Categories > Movies > Star Wars > Vengeance
DISCLAIMER: See the Prologue.
SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: See the Prologue.
/IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER:/ See the Prologue.
NOTE: The scenes with Leia's nightmare and Luke's Force training exercise have been tweaked to suit AU circumstances, and the scene with Xizor has been glossed over. Furthermore, the ages of Red-Dragon and Moon-Blossom have been changed, so now Red-Dragon is several years older than Luke (I'd say about Han's age), and Moon-Blossom is now eight years old. (PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED SINCE THE FIRST TIME IT WAS POSTED.)
Chapter 1
Chewbacca roared in his rage. Stormtroopers tried to subdue him, but the Wookiee took them down by knocking them together or throwing them off -
Another second later, and Kain would have his troops shoot Chewie on site if he hadn't already dealt with the problem himself. He was certainly big and strong, but even he didn't stand a chance against this deranged and dangerous Sith lord -
Han yelled at his best friend, trying to calm him down.
Leia just stared, unable to move or to believe this was happening.
Han kept talking: "Chewie, there'll be another time! The princess, you have to take care of her. D'you hear me, huh?"
They were in a dank chamber in the bowels of Cloud City on Bespin, where Han's so-called friend Lando Calrissian had betrayed them to Darth Kain and his master, the Emperor himself. This chamber looked like it was made out of same dark, volcanic rock, and the only exit was a walkway leading off to some exit from this surreal place, making it look impossibly far away to reach. The scene was illuminated in a sickly golden light, making it seem even more surreal. Leia could see this unusual assembly of people all around her.
Chewbacca blinked at Han, the half-assembled droid C-3PO jutting from a sack on the Wookie's back.
Forenze, a female Fosh who worked as a Rebel medical officer, stood with her fellow captives with a black eye and rumbled, slightly bloodstained clothes, glaring at everyone around.
The traitor Calrissian stood off to one side with a scowl on his face.
There were more guards and techs. Several stormtroopers stood scattered around like life-size paper cut-outs.
Standing out like a sore appendage was the Emperor himself, twisted glee written all over his ugly features.
Standing next to him was his Sith apprentice, Darth Kain himself - once known throughout the galaxy as the highly feared top-notch bounty hunter, Boba Fett.
The female bounty hunter Aurra Sing stood next to Kain, her face just as emotionless, even though she wasn't wearing a helmet like her Sith counterpart.
Near them stood an Imperial officer, Admiral Piett, looking rather ill at the entire scene, and almost if he was having some great internal debate with himself.
And all the while, the stink of liquid carbonite permeated the air around them all, a combined smell of morgues and graves.
The Wookie nodded, calmer now - even though new guards now moved in and put cuffs on him. He understood Han, but he still didn't like it.
Han and Leia looked at each other. The next moment, the emotion took them, and they came together and kissed, trying to seize the moment -
Just then, two stormtroopers jerked Han away, backed him onto the liftplate over the makeshift freezing chamber.
Suddenly, three words erupted from Leia, unbidden: "I love you!"
Brave and strong, Han nodded to her. "I know."
The Ugnaught techs, hardly taller than half Han's height, moved in, unbound his hands, and stepped away.
Han and Leia made eye contact as the liftplate sank, lowering him into the pit. He locked his gaze with hers and held it... until the cloud of freezing vapor boiled up and blocked their view -
Chewie yelled; Leia didn't understand his speech, but she certainly understood his rage, his grief, his feeling of helplessness.
Han!
Stinking, acrid gas spewed up and rolled over them, an icy fog, a soul-chilling smoke through which Leia saw Kain watching it all under his inscrutable mask. She heard Threepio sputter, "What - What's going on? Turn 'round! Chewbacca, I can't see!"
She had to get out of there -
Leia sat up abruptly, her pulse racing, the sheets were sweaty and wadded around her, and her night garment damp. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she looked at the chronometer inset for the time: three hours past midnight. She considered opening a vent to the cool air of the Tatooine night outside.
A bad dream, she thought. That's all it was.
But she knew that was a lie. She knew it wasn't some nightmare of possible fears coming true, but was a memory that had actually happened. The man she loved was embedded in a block of carbonite, and had been hauled away like a crate of cargo by a bounty hunter. Now, he was still somewhere out there in the vastness of the galaxy.
She felt the emotions well, felt them threaten to spill out in tears, but she fought them back.
She was Leia Organa, Princess of the Royal Family of Alderaan, elected to the Imperial Senate, a worker in the Alliance to Restore the Republic. However, Alderaan was gone, destroyed by Vader - no, Tarkin - and the Death Star; the Imperial Senate was disbanded; the Alliance was outmanned and outgunned ten thousand to one, but she was who she was.
Leia might not have been a smuggler or pilot like Han Solo, or a Rebel pilot like Luke Skywalker or the other member of the Rebel Alliance's Rogue Squadron, but even in the face of all that, she still followed one philosophy like her friends: Ignore the overwhelming odds and fight.
She wouldn't cry; she would continue to fight.
Three hours past midnight, and half the planet slept.
Luke Skywalker stood barefoot on the steelcrete platform sixty meters above the sand, looking at the taut wire. He wore plain black pants and shirt and a black leather belt. He was also staying at the residence of his first and former master, Obi-Wan Kenobi.
The lights under the canopy were so dim that he could barely see the stranded-steel line. The carnival was done for the night, the acrobats and their dewbacks were fast asleep, and the crowds had long since left.
Luke, who had been training in the ways of the Force for a relatively short time, had just begun to learn the Jedi method of clouding people's minds and their judgment. In fact, he had just used it for the first time minutes ago, to "persuade" the guard to allow him in, who was now still standing outside, oblivious to Luke's presence here.
Luke took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. If he were to fall, he'd surely kill himself, since there wasn't even a net underneath to catch him, just in case. He didn't have to do this, but he chose to do this.
It's just a good thing that my father isn't here to see this; otherwise he might choke behind his mask.
He could feel himself stare out into space as he thought about his father...
While Luke and Vader were on Dagobah, Yoda revealed the truth to them which had been shirked around for so long: That Darth Vader was not his father's murderer, but his actual father. His father... Once Anakin Skywalker, Luke's father had been corrupted by the Dark side of the force through the manipulations of Darth Sidious - better known throughout the galaxy as Emperor Palpatine. In a sense, Anakin Skywalker did die, reborn as Darth Vader, the new Dark Lord of the Sith.
