack is a huge coincidence.”  

And yes, thank you Piett had noticed that too, but….

“I trust him Max. Something else is happening here, but we don’t have time to figure it out right now.” 

“Well I don’t…”

“And I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to trust me and follow orders, General.” Piett knew that Veers hated his best Fleet Admiral voice, but it couldn’t be helped--- Skywalker was too important, and further Piett really didn’t believe he had known. 

“Yes sir.”

Veers shut off the connection and Piett turned back to the chaos on the bridge. 

“Get me Lord Vader!”

A moment then with no preamble-- “Admiral report.”

Piett felt his spine stiffen. “Sir Executor’s shields are holding. Tyrant is about to lose hers and we are moving into position between her and the heavy cruisers. Avenger is embattled but holding her own currently. General Veers and the commander , are overseeing repairs to Bay 12,” Piett reported, hoping that everything was communicated to Vader with that emphasis. 

“Very good Admiral. I will be staying with Black Squadron and taking lead.”

“Yes my Lord.” 

The link shut off, but moments later as Piett braced himself against another barrage of fire at the bridge, a touch came to his mind.

Admiral. 

Not again. He was no kriffing Jedi, but at this rate….

Indeed you are not Admiral. We will need to work on your mental shielding, but that is later. For now, ensure that my son remains safe. If he stays with the General that should be sufficient.

Um, absolutely my Lord, Piett thought and his mind was his own again. 

Great thundering Hutts, mental shielding?  Piett shoved that away. He had a battle to run.

***

Luke sprinted alongside Veers as they went for the turbolift that could get them to Bay 12. He did his best not to listen in on the conversation between Veers and the Admiral, but he couldn’t help feeling Veers’ distrust. It was an oppressive aura around the man. And really, Luke couldn’t blame him. It looked bad. 

The turbolift doors swished shut and Luke decided to just plunge in.

“General, I know this looks bad, but I swear to you on the Force, I didn’t know.”

“The Force. Yes, well pardon me if that doesn’t just fill me with joy and light Skywalker. We pick you up to bring you aboard while our fleet is literally splitting up and your friends attack. Incredibly perfect timing.”

“I completely agree General, and I understand, but it wasn’t me who said anything.”

Veers gazed at him coldly. Luke was reasonably sure the man wouldn’t be foolish enough to attack Darth Vader’s son but this was the ‘Butcher of Hoth’. 

“Please sir, I think it highly likely that one or both of our respective sides have a mole. But it isn’t me. Why would I go to all that trouble to find the Admiral?”

“To gain our trust,” Veers responded immediately.

“I would never do that. I do not betray my friends or my allies.”

“We are neither Skywalker.”

Luke tried not to be hurt by that. 

“All right sir, then consider this-- my Father would know immediately if I was betraying you.”

Veers gazed at him consideringly. “Would he? I’m aware that you both can invade minds. Perhaps you can hide this.”

And that. Well. The man had a point but….

“General, I don’t know what else to do to convince you that I didn’t know. Regardless, I accept you can’t trust me, so let me offer all that I can to give you some assurance.” Luke drew his lightsaber from the pocket of the black army trousers he was wearing and offered it hilt first to Veers.

The General’s eyes widened. “Take it sir. When you can trust me, you can give it back.” 

The lift slowed. Veers reached out and grasped the cylinder. He looked at Luke consideringly for a moment then nodded and slid the lightsaber into his own trouser pocket. 

The chaos of the bay hit them with a wave of sound. The emergency blast doors had come down, but there were major cracks in the structure around the doors and Luke could feel atmosphere leaking. Veers was speaking into his comm, summoning his own men to assist. Then he strode out into the bay, amongst wrecked ships and bodies and twisted metal, and he commanded. 

Luke was impressed. He saw first hand just how ruthlessly competent the General was. The young Jedi busied himself with looking for survivors first and subtly offering Force healing to stabilize some of the worst cases. 

 As he was kneeling by a groaning mechanic whose leg was caught beneath a ruined TIE wing, he finally felt his Father in his mind. 

Son.

Father-- are you all right?

I am unharmed but will not be able to join you for some time.

That’s all right. Father….I didn’t know.

I believe that my son. Stay with the General. I will come when I can.

His Father withdrew and Luke concentrated on helping the man in front of him. He was aiding and abetting the enemy technically. But he couldn’t see them this way. This man was a mechanic and the all the techs and soldiers who were repairing damage and looking for friends-- they were all people. Luke helped to get the man on a grav sled and moved to assist another team with lifting debris out of the way. He carefully reached toward the bridge and was gratified to easily sense Piett’s presence--tired but commanding. He wondered if he could sense Veers, concentrated for a moment, and was startled by the forceful feeling he got. Veers was an intense presence. 

“Commander ,” Veers called and Luke moved quickly to where Veers stood examining one of the worst structural cracks by the entrance to the bay. “I have a team of welders and structural engineers on the way for this one but it’s pretty bad. Before they get here, I thought you might have a go?”

Luke raised his eyebrows at the General. “And by have a go you mean….” 

“If you can manage with much more complex human biology, surely metal won’t be a challenge.”

“It doesn’t exactly work like that,” Luke muttered, but took a breath anyway and stepped up to the bulkhead. He could feel the severity of the damage and focused on untwisting the metal. Something odd shuddered through the Force. It was like nothing he had ever felt before-- certainly not a biological signature, but it was somehow…. aware? That word was perhaps too strong and yet Luke couldn’t shake the feeling of something more to this ship. He felt the metal fibers groaning and shifting back into place. He stopped and turned to Veers. 

“That should allow your men to repair her to standard, General.” Luke was getting slightly weary of the cool stares from Veers. 

“This ship…” he continued, “something is… different about her.” Finally, he had broken through the man’s sabaac face. Veers looked at him with open curiosity.

“Well. I always wondered myself about that….” the General said vaguely.  

A series of hits had both men staggering.

“ Sithspit! ” Veers hissed. “Bridge! Status report!”

“General,” a new voice that neither Luke nor, apparently, Veers recognized. “Both heavy cruisers are targeting the bridge shields. Status with the bay?”

The crew Veers had expected was now working on repairing the major structural crack. 

“Under control bridge. Where’s the Admiral?” 

“Sir, he’s with the medic.”

Luke was startled at the concern the Force suddenly hit him with--  channelled from Veers. And in that moment he understood a great deal more about the General. He felt that way about Han. 

“Explain, now,” Veers barked.

“Sir….” something was happening in the background and they heard “...oh give it to me, it’s fine , stop and give me my hat.” Then more clearly-- “General, I swear if you do not stop behaving like a mother hen….”

“What’s your status--- sir ?” Veers cut across him without any qualms. A sigh. 

“Hit my head on a console Veers-- let the brain damage jokes proceed. Now let me do my job and you get on with keeping all those men busy and productive General.”

Luke got to witness Veers give an actual smile. “Absolutely Admiral.” The comlink clicked off. 

Veers looked over at Luke. “Is he telling the truth?” Luke had to take a moment. 

“Is he...I’m sorry, are you seriously wanting me to use the hand waving and tell you that?” 

Veers put his hands on his hips. “Well if you could, you’d be useful for something Sky---Commander.” But Luke had caught the humor there. Perhaps they were making progress after all.

He reached out again for Piett’s signature, careful not to brush his mind.

“He’s telling the truth sir. Maybe a slight concussion, but it doesn’t seem to be slowing him down.” 

“No,” Veers sighed, “It wouldn’t.” 

Chapter Text

They were not letting up. If he didn’t do something soon, they would lose the Tyrant. Her bridge and rear deflector shields had already been destroyed, and the only thing saving her at the moment was the TIE squadron led by Vader, doing some truly impressive maneuvering. All right then. Piett was about to throw in the whole sabaac hand. If, as he suspected, Ackbar was coordinating this attack, then he would know just how vulnerable Tyrant was right now. 

“Status on power for the forward shields,” he barked.

“Sir, holding steady at 87%.”

“Increase power to bridge shields and forward turbolasers. Set course for the lead cruiser at full power.”

“Sir!” navigation called. Piett moved to their station, doing his best to ignore the slightly dizzy lurch and the painful rubbing of his hat on the goose egg he sported on the back of his head. “Do… do you mean a collision course sir?”

“Have you ever played Axxilan chicken before Lieutenant?” Piett asked with a grim smile. 

“Ah no sir, I’m from Coruscant.”

Of course you are , thought Piett. 

“Yes, a collision course. Ahead full!”

Half the bridge crew were now looking at him in open shock. “Battle stations!” Piett roared. The bridge lighting switched to red as the Executor built power in her mighty engines and started to speed toward the lead cruiser. 

For a few beats it seemed as though the Rebel had no idea what they were doing. 

And they may not , Piett thought. Who ever played chicken with a Super Star Destroyer?

Then her guns intensified on the Executor’s bridge. Piett and half the crew had to grab for the bulkheads. 

“Increase forward fire power!” Piett commanded. “Stay on this course!”  He could feel the nerves of the men around him.

Then, finally , the cruiser altered course, turning away as the Lady sped like an arrow toward her target. A final shot to the bridge, but the Lady’s shields held. Then--- the lead cruiser went to hyper speed.

“Sir the other rebel ships are firing up their hyper-drives as well!”

A scattered cheer went up around the bridge.

“As you were!” Piett yelled. “This is not over until the last Y-Wing is gone!!” Suitably chastened, his men focused on their stations or the forward screens as one by one the rebel fleet blinked away.

“They’re in full retreat sir,” Gherant was at his shoulder holding a med kit.  Piett felt a wave of relief so intense that he felt slightly light headed. 

“Thank you Gherant. Damage reports! I want search and rescue transports launched immediately-- that’s our priority. Contact Tyrant and see what kind of technical assistance she needs. Can Avenger take on more damaged fighters? With our largest bay out of commission at the moment, we could use hers.”

His orders were relayed and the Lady brought the lights back to normal operating parameters. Gherant looked pale and shaken but otherwise unharmed and very determined. 

“Sir, a moment if I may?”

He moved to the side of the bridge, away from the main bustle. 

“Make sure to get medics and repair crews up here as well,” Piett told him, looking around at the damage the bridge had sustained. 

“Yes sir, but first, may I suggest that you get a painkiller? We need you at optimal capacity Admiral.” 

Piett paused and looked up at the commander assessingly. He appreciated the man’s discretion and forethought.  His arm was indeed now broadcasting throughout the rest of his body and the head wound wasn’t helping. The last thing he needed was to remind Henley that he technically shouldn’t have been on duty in the first place. 

“Thank you Gherant.” The hypo hissed against his arm and relief flowed through him. 

“I want reports. Start with prioritizing anything from Lord Vader, then the captains of Tyrant and Accuser, followed by General Veers.”

Piett moved from one task to the next and time started to merge. Gherant had become an extremely useful shadow, and Piett had already decided to keep him as XO even before the commander brought him a flask filled with spiced Axxilan tea at some point. 

The painkiller had long worn off and Piett was struggling to use his left arm. He knew he’d pay for taking off the sling, but he couldn’t really bring himself to regret it. He drank the tea eagerly, flicking through reports from the TIE commanders. 

Vader was assisting in rounding up survivors from the small fighter battle, as he could sense them. Piett had the sudden realization that this was the first enemy action he’d had without Vader’s dark presence on the bridge. It had seemed to go well-- no doubt he would find out shortly whether his commander agreed. 

“Sir,” Gherant again and Piett blinked at him tiredly. “Sir, I really think you should take a break. You’ve been on the bridge for 21 hours and 18 minutes. Things are moving as you ordered and…”

“Commander,” Piett cut him off, “half the fleet isn’t here, Lord Vader is not present to take command, and while I appreciate your competence, you haven’t been aboard long enough to go about this. I appreciate the concern, but trust me when I say, I’ve had worse.”

He had. Not much really, but there had been worse. Standing next to Ozzel and listening to his last choking breaths… wondering when his turn would come…the Millenium Falcon disappearing into hyperspace...

“Check on whether Lord Vader has returned, Gherant.” 

“Yes sir.” the commander saluted smartly and obeyed.

Piett tried to focus on what the bridge engineers were saying about repairing the shield generators some time later, when Gherant reappeared.

“Sir! Sorry to interrupt, but General Veers needs your presence sir, at the hangar bay.”

Kriff. Max didn’t ask for him to leave the bridge ever, unless it was serious. Fear gave him adrenaline. Had something happened to Skywalker?

“Thank you commander,” He tried to remain outwardly calm as he walked toward the blast doors at the other end. Gherant strode with him, holding something in his hand. “I hope this won’t take long, but I will keep you updated should it go longer than anticipated. You have the bridge.”

The doors hissed open as Gherant gave him a strangely triumphant look and Piett nearly walked into the solid bulk of the General. Veers was holding out his hand to Gherant, who placed something black into it---his discarded sling, Piett realized.

“Did he say the magic words, Commander?” asked Veers.

“He did sir,” Gherant saluted, then turned and smiled at Piett “She’ll be safe with me sir,” he stated and turned back to the bridge.

Piett’s exhausted brain took awhile to catch up, while Veers got an arm around him and was steering him down the corridor. 

“You…. you colluded! Sithspawn, Max... ”

“Pretty sure we only have one of those on board at the moment Firmus.”

“Ha.”

“And damn straight I did. The kid started it though. He called me--takes some spine-- to tell me we had to get you off the bridge before you collapsed. I like him.”

“I don’t. I was going to make him XO. This is mutiny.” Veers snorted and palmed a door code, steering them inside what Piett dimly realised was his private conference room. 

“Did you give him the bridge freely?”

“Yes but…”

“Then it’s not mutiny. Besides, that young commander saved you from a fate worse than death.”

“How’s that?” Was he starting to slur? Piett hoped it was his imagination. Veers was unhooking his uniform jacket.

“Finish undoing that Admiral, and sit.” Veers gave his friend a light shove and forced him to sit on one of the sofas as he got to work on Piett’s boots. 

“No, Max, really I can’t. Lord Vader will be here in person soon…”

“And you can’t give him a report while unconscious in sickbay. My turn to command Admiral, you’re officially off duty. Now let me explain why I’m such a terrific friend.”

Piett sighed. There was no stopping Max like this and he slowly moved his right hand down his jacket, undoing the clasps. 

“Henley is out for your blood and I know how you hate being sidelined. So. I have made a deal with the devil…”

“Dr. Henley being the devil in this scenario.”

“Obviously. You will take 5 hours to rest and allow him to examine you. In return, you get to rest here, near the bridge, and you will be able to give and receive reports.” 

Piett mulled this over. Veers did know him well and he could live with that. Besides, now he was sitting he didn’t think he was physically capable of getting up again. Veers finished wrestling with his boots--- and wasn’t that another level of pain--before getting back up to help him ease off his jacket. 

“Hat please,” Veers held out his hand and Piett slowly complied. The General laid both items neatly across the back of the sofa, then came around to stand in front of the Admiral…..

... who had a sudden flash of horror and he sat up, prompting a surge of fire up his arm. 

“Max where’s Skywalker? Sithspit . Lord Vader will take us apart. Literally.” 

Veers held up a hand. “Firmus….” But at that moment the doors hissed open and the man-- boy really-- in question came through, looking far more refreshed than Piett thought was fair. He was holding a wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water, and had a blanket over one arm. And was that… was he wearing an Imperial  uniform?

“Admiral,” said Skywalker handing him the water and the sandwich. “It’s very good to see you again, sir. Though…. I...the circumstances are not what I would have hoped for. I’d like to assure you..”

“Not this again,” sighed Veers. “Drink that Piett.”

Piett saw where the commander was going and opened the water. “Of course you didn’t know,” he said. “I never thought you did. Clearly one or both of us have some house cleaning to do.” The relief and gratitude on Skywalker’s face made Piett smile slightly. “You’re not the best at lying anyway,” the Admiral observed.

