This chapter is subtitled "Piett has a very bad day."

I'm sorry this took so long. I have a new job that is taking up most of my time, and I got hit with several bad cases of writer's block while trying to write this chapter. But here it is, and I hope it is worth the wait. I also finally made a Wattpad account, because several people asked for one, so Allegiance is up there too, under the same username.

And a huge thanks to my beta, miriannemiri for all her invaluable help.

Chapter 13: Revelations

As soon as Vader left, Luke relocated to his sitting room. Until his father decided to allow him access to a proper training room, this would have to do. He should have asked, but his father had already been out the door by the time he had thought about it. Luke had already stopped him from leaving once, so he didn't want to delay him further by calling him back.

Luke left his cape off this time, not wanting to deal with it. Maybe if he protested that it hindered his ability to fight, he could convince his father that he didn't need to wear it. Though considering Vader's own cape, he doubted that excuse would fly.

At least his doesn't awkwardly cover his arm! he thought as he ignited his lightsaber. He did understand its purpose, he really did; he just didn't want to have to continue to wear it after it was no longer necessary to hide his lightsaber.

This time, Luke managed to keep his focus on his forms, placing his feet carefully and deliberately, not allowing himself to be distracted. He could feel the Force moving around him and through him, almost a tangible thing though not entirely solid, like water. It didn't control his motions like it sometimes seemed to during battle, but it lent him perfect balance and a heightened awareness of his body. It was always invigorating, feeling that kind of connection to the Force. And while it wasn't rare for him to experience it, it didn't happen all the time either. It was often when he was practicing his lightsaber, and Yoda had called it a type of moving meditation.

Luke lost track of time, but when he was done running through his forms, he was covered in a thin layer of sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead. As tired as he was, the movement had felt good after so much inactivity the last few days. He had been pretty good about keeping to a training schedule these last few months since Bespin, working on improving both his lightsaber combat and his Force use in addition to his usual flight training with his squadron. He was determined to keep to some semblance of this schedule in the future, depending on what his father would have planned for his daily routine. He wasn't sure how much Vader would want him to play the soldier, if he would be given a rank in the military and expected to fulfill all the duties that came with it, or if his unique status would prevent that.

His father had admitted that it would be foolish to ground him, so that did imply he would be allowed to fly in some capacity. But he would never consent to actually fight against the Alliance's pilots. He could not kill his friends, and he couldn't imagine Vader would risk him in an unshielded TIE against pilots as skilled as Rogue Squadron in any case. Wedge was nearly his equal as a pilot, and he knew the slight edge he had on him was only thanks to the Force. If he flew against him in a TIE, he did not doubt that Wedge would come out the victor. And as much as he hoped he would be able to tell Wedge the truth, and even though they would probably be able to recognize each other's flight styles, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't accidentally end up engaging each other during a dogfight.

Luke sighed and brushed his damp hair off his forehead. I'm sorry, Wedge, he thought. He had promised him that he hadn't been compromised on Bespin, and he had also told him that he wasn't going undercover. And while the former was still, probably, true, the latter was… decidedly not. Though of course it had been at the time.

He suppressed his desire to pull out his comlink and contact Wedge right then. The fewer people in the Alliance he was in direct contact with the better. It was safer that way, as frustrating as it would be. He would just have to ask Leia to tell Wedge the next time he commed her.

Luke glanced up at the chrono on the wall. Morning was edging towards afternoon, and he was really beginning to notice his empty stomach. It had been… too long since he had last eaten. And now that he had worked the nervous energy out, he was feeling the hunger.

He didn't know if his father had planned on having food brought up for him or if he would take him to some, probably private, officers' lounge or mess hall or something. He was leaning towards the former, knowing how protective Vader was over him, and he doubted his father wanted the questions displaying him in front of even a small number of crew would bring.

That would get annoying fast, being stuck in this set of rooms for however long it took his father to prepare an announcement. Even though his quarters were large, he would be restless and bored with nowhere different to go. But he knew it could be worse. His short stint as a prisoner at the beginning of this misadventure had given him an appreciation for how much freedom he did have now, comparatively, and he was grateful. Both for the relative freedom and his unique status that prevented him from being just a prisoner. He would be dead by now, at the hands of Lieutenant-Commander Ozzel, or if someone else had intervened, he would be in the middle of a rather rigorous interrogation that he probably wouldn't long survive.

He had been extensively trained against interrogation, his large, alive-only bounty making High Command nervous about his chances of successfully evading the Empire forever, especially after his close call at Bespin. Luke was glad he would never need that training.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the morbid thoughts. He would never need that training, so there was no use dwelling on it. And hopefully, he would be able to convince his father that they needed to dismantle the Empire after they killed the Emperor, so no one would ever need that kind of training again.

He expected some resistance from Vader about that. Even if he denounced the Emperor, he was still a staunch believer in the Empire itself, and Luke could only hope that his threat to leave if his father took the throne would be enough. He needed to have a serious discussion with his father about their future, and soon. Neither of them wanted an argument, and Luke suspected that was why his father kept putting it off, but they needed to come to an agreement or risk not being ready after the final confrontation. It was better to have a plan in place before they took control of the government, or they wouldn't be able to hold it. And they also needed allies, and they would only be able to count on the Alliance if they were going to destroy the Empire in the end. It would be better to have that settled by the time Leia set up his meeting with High Command, so he would know what to tell them and, he shuddered, if he needed to request an extraction.

He didn't think it would come to that, as his father seemed to value him highly enough to compromise, but he had to be prepared in case Vader decided he wanted the throne in the end. As much as Luke didn't want to, he knew he would have to carry out his threat to leave if that happened, and he might need help doing it. If Vader wasn't willing to let him go, then he would need to escape, and he probably couldn't do that alone. Not from the Executor.