From there, Luke's memory continued to replay events in order as though watching them on a holovid...
Both Luke and Vader had gotten visions of their friends in trouble, and so they hastily departed from Yoda's home to go rescue them. They arrived... and ended up participating in a fight rather than a rescue.
In the aftermath of the Battle of Cloud City, things were a mess. They had failed to rescue Han from the Empire and whatever bounty hunters they'd employed to hunt him down. Luke's right hand had been cut off by the lightsaber of Vader's successor, the maniacal Darth Kain, and had nearly been killed after that. But Vader was definitely worse off for wear. He had confronted the Emperor, who had tortured him with Force lightning, and then savagely restored the memory of his bitter and evil life as his master's slave, hoping that Vader would be tempted to return to the Dark side. If anything, seeing the grievous errors of his actions in hindsight had only helped solidify the former Sith's resolve more than ever. With his offer harshly declined, the Emperor blasted Vader out of the window of the room they were in, causing him to fall several stories and painfully collide with the ground, nearly killing him.
They had indeed been beaten that day - but it was not the end of the conflict. Not by a long shot...
Luke pushed those thoughts aside for now, ready to try to use the Force in this simple exercise -
Suddenly, as if Yoda were right next to him and listening to his thoughts, his words echoed in Luke's mind: No... try not. /Do... or do not. There is no try./
Of course/, Luke thought to himself. Ready to use the Force in this simple exercise, he called upon it, not as a master summoning his servant but as one friend calling upon another. Now more of Yoda's wisdom echoed in his mind... /The Force is my ally.
With that, he began walking across the wire.
He didn't walk cautiously like the performers who walked the wire, but casually like a pedestrian would along a city sidewalk - in fact, with the Force, the wire seemed as wide as one. Maintaining his concentration, he walked along...
But even as he did so, he could feel more dark, sad memories coming back to haunt him, like from that cave back on Dagobah where the Dark side was strong. His walk turned brisk, and that turned into a jog, and soon enough, Luke was running across the taut wire. As much as he told himself not to think about it, Luke could almost feel the Dark side of the Force catching up with him - and gaining...
Four hours past midnight, and half the planet slept.
Darth Vader opened his eyes. Despite the late hour - or early, if one wanted to see it that way - he was not sleeping but meditating. And just moments ago an eerie premonition had touched his awareness.
He sat cross-legged in his private tent in the Tusken encampment, deep in the Jundland Wastes of Tatooine. It had been several months since that day when he arrived, when he allowed the Sandpeople to capture him and take him before their chieftain. It had been his hope that he could do something in restitution to make up for his slaughter of their people so many years ago. By the laws of their kind, he should have been executed on the spot for his actions. But the chieftain, realizing their captive was not only repentant, but had no love for Jabba the Hutt and planned to depose the despot once and for all, had decided upon an alternative sentence. He declared Vader a Tusken and recruited him as a tribal shaman, and when the time was right Vader would lead the Tuskens in a revolt against Jabba.
He stood and ducked out of the tent into the bone-numbing cool of the night. Dome-shaped bantha-hide tents dotted the sands, glowing amber in the light of the fires of the camp guards - women guards, for nearly all the able-bodied Tusken men were at Jabba's palace, keeping his newly captured krayt dragon fed and under control. The tribe's banthas dozed where they had been tethered just outside camp, and here and there slumbered the dappled, spiked hulk of a massif. Overhead, a dark blue sky glittered with the splendors of the cosmos, the three moons the only interruptions in the star-patterned night.
Vader knew that Luke was here on Tatooine as well - with the Force, he could sense his son several miles away - but he knew that his son was in danger.
Not mortal peril - not yet. But someone, somewhere, in that endless blue, wished harm on Luke. As to why, Vader wasn't certain, but he had a mind to find out...
"Out early, Sky-Walker."
He turned at the sound of Chief Red-Dragon's voice. The Tusken leader was scarcely Han's age (approximately thirty standard years), but he had already governed his tribe for five years. He was respected among his kind as a cunning warrior and fair deliverer of justice, and while he was wary of outsiders, he was among the least openly hostile chieftains toward said outsiders.
"The spirits have awakened you?" Red-Dragon continued, fastening his belt as he stepped from the tent he shared with his wife and two small daughters.
"The Force," Vader amended, speaking the Tusken language he had painstakingly learned. "Something threatens my son."
Red-Dragon nodded. "It is dangerous to be a Jedi. Always was, but with the Empire..." He didn't finish. There was no need to.
Vader's gaze returned to the stars. He had a blood debt to be paying here on Tatooine, not to mention a rescue mission to be fulfilling. But if Luke was truly in danger...
I thought I'd lost my son once. If I lose him again, it will kill me.
"Chief Red-Dragon, I ask your permission to leave for a while. I must aid my son. But I will return, I swear it."
Red-Dragon shook his head, the chain of teeth about his neck clicking and rattling with the movement. "You are bound by the terms of the blood debt to free us from the bondage of Jabba the Hutt, the slaughterer whose demands for a dragon killed half our fighting men and enslaved the rest in his palace to care for the beast. Without you, Sky-Walker, we cannot hope to free ourselves. And if you go to the stars, you might not come back to help us."
"I would come back."
"Not if you die."
Vader let his gaze travel to the chieftain's tent. "Just seven days ago, Red-Dragon, I saw you throw yourself in front of a raging dewback to protect your young Moon-Blossom. You were..." Here, he searched for the right words - Tuskens had no word in their language for "luck," for they didn't believe in the concept, thinking all good and bad fortune was granted by the desert spirits. "You were blessed by the spirits to escape without injury to yourself or your daughter. But you took a risk - you could have died, died when your people needed you. As a chieftain, you must decide what will ultimately help your people more. I understand that. But as a fellow father, surely you can grant me this one reprieve?"
Red-Dragon looked back at his tent, where his oldest daughter hung around in the doorway, still rubbing her eyes sleepily but too eager to eavesdrop to go back to sleep. Then he belted out a hearty laugh that made the nearest sentries start and glare.
"Sky-Walker, you are many things - Jedi, Rebel, Tusken, outsider - but one thing you are not is a fool."
Vader could have argued that point, but now wasn't the time. "Is that a 'yes'?"
Red-Dragon raised a finger skyward. "The moons wane, Sky-Walker. Soon they vanish. Then they wax full and wane again." He then lowered his finger. "You have until then to do what you must do."