“Well thanks for that I think,” the commander replied, shaking out the blanket and holding it out to Piett. 

“No. I will put up with resting, but that doesn’t mean…”

“You don’t get to define what that means Admiral,” said a new voice and Veers closed his eyes in irritation. Dr. Henley entered the room with his kit and his scanner already in hand. 

“And roughly when did we ditch the sling?” he asked, acidicly running the scanner over Piett, and ignoring the other two in the room entirely.

“Doctor, you may not have noticed, but we recently had a combat situation…”

“Legs up, on the sofa. I’m not sure how you live with a heart rate like that. Drink that water, you’re dehydrated. Oh lovely, added a concussion to all this I see.”

Piett carefully shifted his body fully onto the sofa and saw Veers share a look with the young Jedi over the doctor’s head as he kept up a litany of complaints. But his hands were firm and gentle as he replaced the sling and gave Piett another painkiller, before pulling out saline.

“Doctor this is excessive…”

“Dehydrated. Concussion. I can haul you to sickbay if you prefer, Admiral. Say the word.” 

Piett shut his mouth so hard his teeth clicked. Henley finished and stepped back, finally satisfied. 

“Well you really should be in sickbay-- don’t think I don’t know you couldn’t lift that arm if you wanted to-- set yourself back there. But since I have been overruled …”

“And every man on this ship is thankful that you were, since having Admiral Piett on the bridge saved thousands of lives today.” 

Vader loomed behind the doctor, and how that man managed to have stealth in a suit like that was still beyond Piett. Then the direct compliment from Lord Vader registered and Piett, to his horror, found himself flushing. 

“Thank you Doctor,” the Sith Lord continued, “but we now have confidential business to discuss.” 

“Five hours,” Henley said, pointing a finger at Vader, and Piett marvelled at the man speaking to the Dark Lord like that. “And he doesn’t move from that sofa.”

“Of course Doctor.”

And the doors shut behind him. 

The remaining four occupants of the room were left looking at each other. Vader moved to his son first, placing a hand on his shoulder and clearly checking him for injuries, possibly having one of their creepy unspoken conversations. 

“I’m glad you are here in one piece my son,” he said eventually. “General, well done in retrieving him and making sure he stayed with you. Your efforts have been noted. And you Admiral,” he said turning to Piett, who straightened immediately. “Axxilan chicken?” 

No excuses, he told himself, Vader liked direct and brief explanations. “Yes my Lord. I thought the surprise might work.” 

“Indeed. One wonders how fast the Lady could go if unleashed,” Vader mused and Piett’s horrified eyes met Veers’ at the thought of Vader piloting the Super Star Destroyer. 

Skywalker, the menace, actually laughed outright, then picked up the forgotten blanket and draped it over the Admiral’s lap. The mood of the room changed imperceptibly--- not becoming relaxed (Vader was there after all) but assured that they were all in this together. Veers sat in the chair closest to Piett’s sofa while Skywalker sank into another opposite him. The Dark Lord remained standing near his son, but he hooked his thumbs into his belt and Piett found himself deeply intrigued about the conversation they were about to have. He stretched his legs gratefully under the blanket ( Force he was no longer at an age where wearing boots for 22 hours was a good idea) and began on his sandwich. 

Chapter Text

Veers allowed himself the slight indulgence of undoing the top of his uniform jacket before leaning back in the admittedly comfortable armchair and crossing his legs. He was tired, but at least he, and, he presumed, Skywalker, had managed to get a few hours of downtime after the hangar bay was up and running to receive smaller ships. He had no idea how Lord Vader rejuvenated himself, though given what he had heard from Piett in the past, recharged  may not be too far off the mark. 

“We must capitalize on this time,” Vader began. “Clearly we now must begin by discussing this turn of events. I have always known Sidious to have spies everywhere. This was coordinated too perfectly and they were deliberately looking to take out the Executor.”

“Why do you think that my Lord?” Veers asked. “The Tyrant was nearly lost in this action.”

“Surely,” Piett put in, trying to subtly stretch what must be horribly tight leg muscles, “the spy is from the Rebel side. No offense to you commander, but why would our own side want to destroy us?” 

“I believe Admiral, that the Emperor would have no such qualms if it meant that all of us were to die together, thus removing all of the top threats to himself.”

“I agree that this needed intelligence involvement on both sides,” mused Skywalker. “How was the Rebel fleet informed of our exact location?  I had no tracking device on my ship, I would have sensed it.” 

“DId you inform anyone where you were going son?” Vader asked. 

“I did not,” Skywalker stated firmly, “not even… even...Leia.” Veers raised his eyebrows and shared a look with Piett. Clearly the two were close, though scuttlebut hinted that the princess was involved with the smuggler Solo. 

“All right then, which of us might have said something?” Piett asked, fiddling with the nearly empty saline drip. 

“Obviously we can discount you my Lord,” said Veers, “and I chose our men to retrieve Skywalker personally. I confess that while it is possible for one of them to have betrayed us, I am not sure how. I did not give them the coordinates of our destination until we had left Executor.”

“I have only spoken about this with you my Lord, and the General, no one else,” put in Piett. Veers met his gaze and looked pointedly at the water bottle on the sofa next to the Admiral. Piett rolled his eyes, but picked it up. 

“Father,” said Skywalker and Veers strove not to twitch at hearing the Sith Lord referred to as such. “Is there any way that you could have been observed remotely?”

Piett shifted a bit, clearly stifling outrage at the suggestion his Lady could have been compromised, but Vader merely looked to the ceiling.

“Lady, has anyone other than the four individuals in this room used the term Dressel or sent the coordinates of this fleet to an unknown signal?” 

A holoscreen flashed into existence near Vader with the Executor’s analysis. 

“No.”

“Lady, have those same parameters been sent from any station in the fleet?” Piett questioned and Veers could almost see the approval that Vader sent at his Admiral. 

“That will take her a few minutes, Firmus,” Veers remarked with a small smile. Piett gave an acquiescing nod. 

“While we’re waiting for that, can you get this damn thing out of my arm General?” Piett asked, then seemed to recall that they had others in the room. “By your leave of course my Lord,” he added. Veers huffed, but Vader inclined his helmet at his son. 

“There should be a medkit in the bulkhead over there Luke, with supplies for removing the needle.” Skywalker unfolded gracefully to his feet, and Veers found himself envying the younger man his flexibility. 

The Rebel returned and Veers rummaged for gauze to apply to the site of the needle before he withdrew it. 

“I never got a chance to thank you,” Piett commented suddenly, looking up at the young man as Veers withdrew the needle and pressed the gauze to the small welling of blood that followed. Unbidden, Skywalker took the empty saline bag and flashed one of his brilliant smiles at the Admiral before he moved to place it in the waste disposal unit. 

“It was no trouble sir,” Skywalker said coming back to them and Veers actually chuckled.

“Oh yes? You routinely delay your return to your Rebel fleet to save Imperial admirals do you?” 

Piett fixed him with a fierce hazel glare-- impressive from his friend really, given how long he’d been awake and given that battle adrenaline was going to drop him hard any minute now. 

“Pardon the General, Skywalker, the army doesn’t have the same manners that the navy does.” Veers didn’t bother with a retort to the oldest insult he and Piett regularly traded--- he just smirked and smoothed a bacta patch over the small wound and stood. 

“As I was saying, your encouragement, while ah... unique, was much appreciated. I don’t remember much about your arrival,” Piett paused and Veers didn’t like the strain in his face and voice. He placed a steadying hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But I’m told you were rather impressive to watch in combat.” 

Skywalker lifted mildly amused blue eyes to Veers, who gazed back calmly. Then he returned his attention to the Admiral and held out his hand. “I would do it again sir. There are very few principled officers of your calibre on both sides of this conflict. We need you.” 

Piett clasped the offered hand firmly, though Veers could see the flush on his cheeks. Firmus had a hard time taking compliments. Happily the Lady saved him further embarrassment.

Assessment complete the holoscreen read. Fleet coordinates transmitted 28 hours ago from communications on board Tyrant.

Veers looked to Vader. How many men will die in this investigation?  He thought. 

“My Lord?” Piett questioned. “Should we send a team to investigate?” 

“No,” Vader responded and he began to pace. “I think we need to allow these spies to operate. I do not sense that they knew that Commander Skywalker was meeting us here. If so, I believe Sidious would have had a different plan.

He paused and tilted his helmet toward his son. "He wishes to capture my son alive." The young commander looked down and Veers considered this bit of information. There were far more levels to this situation that he was not aware of and he was quite happy to let the Force users deal with this aspect

"Quite clearly," Vader continued, "the hope was that the Rebel fleet would surprise us and destroy the Executor. That aspect happily did not work thanks to her admiral’s excellent thinking in moving the bridge shield generators.”

“So.” Vader paused and stood once again by his son. Veers was struck by their notable height difference. “We will act as though this was a surprise Rebel attack and no more. Now, as to why Commander Skywalker is here. Please, son.” 

The young man stepped forward. “I know we need to involve some of the Rebel leaders in our plans. I suggest we put our proposal before Princess Leia Organa and Mon Mothma herself. I believe that we will have the best chance of success if we can persuade them of the Imperial intentions.”

Veers whistled. “Well that’s aiming high.”

Skywalker was gazing at his father intently. Private conversation?

“I believe that we can convince them sir. But… with respect, the next part of this conversation I need to have with my father alone.” 

Veers raised his eyebrows and shared another look with Piett. He had a feeling they were going to have to get used to doing that around these two. However, in that glance,Veers also realized that his friend was definitely crashing from his battle high. The Admiral was trying, but Veers could see the tension around his eyes and mouth. 

Before he could say anything however, the Sith Lord beat him to it. “We will adjourn to my private quarters, my son. Just as well, before General Veers has to order us to allow the Admiral some rest.”

And. that. Was Veers hearing humor from his Commander?

Skywalker was swift to agree. “Apologies Admiral, I should have said something earlier.” 

“Not at all commander-- I needed to hear this.” 

Vader and the young commander moved toward the doors. Vader paused at the end of Piett’s sofa to stand by Veers. “Be ready to return our guest shortly, General.” 

“Of course my Lord.” 

“Admiral,” Vader said, then placed his black gloved hand briefly on Piett’s head. His friend went completely limp, sinking into the sofa cushions without a sound. Veers jerked his gaze back to Vader, a spike of fear running through him. Surely not, not now! 

“Rest easy General,” Vader said and yes, that was a trace of amusement in his tone. “I merely told him to sleep.” 

“I… of….of course my Lord.” You can do that ?? You would do that?”

“I will contact you when we are ready.” 

Vader swept out with his son at his side. The doors swished closed and Veers was on his knees by Piett immediately. He lifted his friend’s limp wrist and breathed in relief at the steady pulse there. Well give him wings and call him a mynock. Vader, Sith Lord and officer strangler extraordinaire, made sure his Admiral got some sleep. There was a lot to mull over there. Was it just possible that there was a human being in that suit? 

Veers rose again, and adjusted the blanket over Piett,  then commed some of his 501st to guard the Admiral. He waited for them in the corridor before heading to the bridge. Time to see if Gherant was as competent as he seemed. 

***

Luke walked quietly next to the much taller figure of his father. 

If I didn’t know better, I’d say you enjoyed panicking the imperturbable General Veers just now Father.

The shining helmet inclined his way.  His thoughts are indeed...very loud.

His presence can be overwhelming.  Luke recalled sensing the General in the hangar bay. 

Yes. I will be instructing both Veers and Piett in mental shielding. Something is developing around Sidious and I sense that I shall need to…prepare them.

They reached a turbolift and entered. 

“Was this attack the foreboding you felt Father?” Luke asked aloud.

“I am….not sure young one. And that disquiets me. I intend to probe my Master’s intentions surrounding Endor when we have our inevitable discussion about this surprise attack.”

“It’s imperative that we warn Leia and Mon Mothma then about any more intell regarding the fleet. I don’t want to spill any more blood on both sides of this conflict,” replied Luke trying, likely not successfully, to control his grief over the lives lost on this day. 

His father placed a hand on his shoulder. “We will my son.”

They exited and walked the short distance to Vader’s private chambers. Once the Dark Lord had secured the door he turned to Luke. The young Jedi could feel his father’s curiosity.

“Now, my son-- are you going to tell me what you have been shielding from me?”

Luke took a deep breath. This was not going to be in any way easy. “I am Father. And while I do not mean to disrespect you I must ask you to shield your emotions as strongly as possible. We cannot have the Emperor know this.”

Luke felt his father jolt, but swiftly those imposing shields came up.

“Very well son. Do not delay.” 

“Father, I am not your only child. The Emperor knew only of me because my….my sister was adopted and given a different name-- raised with uttlery no knowledge of her father. I still retained Skywalker obviously but…”

Luke felt the moment that Vader had his revelation.

“ Leia. We would have named her Leia….”

Vader looked as though he was a statue, he stood so still. Luke stood before him, clenching his fists as his father’s anguish, grief, pain washed over him. 

“My… daughter …” he hissed. “I tortured… I…” The Force rolled like a tsunami wave drawing power and Vader dropped to one knee. Luke moved swiftly to him, placing his hands on his father’s broad shoulders and giving his own shielding to his father. 

“Yes, please Father control it--and she’s angry--- well, she’s your daughter so you can imagine--- but Father, please, you must try to control it. Palpatine can’t know. ” 

He felt a mighty effort from Anakin, it was Anakin, Luke knew, and he added as much of his own strength as he could, bending to rest his forehead against his father’s helmet. 

“Do you see now Father? We need Anakin Skywalker. You are not alone! You have a daughter and a son and we need you. I know that this is not easy…”

“Not easy ? Son you do not know of what you speak. It has been too long, I could never….”

“What, be forgiven? Fight to be free? I know when you lost mother-- a roil of pain in the Force-- that you thought this was all you had, but now--- now it isn’t. Father, we will stand by your side to overthrow the Emperor, will you fight to stand by ours as our father?” 

They remained in their respective positions for some minutes. Then….

“Son, there are things I have done...you cannot expect too much of me. Your faith is...moving but.."

"Father I know what I ask. And I know how conflicted you are. But, well, not to contradict an old teacher, but you must try."

Another beat.

"Mon Mothma knew your...Mother. I will tell you what you need to convince her that our intentions are true.”

Luke felt a wash of relief and joy sweep over him and he straightened, holding out his hand to his father who took it and rose to stand beside him. 

“I would like that.”

***

Veers walked to the hangar bay some hours later, the young Rebel at his side, solemn and quiet. 

“I don’t suppose you can share your thoughts?” he prompted once they were in the turbolift. 

Skywalker looked up at him and gave him a small smile. 

“No that will have to be my father’s decision sir. But I can tell you that we have a direction to take with Alliance high command now. And…and I’m reasonably sure I can convince them to work with us.”

Veers took that in and tried to suppress his curiosity. How in the Nine hells was this boy going to convince Mon Mothma and Organa that it was a terrific plan to throw in with Death Squadron?  The exited into the hangar bay and Veers motioned for the rebel to go ahead of him on board the ship. 

Once they were away from Executor and into lightspeed, Veers and his charge went to the small hangar bay where Skywalker changed back into his atrocity of a uniform. 

“Thank you again General,” he said, handing back the black uniform. “I’m glad my father has you on his side.” Veers raised his eyebrows at the compliment. 

“Thank you commander. I can’t say I’m looking forward to what’s coming, but well, we could have worse allies.” He pulled out the silver cylinder and handed it to the Jedi. It was Skywalker’s turn to look surprised.”

“Thank you sir, are you certain?”