Luke frowned. His thoughts were getting away from him. He had to believe it wouldn't come to that. And there was no point in worrying needlessly. He would deal with it if it happened. No reason to stress about something that might not happen when there were enough certainties to concern himself with. Like the fact that regardless of where he ended up, High Command, and Leia, would know of his parentage, and that he would still need to face the Emperor in the end.

Or on a much more trivial topic, that he would never get lunch if he didn't tell his father he was almost ready.

Vader was unsure, now, how to respond to Luke. He had felt the boy slip into a moving meditation as he practiced his forms, the bright sun of his presence going nova against the backdrop of the Force, and Vader found he was already getting used to the overwhelming light of his son. He had been like that once, almost too bright to look at in the Force when he was fully submerged in it, or so he had been told. And though it was obvious Luke did not have trouble meditating in stillness, as Vader had in his younger days, it appeared they both enjoyed a moving variant. They were much alike, and therein lay the problem.

Luke felt too much and loved the wrong people, as he had a lifetime ago. But unlike Vader, he had no issues voicing his emotions plainly, and Vader could not deny what Luke had openly stated. He did not, could not, understand how Luke could love him, but that he did could no longer be in question.

The problem was further complicated by the fact that Vader was unable to reciprocate. Luke had also made it clear that he hadn't expected him to, but Vader hadn't missed his son's disappointment when he had turned away from him.

Vader abandoned his desk, unable to continue pretending he was reading through the stack of reports, and stalked over to the viewport before realizing that it was the same thing he had done to Luke. He growled and turned away from the blue streaks of hyperspace, leaving his office to retreat farther into his rooms, putting more space between himself and his foolish, precious son.

That Vader was already beginning to care about Luke could also no longer be denied. That knowledge unnerved him, partly because it had been so long since he had felt this way towards another being, and everyone he had ever loved he had destroyed, but also because it put Luke in danger. If the Emperor sensed Vader's… weakness for his son, he would move to separate them sooner than he might have otherwise. Or he would simply destroy Luke, choosing not to risk the consequences of allowing the bond between them to grow beyond his ability to break it.

That would not happen. Vader would tear his Master apart with nothing but his hands before he allowed him to lay so much as a finger on Luke. He knew he would most likely die in the attempt, if they were not properly prepared for the final confrontation, which made concealing his emotions even more imperative. They could not afford to move against the Emperor before they were ready.

Vader strengthened his shields. The Emperor's attention was not focused on him, and he took care not to attract it with the sudden intensification of his shields. Keeping them up against his Master if he requested entry would only arouse suspicion, but they would help to avoid stray thoughts and emotions slipping into the bond chaining him to the Emperor.

He wanted to break that bond, wanted to feel the roots of it wound deeply into his mind wither and die as he snapped it by driving a blade through Palpatine's shriveled heart. Vader allowed himself a moment to revel in the thought. He had not contemplated this potential freedom since before Bespin. Luke had snatched away his last remaining vestiges of hope for it when he jumped, and Vader knew he had been dangerously close to complete apathy regarding his fate until he had felt Luke's mind brush against his in his call for help. He knew it was foolish to pin everything on another being, but he also knew down to the core of his being that he could not defeat the Emperor alone, something Palpatine taunted him with on a regular basis. For all that he lauded the Banite Sith's Rule of Two, he rejected the inevitability of the apprentice rising against the master and gloried in Vader's inability and seeming disinterest in fulfilling that aspect of the cycle. There were times, since he had learned of his Master's deception regarding the cause of his wife's demise, that he wondered if the Emperor had not planned on diminishing his apprentice's power in some way, though he doubted he would have chosen to damage him this much.

For all that his Master desired Luke, he also feared him, with good reason. Luke was everything Vader could have been, young and powerful and healthy. Those same traits that made him a worthy choice for a new apprentice also made him dangerous. Despite the Emperor's strength and power in the Force, he was old, and his body was weakening, though he was not nearly as frail as he pretended to be. Luke would most likely not be able to defeat the Emperor alone, but he could still deal more damage than the Emperor would like to take before going down.

Vader clenched his fists at the image of Luke attempting to fend off the Emperor's lightning, blue energy crackling against Luke's lightsaber, lethal tendrils slipping past his defenses and snaking around his body. For a moment, Vader felt the echoes of that pain, having experienced the excruciating burn of Sith lightning far too many times throughout his life. The intensity of the Emperor's far outstripped Dooku's, and Vader knew he had never even taken the full brunt of it. If he had, the likelihood was high that he would be dead. His Master was always careful to never short out his life support completely.

Luke had never been subjected to that level of pain. Even losing a limb could not compare to the agony of lightning ripping into flesh, scorching bones, setting fire to nerves. It was one of the most painful things Vader had experienced, second only to burning on the gravel shores of Mustafar.

He shied away from those memories and quickly tried to banish the thought of Luke suffering through that. There was no reason for Luke to set foot on Mustafar. The Inquisitorius facility had long since been shut down, after they had been wiped out by Maul, Ahsoka, and the Lothal Rebels almost half a dozen years ago, and Vader would never relegate Luke to a mere Inquisitor regardless, even if he had still intended to train Luke in the Dark Side. And Vader rarely spent time at his fortress there, having no need for the medical facility now that the Executor was complete and had one to rival it, and he did not have to deal with the Emperor's Royal Guards watching him while he was on his ship.

Of course, there were numerous other ways for Luke to be injured by fire, but Vader chose to ignore that through an extreme effort of will. Luke was safe in his keeping now, no longer at risk from anything except the Emperor. Though as Luke had pointed out, Vader would need to involve him in military matters once he claimed Luke as his son and installed him in his rightful place in the Empire, at his side and as his heir. They could not avoid having Luke fight in some capacity, as much as Vader would prefer to keep him confined somewhere safe.