One month. He had one month to see what threatened Luke and come back. He just prayed it would be enough.
"Thank you, Red-Dragon," he said gratefully, bowing slightly.
Someone squealed, and Moon-Blossom came running across the sands as fast as her eight-year-old legs would permit. Red-Dragon chuckled as his daughter wrapped her little arms around Vader's knee.
"Want to go with you!" she demanded. "Want to go with Shaman Sky-Walker!"
Vader couldn't help but laugh himself. Moon-Blossom simply idolized him and followed him constantly, seeing him as a hero for aiding in the capture of the krayt dragon. Unfortunately, her infatuation of him tended to remind him of his murder of her people... and another massacre, one involving his own "people," within the sanctuary of the Jedi Temple...
"You cannot come," Vader told her. "You are needed here. You must help your mother and father take care of your baby sister, remember?"
She let go and craned her neck to look into his face. "I will if you bring me a present."
He laughed again. "I can arrange that."
Red-Dragon scooped Moon-Blossom up as Vader turned to his bantha, untied its tether, and mounted. He continued to watch the man as his steed shambled off in the direction of Mos Eisley, the nearest human settlement. Even when Vader had long since vanished into the night, he remained in that spot, still holding a now-dozing Moon-Blossom.
"May the spirits watch over you, Sky-Walker, and may your Force also serve you well," he murmured. "You will need all the guidance you can get."
And with that, he carried his daughter back into their tent.
It may have been past midnight on Tatooine, but deep in space, it was always "night."
However, Tomas Piett felt wide awake as he worked alongside some other Rebel pilots and technicians on new Rebel fighters. He volunteered to be a test pilot, especially since he was able to give them Imperial technology that was being developed when he had defected to the Alliance.
All Imperial officers carried their own datadiscs with whatever projects they may have been working on, things they had access to, etc. Just recently, between his defection and Darth Vader getting his memory back, the Alliance had certainly struck platinum that time, with all the information they had gotten out of it.
Vader... Once, Piett had deeply feared the Emperor's right-hand man, as had everyone else, friend or foe, and had so often wished him gone. He got his wish - but as the old saying went, "be careful what you wish for." After having served well long enough under the crazy and homicidal Darth Kain, as well as having witnessed enough Imperial brutality first-hand to completely shatter all of his former misconceptions about the Empire, the former Imperial Admiral defected to the Alliance.
Vader was worried about telling his Rebel superiors that he got his memory back, but stressed that now he had the benefit of hindsight - cursed with hindsight probably would have been more accurate - he now detested the Empire even more than ever before. A few of the high command had been skeptical, and with good reason, but as usual, Mon Mothma vouched for the former Sith.
Piett had been easily accepted into the Rebellion with little fuss, if any at all. Mothma offered to let him keep his rank of Admiral, thinking he deserved the title, but as Piett bitterly replied with a bit of a scoff: "With Kain in charge, the rank of 'admiral' is more like a euphemism for 'the next scapegoat for when Kain wants someone to blame and then kill.'" He also added that he'd probably be better off with a lower rank with less responsibility, much to Mothma's delight and amusement.
The ex-Imperial had requested to serve as a pilot, and after being tested for proficiency in that department with an X-Wing fighter, was then appointed to the rank of Second Commander. In the end, Piett felt quite proud and satisfied with himself.
Speaking of Rebel fighters... what he was helping with now were the test flights of new models the Alliance was manufacturing. Part of the information that was stored on his datadisc had to do with new models which the Empire was also now making - TIE Interceptors. These new, deadly fighters had a special kind of navigation computer in them which normal TIE fighters lacked, one which, if applied to Rebel fighters, would make the need for Astromech droids obsolete. So, not only would the Alliance have its usual X-Wing and Y-Wing fighters, but new fighters - called "A-Wings" and "B-Wings."
"Tomas?" came a voice from behind him. Piett turned around to see Wedge Antilles, practically a veteran pilot of Rogue Squadron. "The new A-Wing prototype is ready to go. The question is, are you ready too?"
Piett replied with a smile, "I sure am." Wedge smiled in return and led the way to where the A-Wing sat in the landing bay of the Rebel ship they were in.
Piett had seemingly no problems whatsoever fitting in with the rest of Rogue Squadron, for what he thought were the following reasons: He defected to the Alliance; he helped them at the "Battle of Cloud City," as it was now being called; Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader, respective Commander and Second Commander for the squadron, had said good things about him; and part of the information which he had contributed to the Alliance had helped spawn these new fighters for the Squadron.
The A-Wing was without a doubt one of the smallest fighters Piett had ever seen in his life; voicing his thoughts aloud, he said, "It looks like a flying wedge - no pun intended." Wedge chuckled.
Donning his flight helmet, he climbed into the A-Wing. It was made to be fast, which was clearly evident from its design. It may not have had the fearsome, almost predatory look of, say, an X-Wing... but appearances were often deceiving.
Bringing his systems online, Piett reported over the comm that everything was running just fine. Starting up the engines, the A-Wing hovered off the deck, and flew out of the landing bay, with several X-Wings behind it.
Whatever skepticism Piett may have had about this new little starfighter was quickly forgotten as he smoothly flew through space, getting a feel for how this craft handled. In fact, it almost felt natural, for him to be flying like this.
Imperial officers such as him were never TIE pilots or stormtroopers - those were always clones grown in labs. Here, Piett found yet another layer to the diversity and freedom he found here at the Rebel Alliance.
Piett felt his sense of freedom increase even more as he pulled his A-Wing into a loop around the narrow shaft-like midsection of the medical frigate...
Mon Mothma gazed out the viewport of her office on Home One, observing Commander Tomas Piett get into friendly fighter duels with the rest of Rogue Squadron in their X-Wings as a series of tests for the new A-Wing model. She was glad to see that Piett was such a contributing member to the Alliance; in fact, all the stress that had marred his features while serving under Darth Kain seemed to be fading away, a good sign that his change in environment, not to mention allegiances, was one of the best decisions of his life.
"You called, Mon Mothma?"
The leader of the Rebellion turned to see a female Fosh medical officer standing on the threshold - Dr. Vlask Forenze. The first person to befriend Darth Vader after he crashed on Yavin IV, injured and suffering from amnesia, she nursed him back to health and developed a friendly relationship with him.