“I know something of Jedi, commander, and the fact that you entrusted it to me during a combat situation tells me most of what I need to know. And what am I going to do with it? Cut my nerf steak?”

Skywalker smiled broadly and accepted his weapon. “Thank you sir. Please give my regards to Admiral Piett. Good stars.”

“Good stars commander.”

Veers watched him get into the X-Wing before making his way back to the cockpit. The smaller ship blinked out into hyper speed and Veers gave the command to go back to the Executor. 

Chapter Text

Piett stumbled back, the blow to his face making his lip bleed. Kriff , he was better than that-- should have seen it coming. His assailant chuckled above him.

“Come now Admiral, you can do better than that.”

No, the cocky bastard did not get to echo his own thoughts. Piett kicked out with one booted leg and swept the taller man’s feet, bringing him to the floor in a crash. In a moment, Piett was behind him, an arm around the man’s neck.

“Dirty….fighting,” his opponent managed, hands prying at Piett’s arm. He increased the pressure and his captive suddenly reached up and grabbed his left shoulder firmly. Piett flinched only slightly but it was enough for the man to free himself and twist like a snake—-he found himself on his knees, his left arm behind him in the grip of his attacker. 

“Kriffing hell!!” he exclaimed and the man let go, coming around to offer him a hand. 

“I didn’t pull too hard did I?” Veers asked, pulling the slighter man to his feet. 

“No,” Piett responded, wiping his lip with his hand, “it’s still...weak. I meant to grab you with my right, but the left was quicker…” 

Veers tossed him a towel from one of the benches on the side. The Senior officer’s gym was always reserved for the two of them at this hour-- time for them to spar and catch up. Piett caught the towel and wiped his face, trying not to feel resentful at his friend. It wasn’t the General’s fault that recovery for his arm was slow and he did not need to behave like a petulant child because his friend exploited a weakness. One of their rules was don’t hold back. It was why they sparred in uniform, sans jackets of course--- it was highly unlikely any real hand to hand combat would conveniently happen while they were in sweats. 

Both of their henley’s were stained with perspiration, but at least he wasn’t finding himself as out of breath as he had been in past weeks, so that was something. Veers tossed him a water bottle.

“Don’t kick yourself around Admiral, you’ve got me for that.”

“Great pep talk thanks Max,” Piett sighed, coming to sit by his friend on the bench. He could feel Veer’s assessing eye on him and mustered a small smile for his benefit. 

“Firmus, I know you hate hearing this, but patience padawan.”

“Did you just…..?”

“I’m sorry, bad taste. But in all seriousness, you’ve made great strides. You’ve got muscle back on you,” Veers rubbed at his neck “thanks for that, and you’re moving much faster. You knew that arm was going to take longer. That old space parasite is a blight on humanity but he knows his medicine. You can’t be two days out of a third  surgery and then fling yourself around the bridge of a Super Star Destroyer without expecting consequences.”

Piett smiled a bit at this description, but reflected that his friend was right. The battle with the Rebels had left its mark on him, and while he thankfully did not need further surgery on the arm, Dr. Henley had dictated that he remain in the sling much longer. Further, to Piett’s outrage, his time on the bridge had been limited and even Vader hadn’t countermanded the order. Piett had rather brazenly confronted the Sith Lord about it and received the famous finger in his face, with a ‘do not be reckless with your health Admiral’. Veers had taken a while to recover from his laughing fit when Piett told him later, glaring into his tea in the Officers’ mess. I told you he likes you Firmus---Vader whisperer. Piett had left the room in a dignified silence at that. 

So progress had been made-- his schedule was back to normal as of two weeks ago and training everyday with Veers was good. What wasn’t so good however….

“Is it your turn for training tonight?” Veers asked what he was thinking. 

“Yes,” Piett sighed, taking another long pull at the water bottle. Lord Vader was following through on his promise of training them both in mental shielding and the experience was not...pleasant. 

“He’s already said that the Emperor could take us apart with or without shields. Is this actually necessary?”

“Well it could slow him down at least,” Piett responded. “Lord Vader is rather certain that the Emperor suspects my involvement in whatever he’s planning, thus all the….mess awhile back.”

Veers winced internally for his friend. He knew Piett wasn’t sleeping well and when he had tried to broach the subject he got an uncharacteristic snap from the Admiral--- “I don’t want to discuss it Max!” So Veers backed off and stuck to his routine and to being his friend, hoping that would be enough to help.

“But,” Piett continued, “it’s not entirely clear if he knows about you, or even Skywalker in regard to this little plot of ours.” 

“Mmm.” Veers pondered this. “Well, I’m going to go check on damage repair. Huttsucking rebels managed to debilitate eight, eight of the AT-ATs and they weren’t even in on the action!!”

Piett patted his friend on the shoulder in sympathy. Veers denied it, but he felt almost as strongly about his walkers as Piett did about his Lady…..almost.

He rose and grabbed his jacket. 

“I’m going to get a shower and get my mind ready to have a rancor rummage around.”

“Better you than me,” Veers responded, but he gave a sympathetic smile as they parted. 

***

Vader pushed a little harder at the mind before him and Piett responded well-- using his bridge as a shield this time. 

22 steps across, 37 steps down the walkway, 15 steps to the communications station…

Vader increased his attack. The Admiral flinched slightly in front of him, perspiration starting to bead on his temples, but he held up.

In an attack scenario-- shields up. Scramble TIE divisions, starting with Black Squadron. Forward batteries primed. Rear batteries primed…..

Without warning, Vader shoved with the Force.

Cold. Helpless. Too much…. Too much!! Blue agony and cruel laughter. I can’t, I can’t, please make it stop, kill me now….

Vader withdrew as suddenly as he had broken in. Piett had stumbled to hands and knees, panting. He swiped his face furiously with his hands before looking up. Wordlessly, Vader offered him his hand and the Admiral grasped it to pull himself to his feet. 

He tugged his jacket hem and straightened his hat, but Vader felt the rush of emotions Piett was striving to hide.

Shame, anger, frustration at himself, weariness…

“Apologies my Lord. I am ready to try again.” Steady hazel gaze and a slightly trembling left hand which he seemed to notice and clasped his hands together behind his back. 

“No Admiral, I think we have done enough for today. You did well.”

Furious denial. Pathetic…

Vader was not in any way good with these things. Anakin had not been the best at these things either to be honest. But he must try for Luke, for Leia, I’m so sorry Leia…. Luke wanted him to try and insisted that the man before him deserved the effort. And he did. In another lifetime they might have been friends even. Now, however...he would do what he could.

Vader turned away from Piett to clasp his own hands behind his back and look out at the stars going by his private conference room. “Admiral...do you know what you achieved today?” 

“No…? My Lord?”

“I did not see any of our plans. Nothing concerning my son, no thoughts of General Veers or even the Emperor himself. Indeed your greatest fear was in reliving the torment you suffered.” 

Another wash of shame…

“There is no shame in that Admiral Piett. It tells me that you fear your own reactions above all else. You do not fear me. I wonder if you know how unique that is.” He turned to consider the shorter man, who was now looking at him curiously.

“You are not the only one to have nightmares Admiral. What you are managing is quite… impressive for one not sensitive to the Force. I am most pleased with your efforts.”

Uncertainty, embarrassment, but underneath a small glow of pleasure. Vader nodded to himself. 

“Dismissed Admiral.”

Piett saluted sharply and left. Vader waited, reaching out and carefully assessing his Admiral. He could tell that Piett was trying to put all of this together into some semblance of order in his mind. Trying to adjust to a commander that was not strangling him and trying indeed to help him, his involvement with treason punishable by horrible death, and his own struggles in coming to terms with his capture. He felt, more than saw the Admiral nod to himself, and stiffen his spine both literally and mentally. Hopefully the seed of confidence Vader had planted would take root.

The Sith Lord turned his attention to the hololink that had lit up in his conference room. 

“Yes Commander?”

“My Lord, the Emperor demands…”

Vader cut him off without warning and strode to the center of the room, securing it with a wave of his hand and kneeling. 

Sidious’ poisonous golden eyes studied him from under the hood.

“Lord Vader. I trust repairs are on schedule for your fleet.”

“They are ahead of schedule my master.”

“Are they? Good…...good. And your men are….ready to be deployed?”

“We are...at your disposal my Master.”

A sickly chuckle. “You are, aren’t you?  And now… I sense that young Skywalker will come to you soon.”

Vader allowed his eagerness for his son to seep through his shields.

“Yes, yes, he will come to you in a fit of noble intent. And thus, my friend it is time for you to rejoin the rest of the fleet at Endor--- the entire fleet. I intend to come personally to oversee the destruction of this pitiful rebellion.”

Vader inclined his head-- they had discussed this plan several weeks back after Palpatine had revealed his second atrocity in the Death Star project. 

“I have allowed this information to leak to the Rebellion. They believe this is their chance-- pitiful fools! Thus, my old friend, I will expect your remaining fleet to join us in 2 weeks time. I intend to inspect your flagship myself to see how your repairs have progressed.”

Vader had not expected that and struggled to block his surprise.

“Oh yes, Lord Vader, I am most curious to see the ship and her….crew that keep you so occupied that you cannot possibly leave it to report to Coruscant.” 

“Of course my Master. It will be a great honor for them.”

Sidious gazed at him for a long moment. “Yes, my friend, a Very. Great. Honor.” 

***

Piett opened the door to his quarters and once inside, took a moment to just stand and breath. That had been awful and….interesting and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He reached up and took off his hat, running a hand through his hair and only then realizing that someone was sprawled in one of his armchairs helping himself to his best whiskey. 

Veers motioned to the table upon which both his boots and another glass rested. 

“That is the look of a man who needs this in a bad way,” he said motioning to the glass. 

“Max, first of all that is my whiskey, and secondly I am on the bridge in 8 hours. I cannot get blotto…”

“And no one is asking you to, Admiral friend of mine,” Veers shot back, setting down his own glass and getting to his feet to urge Piett further into the room. “But you don’t want to see yourself just now Firmus--you look ill. Sit. Drink. Then we’re talking.” 

Piett undid the top of his uniform jacket and joined Veers in the other chair, accepting the glass and taking a healthy drink, allowing the alcohol to tingle and burn pleasantly on his tongue before swallowing. 

Veers watched him like a science experiment and nodded in satisfaction. 

“There. You see? Dr. Veers knows all.” 

“Dr. Veers can shove it up…”

“Ah ah, more drinking less talking, especially with what you were about to say.” 

The General, with more thoughtfulness than Piett had credited to him, was silent for awhile as both of them sat and sipped slowly. Piett felt his muscles gradually relaxing and he managed to lean his head back against the top of his chair.

Veers seemed to take this as a sign.

“So how was it?” he asked quietly. 

“Horrible.”

“Yes but it’s always horrible. There’s something different about you this time.”

“Max….”

“Firmus.”

There was a pause. 

“Look, I told myself I wasn’t going to push you, and I’m really not Firmus. We’ve both been through enough….so I do understand to a degree. But I know you’re not sleeping and how long can you do that as well as these lessons before something gives way?”

“You think I’m too weak to …?”

“Do not insult either of us by finishing that thought Piett. You know you’re the strongest man I know. Stars, man, look how long you’ve served as Admiral of Death Squadron, with Death literally breathing down your neck every day! Please can you return the trust, and talk to me? I don’t need all your hopes and dreams, but I do want to help you with whatever is burdening you.”

Piett finished his whiskey and gazed at the amber dregs before reaching for the bottle and pouring himself a third of a glass. He felt Veer’s eyes on him and exhaled slowly. 

“All right. He, started with the usual drills, you know…” Veers nodded, used to this himself by now. 

“But this was---extreme. And I managed for a while, I really think I did, but he broke through and…..”

Veers waited patiently while Piett took another drink and stared at his boots. 

“I...I had a flashback. He saw that. Took me to my knees, literally.” Veers made a small sound. 

“But….he just helped me up. I was certain we’d go at it again and I’d be a blubbering mess when he finished with me but he… he said I did well. That I didn’t show anything of our plans only my...my fear from…” 

Piett was immeasurably grateful that Veers didn’t try to say anything-- just reached over and rested a steady hand on his shoulder. 

“He um, he said he was pleased with me.”

Veers showed his shock and Piett finally gave a small smile. 

“That has to be one for the history books. Lord Vader is pleased with a member of the Imperial fleet!” 

“There’s more and Veers I don’t know quite what to think about it.” 

“Go on Admiral.” Veers leaned back in his chair with the bottle and poured himself a generous helping. Piett glared. 

“I’m not on duty until 1300 hours,” Veers remarked happily. 

“Still my whiskey.”

“And a very good one it is too. Tell.”

“He said that ---I’m not the only one to get nightmares.”  This last, said cautiously, his eyes flicking swiftly up to gauge his friend’s reaction. 

“Damn straight.” Veers snorted. “Firmus, did you really think I didn’t know why you couldn’t sleep? Do you know how many of us have horrific nightmares? Whether it’s the TIE group captain who dreams of slowly losing oxygen in space, or one of my men who dreams of being crushed by an AT-AT--and he’s the pilot!! Any of the bridge officers dreaming of being throttled? To.. to me?”

Piett quirked an eyebrow and took another sip. His body was warm now with the alcohol and suddenly, things were becoming slightly more clear and less dark.

“You’re ‘Iron Max’. You have bad dreams?”

“I do. I have a nightmare that I didn’t get to my best friend in time. That he died in my arms. It’s getting better, but….too many nights.”

Piett didn’t know what to say to that. Veers set down his glass and stood. Piett rose as well. 

“So Darth Vader, the Emperor’s Fist, managed  what I couldn’t. He gave you counsel and it helped . I can tell. What a kriffing weird world we’re living in now!” Veers grinned. 

“Max. I can’t explain it. But never think you don’t help. Thanks for just being there. Being a friend. A good friend.” 

Veers placed his hands on the shorter man’s shoulders. “I really am, aren't I?” Piett smiled at him. 

“Humble too. Now General I will attempt to sleep.”

“That’s the spirit.” The door hissed closed behind him. 

As Piett hung up his uniform he pondered Vader’s words once more. You are not the only one to get nightmares. What did Lord Vader get nightmares about?

Chapter Text

Luke waited, his whole body tense beneath his camouflage poncho. He knew what was coming— waited for it- then… 

We have you on our screen now, please identify.

He could feel his Father’s looming presence in the deadly beauty of the ship stretched before them. He reached a little more, to sense the Admiral. Tension was surrounding the man. Luke sympathized. 

Han responded and gave the codes.

“Now we find out if that code is worth the price we paid,” said Leia. Luke looked at her and reached out his hand to grasp hers. Both of them knew the codes would work, but all of them were now playing their parts in what would hopefully be the end of the Emperor’s despotic reign. He felt his sister’s frustration, worry, anger , and tried to send her silent reassurance. Han and Chewie didn’t know the subterfuge at work-- it must be real for everyone else. Mon Mothma and Leia had brought in Ackbar out of necessity. He needed to know the ships that could be trusted from the Imperial fleet. 

Including the massive Executor before them. Their tiny shuttle approached her mighty bridge and Luke recalled the view from the inside, picturing his Father and Piett standing there now. 

“Vader’s on that ship” said Luke, more for his sister’s benefit than anything else. Leia stared at him, reaching out tentatively herself to feel her Father’s dark presence. She hissed under her breath and Luke glanced at her. She was an adept student-- growing in her abilities in leaps and bounds. 

“Shuttle Tyderium what is your cargo and destination?” came Piett’s clipped authoritative tones. 

“Parts and technical crew for the forest moon,” replied Han. 

Silence in the shuttle. Luke reached out again for his Father and also felt a new presence--one that had him breathless with the weight of the Dark Side. 

The Emperor is here son.