The most logical thing would be to put him in charge of a fighter squadron. Luke was a pilot, and something of an infamous one at that. To hold him back from military duties would be to steal the respect he would otherwise earn in the eyes of not only the Empire's troops but also its citizens. If Vader intended to carry through with his plan of placing Luke on the throne in his stead, his son needed to own the loyalty of at least a large portion of the military, and he needed to endear himself to the public. Showing a willingness to fight for the Empire, to strive towards stability in the Galaxy, would be not only helpful but perhaps necessary, considering his Rebellious history. They could not successfully sell his defection if he refused to fight for the Empire.

Vader would need to secure another TIE Advanced. He would never allow Luke to fly an unshielded ship in combat. He also doubted that he could convince Luke to kill his former squadron mates or other Alliance pilots, and for the sake of Luke's budding trust in him, he would not ask him to. They could bleed the power from his lasers, leaving just enough to splash against an X-wing's shields without damaging them, and feed it to his own shields. That would be a compromise Luke should agree to, and suggesting it outright would forestall an argument and help build Luke's confidence that he had not made a mistake in allying with his father.

He would also eventually need to tell Luke of his plans to put him on the throne. Luke had sworn to leave him if he tried to take it, but Vader had never wanted it for himself. He was content in his role as second-in-command and the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy. The throne itself had never held appeal for him, and he wanted it only to give it to those he cared about. He refused to acknowledge the idea that Luke would reject it as his mother had. Luke would rule with a strong but fair hand, just as she would have, and he would be beloved, as she had been. Luke was his son in many ways, but he had her gentle temperament and strength of conviction.

And her faith in the innate goodness in people. She had pleaded with him to come back with her, declaring her love for him even up to the moment he had wrapped the Force around her throat. He did not know, and he never would, if she would have forgiven him for that, for killing her, for nearly killing their child. Their child who somehow loved him.

Vader sighed behind his mask. Part of him wanted to retreat from Luke, not allow the boy any more purchase on his heart, fearing the effect it would have on him. A small part of that came from worries about what it would do to him if he lost Luke later, if he allowed himself to care now without restraint. But he knew it was already too late for that. The stirrings of fierce, parental protectiveness he felt for his son had begun, in small ways, the moment he had learned of Luke's existence and had only become stronger since he had actually met him. Vader knew he was hardly the only one to fall victim to Luke's charms. The boy seemed to inspire loyalty and devotion wherever he went, which would serve him well when Vader elevated him to Imperial Prince.

He also knew he did not deserve Luke's love, and despite Luke's insistence that he did not care about anything Vader had done, there was always a chance he would change his mind or learn about something he could not look past. As the emotional high of finding his father faded and the pressures of living among people he still considered enemies wore on him, he might begin to resent Vader and decide the price was too high for the uncertain resolution this course of action would bring. Insulating himself against that eventuality would be prudent and would make it easier on both of them when Luke decided to cut ties and return to his Rebellion.

The other part of Vader wanted to accept what Luke was offering, embrace him as his son with all that entailed, even though he knew that he and Luke could never have what others would consider a typical father-son relationship. That option was enticing, even as it was terrifying, and Vader knew it was too late to trick himself into thinking he did not care about Luke.

But convincing my Master might require convincing Luke. Even as he thought it, he knew it would not be possible. With as deep of a connection as Luke had with him, keeping his emotions completely shielded from him would be more tiring than was strategically wise. And continuing to rebuff Luke would only hurt their bond and their alliance, when they needed it to be as strong as possible, if they wanted to stand a chance against the Emperor. Any division between them would be a weakness the Emperor would exploit. Any doubt Luke held for his father would be a foothold for the Emperor, a crack which he could and would widen with poisonous words and half truths, and Luke would fall easily into his grasp. By the time he realized what was happening, he would be too tightly ensnared to struggle free.

No, the only option open to Vader was to accept Luke's admission of love and attempt to return it, without allowing his Master to learn of it. Shielding from him would not be as difficult as it would be from Luke, because even as deep as that insidious bond went, his connection with Luke was stronger and far more intimate. Luke was also far more insistent, constantly seeking contact and desiring access to Vader's emotions, though he had yet to push against his shields when Vader made it clear he did not want to allow Luke in. His Master was more distant, and though he took an active interest in monitoring any changes in Vader's emotional state and was more likely to break down Vader's shields if he so desired, his attention was intermittent, and Vader had long since become wise to the tricks his Master used. It would be difficult for him to slip into Vader's mind unnoticed.

He would need to teach Luke how to shield more consistently. His mind might be relatively safe from the Emperor, despite the bond, but his son was not currently trained enough to be able to keep the Emperor out. That would normally be an easy thing to rectify. Luke had enough innate power to match the Emperor; it was simply a matter of practice and of teaching him to recognize his Master's tricks.

But practice would entail allowing Vader access to Luke's mind and permitting him to repeatedly break down Luke's shields. It would not only be an invasion of privacy, but would also be quite painful. Vader had felt little remorse for inflicting that pain on Piett, as it had been a necessity and caused no permanent damage to his Admiral, but Luke… He had hurt his son enough, so it would be difficult for Vader to do even with Luke's permission, which he would first need to earn Luke's unwavering trust in order to gain. He somehow could not bring himself to consider the necessity of this more important than Luke's wellbeing, as he had with Piett. Perhaps it had something to do with his burgeoning parental instincts, but he longed to prevent damage from happening to Luke, not cause it.

Vader sighed. None of this circuitous thinking was going to help him come up with a way to convince Luke that he did, indeed, care about him. He had never been good with words, and he doubted words would be enough to counteract a lifetime of violence and indifference in any case, not to mention the personal damage he had dealt to Luke. He would need to prove it in actions, and that would be far more difficult to hide from the eyes of his Master and the Galaxy.