"Yes, Dr. Forenze. I just wanted to let you know that you will have several new patients to perform tests on once they join the Alliance."
Forenze raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing there's been a sudden flux in new members?"
Mothma quirked a grin. "You could say that," she said, handing Forzene a datapad.
The Fosh's amber eyes nearly bulged out of her sockets as she saw the numbers. "More than a hundred new members!" she half-shrieked. "How in the name of the Force did this come to happen?"
Mothma was smiling now. "Apparently, it seems that Piett's act of defiance has become something of an inspiration to other Imperial officers suffering under Darth Kain's insane rule. A lot of these new recruits are former Imperial officers who have, quite frankly, had enough with serving what they now know to be a corrupt Empire. Add those on to the average recruits we normally get..."
Forenze's eyes started to glow a little as she realized what her superior was hinting at. "Being Rebels, we're all defiant by nature against the Empire... but thanks to Piett, it's starting to eat away at them like a virus!"
Mon Mothma was by no means a vindictive woman, but she did get a certain kind of pleasure by watching the Empire crumble, bit by bit, while former Imperials fled the Rebel Alliance. "Precisely, Doctor," she said. "If you need any supplies for all our new recruits, please feel free to let me know."
Forenze nodded as she departed. With her moods now uplifted, Mothma went back to observing Rogue Squadron doing what they did best...
Xizor leaned back in his form chair. The chair interpreted this move as an inquiry - which it then gave while demonstrating how its voxchip needed to be repaired: "What is your wish, Prince Sheeezor?" The Falleen prince shook his head at how it slurred out the first syllable of his name like that. "It is my wish that you be silent, chair," he commanded.
Obediently, the chair's vox shut up. The cloned leather seat hummed and adjusted the support to Xizor's new position. He sighed. He was rich beyond the income of many entire planets, and yet he had a malfunctioning form chair that couldn't even pronounce his own name correctly? No, that wouldn't do. He made a note to get it replaced - now, today, immediately - as soon as he was finished with his business here this morning.
Currently, the Dark Prince was in the middle of deciding whether or not to hire two new people for Black Sun. They were Epicanthix women known as the Pike sisters, and the holoproj he was observing showed the two of them using teräs/ käsi/ (the Bunduki art called "steel hands") taking down several armed and well-trained Imperial stormtroopers without even breaking a sweat. They were beautiful yet deadly, a combination he enjoyed. There were several advantages in hiring them, and, as far as he could see, no disadvantages. So, with a simple command, he told Guri to make it so.
Guri nodded and departed. With her long, silky blond hair her pale, clear blue eyes and her exquisite figure that was beautiful from any angle, she was quite attractive. In fact, some human males attracted to her might say she was too good to be true: They would be right. Guri was not human, but an HRD (Human Replica Droid) who could pass off as a normal human female, and even eat and drink like one. Her ability to avoid drawing such attention and suspicion to herself was also quite useful when it came to some other things she did, like killing without hesitation. She had cost Xizor nine million credits, but was worth every one of them. Too bad her creator was no longer among the living.
Credits were nothing to him; he practically had an ocean of billions, with more flowing in all the time from rivers of revenue. To Xizor, it was only a way of keeping score, nothing more.
Xizor glanced up at the ceiling of his office, where he'd had the pattern of the galaxy installed into the glowtiles. When the lights were dim - and they usually were - he had an edge-on view of the home galaxy floating holographically there, with more than a million individual glowing dust-small stars hand-drawn in it. It had taken the artist a few months to get it done and was worth a small fortune, but it was doubtlessly worth it in the end. Xizor liked to simply gaze upon it whenever he wanted to unwind, and sometimes liked to play this game with himself to see if he could successfully spot which areas of the galaxy where his influence was.
His galactic influence was surpassed only by the Emperor himself and the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Kain.
Third - but about to become /second/, if his plans went as intended. It had been months now since he'd seen the holo of Luke Skywalker learning the truth about his father, who was now known throughout the galaxy as Darth Vader. It had also been months since he'd overheard the Emperor and Darth Kain discussing how they would capture Skywalker and Vader - or kill them both. It had been months, and now the preliminaries were done. Xizor was ready to start getting things rolling.
Soon, revenge will be mine...
Checking the time from his room computer, he saw that he had that appointment an hour from now. It was but a short walk through the protected corridor's of Kain's, not much beyond where the Emperor's massive gray-green stone and mirror-crystal palace thrust itself up into the high atmosphere. A few kilometers, no more; a brisk stroll would put him there in a few minutes. He wouldn't hurry, because he did not want to arrive early.
A chime announced a visitor. It looked as though Xizor could take care of one other thing before meeting with Kain.
Mayth Duvel, one of his sublieutentants, came in with a petition from the Nezriti Organization, and it seemed they wished for an alliance with Black Sun. Xizor accepted a small package from Duvel, which was a token of their esteem. It was an oval-cut, bloodred Tumanian pressure-ruby that was easily worth several million credits. After contemplating the small gem, he told Duvel that he would consider it. Duvel bowed, backed away, and left.
After he was gone, Xizor stood and stretched. It was time to go see what Darth Kain wanted. Normally, he would have had more meetings and business to handle at this time, but when Sith lords who rule over you summon you for meetings, you don't argue. He pushed the thoughts of his plots and plans aside, not just because it was not the time and place to be thinking about them, but because he had to make it look as though there was no connection between himself and Kain, nothing that would arouse suspicion from anyone.
Xizor didn't worry about his plans succeeding, because they always did.
And this one plan for revenge was one whose success he was greatly looking forward to.
A/N: How was this, for showing all the different points of view, including those of Vader and Piett?
Note about Rebel fighters: If I'm not mistaken, different types of Rebel fighters were manufactured in this order: Y-Wing, X-Wing, A-Wing, B-Wing. Furthermore, their weapons are like this: Y-Wings have two lasers and two proton torpedo launchers, plus a couple of ion cannons or something; X-Wings have four lasers and two proton torpedo launchers; A-Wings have two lasers and two concussion missile launchers; and B-Wings have three lasers and three proton torpedo launchers.
Note about Vader, Piett, and possibly also Forenze: When doing things from Rebel points of view, I'm going to try and make sure that they get equal "screentime" with the others. Also, as for Piett's first name... well, you just may be surprised later on. Sorry, but that's all I'm going to say for now! (Wink wink!)