I...I felt him. Father….the Dark Side with him…

Aloud, Luke said  “I’m endangering the mission-- I shouldn’t have come.” 

Proceed as we have planned young one. We must protect your sister’s identity as long as possible. Do not let her reach out to me again.

A beat. 

She is strong. You are training her I see. 

I am. 

I will see you soon my son. The Force be with you.

And you Father.

“Shuttle Tyderium, deactivation of the shield will commence immediately--- follow your present  course.”

As Han and Chewie celebrated, Luke calmed himself and grasped Leia’s hand tightly. 

***

Captain Venka wiped his sweaty palms for the 5th time on his trousers. From the bridge of the Devastator, he had a glorious view of the bulk of the Imperial fleet as they hovered on the far side of Endor awaiting orders to spring the Emperor’s trap. In the forefront, Executor in all her mighty glory, pointed her arrow shape at the Death Star, distant in the viewscreen. 

Venka had received his promotion quite recently and it had involved the most unnerving conversation of his life, standing in Piett’s office, facing not only the Admiral, but also Darth Vader himself. 

And then he was asked to commit treason. 

Piett had done most of the talking-- laying out the pros and cons in his calm, logical tones as though they were discussing the best way to modify a speeder. 

And. Well. Venka wasn’t too proud to admit that he was far more terrified of the Dark Lord who was right here as opposed to an Emperor he had never met, but whose policies he admittedly didn’t care for much. So he had agreed. He didn’t know how that conversation had gone with the captain of the Avenger, but he was given to understand that he was in agreement. Death Squadron was Lord Vader’s after all--- filled with men he had picked himself. 

Still-- Venka looked out again at all the other Star Destroyers. Firing on his fellow men was difficult. Piett had stressed that they were to act defensively on behalf of the Rebel fleet as much as possible. Their object was to cripple, not destroy, the Imperial ships. 

And so he waited and watched as the Emperor’s personal shuttle and troop transports made their way to the Executor. He didn’t envy Piett that inspection at all, thank you. 

***

Veers stood at the head of his divisions, impeccable in his dress uniform. The smell in the hangar bay was dominated by fresh paint, new metal, and the faint residue of the welder’s tools. They had literally put the finishing repairs to the Lady’s largest hangar bay mere hours before the Emperor's arrival. 

Opposite himself, Piett was ramrod straight and also impeccable. He exuded command so hard that even the much taller Commander Gherant next to him was not all that noticeable. Veers subtley looked around the massive bay, trying to quell his misgivings at the huge number of the Emperor’s personal troops waiting for his majesty’s arrival. They had arrived first and taken up their positions alongside the most exclusive members of Executor’s crew. They were also very well armed.

But they always were. They protected the most important person in the galaxy after all. Get a grip Veers. 

But the soldier in him was still uneasy-- neither his own men, nor Piett’s, were armed out of respect for their honored guest. And for….security. 

He brought his attention back to the central figure at the head of the two groups of navy and army men, waiting with his back to them so he might face the approaching shuttle, now slowing to a gentle touchdown on the shining surface of the Executor. Veers met Piett’s gaze briefly before the ramp began to descend with a hiss of steam and Vader took a knee. 

An obsequious Moff followed the slight, black robed figure as it made its slow way down the through the steam. Darth Sidious. Veers felt cold in a way that he hadn't since Hoth.

“Rise my friend.” Vader stood and took his place at Palpatine’s side. The Emperor paused in front of Veers and looked at him. The General brought his training from Vader to bear as he realized that he was being looked at by golden eyes. If he’d had any doubts before of who the Emperor was, they were gone now. Sith indeed.  

“Ah, General Veers, is it? We were most pleased to hear of your heroic exploits at Hoth.” 

“Thank you your majesty.”

And then he… felt something push against his mind-- something oily and foul. He suppressed a shudder. The Emperor gave a small chuckle. 

“A very steadfast soldier indeed.” He took a few more steps to face Piett. 

“And the Admiral . We were most... pleased ...to hear of your rescue and recovery.” 

“Thank you your majesty,” Piett responded, bowing. As he straightened, he suddenly went sheet white, and threw startled eyes at the hooded figure in front of him. Swiftly however, he recovered to stand straight. Veers did his best not to think about it--- not to reveal any emotions. 

“Mmm,” hummed Palpatine. “Lord Vader’s Admiral. We appreciate your loyalty .”

“Thank you your majesty,” Piett sounded remarkably composed--- Veers was trusting their lessons were paying off. 

Palpatine went down the line of men and then was shown where the bay had been repaired, complimenting the engineering crew. Veers met Piett’s gaze again, and ever so slightly cocked an eyebrow. Piett shook his head at him with a small movement. 

The Emperor and his small entourage made their way back to the head of their line. 

“And now, Lord Vader, it is time we went to the Death Star. Moff Aloo would be most pleased to tour the rest of this exceptional ship. I am certain that Admiral Piett and General Veers will be most generous with their time.”

Veers stopped breathing. Did he know? Why would he leave Aloo…? But Piett was speaking.

“Of course your Majesty, we would be honored.”

Liar , thought Veers looking at him. 

“Excellent. Come my friend, you will accompany me.”

Was that a slight hesitation from Vader?

“Yes, my Master.”

The two Sith made their way up the ramp and everyone waited until it had sealed and moved toward the entrance of the hangar before the Moff turned to the waiting men. 

“Gentlemen, I would naturally love to see the bridge. Please lead on.”

Piett raised his eyes to Veers, then moved down the line to the main lift, Veers falling into step next to him and the Moff. His heart rate increased as ten members of the Emperor’s personal troops fell in behind them and he shot a quick look at the slighter form of the Admiral. Piett gave nothing away with his face, but his gloved right hand clenched slightly. He knows too. They entered the lift and Piett spoke. 

“Bridge.” The doors hissed shut behind them and simultaneously, ten blaster rifles were brought to bear on the two Imperials. Both Veers and Piett carefully lifted their hands. 

“What is the meaning of this…?” Piett began and was viciously slammed in the stomach by the butt of one of the rifles. Veers took an outraged step and heard the click of a number of triggers. He froze as Piett coughed helplessly next to him. 

“The meaning , Admiral, is that you are both under arrest for treason against his Imperial Majesty. Cuff them.”

“Lady,” Piett gasped. “Aurek zero.” And suddenly an energy charge went through the lift and the power died, along with the lights, and--Veers realized--the charges in all the blaster rifles. Bless your quick thinking Firmus he thought and attacked the man nearest him, gripping the rifle and twisting it out of his hands to swing it like a club. Piett had recovered enough to go low, bringing all his lessons with Veers to bear as he kicked out at the legs of the men near him and promptly fighting as dirty as he wished-- jamming his hand into the throat of the first, and going for the eyes of the next. 

Veers fought for his life and that of the Admiral, and this gave him a drive he had never felt before. He snapped the neck of one opponent before breaking the jaw of the next man, moving and ducking like a dancer. One of them got in a solid hit with their rifle to his face, but then suddenly went down as Piett kicked out his knee from behind and clubbed him viciously across the head with another dead rifle. And then it was quiet in the dim lift, the only light coming from small emergency strips and the control panel. 

Veers kicked a groaning man to knock him out completely and paused, panting, to look at Piett.

“You all right?”

“Mostly,” his friend replied grimacing. “I think they might have cracked a rib there. You?”

“Oh definitely cracked something in my face, but otherwise all right. Strategy?”

“If they were that bold to go for us, I fear that they have our men captured…or dead. The only armed troops in the hangar….”

“Were the Emperor’s. I noticed. Kriff it. What next?”

“We need to take the bridge. And secure the engine room. There’s no way they have all our men subdued yet. Let’s get out of this lift first. Lady,” he called to the ceiling. There was no response. “Lady,” Piett tried again.  Veers felt his apprehension rise. 

“Surely they can’t override her command codes. You’re the only one and Lord Vader…”

“True,” replied Piett grimly, “but you can stop her if you get to the main power control and shut down her interface.”

“I thought you were the only one with the codes for that!”

Piett gazed at him seriously. “Do you think the Emperor can’t get that information?” 

“Hells.”

“Yes.” 

“All right,” Veers said, “time to get those doors open manually and fast. If they have taken the bridge, they’ll be expecting his Moffness and us soon.” 

Piett started undoing his dress jacket and removed his hat, stuffing it in the pocket of his trousers. Veers raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I don’t intend to lose it again!” his friend shot at him defensively and Veers had to smile as he undid his own jacket. 

Both of them rolled up their long sleeves over their elbows and Veers got to work stripping one of the rifles for parts to jimmy the door with. Piett fitted one of the larger pieces of metal into the middle where the doors met and began to apply pressure. Veers joined him further up the door, both men straining, until a slim crack opened. Veers dropped his makeshift pry bar and got his hands in to pull. 

“Keep going!” Piett panted, then dropped his own pry bar and began to shove against the opposite door. With agonizing slowness the doors parted until they were just wide enough to accomodate Veers. They were stopped between decks and Veers peered around before he hauled himself up first.

 “Grab our comlinks Piett, the hallway’s clear for now.” 

The Admiral complied, stripping them off their discarded jackets and shoving them into his pocket before reaching up to grasp Veers’ extended arm. 

“Where are we do you think?” Veers asked. Imperial corridors tended to look the same, but then, he wasn’t a navy man and this was Piett’s ship. 

Piett bit his lip, clearly doing some quick calculating in his head. “This is one of the most direct lifts to the bridge, so…..I’d say we’re likely about 12 decks down from there.”

He moved forward, jogging lightly. “There’s another lift this way which actually brings us closer to my quarters….”

“Will that work? I thought you shut down power.”

“That command isn’t for the whole ship--- just my immediate location.”

And that was an interesting bit of information-- the Admiral and his Lady had their private codes. 

“Besides if they’ve shut off her interface, it just means that everything must be done manually, but it can still be done. They need her to have power.”

It made sense. Piett paused at the corner and risked a quick look around. He waved Veers forward and they pressed the command for the smaller lift. It took agonizing ages but the panel lit green and Veers let out a small sigh of relief before they stepped in. 

“Why aren’t we seeing anyone?” Piett mused aloud. 

“I’m guessing they’ve locked down as many sections of the ship as possible. And most of the senior crew that we’d be seeing at these levels were waiting to greet the… Emperor.”

“So they’re all under lockdown or dead,” said Piett. “Still, there may still be men that could assist. The Emperor left two legions but that doesn’t begin to cover all the men in this ship unless…”

“Unless they control the ship,” Veers interrupted. “Piett, it also means it’s more likely we run into enemy troops when we hit the level for your quarters.”

“Mmm,” the Admiral considered this. “And it’s also likely they know we’ve escaped by now. But we need weapons and I have some there.”

“Surely that’s not the only location….” Veers stopped as Piett got a look on his face.

“I know where we can get weapons. Ozzel stashed them there-- he was always paranoid---we need to get to the Senior bridge crew’s conference room.” 

***

Luke’s heart was pounding wildly as he rode the lift up next to his silent Father to the throne room in the Death Star. Neither dared communicate with the other this close to the Emperor’s presence. He tried not to think of the others on the forest moon, nor what was soon to come when the Rebel fleet arrived. The doors opened silently and they both stepped out, the red guards taking up their positions on either side as Vader and his Jedi son moved slowly up the steps to the dais. 

“Welcome! Welcome young Skywalker. I have been expecting you.”

And Luke had his first look into the face of evil. It was sagging and wrinkled, as though Sidious was a rotting corpse---the most living thing about him, his glowing, golden eyes. His Father handed the Emperor Luke’s lightsaber. 

“Ah yes, a Jedi’s weapon.” Sidious examined it and turned away. “I look forward to completing your training.”

“I will never turn to the Dark Side,” said Luke emphatically. “Soon, I’ll be dead, and you with me.”

The Emperor chuckled and turned back to him. “Perhaps you refer to the imminent arrival of your Rebel fleet. Or perhaps,” he paused and turned to his Father, “your pathetic attempt to overthrow me.”

Luke felt as though he had been doused in icy water. Worse than Hoth--- his mind was shattering and he weakly attempted to bring back his shields. Next to him, his Father had more control but he could feel the rolling upheaval. 

“I expected more Lord Vader,” said Sidious, turning away from both of them and slowly striding back to his throne. “It is after all the Sith way to kill the master and take an apprentice. But, forming an alliance with your Senior officers? A truce with the Rebellion? Pathetic,” he repeated. 

He turned and sat down, draping his robes over the throne. “Very shortly my old friend , the entire fleet will witness the execution of your traitorous officers. I will make sure we can view it here as well. Did you think I could not sense the training you gave them? Their pitiful attempts to shield their minds from me? That alone told me all I needed to know.” The Emperor chuckled and Luke felt horribly ill. He had fought side by side with the steel eyed General. And the Admiral, who had given so much to his Father, to be shot down as traitors….

“It was I who allowed the Alliance to know the location of the shield generator. It is quite safe from your pitiful little band. An entire legion of my best troops await them!” 

Luke stared  at his awful countenance and then to the lightsaber that Palpatine held in his hand. 

“Good...good..let the hate flow through you. You must know now it is pointless to resist. Strike down your Father and I will complete your training!” 

A wild surge of rage blew through the Force but it was not Luke’s. The red blade ignited next to him and Darth Vader swung at his Master. 

Chapter Text

Piett and Veers waited a beat after the turbolift arrived at their destination. It was hard to hear much of anything through the steel walls except their own breathing. Finally, Piett gave a nod to Veers who palmed the door controls and they slid open, both men pressing back against either side. Piett gave a quick glance and caught the tail end of a group of soldiers as they turned a corner down the corridor. He could see the door to the Senior officers’ conference room and estimated perhaps 10 steps. He communicated this by hand to Veers, paused briefly once more to see if he could hear anything and then ran. He could feel Veers right behind him as he slammed his hand on the door panel and it opened. 

Both men fell into the room and paused to breathe, Piett wincing at the sharp twinge that caused in his side. 

“Over there, by the Bothan ferns,” he managed, straightening and Veers gave him a look. 

“It’s not such a mystery Max, you know I like plants.”

“I know you like the little trees,” corrected Veers, “I didn’t realize you were that much of a botanist…” 

“I am not discussing this right now,” Piett shot at him, pressing along the bulkhead. “Come on Ozzel, may your soul r-...”

“Rot in the Nine hells,” Veers muttered, searching with his fingertips as well.

“Not a very pleasant thing to wish on the poor old bastard.”

“You are ridiculously patient Firmus. He made your life hell--I wasn’t a bit sorry when I heard. Well, except that it put you on the chopping block as it were. But that turned out differently than we thought….”

The panel sprang open with slight pop, and Piett gave the General a stern look.

“Yes, it worked out so well that I’m under arrest for treason and trying to take back my own ship by force.”

“Well yes---yes we are.” Veers checked out two blasters and tucked them into his belt. Piett did the same. “But I have to admit, I feel more right about this than anything I’ve done in my career, with maybe one exception.”

Piett paused in pulling the strap of a blaster rifle over his head and adjusting it along his back to look inquisitively at his friend.

“Oh yes? I’m dying to hear, what could possibly top this?” 

“Obliterating that smuggler operation. I’m still warm with the glow from that.” Veers wasn’t smiling when he said it and Piett handed him a blaster rifle. 

“Max.”

Veers looked at him. 

“Let me say it once. Thank you for that. You saved my life just as much as Skywalker did. And if I’m going to run around my ship accused of treason, I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else.” 

The General who most Rebels didn’t believe know how to smile, shot a wide grin at his friend. 

“Damn straight. What’s the plan Admiral?” 

“We’re going to have to split up.”

“Not a big fan of that plan.”