A hesitant knock on the door drew Vader from his thoughts. He whirled around, startled at the knock on that door, as it meant someone was already in his office, before recognizing the Force presence. His son. Vader realized he'd had his shields up so tightly that he hadn't heard Luke's timid mental request for entrance.

Vader stalked over to the door. Even if words wouldn't be enough, he needed to say something to Luke, tell him something that would let the boy know he was not indifferent to him, or to his admission of love. But the moment the door opened and Vader caught sight of his son's somewhat embarrassed face, any inadequate words he might have summoned fled him.

How could he possibly convince his son of his sincerity? And if he did, what then?

Before he could wrestle his thoughts into enough semblance of order to form words, Luke spoke. "I, uh, you said something about food?" he asked, giving Vader a small smile.

"Yes," Vader said. The mundane request helped him focus, helped him return his mind to the present and problems he could solve. Providing lunch for his son was considerably less complicated than working out the fate of the Galaxy and the nuances of their developing relationship.

He gave Luke's appearance a quick assessment and frowned behind his mask. His clothes were fine, though he was not wearing the cape or boots, but his hair was damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead. Vader hesitated for a moment, then reached out and brushed it away from Luke's eyes. "Go clean up first."

Luke grinned. "So I do get to leave my room," he said as he turned to head back to his own quarters. "No reason to look nice if I'm stuck here."

Vader didn't respond, but he allowed a whisper of fondness to trickle into the bond as Luke disappeared beyond the door. He felt rather than saw Luke smile in response.

He needed to tell Piett the truth about Luke, and he might as well have the Admiral bring Luke to the officers' lounge for lunch. Luke was doing a good job of hiding it, but Vader knew he was starting to get restless confined to his room. Even though Vader would prefer to keep Luke away from the curiosity of the rest of the crew until he made the official announcement, he could not keep Luke locked up for a week.

He trusted that Piett would not allow anything to happen. He was sure of his Admiral's loyalty. And though Luke had inherited the Skywalker proclivity for finding trouble, Piett was capable and, Vader had to admit, used to dealing with Vader's own… adventures. And Vader would only be a mental call away if anything truly serious happened.

Vader followed Luke back out to his office, though the boy had already gone into his own room, and reached for his private comlink to request Piett's presence. His Admiral would be prompt in responding to his summons and would most likely arrive well before Luke was ready, but Vader thought it might be wise to inform Piett beforehand, give him a prior warning before properly introducing him to Luke. Vader was unsure how much his Admiral had figured out on his own. Certainly, he had not guessed at the exact nature of his and Luke's relationship, but the man was no fool. He would not be in his position if he was.

As expected, Piett wasted no time in responding to Vader's summons and was soon standing in front of the door to his quarters. Vader did not wait for him to press the door chime but opened it from where he stood across the room. His Admiral's face remained stoic even as the door slid open with his hand hovering inches above the panel set in the wall next to it. He was used to this by now.

Piett entered the room and paused inside the door, just beyond the sensors, and waited for it to close behind him before he came forward.

"You wanted to see me, my Lord?" Piett asked, standing at attention several feet away from Vader. As usual, his shields were impeccable, despite his complete lack of Force sensitivity. He was calm; his gloved hands at his sides were not clenched into fists or toying with the hem of his uniform, his eyes did not dart around the room. If he was feeling any fear, it was not apparent to Vader. One of the many reasons he had chosen Piett as his Admiral. It was refreshing, to have an officer who was not terrified of him, even if most of that lack of fear was a product of their bargain.

"Yes, Admiral. There is a matter of considerable importance that needs to be discussed. I – " Vader cut himself off as the door between his and Luke's room opened and his son stepped back in, tousling hair damp from a quick shower. He was again dressed in his black outfit, and still minus the cape, Vader noted with amused interest.

"Father, I – " Luke stopped speaking, freezing in place as he noticed Piett. His eyes, wide now with horror, darted back and forth between Vader and the Admiral. But for once, Vader's attention was not focused on Luke. He was gauging Piett's reaction.

The Admiral's body was tense, his spine straight as a saber, and like Luke, his eyes were skipping between the two other men in the room. One foot had shifted backwards, a stance Vader recognized as born from a desire to run, and he felt his officer's fear for the first time in months. His breath came fast, and he swallowed nervously as his eyes finally settled on his commander.

Underlying Piett's fear was a deep undercurrent of shock. That was the emotion Vader had expected from him, and if he had been able to tell him as he had planned, it would have been the dominant emotion. As it was, Piett's fear of knowing something he should not outweighed his amazement at the revelation that Darth Vader had a Rebel son, had a son at all.

His posture was a near mirror of Luke's, and regardless of his annoyance that despite everything Piett was again afraid of him, Vader found this highly amusing. One corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a smirk. Luke must have felt his humor because his eyes settled on his mask, and his brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

"Well, this was not entirely how I had planned for you to find out, but since this was why I summoned you, there was no harm done," Vader said, attempting to ease the tension in the room. These were the two people in the Galaxy he did not want to fear him, and dragging this out for any longer would only prolong Piett's suffering. "Admiral Piett, meet Luke Skywalker, my son."

The tension slowly bled from Piett's body, and he let out a long breath as he turned his now curious gaze back to Luke. The boy had finally dropped his hand from his hair and relaxed his rigid stance. He offered Piett an apologetic grin.

"Ah, well, that does explain some things, my Lord." The Admiral found his voice, though it was weaker than normal.

"This is still classified information, Admiral, until I make a formal announcement, but it is something I believed you should be aware of."

"Of – of course, my Lord," Piett stammered. "Thank you."