Next chapter is where the good guys plan and the bad guys plot... -Quillian
SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: See the Prologue.
/IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER:/ See the Prologue.
NOTE: The scenes with Leia's nightmare and Luke's Force training exercise have been tweaked to suit AU circumstances, and the scene with Xizor has been glossed over. Furthermore, the ages of Red-Dragon and Moon-Blossom have been changed, so now Red-Dragon is several years older than Luke (I'd say about Han's age), and Moon-Blossom is now eight years old. (PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED SINCE THE FIRST TIME IT WAS POSTED.)
Chapter 1
Chewbacca roared in his rage. Stormtroopers tried to subdue him, but the Wookiee took them down by knocking them together or throwing them off -
Another second later, and Kain would have his troops shoot Chewie on site if he hadn't already dealt with the problem himself. He was certainly big and strong, but even he didn't stand a chance against this deranged and dangerous Sith lord -
Han yelled at his best friend, trying to calm him down.
Leia just stared, unable to move or to believe this was happening.
Han kept talking: "Chewie, there'll be another time! The princess, you have to take care of her. D'you hear me, huh?"
They were in a dank chamber in the bowels of Cloud City on Bespin, where Han's so-called friend Lando Calrissian had betrayed them to Darth Kain and his master, the Emperor himself. This chamber looked like it was made out of same dark, volcanic rock, and the only exit was a walkway leading off to some exit from this surreal place, making it look impossibly far away to reach. The scene was illuminated in a sickly golden light, making it seem even more surreal. Leia could see this unusual assembly of people all around her.
Chewbacca blinked at Han, the half-assembled droid C-3PO jutting from a sack on the Wookie's back.
Forenze, a female Fosh who worked as a Rebel medical officer, stood with her fellow captives with a black eye and rumbled, slightly bloodstained clothes, glaring at everyone around.
The traitor Calrissian stood off to one side with a scowl on his face.
There were more guards and techs. Several stormtroopers stood scattered around like life-size paper cut-outs.
Standing out like a sore appendage was the Emperor himself, twisted glee written all over his ugly features.
Standing next to him was his Sith apprentice, Darth Kain himself - once known throughout the galaxy as the highly feared top-notch bounty hunter, Boba Fett.
The female bounty hunter Aurra Sing stood next to Kain, her face just as emotionless, even though she wasn't wearing a helmet like her Sith counterpart.
Near them stood an Imperial officer, Admiral Piett, looking rather ill at the entire scene, and almost if he was having some great internal debate with himself.
And all the while, the stink of liquid carbonite permeated the air around them all, a combined smell of morgues and graves.
The Wookie nodded, calmer now - even though new guards now moved in and put cuffs on him. He understood Han, but he still didn't like it.
Han and Leia looked at each other. The next moment, the emotion took them, and they came together and kissed, trying to seize the moment -
Just then, two stormtroopers jerked Han away, backed him onto the liftplate over the makeshift freezing chamber.
Suddenly, three words erupted from Leia, unbidden: "I love you!"
Brave and strong, Han nodded to her. "I know."
The Ugnaught techs, hardly taller than half Han's height, moved in, unbound his hands, and stepped away.
Han and Leia made eye contact as the liftplate sank, lowering him into the pit. He locked his gaze with hers and held it... until the cloud of freezing vapor boiled up and blocked their view -
Chewie yelled; Leia didn't understand his speech, but she certainly understood his rage, his grief, his feeling of helplessness.
Han!
Stinking, acrid gas spewed up and rolled over them, an icy fog, a soul-chilling smoke through which Leia saw Kain watching it all under his inscrutable mask. She heard Threepio sputter, "What - What's going on? Turn 'round! Chewbacca, I can't see!"
She had to get out of there -
Leia sat up abruptly, her pulse racing, the sheets were sweaty and wadded around her, and her night garment damp. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she looked at the chronometer inset for the time: three hours past midnight. She considered opening a vent to the cool air of the Tatooine night outside.
A bad dream, she thought. That's all it was.
But she knew that was a lie. She knew it wasn't some nightmare of possible fears coming true, but was a memory that had actually happened. The man she loved was embedded in a block of carbonite, and had been hauled away like a crate of cargo by a bounty hunter. Now, he was still somewhere out there in the vastness of the galaxy.
She felt the emotions well, felt them threaten to spill out in tears, but she fought them back.
She was Leia Organa, Princess of the Royal Family of Alderaan, elected to the Imperial Senate, a worker in the Alliance to Restore the Republic. However, Alderaan was gone, destroyed by Vader - no, Tarkin - and the Death Star; the Imperial Senate was disbanded; the Alliance was outmanned and outgunned ten thousand to one, but she was who she was.
Leia might not have been a smuggler or pilot like Han Solo, or a Rebel pilot like Luke Skywalker or the other member of the Rebel Alliance's Rogue Squadron, but even in the face of all that, she still followed one philosophy like her friends: Ignore the overwhelming odds and fight.
She wouldn't cry; she would continue to fight.
Three hours past midnight, and half the planet slept.
Luke Skywalker stood barefoot on the steelcrete platform sixty meters above the sand, looking at the taut wire. He wore plain black pants and shirt and a black leather belt. He was also staying at the residence of his first and former master, Obi-Wan Kenobi.
The lights under the canopy were so dim that he could barely see the stranded-steel line. The carnival was done for the night, the acrobats and their dewbacks were fast asleep, and the crowds had long since left.
Luke, who had been training in the ways of the Force for a relatively short time, had just begun to learn the Jedi method of clouding people's minds and their judgment. In fact, he had just used it for the first time minutes ago, to "persuade" the guard to allow him in, who was now still standing outside, oblivious to Luke's presence here.
Luke took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. If he were to fall, he'd surely kill himself, since there wasn't even a net underneath to catch him, just in case. He didn't have to do this, but he chose to do this.
It's just a good thing that my father isn't here to see this; otherwise he might choke behind his mask.
He could feel himself stare out into space as he thought about his father...
While Luke and Vader were on Dagobah, Yoda revealed the truth to them which had been shirked around for so long: That Darth Vader was not his father's murderer, but his actual father. His father... Once Anakin Skywalker, Luke's father had been corrupted by the Dark side of the force through the manipulations of Darth Sidious - better known throughout the galaxy as Emperor Palpatine. In a sense, Anakin Skywalker did die, reborn as Darth Vader, the new Dark Lord of the Sith.