“Hear me out. We need the bridge and we need our men. Time is not on our side, with the Rebels arriving any second. Somehow we need to communicate the situation to Venka, I need to get the Lady back up and we need support. I plan to take the bridge, they can’t have many men on these levels--- the bulk of them would be needed to guard the crew.”

“Unless they killed them all,” Veers said grimly. 

Piett had had the same disquieting thought himself, but…

“That’s quite a body count to get through Veers. I’m hoping it was easier to lock them in the bays and quarters and guard them. I’m counting on it rather.”

“Well they’re not great odds, but I’ll go along. How are you planning on taking the bridge by yourself?”

Piett smiled at him.

“Well I thought I’d take a page from your book and explode something.”

“ Firmus.”

“Hand me two thermal detonators would you?”

“Why for the love of Sith would Ozzel keep all this here?”

“He was terrified of mutiny.”

Veers snorted. “Yes all right that makes sense, the old rancor.” 

Piett stashed the detonators in his pockets and Veers added one more rifle to his collection. 

“We need Bay 12 first Max-- our officers and top specialists will be there. If you can shake things up, it would give them a chance to attack the men guarding them.”

“Two detonators won’t work for that down there Admiral,” Veers said, shaking his head. Piett sighed and rubbed at the skin between his eyes as though that would solve the building tension there. He couldn’t think too hard about how impossible this all was or he wouldn’t be able to do it. The next thing, one step at a time. So, how to get Veers enough fire power to really give him a chance…?

“Firmus--I know what to do.” Veers sounded almost... gleeful.

Piett looked up at him. “You do?”

“Because of all the mess the Rebel fleet caused, we had to move my walkers around for repairs.”

“Yes, and?” 

“I just remembered that Bay 13 is holding several AT-STs right now, to make space for the engineers to work on the others.” 

Piett took a moment. “Oh. Oh kriff. General….”

Veers held up a hand. “Look, I know it’s painful, but we can repair her again. I promise not to cause any more damage than I have to. It’s the only way.” 

Piett looked incredibly pained but he nodded. 

“All right then. Comlinks used only if we absolutely must since they could possibly track us. Max…” 

Piett trailed off. What did you say to your best friend who you are highly likely not to see ever again?

Veers kept it simple for him. “I’ll see you on the other side Admiral. Good hunting.”

Piett clasped his hand. “And you General. Safe stars.”

***

Blue lightning crackled and raged, wreathing around Vader’s red blade and forcing him back toward the steps. Luke had never seen anything like it-- hadn’t realized the Force could be manipulated in such an appalling way. He reached for his lightsaber, but the Emperor merely flung out a hand and Luke was thrown back down the steps. 

He lay panting at the bottom, the smell of ozone filling the air and then his Father’s pained cry as Sidious’ attack began to hit home. 

“No!” Luke yelled moving to his feet and gathering the Force. He leapt to the dais and was promptly hit with the same lightning. Agony raced through his body and he screamed. 

He couldn’t tell how long Sidious threw his attack at him, but when it stopped at last, he lay curled in a foetal position, just trying to remember how to breathe. 

“How disappointing,” the Emperor’s tone was mocking as he moved to the two fallen Skywalkers. “And oh. Your friends have arrived. Marvellous. Now you will witness the power of this fully operational battlestation.” He flicked a control on the armrest of his throne with the Force. 

“Fire at will commander.” 

Luke felt the giant monstrosity under him shudder as it gathered power. Then in a moment, he felt thousands of lives disappear in fire, and the ripping of the Force. 

“No,” he moaned. 

But in that moment his Father made his move-- raising a hand toward the Emperor and suddenly Luke’s lightsaber was flying out of Palpatine's hand and over to Luke. The young Jedi had enough strength about him to grasp it and ignite it just in time to fend off another attack from the ancient Sith. 

Palpatine was angry now and brought both hands to bear. Luke wasn’t strong enough… he tried, but he couldn’t use his blade to catch it all. He staggered back to his knees.

Just a little...longer my son.

Father…?

Sidious doubled down and Luke’s lightsaber tumbled from his hand in a new wave of anguish as he screamed. 

Then the Force trembled.

And Palpatine was gazing in disbelief at the red blade hissing out of his middle. Luke watched, blinking tears and sweat out of his eyes as the Sith master was lifted into the air, wailing and hurled down the core shaft of the Death Star. Then a massive blue explosion blew through the room and Luke knew no more.

***

Veers ducked into a maintenance closet the moment he heard footsteps. It had become apparent in the last 20 minutes, that their escape had indeed been noted and the hunt was on. He considered his options. He had made it back down to the level for the hangar bays. But that was where things got particularly tricky as more and more of the Emperor’s troops were down here. On the plus side, that indicated that Piett was right and they were needed to guard their men. On the negative side it made his life infinitely more tricky in getting to the bay. He needed to move more quickly…

Inspiration hit-- there was only one thing for it. He needed a different uniform. Veers stashed his extra weapons and then ducked into a small alcove a few metres away to pick his target. He had to wait out larger groups of men before two came along and one of them would work for his height. He shot twice and dragged the stunned men back to his maintenance closet refuge. It was a tight space to change in, but somehow he managed. He bound the two men together, collected his weapons and stepped out.

Most of this is confidence he told himself. Sure I have more weapons than the average trooper here, but I’ll need to risk it.

He did his best not to wonder how Piett was doing on the bridge. Either it worked or it didn’t. He strode confidently to Bay 13, entering his code, and hoping that the fact everything was done manually meant that they didn’t have time to try and change the codes. Which turned out to be true. He nodded to another black clad officer and tried to look as though he was just patrolling. All routine. 

Along one wall, the one nearest him, Veers was gratified to observe,  4 AT-STs were secured. As he moved further into the bay, he could see roughly 200 men, largely mechanics and deck crew, under guard toward the back. He took up a position near a group of enemy troops, trying to look as though he were  examining his weapon. He then swept the room with his eyes trying to guess how many opponents he was dealing with. Nope. He couldn’t go in guns blazing. Sithspit he was not good at stealth. Then a stroke of luck. 

The small group of men he was near moved off, walking under the AT-STs as they moved toward the front of the bay, clearly headed toward another knot of prisoners that Veers hadn’t noticed before now. TIE pilots he realized. He followed slightly behind them, and then at the 3rd AT-ST he ducked behind one of its legs. Waiting to see if this had been noticed, Veers looked up the leg. He was going to have to climb it which was not desirable but the only way. At least the legs were folded for transport. Had they been fully extended, he would have three times the distance to ascend. He grasped a strut and swung himself up. The maintenance panel was underneath and moments later, Veers reached it. Locked. Kriffing hell . He had really hoped that he could maintain his cover until he got into the cockpit. But the clock was ticking in his head and therefore he had one option. He gripped one of the thermal detonators and set it to the smallest blast radius. At least these were stormtrooper grade, so he could get out of range and not cause too much damage to the walker. The detonator attached to the panel with a small clang and Veers scrambled back down several feet. 

5...4...3..2..1.

The explosion sounded much louder than it was-- echoing through the large hangar. Veers heard the shouts and running feet but he was ignoring that and swinging up into the ragged hole, careful not to gut himself on the twisted metal. He could hear blaster fire, but even these smaller walkers could easily repel that. He flung himself into the pilots chair and flipped the switches to warm it up. Even before weapons, he needed to get it standing to prevent others from climbing in. 

Come on, come on. 

At last, with a shrieking lurch, the AT-ST obeyed his command and came to its full height. He flicked through the weapons sequencing and warm up in record time and brought the guns to bear on the enemy. Faintly, he thought he heard cheering from the captive crew, but he had to leave them to it and hope they used their moment----he had a bigger objective and pushed forward on the gear to the opposite wall which divided bay 13 from bay 12. He opened fire as rapidly as he could at the bulkhead and after several breathless minutes, he had an opening for himself that would easily fit the walker. He maneuvered through and into the massive bay, where men --friend and foe alike---were already fleeing his path. He could see that the Emperor’s troops were being attacked and he did his best to help his men-- firing at the larger groups of enemy officers. He flicked his comlink to a general channel for the 501st.

“Anyone who can, secure weapons! If I’ve got any pilots out there, get them in those TIE fighters over there and use their guns!” 

It took a moment to see if his command had been heard, but after a further blistering five minutes as he raked the newly repaired bay with laser fire (I’m sorry Piett) one of the TIE fighters was gently beginning to lift and oh, now they were in business. He had air power. 

***

Piett didn’t wait for the sound of Veers’ footsteps to recede before he was running down the corridor toward the bridge. The conference room wasn’t far and he slowed as he approached the corner of the final turn. He did a quick recon--- ten men guarding the doors, though who knew how many more were insided. He calculated a skeleton bridge crew and decided that if they were keeping any of his men at their stations under guard, he’d be dealing with at least 20 more armed opponents. 

And those odds...well. He’d need to use his detonators effectively. He pulled out the first one and set it to the widest blast radius it went to. Not as lethal as other models, but it should do the trick. Setting the timer for 10 seconds, he pitched it down the corridor opposite the bridge blast doors. 

I’m sorry Lady he thought. Shouts came at the noise the rolling weapon made and then----

The blast shook the floor. Piett stayed firmly pressed against the wall. Four of the men past him running with blasters ready and Piett was able to use his moment of cover to fire. There could be no stun setting here-- he couldn’t afford anyone to wake up and try to take the bridge again. Then he spun and used the smoke to give him slight cover as he brought the blaster rifle to bear, firing in a long spray at the men before the doors. The shock was to his advantage, but one of them managed to burn his side and thundering Huttsuckers that was awful. But it had the effect of giving him a jolt of adrenaline as well and he managed to take down the last of them. 

He reached the control panel. No doubt they were trying to keep him from entering on the other side, but they didn’t know his ship and he manually typed in the override code for the blast doors. The moment they started to part, he threw in the second detonator, hoping against hope that the casualties for his own men would be minimal.

 He made his move inside and took a knee, assuming correctly they would aim higher. This allowed him the time to take out two of his opponents by firing at the direction of their blaster shots through the clearing smoke. Then, he took cover in one of the alcoves and did a quick scan of the room. Skeleton crew indeed. He could see some of his junior officers in the pits and possibly 15 armed men. He fired again to give himself some cover. Then he ducked out and met the eyes of the lieutenant closest to him in the pits, long enough to make sure the young man was able to catch the blaster he tossed to him. 

Suddenly there were two targets firing at them and several more of the Emperor’s men went down. Piett moved further into the bridge, taking cover at the communications console---familiar territory indeed. He slid the blaster rifle to another crewman in the right pit, who got right to work using it, and another ensign had the refreshing presence of mind to hurl one of the maintenance boxes at the enemy nearest to him. Two of his own men were down, Piett could see, but there was no time for regret. He closed the distance between himself and the last man coming for him, and rolled under the blaster fire to shoot him clean center. And then it was quiet.

He gazed around at the wide eyes before him, before gathering his wits and stumbling back to the blast doors, typing in the override and sealing them against outside intruders. 

“Admiral?” someone asked and he trotted back into the main walkway, holstering his blaster and wiping the sweat off his face. He could understand the tones of disbelief-- he was impressed they recognized him at all, without half his uniform and covered in dust and blood. 

“That’s right,” he answered. “How many of you are there?”

“Seven sir,” answered the first lieutenant he’d seen, climbing up the ladder from the pit. “Two were killed. I’m Keller sir.”

“What’s going on sir?” another crewman asked. “Damn glad to see you-- they came in here and said that you were a traitor and they were bringing you and the General here to be shot.”

Piett was examining the communications console and looked over his shoulder at the boy. Well, I’m already in for it.

“I suppose I am a traitor Ensign, if that means that I am supporting Lord Vader over the Emperor. Which is what I’m doing to end this bloody war and help bring peace to our galaxy.”

There was a beat and Piett tried to pretend he was unconcerned as he tinkered with the console. Surely there was a way to send a radio signal….there. 

“Sir, what about the Rebels?”

“Indeed. Lord Vader wishes to call a cease fire and begin negotiations for peace.”

“Lord Vader doesn’t want to be Emperor? ”

Piett straightened and faced them. All of them were watching him, and he was keenly aware that two of them were armed. 

“He does not. I am not clear as to what the post war government negotiations will entail, but Lord Vader has no desire for supreme power. I support him in this. I can only ask you, from what you know of me and my character, to make your decision. I know It’s not fair and I’m putting a great deal on you but…”

“Absolutely sir,” interrupted Keller. “If it’s you sir, we’ll follow all the way to the end.” The others nodded their agreement and a murmur of  ‘yes sirs’ went round the bridge. 

Piett could not speak for a minute. And there was lingering dust in the air bothering his eyes. 

“Right then,” he said, clearing his throat. “I need to send a message to the Devastator that can’t be heard on regular channels. I was a comms officer a hundred years ago, but I could use some help. How much did they take offline?”

“Most of it sir,” someone else said. “We can pilot and we have thruster control for the secondary engines.” 

“All right,” Piett said thinking furiously. “I have a way to bring the Lady back online through a backdoor, but we need the Devastator to help us do it. If that fails, we’ll have to try manually.”

Keller raised his eyebrows. “That will take forever sir.”

“I realize that lieutenant but I’d rather get to work on an attempt.”

“Priorities are main engines, weapons and shields. Get to it. Any of you good with comms?”

“It’s not my main area sir, but I’m reasonable,” replied Keller. 

“All right, help me figure out a way to send a radio message to Devastator,” Piett ordered, starting to feel the blaster wound now as his shirt and trousers were getting damp with blood. He hissed and looked around. 

“Medkit’s under here sir,” said Keller drawing it out and rummaging for bandages. 

“Thanks lieutenant.” On inspection it was indeed what may be termed a ‘flesh wound’ but it still hurt. He wound the bandages around his middle, under his shirt,  and found an antibiotics shot which he punched into his leg, just in case.

Take that Henley he thought. Then, I’ve got to pull it together if that's where my brain is. 

“All right Keller, how can we adjust this station to use radio and get the Devastator’s attention to tune into that signal?”

Both of them were silent for a moment. 

Then Keller said, “sir, Devastator is right behind us in formation is that correct?” 

“It is lieutenant.”

“Well if we’re going old fashioned sir, what if we were to use the secondary engines to pulse a message?”  Piett stared at him and grinned. 

“You Mr. Keller, are going places.”

“Pretty happy to be serving here with you sir.” 

And the weight of that responsibility was heavy on Piett’s shoulders. 

“All right men, listen up, here’s what we need to do!”

Chapter Text

Captain Venka was clenching his hands so hard that his nails were cutting into his palms as he waited tensely at the viewport. He was puzzled by the utter silence from the Executor and then, as he watched the Emperor’s shuttle depart, he noted that the troop transports did not follow. 

Damn, damn, damn, that can’t be good.

He managed to wait another 15 minutes. “Lieutenant!” he called. 

“Sir.”

“Hail Executor. My compliments to Admiral Piett and please request a private channel.”

“Sir…” the comms officer turned to look at him, eyes wide with shock. “Sir.. Executor reports that Admiral Piett is under arrest. For...for treason sir. They’re ordering us to take lead for the fleet sir.”

Venka swallowed.

“Answer in affirmative lieutenant.”

His officer obeyed and then there was deadly silence on the bridge. Venka turned to face all of his men who gazed back at him--- some shocked, some angry, some frightened.

Force, what do I say? Piett arrested, that must mean they have Veers too. Kriff….

“Men. Members of Death Squadron--- we were picked by Lord Vader himself to be part of the most elite force in the Empire. What you are witnessing is the Emperor’s way of dealing with a threat to his power. He is eliminating all those who would be loyal to Lord Vader over himself. I intend to stand by Lord Vader.”

A ripple went around the bridge. Venka put a hand on the blaster at his hip. 