Vader nodded, satisfied. His Admiral's fear appeased, he turned his attention back to Luke.

"That was reckless, young one." Luke dropped his gaze, his face flushed with embarrassment, and kicked at the floor with the toe of his boot. "You need to be more mindful of your surroundings."

"Yes… Father." He hesitated before saying the word again, and Vader winced. He did not want Luke to be afraid of calling him "Father" now. Even though he had lost count of the times the word had crossed his son's lips, there was still a part of him that thrilled at the sound of it. He had never imagined, after Mustafar, that it would ever be a title directed at him.

"I'm not afraid," Luke said, most likely sensing Vader's uncertainty and always quick to reassure. "Just… embarrassed. I never did like being reprimanded."

Vader closed his eyes in relief, but couldn't help his smirk at Luke's explanation. "No one does," he responded dryly. "It was foolish and impulsive, however, I did give you permission to enter this room freely, and you had no reason to suspect that I was not alone. You need to be more cautious in the future, but there was no harm done this time. And that was a rather amusing way to inform Admiral Piett of the truth. I could not have planned that better." He could have easily stopped Luke from speaking, if he had wanted to, but the opportunity had been too great to pass up.

Luke fought back a smile. "I'm pretty sure I got my dramatic flair from you, Father."

"You should have seen your mother."

Vader ignored Luke's suddenly wide eyes and burning curiosity and turned back to Piett instead. He knew his statement would only bring his son's questions down on him later, but he could not bring himself to regret it. Some part of him was aware that he could not keep Padmé's identity a secret from Luke forever, and so far Luke only knew about the bad things that had happened to her. As much as it would hurt, Vader wanted to share the good things about her with their son, tell him of her beauty and courage and intelligence, how she could stir an apathetic and dithering Senate into action with a simple speech –

Vader shut the memories down quickly. Now was not the time to dwell on such things, not when he had other pressing matters to attend to. There would be time for that later, when he and Luke were alone and his Admiral wasn't watching them with more than a little warranted confusion. Even if they were father and son, the second-in-command of the Empire and the hero of the Rebellion should not be on this friendly of terms.

"We will need to meet later to discuss this is more detail, but be aware, Admiral, that some of our plans have now been set into motion. Luke is the catalyst that we have been waiting for, and now that he has… joined us, we can move forward."

Piett glanced over at Luke, who was now standing awkwardly in the doorway between their rooms, listening to their conversation with a small frown on his face.

"You renounced the Rebellion?" Piett asked. His eyes were wide with surprise.

Luke's eyes skittered to Vader, a clear question on his face.

"As I have said, Piett has my full confidence," Vader reassured him, giving him a small nod.

"Not exactly," Luke admitted. He walked farther into the room to stand at Vader's side. "But we have a common enemy, and I do not want to fight my father. We are still… debating the final outcome of this conflict."

Piett nodded, his expression clearing. "That… makes more sense. I never would have thought that Luke Skywalker, of all people, would willingly join the Empire."

"And yet, we will need to convince the Galaxy of just that," Luke said. He turned his head to look up at Vader again.

"He will be publically named as my heir within the week," Vader continued the explanation, "officially joining the ranks of the Empire as second in line for the throne after myself." He could not suppress the jolt of anticipation that thought brought. It would not be long before the entire Galaxy knew that Luke was his. His son, his heir. Luke could take his rightful place as a prince, as the prince of the Empire, and his child would finally be afforded the respect he was due.

"And the Emperor?" Piett asked.

"He approved it." Of course, he had not told the Emperor of his plans to instate his son as the Imperial heir, merely his desire to claim Luke as his son. Vader knew his Master would not be pleased with him for taking that liberty, but it would be easy to say that he had interpreted "claim the boy" to mean claiming him fully. And simply calling Luke his son would not accomplish what his Master desired with this ploy. He wanted Luke to be completely cut off from the Rebellion. The only way to do that would be to convince them that Luke had flipped his loyalties to the Empire, which Luke accepting and embracing the title of Imperial Prince would achieve.

Vader glanced at Luke for his reaction to this. He had not yet had a chance to tell his son about the outcome of his discussion with the Emperor.

"Why?" Luke gaped, surprise singing along their bond.

"I told him it would drive a wedge between you and the Rebellion, prevent you from returning to them and help facilitate your fall."

Luke considered that for a moment. "He bought it?"

"He appeared to."

"Good." Luke grinned, the expression a little more vicious than Vader had yet seen on the boy.

"What are you planning on doing with the Rebellion?" Piett asked, his voice hesitant.

"I'm going to contact High Command and tell them exactly what's going on," Luke said. "We will be… working with them, sort of. Well, I'm hoping we will anyways. As I said, common enemy. We all want the Emperor gone."

"Indeed," Piett said. "Though I doubt they will be much happier once Lord Vader takes the throne."

Vader restrained himself from revealing his intentions to place Luke on the throne instead. That was still a conversation he needed to have with his son before involving anyone else. It would be difficult to convince Luke to take and hold the throne, especially in the light of his near agreement to work with the Rebellion. Though he had resigned himself to cooperating with them, considering Luke's terms, Vader was none too eager to see the rise of another Republic, and he would do what he could to prevent it.

He knew the Rebellion would never agree to work with them if he claimed the right to the throne after overthrowing Palpatine, but if Luke were the one to take the crown, perhaps with a hybrid government of some sort…

"No, and I wouldn't be either." Luke's firm voice cut into his musings, and he shot Vader a warning look.

"We will discuss this after you return from lunch," Vader promised him. This was something that needed to be straightened out before Luke had his meeting with the Rebellion's High Command, and the longer Vader waited to bring it up, the more likely Luke would be to distrust his intentions.

"At least we finally have a timeframe for this discussion," Luke said, a hint of a smile softening the glare on his face.