From there, Luke's memory continued to replay events in order as though watching them on a holovid...
Both Luke and Vader had gotten visions of their friends in trouble, and so they hastily departed from Yoda's home to go rescue them. They arrived... and ended up participating in a fight rather than a rescue.
In the aftermath of the Battle of Cloud City, things were a mess. They had failed to rescue Han from the Empire and whatever bounty hunters they'd employed to hunt him down. Luke's right hand had been cut off by the lightsaber of Vader's successor, the maniacal Darth Kain, and had nearly been killed after that. But Vader was definitely worse off for wear. He had confronted the Emperor, who had tortured him with Force lightning, and then savagely restored the memory of his bitter and evil life as his master's slave, hoping that Vader would be tempted to return to the Dark side. If anything, seeing the grievous errors of his actions in hindsight had only helped solidify the former Sith's resolve more than ever. With his offer harshly declined, the Emperor blasted Vader out of the window of the room they were in, causing him to fall several stories and painfully collide with the ground, nearly killing him.
They had indeed been beaten that day - but it was not the end of the conflict. Not by a long shot...
Luke pushed those thoughts aside for now, ready to try to use the Force in this simple exercise -
Suddenly, as if Yoda were right next to him and listening to his thoughts, his words echoed in Luke's mind: No... try not. /Do... or do not. There is no try./
Of course/, Luke thought to himself. Ready to use the Force in this simple exercise, he called upon it, not as a master summoning his servant but as one friend calling upon another. Now more of Yoda's wisdom echoed in his mind... /The Force is my ally.
With that, he began walking across the wire.
He didn't walk cautiously like the performers who walked the wire, but casually like a pedestrian would along a city sidewalk - in fact, with the Force, the wire seemed as wide as one. Maintaining his concentration, he walked along...
But even as he did so, he could feel more dark, sad memories coming back to haunt him, like from that cave back on Dagobah where the Dark side was strong. His walk turned brisk, and that turned into a jog, and soon enough, Luke was running across the taut wire. As much as he told himself not to think about it, Luke could almost feel the Dark side of the Force catching up with him - and gaining...
Four hours past midnight, and half the planet slept.
Darth Vader opened his eyes. Despite the late hour - or early, if one wanted to see it that way - he was not sleeping but meditating. And just moments ago an eerie premonition had touched his awareness.
He sat cross-legged in his private tent in the Tusken encampment, deep in the Jundland Wastes of Tatooine. It had been several months since that day when he arrived, when he allowed the Sandpeople to capture him and take him before their chieftain. It had been his hope that he could do something in restitution to make up for his slaughter of their people so many years ago. By the laws of their kind, he should have been executed on the spot for his actions. But the chieftain, realizing their captive was not only repentant, but had no love for Jabba the Hutt and planned to depose the despot once and for all, had decided upon an alternative sentence. He declared Vader a Tusken and recruited him as a tribal shaman, and when the time was right Vader would lead the Tuskens in a revolt against Jabba.
He stood and ducked out of the tent into the bone-numbing cool of the night. Dome-shaped bantha-hide tents dotted the sands, glowing amber in the light of the fires of the camp guards - women guards, for nearly all the able-bodied Tusken men were at Jabba's palace, keeping his newly captured krayt dragon fed and under control. The tribe's banthas dozed where they had been tethered just outside camp, and here and there slumbered the dappled, spiked hulk of a massif. Overhead, a dark blue sky glittered with the splendors of the cosmos, the three moons the only interruptions in the star-patterned night.
Vader knew that Luke was here on Tatooine as well - with the Force, he could sense his son several miles away - but he knew that his son was in danger.
Not mortal peril - not yet. But someone, somewhere, in that endless blue, wished harm on Luke. As to why, Vader wasn't certain, but he had a mind to find out...
"Out early, Sky-Walker."
He turned at the sound of Chief Red-Dragon's voice. The Tusken leader was scarcely Han's age (approximately thirty standard years), but he had already governed his tribe for five years. He was respected among his kind as a cunning warrior and fair deliverer of justice, and while he was wary of outsiders, he was among the least openly hostile chieftains toward said outsiders.
"The spirits have awakened you?" Red-Dragon continued, fastening his belt as he stepped from the tent he shared with his wife and two small daughters.
"The Force," Vader amended, speaking the Tusken language he had painstakingly learned. "Something threatens my son."
Red-Dragon nodded. "It is dangerous to be a Jedi. Always was, but with the Empire..." He didn't finish. There was no need to.
Vader's gaze returned to the stars. He had a blood debt to be paying here on Tatooine, not to mention a rescue mission to be fulfilling. But if Luke was truly in danger...
I thought I'd lost my son once. If I lose him again, it will kill me.
"Chief Red-Dragon, I ask your permission to leave for a while. I must aid my son. But I will return, I swear it."
Red-Dragon shook his head, the chain of teeth about his neck clicking and rattling with the movement. "You are bound by the terms of the blood debt to free us from the bondage of Jabba the Hutt, the slaughterer whose demands for a dragon killed half our fighting men and enslaved the rest in his palace to care for the beast. Without you, Sky-Walker, we cannot hope to free ourselves. And if you go to the stars, you might not come back to help us."
"I would come back."
"Not if you die."
Vader let his gaze travel to the chieftain's tent. "Just seven days ago, Red-Dragon, I saw you throw yourself in front of a raging dewback to protect your young Moon-Blossom. You were..." Here, he searched for the right words - Tuskens had no word in their language for "luck," for they didn't believe in the concept, thinking all good and bad fortune was granted by the desert spirits. "You were blessed by the spirits to escape without injury to yourself or your daughter. But you took a risk - you could have died, died when your people needed you. As a chieftain, you must decide what will ultimately help your people more. I understand that. But as a fellow father, surely you can grant me this one reprieve?"
Red-Dragon looked back at his tent, where his oldest daughter hung around in the doorway, still rubbing her eyes sleepily but too eager to eavesdrop to go back to sleep. Then he belted out a hearty laugh that made the nearest sentries start and glare.
"Sky-Walker, you are many things - Jedi, Rebel, Tusken, outsider - but one thing you are not is a fool."
Vader could have argued that point, but now wasn't the time. "Is that a 'yes'?"
Red-Dragon raised a finger skyward. "The moons wane, Sky-Walker. Soon they vanish. Then they wax full and wane again." He then lowered his finger. "You have until then to do what you must do."