“And I’m willing to enforce that decision. That ship in front of us has your fellow crew members--friends-- family on it. I do not intend to let her be hijacked without a fight. I’m not one for big speeches. I’m the Captain of the Devastator and we are with Lord Vader and the Admiral. You can stay faithful to that or see how long I last before you kill me.” 

There was a stir in one of the pits, then--- “Traitor!!” someone shouted, followed by a scuffle. Venka drew his blaster but it was over quickly.  A young Ensign rose up panting. 

“Sir, three crew subdued sir. We wait your orders.”

“Anyone else?” Venka asked looking around. 

“All right then. We wait for the Rebel fleet to arrive. Our job is to protect them from the rest of the Star Destroyers. Avenger is joining us. We will do our best to cripple our sister ships, not destroy them, are we clear?”

“Yes sir,” the weapons station reported. 

“All right then…” Venka holstered his weapon and turned back to the viewport. Then he looked more closely at the massive ship before him.

“Lieutenant,” he said to the man at comms. 

“Sir?” 

“Magnify Executor’s third auxiliary engine. What is it doing?”

The comms officer studied his screen. 

“It's flickering sir-- are they having technical malfunction? Wait….sir!! Sir, I know that pattern. I think it’s old Imperial naval code sir!”

Venka nodded to himself. “See if you can interpret, Lieutenant.”

The whole bridge watched the ship in front of them while the comms officer stared intently at his screen. 

“I’ve got it sir. It’s saying ‘Piett, followed by some numbers.”

“What numbers?”

The lieutenant listed them out and Venka shook his head.

“I don’t recognize that sequence.” 

“Sir!” called a commander near weapons. “I’m something of a historian sir-- I’m pretty sure that’s a radio frequency.”

Venka turned back to the Lieutenant who was already finding the frequency. Piett, you clever bastard.

“I’ve got it sir!” the Lieutenant moved aside and plugged in a set of earpieces, handing them to his Captain. 

Venka swiftly put them in. 

“Admiral?” The connection crackled with static, then---

“Captain. Well done in spotting our business with the engine.”

“Sir, it’s very good to hear your voice sir. What in the Nine Hells… ?”

“No time Venka,” Piett cut across him. “I need you to fire on the bridge.”

“......Excuse me sir?”

“You need to trust me here Captain. I need you to Fire. On. The. Bridge. Two shots.” 

“Admiral. Your shields aren’t up. Are you---- are you on the bridge sir?”

“I am Captain so please make sure not to hit anything that will cause any catastrophic damage.”

Sithspit.

“This is going to get noticed sir.”

“Can’t be helped Venka. It’s necessary to get the Lady back to me. Good luck!”

And the connection went dead.

Kriffing hell Admiral.

“Weapons!” Venka barked. 

“Sir!”

“Fire two shots at Executor’s bridge-- 10 seconds apart. Do not aim for any critical sections.”

“...... Sir….”

“Orders directly from the Admiral, Commander. Do it now.”

“Aye sir. Targeting Executor.”

“Fire!”

The first blast impacted the Lady’s command tower, and a large orange fireball spat debris. Please know what you’re doing Piett.

“Ten seconds. Start count.” 

The comms board was lighting up.

“Sir! Avenger, Tyrant and Enforcer are all wondering what’s going on!” 

I’ll just bet they are.

“No reply, Lieutenant. Fire!”

“Firing!”

The second shot……. hit the Executor’s shields.

“Sir?”

I’ll be a son of a Hutt, thought Venka.

“Cease fire. I think Executor is back under the Admiral’s command.”

***

Veers looked through his viewscreen. Hangar bay 12 was back under their control and a large number of his men were armed and herding the remaining enemy troops into the side offices to lock them in.

He opened the hatch at the top of his AT-ST and pulled himself up. 

“Attention!” he barked and most of the men looked up. He spotted a few commanders he knew. 

“Commander Allen! You will remain here and oversee the prisoners with a small force of 50 men. Commander Rylee, gather as many men as you can--I don’t care what division they serve in--- we’re taking the ship back.”

A cheer went up from the deck. 

“Our first objective is to free as many of our men as possible and get them armed! Then I want a division to head to the engine room to secure it against sabotage!”

“Sir!” one of the TIE commanders called. “What of the Admiral sir?” 

“Securing the bridge as we speak, commander. I’ll keep you updated. It is quite likely the Rebels will be here imminently. Obviously, given these events, we are not considering them our primary adversary. The Emperor is making a bid to destroy Lord Vader and all loyal to him. We will secure Executor and await the Admiral’s commands once we have done so. If you have any qualms we can lock you in with the rest of the enemy.”

Not a man moved. 

“Excellent.” 

Veers swung himself down the walker and ordered one of his own men to take his place. It would be a very effective sentinel against invasion from the rest of the ship. Once he hit the deck, he pulled out his comlink and found a corner of the bay.

“Admiral.” 

There was a pause and Veers tried to quash his misgivings. 

“I trust you are secure General?” Veers felt relief wash over him.

“Affirmative. And you?”

“For now. I’m sure there’s more clean up to do. But the ship is mine.”

Veers closed his eyes. “Do I want to know how….?”

“Probably not. Veers…..oh kriff.”

“What?”

“Rebel fleet just dropped in. Please secure the ship General, I’ve got some work to do up here.”

The link cut out and Veers cursed internally, then grabbed a blaster rifle and went to assemble his men. 

***

Piett stood behind Keller with his arms crossed waiting to see if Devastator picked up on what they were attempting to communicate. Take away the destruction and bodies and this could be another day on the Executor’s bridge . He stood here, just like this, rather often.

The young tech down in the pit was obediently flaring the secondary engine in naval code over and over. 

“Sir,” Keller asked looking up at him, “how will you get the Lady back online?’

“She has backdoor protocols Lieutenant and is no doubt working on them now. I intend to make it faster for her.”

“How sir?”

They were all in this with him---- these boys whose lives he held in his hands. They should be prepared.

“If the Lady senses an unshielded attack on the bridge, she will be able to re-establish her interface.”

One of the Ensigns gaped at him. “ Unshielded sir?” 

Piett gave him an understanding smile. “Yes. So we hope that Devastator is reasonably good with her aim.” 

Piett could imagine the internal gulping that was happening around him. 

“Sir! I think they have it!” Keller exclaimed flicking a switch.

“Admiral?”

““Captain. Well done in spotting our business with the engine.”

“Sir, it’s very good to hear your voice sir. What in the Nine Hells… ?”

“No time Venka,” Piett cut across him. “I need you to fire on the bridge.”

“......Excuse me sir?”

“You need to trust me here Captain. I need you to Fire. On. The. Bridge. Two shots.” 

“Admiral. Your shields aren’t up. Are you---- are you on the bridge sir?”

“I am Captain, so please make sure not to hit anything that will cause any catastrophic damage.”

A very loaded pause. 

“This is going to get noticed sir.”

“Can’t be helped Venka. It’s necessary to get the Lady back to me. Good luck!”

Keller cut the transmission. 

“Brace for impact!” Piett called. 

“Sir, Devastator is targeting!”

Then….the bridge shook and the lights blinked as everyone clutched their stations with white grips. 

“Report!” Piett barked. 

“Sir, I’m not quite sure how this is happening…but, but I think it worked.”

Another impact and this time it was a little tremble. 

“Lady?” called Piett to the ceiling. 

“Code requested,” came the cool mechanical voice. All of the younger officers shot each other looks---none of them had heard the ship before. 

“Piett Esk Aurek.”

“Code accepted. Admiral on the bridge.” 

Piett smiled at her. “That’s my girl.”

“Admiral functioning optimally?”

Even Piett was startled by that. Was she asking……?

“As optimal as I can be Lady. We’re operating on a skeleton crew here--- I need you to reroute main controls to the communications system. All weapons controls will be handled from station 8. 

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the blast doors. Well, it was bound to happen sometime.

“Lady! Seal bridge with atmospheric locks. No one gets in without my code clearance!” 

The heavy atmospheric doors slid closed.

“Will it hold them sir?”

“I hope so Lieutenant,” Piett replied grimly. “Those theoretically hold up against laser fire the calibre of AT-ATs so we should make it.” 

His comlink pinged.

Please be Veers.

“Admiral.” 

Piett placed a hand on the chair near him, his relief was so great.

“I trust you are secure General?” he asked. 

“Affirmative. And you?”

“For now. I’m sure there’s more clean up to do. But the ship is mine.”

“Do I want to know how….?”

Piett smiled grimly. 

“Probably not. Veers…..oh kriff .”

The Rebel fleet materialized in front of him. 

“What?”

“Rebel fleet just dropped in. Please secure the ship General, I’ve got some work to do up here.” He flicked off his comlink.

“Status of the Death Star’s shield!”

“Still up sir!”

Damn.

The Rebels realized it as well, pulling sharply away from their original approach, and Piett realized that the ship which dogged his nightmares was leading. Perfect. What was that team on Endor doing???

“Keller get me that lead cruiser!!”

“I’m sorry sir, the….?”

“Get me that Mon Calamari cruiser--- private hail to their highest ranking officer!” 

Moments later, the gravelly tones of Ackbar came through. 

“Admiral Piett I presume.”

“Admiral Ackbar. What in the Nine Hells are your people doing on that moon?”

“As I am not a Jedi, Admiral, I cannot read minds. I trust they are doing their best to get the shield down.”

Piett didn’t have time to address the offense in that tone. 

“Tell your ships to engage us.”

“Sorry, one moment Admiral….” something was said in the background, then Ackbar came back on. “.... as it happens Admiral Piett, that is exactly what General Calrissian is suggesting.”

“Good. Stay close to us, as well as Avenger and Devastator. We’ll do our best. I don’t want to risk engaging the rest of our fleet until that shield is down.”

“Understood Admiral. Ackbar out” 

And Piett watched, trying to swallow horrible feelings of deja vu as the Millenium Falcon swooped toward his bridge, firing furiously. 

Chapter Text

Luke blinked back to awareness slowly. His whole body ached horribly and he tasted copper in his mouth. Memory dripped back in and he gasped in air, rolling to his side and coughing. The smell of ozone was thick in the air and he blinked, trying to focus. His Father, where was his father? He reached shakily with the Force-- he felt like it kept slipping from his hands, but there…

He rolled to hands and knees and crawled toward the core shaft where his Father had collapsed, wheezing horribly. 

“Father…” 

“My… son…”

“The Emperor is dead.”

“Yes.”

“Then we need to get off this station before my friends blow it up.” 

“Leave me… my son.”

Luke got an arm under his Father and heaved. 

“No. You may not give up now. Help me Father. Because if you stay here, so will I.” 

Vader struggled and eventually Father and Son got their feet.

“My respirator… is…failing my… son.” 

“I know.”

Together they made their agonizing way to the closest hangar bay as chaos blared around them. 

“I think they got… the… shield down,” Luke panted.

Vader made no answer and Luke desperately tried not to give in to the fear swamping him as they came into view of a Lambda. Luke stumbled, his own body giving out on him, but taking a deep breath he drew on the Force and they managed to collapse onto the ramp. 

“Luke,” Vader tried again. “Leave me.” 

“Do. Not. Give up, Father.” Luke tugged his massive bulk up the ramp, reaching out to his sister as he did so.

Leia. Leia , I need your strength.

Luke. I...I’m here. I don’t know what to do. I…

Just… breathe. Send me your strength, your faith.

And oh. Oh his sister was powerful. He felt her steadfast presence and it was refreshing him. He gave a final heave and slapped the controls for the ramp, running for the pilot’s seat and starting up the shuttle. He steered it for the entrance as flaming debris began to shatter around them. Once they were clear of the Death Star, he ran back to his Father, snatching the emergency oxygen mask from the wall and ripping it open. 

He removed the helmet and then, more cautiously, he peeled the mask from his Father’s face. Deathly white skin, horrific scarring, and deep unhealed wounds, but all Luke cared about was getting oxygen to his Father. He secured it and then placed a hand on his Father’s shoulder, gazing into rheumy blue eyes. 

“Anakin,” he whispered, and Anakin Skywalker raised his hand to touch his son’s face. 

***

Veers paused to take a breath as his men herded their new group of prisoners to the holding cells. Having the Lady back to herself was helping immensely. He now was able to locate and track hostile troops much more easily. She shook mildly on occasion, but none of the Rebel fleet was big enough to make her tremble too hard and the heavy cruisers weren’t firing at her per their... agreement. 

“Sir,” Commander Rylee saluted. “We have three more divisions we can send to the command decks sir and start sweeping.”

“Well done Commander, get on it.” 

His comlink pinged and he holstered his blaster to answer.

“Veers.”

“ Max, ” Piett sounded--- shaken and Veers braced himself. 

“The Death Star just destroyed one of the Rebel cruisers in one shot.”

“ What?? But….it’s not operational yet, how….?” 

“I know what I saw General. I’m giving you the heads up that I’m about to engage the Imperial fleet and I could use more of my officers up here. Comm them and send them to the bridge… Sithspit. ” 

The Executor shook properly this time.

“Admiral!” 

“Enforcer is attacking us! Get my crew!”

Veers bit his lip and then opened a general comm channel requesting bridge crew to get to the command tower. 

The Death Star was operational. That evil old Sarlaac! What were the odds it targeted Executor? Veers felt cold inside. He made a decision and began sprinting for the nearest turbolift. 

“Bridge,” he bit out as the panel hissed shut. 

***

“Fire on Enforcer!” Venka yelled as he watched the Star Destroyer lance the Executor with a withering blast. 

“Sir, was that earlier shot the Death Star ….?”

“Apparently!” he shot back. “We can’t worry about that right now. Protect any Rebel ships in our range and support Executor.”

The Super Star Destroyer was fighting back and already one of the Star Destroyers was reeling out of control--- her right engines completely gone. 

“Sir, we have five hails, wondering what we’re doing sir!”

“Ignore them!” Venka shouted as Devastator shook with laser fire from her former allies. 

Executor was turning broadside to the Death Star in order to better target the rest of the Imperial fleet. One of the Mon Calamari cruisers was taking up a flanking position in support. That’s not something I ever expected to see. 

“Keep us on the starboard flank in support of the command ship!” Venka ordered. He saw Avenger taking up her position above Executor as the Imperial fleet tried to adjust to an attack from two fronts. 

‘Sir! The Death Star’s shield is down, sir!”

Venka knew what that meant. 

“Pull back. Signal as many of our ships as possible to pull back!”

***

Piett tried to blink the green fire from his gaze. The Death Star was operational. Well they were officially kriffed. One shot….Force.

“Sir, what are your orders?”

“Engage the Imperial fleet. We need to protect those smaller Rebel ships and give them a chance to penetrate the Death Star the moment that shield goes down.”

“Sir, could we target the shield generator on Endor, ourselves?” asked Keller.

“We could Lieutenant, if it didn’t mean slaughtering a legion of our own men and possible allies.” 

The bridge shook under renewed attack from their former sister ships. 

“Aim for the main weapons of both Annihilator and Triumph!!” Piett ordered. 

“Sir,” one of the young techs called, “our Starboard shields are weakening!” 

Yes, they were taking a relentless pounding. Still, rather them than the Rebels, who would have been obliterated. 

“All right...” Piett started, moving toward the weapons console.

“Admiral, the Death Star’s shield is down!” Piett jerked his gaze to the viewscreen in time to see distant rebel ships make their approach for the Death Star. He knew what was next. 

“Pull us back!” he ordered. 

“Sir, I don’t think there’s time for us to get far enough outside of the blast radius!”

No, his beautiful Lady was too big to move that fast. All right then…

“Roll us and make sure we’re parallel to the Death Star! Divert all power we can spare to the port side shields!”