Admiral Piett's eyes skipped between them, as they had done whenever he witnessed Vader communicating mentally with his son.

"Perhaps this is a discussion you would like to have privately?" Piett asked, deference in his tone.

"No. We will have it later." Vader turned back to Piett. "For now, escort Luke to the officers' lounge. He has not yet eaten."

Luke grinned as Piett looked at him. "Sounds like I get to hold off finding out whose rations are better."

Piett's eyes widened briefly, flickering over to Vader for a moment in uncertainty before he gave a short laugh. "I can guarantee the officers' food is better than either."

"I can easily believe that," Luke said. "Alliance rations have a tendency to be both bland and sometimes hard to come by." He gave Vader a small shrug and a sheepish smile when he turned to look at him, and Vader resolved to have Luke tested for nutrient deficiencies. He was rather thin…

"Try not to scandalize my Admiral too much, Luke," Vader said. "And do not give out your name unnecessarily."

Luke frowned. "How am I supposed to do that? I can't exactly not introduce myself. They're going to be curious."

Vader turned to address Piett. "Introduce him only as Luke. Anything else is classified."

"That's not going to work, Father, and you know it. My face is too well known."

"There is no need to advertise who you are," Vader growled. "Many will not be pleased to have the destroyer of the Death Star loose on this ship, and until it is revealed that you are my son and you have the protection that status will provide, there may be some who will feel inclined to do something about your presence here."

"Fine," Luke said. "If you think it's necessary."

Vader nodded, relieved to have Luke's agreement, reluctant though it was, without much of a fight. He was probably right, that it wouldn't help much, but Vader was going to do everything he could to keep Luke as safe as possible.

He turned to Piett. "Admiral?"

"Yes, my Lord. Understood."

Luke could feel Piett's eyes flicker towards him every few steps as they walked down the corridor to the turbolift, though he still could not sense the curiosity he must have been feeling. He suppressed a smile.

"Go ahead, you can ask."

Piett coughed uncomfortably, presumably not having realized Luke was aware of his gaze. "I'm sorry, sir – "

"Luke."

"What?"

"Just call me Luke, please."

Piett hesitated. "We are not yet in front of an audience – "

No longer able to restrain it, the corner of Luke's mouth twitched up into a smile. "I am aware, Admiral. This is a personal request, not a reminder of my father's orders."

Piett stopped, and Luke turned to look at him. The Admiral was silent for a long moment, and his voice was quiet when he finally spoke. "You are the son of my Lord. It would be disrespectful to be so informal with you."

"Even if I ask you to?" Luke frowned. This adherence to what was considered proper address in Imperial society was going to get old quickly. The Alliance was much more relaxed about such things, and it was something Luke had appreciated. The command structures were still respected, but no one would be court-martialed for spending downtime with their subordinates or written up for addressing their superior by their given name. Luke knew the Imperial military was much stricter, but if no one with a different rank would be allowed or willing to associate with him in any sort of personal manner, he was going to get lonely very quickly. Aside from his father, the Admiral was the closest to him in rank on the ship, and if even he was keeping that careful distance… Though Luke supposed it would be too much to ask his father's most loyal officer to drop his respectful formality with him, especially now that he knew exactly who Luke was, and Luke didn't want to alienate one of his few allies on the ship.

Piett refused to look at him, and Luke sighed. "You may call me Commander if it makes you more comfortable." Luke settled for his Alliance-given rank, being called by his rank still seeming awkward but not entirely uncomfortable. It was better than "sir," in any case, and perhaps other officers would feel more at ease around him if he was more visible as a commander rather than a prince.

"Commander, then," Piett said.

"Well, now that we have that settled, you still haven't asked me anything," Luke prompted after another long moment of silence. There was a tension between them that hadn't been present during their time together on the bridge. Luke knew he was being judged differently now. Piett was struggling to reconcile Luke with his father and whatever image Piett had conjured for what the son of Darth Vader should be like. And perhaps the Admiral was wondering if Luke's calm personality was a façade, if he would let it fall away and become more like Vader now that the truth was out.

It was also likely that Piett was still wary of him thanks to his careless slip, one that could have cost the Admiral his life if he had been anyone else, and the memory of it threatened to bring a blush back to Luke's cheeks. It had been a stupid mistake, one Luke was embarrassed to have made in front of his father. He was better than that. He had been with the Alliance for several months after Bespin, and he had never come close to accidentally revealing the truth. Being around his father, and having the opportunity to be open with the knowledge of their relationship, must have dropped his guard and loosened his tongue.

"Right," Piett said. "Ah, I cannot understand why, if you knew Lord Vader was your father, you kept running from him. You seem content enough to be here now."

Luke blinked. That wasn't what he had been expecting. Then again, he wasn't really sure what he'd been expecting.

"I've only known since Bespin," he admitted. "And after that fight, I didn't particularly want to go with him." He clenched his right hand into a fist automatically, and Piett's eyes were drawn to the movement. The Admiral frowned in confusion for a moment when Luke held his hand up, then his eyes widened as he put it together.

"He…" Piett trailed off, and he looked away from Luke for a moment. "Before or after?" he asked softly.

"Right before. Neither of us handled the situation particularly well." He tugged at the edge of the cape, which his father had insisted he retrieve, along with his lightsaber, before he was allowed out of the room with Piett. "It's been difficult, coming to terms with it over the past few months. But now that I'm here, he hasn't been what I was expecting." Luke smiled and looked over at Piett, who finally met his eyes again. Luke shrugged. "He's been respectful of me and is willing to compromise. I never would have thought… well…" He gestured back at the door to his father's quarters, and Piett nodded.

"Lord Vader is not a man to give anything." Piett gave Luke a thoughtful look. "But perhaps your presence will begin to temper him."