One month. He had one month to see what threatened Luke and come back. He just prayed it would be enough.
"Thank you, Red-Dragon," he said gratefully, bowing slightly.
Someone squealed, and Moon-Blossom came running across the sands as fast as her eight-year-old legs would permit. Red-Dragon chuckled as his daughter wrapped her little arms around Vader's knee.
"Want to go with you!" she demanded. "Want to go with Shaman Sky-Walker!"
Vader couldn't help but laugh himself. Moon-Blossom simply idolized him and followed him constantly, seeing him as a hero for aiding in the capture of the krayt dragon. Unfortunately, her infatuation of him tended to remind him of his murder of her people... and another massacre, one involving his own "people," within the sanctuary of the Jedi Temple...
"You cannot come," Vader told her. "You are needed here. You must help your mother and father take care of your baby sister, remember?"
She let go and craned her neck to look into his face. "I will if you bring me a present."
He laughed again. "I can arrange that."
Red-Dragon scooped Moon-Blossom up as Vader turned to his bantha, untied its tether, and mounted. He continued to watch the man as his steed shambled off in the direction of Mos Eisley, the nearest human settlement. Even when Vader had long since vanished into the night, he remained in that spot, still holding a now-dozing Moon-Blossom.
"May the spirits watch over you, Sky-Walker, and may your Force also serve you well," he murmured. "You will need all the guidance you can get."
And with that, he carried his daughter back into their tent.
It may have been past midnight on Tatooine, but deep in space, it was always "night."
However, Tomas Piett felt wide awake as he worked alongside some other Rebel pilots and technicians on new Rebel fighters. He volunteered to be a test pilot, especially since he was able to give them Imperial technology that was being developed when he had defected to the Alliance.
All Imperial officers carried their own datadiscs with whatever projects they may have been working on, things they had access to, etc. Just recently, between his defection and Darth Vader getting his memory back, the Alliance had certainly struck platinum that time, with all the information they had gotten out of it.
Vader... Once, Piett had deeply feared the Emperor's right-hand man, as had everyone else, friend or foe, and had so often wished him gone. He got his wish - but as the old saying went, "be careful what you wish for." After having served well long enough under the crazy and homicidal Darth Kain, as well as having witnessed enough Imperial brutality first-hand to completely shatter all of his former misconceptions about the Empire, the former Imperial Admiral defected to the Alliance.
Vader was worried about telling his Rebel superiors that he got his memory back, but stressed that now he had the benefit of hindsight - cursed with hindsight probably would have been more accurate - he now detested the Empire even more than ever before. A few of the high command had been skeptical, and with good reason, but as usual, Mon Mothma vouched for the former Sith.
Piett had been easily accepted into the Rebellion with little fuss, if any at all. Mothma offered to let him keep his rank of Admiral, thinking he deserved the title, but as Piett bitterly replied with a bit of a scoff: "With Kain in charge, the rank of 'admiral' is more like a euphemism for 'the next scapegoat for when Kain wants someone to blame and then kill.'" He also added that he'd probably be better off with a lower rank with less responsibility, much to Mothma's delight and amusement.
The ex-Imperial had requested to serve as a pilot, and after being tested for proficiency in that department with an X-Wing fighter, was then appointed to the rank of Second Commander. In the end, Piett felt quite proud and satisfied with himself.
Speaking of Rebel fighters... what he was helping with now were the test flights of new models the Alliance was manufacturing. Part of the information that was stored on his datadisc had to do with new models which the Empire was also now making - TIE Interceptors. These new, deadly fighters had a special kind of navigation computer in them which normal TIE fighters lacked, one which, if applied to Rebel fighters, would make the need for Astromech droids obsolete. So, not only would the Alliance have its usual X-Wing and Y-Wing fighters, but new fighters - called "A-Wings" and "B-Wings."
"Tomas?" came a voice from behind him. Piett turned around to see Wedge Antilles, practically a veteran pilot of Rogue Squadron. "The new A-Wing prototype is ready to go. The question is, are you ready too?"
Piett replied with a smile, "I sure am." Wedge smiled in return and led the way to where the A-Wing sat in the landing bay of the Rebel ship they were in.
Piett had seemingly no problems whatsoever fitting in with the rest of Rogue Squadron, for what he thought were the following reasons: He defected to the Alliance; he helped them at the "Battle of Cloud City," as it was now being called; Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader, respective Commander and Second Commander for the squadron, had said good things about him; and part of the information which he had contributed to the Alliance had helped spawn these new fighters for the Squadron.
The A-Wing was without a doubt one of the smallest fighters Piett had ever seen in his life; voicing his thoughts aloud, he said, "It looks like a flying wedge - no pun intended." Wedge chuckled.
Donning his flight helmet, he climbed into the A-Wing. It was made to be fast, which was clearly evident from its design. It may not have had the fearsome, almost predatory look of, say, an X-Wing... but appearances were often deceiving.
Bringing his systems online, Piett reported over the comm that everything was running just fine. Starting up the engines, the A-Wing hovered off the deck, and flew out of the landing bay, with several X-Wings behind it.
Whatever skepticism Piett may have had about this new little starfighter was quickly forgotten as he smoothly flew through space, getting a feel for how this craft handled. In fact, it almost felt natural, for him to be flying like this.
Imperial officers such as him were never TIE pilots or stormtroopers - those were always clones grown in labs. Here, Piett found yet another layer to the diversity and freedom he found here at the Rebel Alliance.
Piett felt his sense of freedom increase even more as he pulled his A-Wing into a loop around the narrow shaft-like midsection of the medical frigate...
Mon Mothma gazed out the viewport of her office on Home One, observing Commander Tomas Piett get into friendly fighter duels with the rest of Rogue Squadron in their X-Wings as a series of tests for the new A-Wing model. She was glad to see that Piett was such a contributing member to the Alliance; in fact, all the stress that had marred his features while serving under Darth Kain seemed to be fading away, a good sign that his change in environment, not to mention allegiances, was one of the best decisions of his life.
"You called, Mon Mothma?"
The leader of the Rebellion turned to see a female Fosh medical officer standing on the threshold - Dr. Vlask Forenze. The first person to befriend Darth Vader after he crashed on Yavin IV, injured and suffering from amnesia, she nursed him back to health and developed a friendly relationship with him.