“Sir, when you say roll…”

Piett sprinted for the pilot’s station. “I want that blast wave to hit us at an angle rather than broadside, or we could lose the tower, Ensign.”

“Aye sir.” And slowly the Lady began to tilt. 

“Brace yourselves!”  he called, unable to take his eyes off of the half finished sphere in front of him. 

Then….supernova. Piett closed his eyes against the brightness of the explosion, opening them again to face the blast wave hurtling at them.

The Lady was flung like a toy and Piett’s grasp was broken from the seat he’d been clutching. He tumbled toward the other side of the bridge, impacting the control boards near the weapons station. Bright fire lanced through his side and back, then---darkness.

***

Venka watched as the Lady began to roll, the Devastator and Avenger pulling back more swiftly, along with their Mon Calamari counterpart, and realized that the Executor was too big to pull back. 

“What is she doing?” asked a crewman.

“The Admiral knows he can’t get out of the blast radius. He’s giving her the best chance he can.”

Please work. Venka found himself thinking. And the Death Star exploded. 

The Devastator bucked like a tauntaun, but rode the wave well, along with Avenger. Venka was thus able to watch Piett’s gamble pay off and the Lady was hit in such a way that she was carried sideways by the wave, rather than being broken by it. But Venka realized that something was very wrong in short order. 

“Her engines are down! The moon’s gravity well is pulling her!!” The Lady began to tilt dangerously.

‘Tractor beam!” Venka yelled. “Broadest spectrum we can manage. Alert Avenger, get her to help!”

“Sir we can’t hold her for long.” 

“We can at least give her a chance to get her engines back online.”

Venka could only watch and hope.

***

Piett clawed his way back to consciousness. His right side felt hot and heavy and he could taste blood in his mouth. Smoke and burned circuits filled his nose, and alarms were wailing all over the bridge. He moved experimentally and paused to try and breathe through the white that lanced his vision. Punctured lung he realized. The cracked ribs were definitely broken now and not doing kind things to his insides. He tried short, careful breaths, which brought him to his hands and knees. 

“Re…. report!” he coughed. Nothing. 

“Lady, status of... Executor,” he panted, clinging to the panel before him and lurching to his feet.

“Engine reboot required,” the cool voice answered, giving him the most critical piece of information first. He used the control boards to support himself, slowly moving to the engineer’s station. He checked on the bodies in his way. Two unconscious, one dead. 

He made it to the engine controls and began to press the sequence. The starboard engines began to cycle back up but the port side remained stubbornly dead. Kriff. He didn’t need his ship to go in circles and enter Endor’s gravity well. 

“....Adm….l, re---nd” crackled from the back of the deck. He turned to make his agonizing journey back to the comm station, ending up crawling the last 5 metres. “Adm...l… Pi..t, ple….respo…”

He made it to Keller and knew without touching him that the boy was dead. His head was in a pool of blood,  his hand outstretched toward the Admiral and wide eyes surprised. Piett knelt beside him and gently moved his hand out of the way, then closed the young lieutenant’s eyes. Damn it. He knew there were tears on his face and couldn’t be bothered to care. He fumbled and found the right switch on the comm panel.

“Piett,” he gasped. “Status?”

“Sir….Venka sir. Your right...nes are firing… but… port side. Devastator and Aven… are tractoring….port side. Can we send assistance?”

“Yes,” he managed, “send repair crews. Find… find… Lord Vader…” Piett stopped to cough, once again going to hands and knees and noting the interesting spray of blood he was creating on the deck. 

“Sir! Are you…right sir?” 

“Find… Vader,” he panted, knowing he wouldn’t be conscious much longer. “Cease fire with … the .. fleet.” 

He collapsed back onto the deck. 

Chapter Text

Veers took a relieved breath when the power cycled back up in the lift. That wave could only have been the Death Star exploding and he was sure that the command tower would be lopped off. He still didn’t know why it hadn’t been, but hopefully that meant he could ask Piett. He had to shove the doors a bit when they didn’t open all the way at the bridge deck, but he clambered out, pausing to wipe blood out of his eyes. He didn’t remember getting that head wound, but it also didn’t matter. Alarms were blinking along the corridor and he kept his blaster ready just in case any more of the Emperor’s men were deciding to be coy. 

He reached the blast doors to the bridge at last, and palmed the panel. Nothing. He pulled out his comlink and thumbed it on.

“Piett, open the bridge doors, I’m outside.”

Nothing. Trying to quell the fear that sent through him, Veers opened a new channel to one of the engineers.

“Major! Can you override the bridge doors? I think they might be jammed.”

“They’re not jammed sir. The atmospheric doors have been sealed inside and can only be opened on the Admiral’s orders.”

Of course. Firmus was taking precautions against the intruders, but…..

“Major, the Admiral may not be able to give those orders, can you override?”

“I’m sorry sir.”

“Then get a team up here to cut them open.”

“Sir those doors can withstand heavy artillery fire. I’ll send a team but it will take awhile!”

“Do it,” Veers ordered. 

His comlink pinged once more.

“Sir, we have a Lambda shuttle approaching and the pilot says he has Lord Vader aboard in need of medical assistance.”

In his frantic dash to get to the bridge, Veers had almost forgotten that aspect of things. Three guesses who that pilot was too.

“Then get them aboard!” he barked. “Get Dr. Henley and inform him that he will attend Lord Vader in bay 12. On no terms are you to harm the pilot, is that clear?”

“Uh, yes sir…” 

“If anyone lays a hand on him, I will personally space them, is--- that ---clear?” 

“Yes sir.”

Where was that team of engineers?  

Veers paced and then, feeling somewhat foolish, he paused and looked up at the ceiling. 

“Lady?” he asked somewhat tentatively. Nothing happened--- but…damn it, his friend was on the other side and not responding.

“Lady, I know there’s more to you than just a ship. Your parameters are to protect us--protect the Admiral.” He rested a hand on the blast door. “He might be dying, Lady. You have to know who I am, please open the doors.”

Was that his imagination or did the lights flicker slightly? 

“Scan the bridge Lady. If he’s all right, don’t open these doors. If he’s not…”

Veers rested his forehead against the smooth metal, suddenly feeling abundantly weary. 

“This is your Admiral, Lady….. please .”

“Admiral not functioning optimally--requires assistance,” said a cool mechanical voice, and Veers gasped. Then, as the thunder of feet from the engineering team sounded behind him---- the doors slid open. 

I’ll be damned. 

Veers sprinted forward. He took the steps in the foyer in one jump and paused, taking in the bodies lying so still all around the bridge. The team pressed in behind him and he whipped around.

“Get the medics up here. While you’re waiting see what you can do-- if anyone’s alive.” 

And then he saw the slight form on the floor by the comms station and he couldn’t see anything else. 

He went to his knees and steeled himself, reaching for Piett’s throat to find a pulse. One breathless second, then...thin and thready, but there. Thank the Force. 

Veers could see that some shrapnel had embedded itself in his friends’ back, but he was more concerned with the tight, burbling breaths that Piett was making. As he looked closer, his suspicions were confirmed by the blood around his mouth and on the floor beneath his head.

Kriff it. Punctured lung.

He placed a hand on Piett’s outflung arm and thumbed his comlink again. “Where are the medics for the bridge?” 

“Sir they’re doing their best. We have lots of casualties down here sir!”

“Where’s Dr. Henley?” 

“Sir, he’s attending Lord Vader.”

Right right.

“Thank you.” He thumbed it off and his eyes fell on the emergency equipment across from the comm station--- including the upright grav sled secured to the wall. He was over there in a flash, undoing the security straps, vaguely hearing the men further in the bridge, tending to the survivors. 

He switched it on to test it and it bobbed up right away. Thumbing it off again, he maneuvered back to the fallen Admiral. He knew field triage, but when it came to moving a patient with chest trauma he would just have to give it his best. He folded one of the shock blankets to support Piett, so he could keep him on his side, then carefully hooked his arms beneath those of his friend and moved them both slowly toward the sled. Piett groaned.

“Hang on Firmus, I’m getting you out of here.” He carefully draped the Admiral onto the sled, packing more blankets along his back and securing the straps over his friend’s body to hold him in place. He flicked the switch and the sled bobbed up once more and Veers was moving them swiftly out of the bridge and into the corridors as he searched for the larger turbolift…there. Veers palmed the panel and got them both inside, when Piett coughed harshly and was suddenly awake. 

Veers knelt by him, trying not to be too horrified by the blood that sprayed out with each cough, but at last Piett managed to control it, wheezing. Veers seized one of the blankets that was helping keep the Admiral on his side and, recalling some of his triage manual, shoved it into Piett’s arms. 

“Hold onto that Firmus-- it’s supposed to help release the pressure a bit.” 

And finally, those hazel eyes fixed on him knowingly. 

“How’d….you get..in?”

“Your Lady let me in."

A pause.

"Firmus….. I think it’s entirely possible that you run a ship which is slightly in love with you.” 

Piett’s mouth curled a little at the edge. 

“Lord… Vader?” he asked, carefully taking small breaths and clutching the wadded up blanket to his chest. 

“On board. Dr. Henley is working with him, that’s all I know. The Death Star exploded---I’m assuming you know that obviously. Avenger and Devastator are helping keep us in place until our port engines can be repaired. Venka has been in communication with the Rebel Admiral--- no, enough talking, I don’t care what his name is----and we are getting our ship back under control. Beyond that I have no idea what will happen with the rebels. The rest of the Imperial fleet jumped away after the Death Star exploded, with a few exceptions due to damage in some cases, and possibly loyalty to Lord Vader in others.” 

Veers saw Piett open his mouth again. “No ---shut up--- I’m trying to tell you all I can so you don’t ask. Keep breathing. Vader was injured pretty badly but he got on comms to tell the fleet to stand down and agree to a cease fire. So now we’re all hovering above this moon which is apparently inhabited by tiny tree bears according to some of my men who were stationed down there.” 

The lift doors hissed open and Veers guided the sled out to the corridor. “Hey,” he grabbed a passing medic moving another grav sled with a moaning pilot. “How do I get to Henley’s med bay from here?”

The medic looked hassled. “You don’t---he is Lord Vader’s personal…. ” 

“This is the fleet Admiral and he has a punctured lung. Which. Way?”

The medic straightened. “To your left--8 doors down.”

“ Thank you. ” 

Veers tried not to run, but it was difficult as he listened to Piett fighting to breathe. At last he found the sickbay and the doors hissed open for him as he approached. Aaaaaand he hadn’t palmed the code panel so, how…? He had so many questions for Piett about the Lady when this was over….  

Then his eyes met Skywalker’s, who was leaning on the wall close to the doors, looking as though he’d been trampled by banthas. 

“I said no one is to enter this medbay…!” Henley’s outraged tones began.

“Well the ship let me in, so apparently she disagrees,” Veers shot back. Henley tossed a quick glance over his shoulder at the General ---saw his face---and then motioned for one of his doctors to assist. 

Veers stepped back and allowed the man to do his job as Skywalker came to his side.

“How bad?” he asked quietly.

“He’s conscious and responsive, but he also got tossed across the bridge by the shock wave, so it’s rather a miracle he’s alive. What happened on the Death Star?”

“The Emperor is dead,” the young commander replied, and Veers did not get weak knees ever, even in relief, “my Father---the suit was badly damaged we’re trying to stabilize his breathing.”

And that’s a bit of irony thought Veers, exhaustion hitting him hard, the top two commanders of the Imperial fleet both down with breathing problems. 

But Skywalker clearly needed to sit down, and frankly so did he, so he steered them both over to a couple of visitor chairs that had been shoved to the wall so that the doctors could work. The Jedi allowed himself to be maneuvered and both of them sank down---watching the medical professionals work on their respective charges. 

Piett had been moved to one of the examination beds and it didn’t take long for the doctor working on him to turn and call out to Henley.

“Sir, the Admiral has a punctured lung and it’s collapsing! He needs surgery right away.” 

Henley couldn’t look up, his hands flying over Vader’s chest panel. “Grab the med droids and get him to the nearest suite then! I’ll join you as soon as I can!” 

Veers knew there was nothing more he could do for his friend, but inaction was not natural to him, and he clenched his hands hard as they swept Piett out and into the surgical bay further into the medical quarters. 

Skywalker looked to be on the verge of sleeping or unconscious and Veers decided he could do more good out with the men, given that both the commanding officers were in sickbay. He rose to his feet.

“You are not going anywhere General,” Henley snapped, still not looking, which. All right. Impressive. “Until that head wound is seen to.”

“It’s fine,” Veers stated coldly. But a medic was already headed his way with a scanner so he sighed and sat once more.

“Surely the commander here needs this more than I do,” he put in. 

The Rebel opened startled blue eyes to look at him.

“Oh his turn is coming,” Henlely said, sounding less stressed, “ that’s got it. Hook up the monitor there. Yes.”  

The doctor finally turned around to face them as his subordinates continued to remove pieces of Vader’s armor. 

“I am the best. Monuments should be erected to me.” Skywalker rolled his eyes and shared a look with Veers and, all right----that was a thing for them now, apparently. 

“Now, here is what will happen.” The medic finished wiping blood off of Veers’ head and sprayed cold bacta over the wound. 

“Skywalker you’re up next and I can already tell you need bacta immersion. General, you’re battered but I accept this once , that you need to leave, given that our top two officers have decided to try and kill themselves once more. I will of course, keep you updated. Now excuse me--I need to go and reconstruct our Admiral yet again, honestly……” He moved toward the surgery suite still muttering. 

Veers rose. “Good luck Skywalker.”

The young Jedi gave him a weary smile. “And you sir.” 

****

After finding Gherant, happily in one piece, Veers commed Venka to let him know he was acting Fleet Admiral again and enjoyed the swearing coming from the other side of the link. Then, he sent communications to Ackbar, Mon Mothma and Organa offering to meet on the Executor. This suggestion was received with some skepticism, so he tabled that until he could talk to Skywalker. 

Next up was checking on the massive engine room for the Lady and he found that the port engines were now operating at half capacity, so she was once again space worthy. Gherant reported that bridge repairs were going well, but it was still a bit of a mess. Veers sent his sympathy and offer of Piett’s whiskey later, which got him a surprised laugh and acceptance. 

Then it was checking with the TIE group commanders on the recovery efforts from the space battle. It seemed that the X-Wings and TIE groups were working together to sweep the debris field and look for survivors, and Veers allowed himself to be slightly encouraged at that small step toward working together. 

Finally, Veers handed over any further decisions to Gherant and Venka, and went to take a break in his own quarters, stopping by Henley’s sickbay first. 

Lord Vader was nowhere to be seen and Veers assumed that meant he had been removed to his private medical suite. Skywalker was dead to the world, and clearly fresh from bacta, and Piett was also asleep the next bed over, where Henley, eyes rather red rimmed, was checking readings. 

“Doctor. How are our patients?” 

And Vader’s physician must  be tired because he answered without any of his usual quips.

“Lord Vader is in his bacta tank. Commander Skywalker is doing very well and just needs to sleep. Being young doesn’t hurt either. Our Admiral may or may not need a bacta dip, depending on how swiftly his lung heals. I’m keeping him under for the next 24 hours and will monitor that.”

“How soon do you think the Commander will wake up? I have some rather pressing business with the Rebel command and he would be useful for those talks.”

Henley shrugged. “Next 12 hours? I’ll let you know. General….” Henley uncertain was quite a unique sight.

“Now that the Emperor is dead….well, there are medical procedures that I could do to….help Lord Vader.”

“I don’t follow--- I thought he had to have that suit to stay alive.”

“Well, he needs certain elements true, but….when he was initially injured, those wounds were not treated as they could have been. I could do something about that---advances in biomechanics and…”

Veers felt ill. “Wait.” He paused. “Are you telling me that Palpatine---may he take his time rotting in all Nine Corellian Hells---didn’t treat Lord Vader on purpose? ”

Henley nodded and for the first time the two men felt themselves in one accord. 