Luke laughed and ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. "I'd like to say I don't think I have that kind of influence over him, but I think that would be a lie." He knew it was within his power to stop Darth Vader from killing a man, and that was a feat he hadn't thought anyone capable of.

"I have never seen him interact with anyone the way he does with you. He is… attentive of you, focused in a way he isn't with anyone else. I think you have a great deal of influence over him."

Luke studied Piett, hearing the subtle undercurrents of… was that protectiveness? in the Admiral's voice. Protectiveness, or worry. It wasn't jealousy, though the fact that it was close enough to it gave Luke pause, and he wished Piett's mind wasn't so heavily shielded. He knew his father trusted Piett, but he hadn't anticipated the Admiral caring enough about Vader to be worried about Luke's influence over him.

"I won't abuse it," Luke promised softly. "I have no desire to hurt my father."

Piett stared at him for a long moment, judging his sincerity, before he nodded sharply. "Good."

He resumed his progress down the corridor, and Luke jogged the first few steps to catch up with him. Luke could see why his father trusted Piett. His defensiveness of Vader was unusual, from what Luke understood of the Imperial military. As far as the Alliance could tell, Imperials respected Vader for his military prowess and feared him for his temper and abilities. He was the right hand of the Emperor, the Fist of the Empire. They would follow him, and many were loyal to him insofar as he represented the Empire, but none would dare to defend him in personal matters, or care about his emotional wellbeing. Half the people in the Galaxy doubted Vader was even human.

Luke waited until they were in the turbolift before speaking again. "How long have you known my father?"

"I've been serving under him for about five years," Piett said, "but he had been following my career for years before that, though I'm not entirely certain when he first noticed me. We met several times before I was officially transferred to the Accuser, but it wasn't until I was working under him directly that I began to get to know him."

Luke felt an unexpected sting of jealousy. "You've known him for much longer than I have. You probably know him better than I do."

Piett tilted his head to regard Luke. "It's possible, but you share something with him I'll never have. I may know him better than anyone else in the Empire, save the Emperor himself, but that doesn't mean I know him well. And I believe you are deeper in his confidences than I will ever be." Piett smiled. "As it should be."

The turbolift slowed to a stop, and the door slid open. Luke was distracted from his reply to Piett's last comment by the sudden attention and curiosity of the officers and stormtroopers in the corridor. None stopped their progress to stare at him, thankfully, but Luke knew rumors about him were already beginning to circulate around the Executor. He sensed a mixture of confused and angry recognition from the handful of Imperials who looked at him long enough to realize who he was and pure curiosity from the ones who didn't.

Luke followed Piett out of the turbolift, and the curiosity was shot through with shock when Piett waited for Luke to draw even with him before continuing down the corridor. Luke suspected the Admiral would have fallen a step behind him if Piett wasn't leading him to their destination. But to walk side by side indicated an equivalence of rank that the rest of the Imperials had not been expecting from the mysterious newcomer, and even less by the ones who knew he was Luke Skywalker. He knew the gossip would be buzzing after this, and though he knew it would change how everyone saw him, he found himself looking forward to having the announcement over with. At least then, no one would wonder about why he was on the Executor.

Piett directed him to a door near the far end of the corridor, one that required the Admiral's code cylinder to open, and Luke made a mental note to ask his father about acquiring his own access codes to the ship.

The officers' lounge was more luxurious than anywhere else Luke had yet seen on the Executor, though he knew that was a short list, but it still fit within the Empire's preference for utilitarian spaces. The floor was uncarpeted durasteel, but there were patterned rugs in dark colors under each of the seating areas scattered throughout the large space. The seating areas consisted of couches ringing low tables, and only a quarter of them were currently occupied by small groups of officers.

Around the perimeter of the room were booths and two-person tables with chairs. The only exception was the bar that stretched along the wall to Luke's left, staffed by two bartenders. The row of stools was empty save for one at the far end, where a tall, dark haired man sat hunched over a mug of… something. Probably caf, possibly something stronger, if the wall of bottles behind the bar was any indication of the broad range of available options.

The low murmur of conversation filling the air died down as the officers noticed them. Luke felt the urge to shrink back behind Piett, to hide from the eyes of the Imperials, but he resisted, and he was relieved when Piett straightened up and barked, "As you were."

Most returned to their conversations, and though the Force still sang with curiosity and vague resentment, there was no active hostility, and Luke forced himself to relax as he trailed behind Piett to the bar.

The officer sitting at the far end looked up as they approached, and his eyes widened when he saw them. His grip on his mug tightened, and he nodded a greeting at Piett. Luke caught a glimpse of his rank bars as he turned slightly towards them and identified him as a captain.

"Captain Venka," Piett said, returning the nod, if a bit more brusquely.

Luke smiled at him, then tilted his head, furrowing his brow at the inkling of familiarity to the man. It took him a moment to place him, but when he did, his eyes flickered down to Venka's neck as though he could see the evidence of his father's Force choke there. But the high collar of the Imperial uniform hid any potential bruising, and Luke shook his head slightly to clear it.

"I'm sorry. I thought… you looked like someone else for a moment," Luke said as an excuse, giving him a weaker but more genuine smile. This was the man whose life he had saved, and Venka would probably never realize it. But the fact that this man, who Luke had recognized from brief images transmitted over the bond from his father during their previous conversation, was still breathing was proof of Luke's ability to coax the good in his father's heart to the surface, and Luke was unexpectedly glad to meet Captain Venka.

Luke held a hand out. "Luke."

Venka looked at his hand for a moment, then back to Luke's face, eyes narrowed.

"The rest is classified," Piett said, giving Venka a wry smile.

Venka nodded again and finally took Luke's outstretched hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said. There was a slight rasp to his voice, and Luke restrained a wince of sympathy, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he knew exactly what had caused it.