"Yes, Dr. Forenze. I just wanted to let you know that you will have several new patients to perform tests on once they join the Alliance."
Forenze raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing there's been a sudden flux in new members?"
Mothma quirked a grin. "You could say that," she said, handing Forzene a datapad.
The Fosh's amber eyes nearly bulged out of her sockets as she saw the numbers. "More than a hundred new members!" she half-shrieked. "How in the name of the Force did this come to happen?"
Mothma was smiling now. "Apparently, it seems that Piett's act of defiance has become something of an inspiration to other Imperial officers suffering under Darth Kain's insane rule. A lot of these new recruits are former Imperial officers who have, quite frankly, had enough with serving what they now know to be a corrupt Empire. Add those on to the average recruits we normally get..."
Forenze's eyes started to glow a little as she realized what her superior was hinting at. "Being Rebels, we're all defiant by nature against the Empire... but thanks to Piett, it's starting to eat away at them like a virus!"
Mon Mothma was by no means a vindictive woman, but she did get a certain kind of pleasure by watching the Empire crumble, bit by bit, while former Imperials fled the Rebel Alliance. "Precisely, Doctor," she said. "If you need any supplies for all our new recruits, please feel free to let me know."
Forenze nodded as she departed. With her moods now uplifted, Mothma went back to observing Rogue Squadron doing what they did best...
Xizor leaned back in his form chair. The chair interpreted this move as an inquiry - which it then gave while demonstrating how its voxchip needed to be repaired: "What is your wish, Prince Sheeezor?" The Falleen prince shook his head at how it slurred out the first syllable of his name like that. "It is my wish that you be silent, chair," he commanded.
Obediently, the chair's vox shut up. The cloned leather seat hummed and adjusted the support to Xizor's new position. He sighed. He was rich beyond the income of many entire planets, and yet he had a malfunctioning form chair that couldn't even pronounce his own name correctly? No, that wouldn't do. He made a note to get it replaced - now, today, immediately - as soon as he was finished with his business here this morning.
Currently, the Dark Prince was in the middle of deciding whether or not to hire two new people for Black Sun. They were Epicanthix women known as the Pike sisters, and the holoproj he was observing showed the two of them using teräs/ käsi/ (the Bunduki art called "steel hands") taking down several armed and well-trained Imperial stormtroopers without even breaking a sweat. They were beautiful yet deadly, a combination he enjoyed. There were several advantages in hiring them, and, as far as he could see, no disadvantages. So, with a simple command, he told Guri to make it so.
Guri nodded and departed. With her long, silky blond hair her pale, clear blue eyes and her exquisite figure that was beautiful from any angle, she was quite attractive. In fact, some human males attracted to her might say she was too good to be true: They would be right. Guri was not human, but an HRD (Human Replica Droid) who could pass off as a normal human female, and even eat and drink like one. Her ability to avoid drawing such attention and suspicion to herself was also quite useful when it came to some other things she did, like killing without hesitation. She had cost Xizor nine million credits, but was worth every one of them. Too bad her creator was no longer among the living.
Credits were nothing to him; he practically had an ocean of billions, with more flowing in all the time from rivers of revenue. To Xizor, it was only a way of keeping score, nothing more.
Xizor glanced up at the ceiling of his office, where he'd had the pattern of the galaxy installed into the glowtiles. When the lights were dim - and they usually were - he had an edge-on view of the home galaxy floating holographically there, with more than a million individual glowing dust-small stars hand-drawn in it. It had taken the artist a few months to get it done and was worth a small fortune, but it was doubtlessly worth it in the end. Xizor liked to simply gaze upon it whenever he wanted to unwind, and sometimes liked to play this game with himself to see if he could successfully spot which areas of the galaxy where his influence was.
His galactic influence was surpassed only by the Emperor himself and the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Kain.
Third - but about to become /second/, if his plans went as intended. It had been months now since he'd seen the holo of Luke Skywalker learning the truth about his father, who was now known throughout the galaxy as Darth Vader. It had also been months since he'd overheard the Emperor and Darth Kain discussing how they would capture Skywalker and Vader - or kill them both. It had been months, and now the preliminaries were done. Xizor was ready to start getting things rolling.
Soon, revenge will be mine...
Checking the time from his room computer, he saw that he had that appointment an hour from now. It was but a short walk through the protected corridor's of Kain's, not much beyond where the Emperor's massive gray-green stone and mirror-crystal palace thrust itself up into the high atmosphere. A few kilometers, no more; a brisk stroll would put him there in a few minutes. He wouldn't hurry, because he did not want to arrive early.
A chime announced a visitor. It looked as though Xizor could take care of one other thing before meeting with Kain.
Mayth Duvel, one of his sublieutentants, came in with a petition from the Nezriti Organization, and it seemed they wished for an alliance with Black Sun. Xizor accepted a small package from Duvel, which was a token of their esteem. It was an oval-cut, bloodred Tumanian pressure-ruby that was easily worth several million credits. After contemplating the small gem, he told Duvel that he would consider it. Duvel bowed, backed away, and left.
After he was gone, Xizor stood and stretched. It was time to go see what Darth Kain wanted. Normally, he would have had more meetings and business to handle at this time, but when Sith lords who rule over you summon you for meetings, you don't argue. He pushed the thoughts of his plots and plans aside, not just because it was not the time and place to be thinking about them, but because he had to make it look as though there was no connection between himself and Kain, nothing that would arouse suspicion from anyone.
Xizor didn't worry about his plans succeeding, because they always did.
And this one plan for revenge was one whose success he was greatly looking forward to.
A/N: How was this, for showing all the different points of view, including those of Vader and Piett?
Note about Rebel fighters: If I'm not mistaken, different types of Rebel fighters were manufactured in this order: Y-Wing, X-Wing, A-Wing, B-Wing. Furthermore, their weapons are like this: Y-Wings have two lasers and two proton torpedo launchers, plus a couple of ion cannons or something; X-Wings have four lasers and two proton torpedo launchers; A-Wings have two lasers and two concussion missile launchers; and B-Wings have three lasers and three proton torpedo launchers.
Note about Vader, Piett, and possibly also Forenze: When doing things from Rebel points of view, I'm going to try and make sure that they get equal "screentime" with the others. Also, as for Piett's first name... well, you just may be surprised later on. Sorry, but that's all I'm going to say for now! (Wink wink!)
Next chapter is where the good guys plan and the bad guys plot... -Quillian
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