“I would ask young Skywalker as he is the next of kin, but he is unconscious and likely does not know the extent….”

“Do what you need to Doctor. Anyone who questions that decision may see me.”

“Thank you General.” Henley looked vastly relieved. 

Veers needed a drink. 

Chapter Text

Luke was definitely not born with the political genes in the family. Once Luke had awoken, feeling tremendously better, Veers had asked to meet with him, and then proceeded to lay out the immense amount of negotiation, discussion and practical necessities that needed to be done. While Luke was appreciative that all this was important, it was also overwhelming. He had commed Leia straightaway and his sister had been brilliant--- organizing the most important things immediately and agreeing that yes, all right, they would meet on the Executor once both of its top commanders were able to. 

Now, he was waiting in Henley’s sickbay as the doctor was finishing up the first, of what would apparently be many, procedures to help his father. Across from him, the fleet Admiral was still in a drug induced sleep and it was strange to see him this way. Luke didn’t have much else to do and so he studied the man. He felt slightly guilty, as the Admiral may not have appreciated that while conscious but, well. 

Piett was indeed shorter than Luke himself by an inch or two, and when those intelligent eyes were closed and the lines of tension and constant exhaustion were relaxed, he looked younger than he really was. Luke was aware now that the Admiral was also from an Outer Rim planet and this made him suddenly feel a kinship with the man. This knowledge was also in line with what he had been learning about his Father--Anakin Skywalker was not interested in Core sycophants, but in men who proved themselves for promotion. Given the Admiral's actions in recent events, that faith had been well founded.

Which---well. There was so much Luke was learning about the complicated man that in many ways bore two personas. Where was the merge between the two? How did his Father reconcile throttling one man and rewarding the morals of another?

His musings were interrupted by the swish of a door and Henely came through followed by...Anakin. Luke raised his eyebrows. Veers had informed him of the Emperor’s horrific decisions regarding his Father’s health and Luke had seconded the General’s decision to allow Henley to get to work on helping Anakin recover---at least as much as he could.

So far, they had been able to remove much of the armor and Anakin was clad in a simple black suit, much like Luke’s. He still wore the signature chest plate which allowed him to breathe, but it was now attached to a clear oxygen apparatus that covered his lower face. But his eyes….

The clear blue (Henley had removed the cataracts) that gazed at Luke was a familiar sight. He saw them in the mirror often. He was still unnaturally pale, but the horrific scarring that had marred his head was closed--leaving only thin red lines. 

Luke must have looked his shock.

Vader-- Anakin!-- smiled. 

“That different my son?”

And the voice. No longer inhibited by the vocoder. It was deep and rich and real.  

“Father,” Luke said, rising. “I...I have no words. Just gratitude.”

“As you should,” put in Henley behind them, checking Piett’s readings. 

And to actually see Anakin’s reaction to his doctor... Luke was glowing with the joy of that-- to share an eyeroll with his Father. 

Anakin’s attention shifted to his Admiral and Luke realized that the feelings he was getting from his Father in the Force were --- wonder, joy, color !--- at being able to see with his own eyes after all these years. 

“How does he fare Doctor?” he asked Henley.

“Well, my Lord--sorry--General,” Henley responded. Anakin had insisted that the name of Vader be put aside, but he was not yet ready to be called by his name---that had to be earned.

“Well, he’s narrowly escaped bacta this time. I’ll let him wake up in a few hours. But let me be clear,” Henley was raising the finger again and Luke felt his Father’s warm amusement. “Absolutely not on duty yet and I don’t care if you discover a third Death Star!!”

“Ah. Well, Doctor, I can appreciate that, but…”

Henlye was already growing red in the face. “No, no buts, General…”

“Doctor. Your skills are indeed breath taking. You have lived this long because you are indeed unique and useful to me. But you answer to me and not the other way around. I am afraid we require Admiral Piett for our discussion with the … Alliance High Command. Of course, once that is complete, I will personally see to it that he takes sick leave. I’m sure General Veers will assist.” And Luke was treated to his first actual view of his Father’s face with  the clear respect he had for his Admiral, as Anakin reached a tentative hand to briefly touch Piett’s shoulder. 

Henley opened his mouth. “And that is my final word , Doctor. Come my son, General Veers would like to see us on the bridge.” 

***

Piett gazed around the room, still trying to process that this was actually happening. They had arranged for this first meeting to be relatively small-- only including the most senior officials on both sides of the conflict and thus, the Senior Bridge Officer’s Conference room was adequate for the job. 

He was slightly suspicious that it had been chosen purely for its sofas and comfortable chairs, given the way that Veers had positively shepherded him into a sofa and then sat next to him like a guard dog, with young Skywalker on his other side. And he was already kriffing sick of the mother henning going around, though he granted that he still felt very tender, and pulling on his boots had not been his favorite experience. 

Still, he had the best seat in the house in order to view all the others as they entered the room. He knew Admiral Ackbar by sight--who didn’t-- and the Mon Calamarian met his eye and gave him a brief nod as he took his seat across the room. An elegant red headed woman was next, and Piett knew it to be Mon Mothma from all the wanted posters. She was closely followed by Organa and Solo, and a…..droid? Next to him, Skywalker sat up a bit and the blue and white astromech whistled happily and zoomed over to him. Organa was trying to subtly motion the commander to come over to her, but Skywalker shook his head. Piett was then treated to Organa looking him in the eye assessingly before turning her attention to Veers next to him. She then stared for an unnerving amount of time at Skywalker, but before Piett had a chance to wonder about it too much, Lord--- that is---- General Skywalker entered the room, followed by Rear Admiral Venka. 

Everyone rose to their feet, Veers being quite discreet with the hand he had around Piett’s elbow and--- damn it, yes he needed it. He was already tired (damn Henley for being right) and they hadn’t even started. 

“Thank you all for coming,” the General began, “do sit.”

Piett had only had a brief astonishing moment to see Lord Vader’s very different appearance before this meeting, and it was still taking him long moments to realize that he could see his commanding officer’s face and hear inflections in his voice that he never could before. 

“I know we’re all tired,” the older Skywalker began, and he looked right at Piett with that, which caused him to sit a little straighter. He felt Veers roll his eyes next to him.  His commander smiled slightly--- He can smile--- and continued. “So this first meeting does not need to be long. There are many details that need to be discussed--- I know this. But this is not that meeting. Here we need to lay out clear intentions and allow everyone to ask the big questions that I know are present. Thus, I will begin.” 

Next to him, Skywalker tensed slightly and Piett glanced at him curiously.

“I was once Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight. You have known me now these 20 years as Darth Vader. I am now putting that aside, thanks to my son, Luke and to my...daughter, Senator Organa.”

Organa was staring at her hands as though they had personally offended her, and beside Piett, Veers was radiating his shock. In looking around the room, Piett could see Veers wasn't alone. It did explain a great deal however....

“There is much for which I must atone and that is not the topic for this meeting. You all should know that I have no intentions of taking the throne. I am content  for us to begin discussions of what a new government formation should look like. I offer the former Imperial fleet known as Death Squadron, at your disposal”--he lifted his eyes to meet Piett’s at that, and Piett realized incredulously that his commander was seeking his approval for such a decision. He gave a slight nod, what else could he do? He had sworn to himself to follow this man no matter what and that had not changed. Anakin nodded back and continued---”and we will support the Alliance with any resistance from former Imperial cells.” 

“And your officers are in agreement with such a dramatic reversal?” asked Mon Mothma, looking at him directly. Piett wondered if the Rebels also had a who’s who gallery as they did. She seemed to know that he was the senior officer in the room, next to Vad--the General.

“We are ma’am,” he responded, as Veers shifted slightly next to him. “I do not know if this is the time for our stories, but myself, General Veers, and Rear Admiral Venka have been involved in this effort to overthrow Palpatine for sometime. Our lives would have been forfeit had it failed.”

“I’m given to understand they nearly were,” Organa spoke for the first time, with tones of betrayal, and Piett was deeply curious as to all the family dynamics at work here. “Since apparently my brother felt it necessary to lie to all of us and place himself in grave danger,  in order to retrieve you, Admiral.”

Veers huffed in offense next to him and Skywalker actually hissed “ Leia! ”  But Piett met her eyes with understanding. This was the young princess who had been tortured by her own Father and barely escaped them at Bespin. Piett found himself curiously unoffended. 

“And I am deeply grateful for that, your highness, or I would not be here today.” 

“ None of you would be here today, if it were not for the Admiral’s actions in our recent battle,” Veers snarled. “He literally put himself and our ship between you and the Death Star, you ungrateful…”

“General.” Anakin’s authoritative voice stopped Veers cold. 

Veers subsided, but the protective fury on both sides of him—-Skywalker was glaring at his sister—- had Piett wanting to disappear into the sofa. Organa was looking slightly embarrassed and Piett wondered, not for the first time, if she was also privy to silent conversations, given the intense look Skywalker was sending her. 

“I apologize Admiral Piett, it is true that your courage helped win this battle.” She raised tentative brown eyes to his. “This--- this is not easy.” 

Truer words had never been spoken.

“No offense taken your Royal highness,” he responded with a smile at her. “I assure you, you are not alone in finding this difficult. Perhaps, my Lor--- General ,  some tea would not be amiss before we continue?”

The princess actually offered him a small smile back, Ackbar was nodding approvingly and Veers hissed next to him under his breath---- Vader whisperer. The young Jedi chuckled and patted his shoulder and the whole room relaxed a fraction.

Thank you Piett.

He threw startled eyes to his commander who was looking at him in clear approval and suddenly Piett wondered if that look had ever happened behind the fearsome mask.

I can assure you it did many times, Admiral. Now if you and General Veers would attempt to use your training and shield your excessively loud thoughts —-next to him Veers stiffened—- we can focus on this peace negotiation. 

Yes my Lord. Piett smiled.

Chapter Text

It was very late--somewhere near 0100 hours---and this suited Veers and Piett well, as they had the Senior Officers Common room to themselves. They had claimed a table near the viewport and both had Corellian brandy in front of them.

Technically Piett was supposed to be in his quarters on medical leave (and if anyone asked he was). However, wearing his uniform and being quite confident solved many problems and quelled any questions. After all, it was a very short list of people that would question the Fleet Admiral’s actions. 

But he’d had enough rest and was too preoccupied with all that was going on, to be able to actually relax. He’d made it to his quarters with Veers’ assistance after that first meeting, and slept for 17 hours, and he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. 

He was barred from the bridge for another 48 hours, so he had waited impatiently for Veers’ shift to end and practically pounced on his friend to drag him off for a drink. 

“All right, I’m always happy to stick it to Henley, but one drink Admiral, then we will sneak you back to where you actually ought to be.”

“This is my ship,” Piett grumbled, shifting a bit and opening his jacket further to relieve still tender ribs. “And the amount of people that are telling me what to do right now is getting out of hand.”

“Oh no,” Veers deadpanned, “poor you --people don’t want you drowning in your own blood, those bastards. ”

Piett rolled his eyes. “See? That, right there--- this, this overprotective nonsense….”

“It’s called friendship, Admiral. And you are a flaming hypocrite, as you would do the same if our roles were reversed.” 

Well.    All right.    Fair. 

“Now, that we’ve got your feelings out of the way, can we discuss more interesting things? Organa being a Skywalker for example?”

Piett snorted and took a drink. “Poor girl.”

Veers raised his eyebrows. “That...only you, Firmus. You take one look at the Rebel princess/Senator/Imperial killer and decide that she needs a nice cup of tea and a chat. And, here is the most unbelievable part--she agrees. If I wasn’t convinced she was Vader’s daughter before, that would have done it---they all listen to you!!”

Piett found himself flushing again. 

“I’m not trying …”

Veers smiled at his friend, and took another long drink. “Look, I’m just saying you have a gift. It’s why you’re so very good at what you do-- you read people well. And---- it doesn’t hurt when they underestimate you and you proceed to blow their expectations into space dust. Happened with me after all.”

Piett gave him a small smile and salute with his glass. “Thank you General.”

“Now tell me all about how your stunt with the AT-ST went. I still haven’t heard and I need to know just how you did that much damage to the hangar….Max?” 

Veers was coughing on his drink and trying to scramble to his feet and fasten his jacket at the same time. 

Oh damn.

Piett set his drink down as well, but  was slower to his feet due to a healing lung. He was not surprised to see his commander standing before them, giving them a cool assessing look. Piett almost missed the mask--seeing the General’s face and not being able to read it was worse. 

“I was unaware that my personal order had been countermanded, Admiral, in regard to you being on duty.”

Piett swallowed. “My Lor---General, sorry, it wasn’t. I….I have no excuse sir.”

The former Sith lord offered a small smile. “It has been a long time since I have been able to have a drink. That is no reason why you shouldn’t finish yours. At ease Admiral, General. I trust you both know that you are in no danger from me.”

Both men relaxed into parade rest and glanced at each other. 

“General Veers, I would like a word with the Admiral, if you would not mind excusing us.”

Veers knew an implicit order when he heard one, and snapped off a salute. He offered a pitying look to his friend --- thank you for that Max -- and left the lounge. 

***

Anakin regarded the shorter man in front of him and was gratified to realize that Piett was indeed practicing his mental shielding-- stance impeccable, despite his undone jacket and undoubted physical discomfort.

“Sit Admiral, this won’t take long.”

Piett did so warily, and Anakin took Veers’ abandoned seat. It was already slightly easier to sit thanks to Henley’s work, but there was much to be done. 

“As you know, Dr. Henley has been doing some good work on my behalf. And it his belief that I may be able to get more extensive medical help on Kamino.”

Piett was clearly searching his memories for why that  triggered something. 

“They created the clones used by the Old Republic,” Anakin said mildly. Piett nodded and reached tentatively for his drink, clearly unsure if he should have it or not in front of his commanding officer. 

“Go ahead Admiral, you’ve earned many more than that.” 

“I am telling you this as I will be gone for significant periods as I work to rebuild physically as well as…..personally.” Anakin felt Piett’s curiosity and sympathy break through his shields, though he did an admirable job of trying to hold his emotions back. 

“My presence is still difficult for this fledgling alliance, as you can imagine. My… children are here and Luke wants me to stay, but….”

Not my daughter. My daughter who loathes me. My daughter with Padme’s eyes and face….

Piett gazed at him steadily and Anakin was again so grateful for this slight, resilient, loyal Admiral in front of him.

“I’m telling you this Piett, because you will need to be the liaison between our two forces a great deal of the time. I know I’m asking much from you. But I cannot think of a better man for the job.”

Piett shifted uncomfortably---it could be his healing injuries, or his embarrassment---but it was a familiar move and Anakin smiled. 

“You’ve never had it easy have you Admiral? I have not made it so. I know you have wondered why I didn't kill you after Bespin.”

Piett’s thoughts trickled through--- Throat tightening in anticipation, half the officers staring at him, waiting for him to crumple….

Piett took a drink and then, rather boldly asked “Why didn’t you my Lord?”

Anakin allowed the slip. “Because at last I had a competent officer. One that had the courage of conviction, even if he was sure it would kill him. And you never made excuses even if I told you an asteroid field wasn’t one. We both know I wasn’t thinking clearly there.” 

Piett actually managed a small incredulous laugh.

“What I am trying to get around to saying Admiral, is that I am sorry for the strain you have been under these past years, and I shall endeavor to be a better commander in future--whatever that future looks like. You stood by me and I would like the opportunity to serve with you on a more equal footing.”

Anakin held out his hand and Piett gripped it firmly.

“Thank you sir--- I look forward to it.”