One of the bartenders came over to them, and Luke turned his attention to ordering and eating lunch, trying to ignore the background buzz in the Force from so many people thinking about him. Several officers worked up the courage to approach them, most of them seeking information to add to the gossip, but none of them received more than Luke's first name for their troubles. Luke was not entirely successful in biting back his laughter after picking up a stray thought from one lieutenant who had somehow lost a bet thanks to something Luke or Piett had said during their brief conversation.

Luke was just finishing his glass of blue milk, his request for which had gotten him a raised eyebrow from the bartender, when the door to the lounge opened again. The man who entered was tall, almost as tall as Vader, which was a feat in and of itself. His rank bars identified him as a general, and Luke froze as he realized who the man was.

"General Veers," Piett said, and Luke nodded.

"I know who he is," Luke said, surprised at the coldness in his own voice, but he couldn't help his instinctive feelings of resentment. Veers was largely responsible for the massacre on Hoth, destruction Luke had witnessed firsthand. He knew he shouldn't hold it against Veers; he had been doing his job, much as Luke had when he'd destroyed the Death Star, both of them fighting for a cause they believed in, but it was difficult to shake the negative emotions. Luke hung back as Piett crossed the room to greet the General and watched them exchange familiar pleasantries. It appeared they had a good relationship, better than any Piett had with the other officers in the lounge, if the stilted conversations they had engaged in were any indication.

Luke took a deep breath and released it slowly, letting the Force take his amalgamation of emotions with it. Grief, anger, even a bit of fear. He had never met General Veers, so he had no cause to judge him and no moral high ground to do it from. And his father had done indisputably worse things. If Luke could forgive him… Luke would approach this meeting with an open mind.

Veers smiled at something Piett said, and there were no sharp edges to it. It was a genuine smile, open and warm, and it helped Luke's resolve to set aside any preconceived opinions he may have had of the General.

Veers's Force presence was a tiny bit brighter than the average, not enough to make him even mildly Force-sensitive but enough to draw Luke's attention. He studied it for a long moment, getting a feel for the General's emotions without actually touching his mind. Luke still felt uneasy about reading a person's thoughts if he could avoid it.

Veers was calm, relaxed, pleased to be interacting with Piett, and Luke realized the two were more than simply coworkers, possibly friends. He added his fair share of curiosity to the seething mess of it in the room, and there was a little suspicion aimed at Luke, which was valid. If anyone would recognize him, it would be the General of Death Squadron. But there was no open hostility, and Luke took a deep breath before standing.

Before he could move to join Piett and Veers, there was a sharp stab of warning in the Force. Luke spun on his heel, allowing the Force to guide his motions as he struck out seemingly blindly. His forearm connected with a wrist, knocking away a hand and the vibroblade held tightly in its grasp. Luke barely registered the look of surprise on his attacker's face and his startled cry as he lost his grip on the blade. It clattered to the floor between them, and Luke kicked it, sending it skidding away. The moment of distraction was enough for the man to recover from his shock, and he tried to hit Luke again. Luke dodged, the Force again showing him the blow a moment before it fell. The man overbalanced as his punch connected with nothing but air, and Luke swept his feet out from under him with his ankle.

As he fell, the man's hand caught Luke's cape, fingers tangling in it and pulling Luke down with him. Luke cried out as he hit the ground, the impact jarring his still-healing shoulder. He rolled quickly, ignoring the throb in his shoulder, and pinned his attacker to the ground. Reaching for the Force, Luke pressed his hand to the man's forehead and commanded him to sleep. He instantly went limp.

Gasping, Luke rolled off his unconscious assailant and lay there for a moment, trying to get his breathing and heartbeat under control. He groaned as the dull pain in his shoulder flared now that he wasn't distracted. He forced himself to sit up and kneeled next to the man, who he now noticed was an officer, and checked for his pulse. It throbbed steadily under his fingers, and Luke sighed, bowing his head in relief. He could feel the flicker of the officer's life in the Force, but the physical confirmation was reassuring.

"Are you alright, Commander?" Piett crouched next to him, placing a worried hand on his uninjured shoulder. Luke turned to look at him.

"Yes, I'm fine. He didn't hurt me." His shoulder didn't count. Landing on it probably hadn't set its recovery back too far.

"Is he…"

"He's alive. I just knocked him out."

"Luke!"

Both Luke and Piett looked over at the door as Vader came storming into the room, and Luke tensed, unsure how his father was going to react. His cape was flaring out behind him, reminding Luke of the whispers in the Rebellion, that it meant Vader had death in his shadow. Luke could feel his father's anger and fear mixing almost equally, and he worried for the life of the man who had attacked him.

Piett stood and held out his hand to Luke, who accepted it gratefully, his legs still a bit weak from the adrenaline crash. The Admiral kept a firm grip on his elbow until Vader reached them.

Vader ran his hands along Luke's shoulders and down his arms, checking him for injuries, before one of his hands came up and touched his cheek lightly.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Vader demanded. Luke pulled away from him, aware of the eyes of all the gathered officers on them. The air was thick with confusion and disbelief, and Luke was surprised that Vader was letting his emotions get the better of him before their relationship was made public.

"Fa – Fine," Luke caught his own slip just in time and lowered his voice. "I'm fine. Just a little shaken. But you're making a scene."

Vader growled but released Luke. He turned to Piett. "How did this happen?"

"I am sorry, my Lord. One moment everything was fine, the next the Commander was knocking a vibroblade out of someone's hand."

"I didn't sense his intent until he was almost on me," Luke said quietly. Vader turned to regard him. "But a flare in the Force warned me in time to move and disarm him. I… knocked him out."

Luke shivered, his body still trying to come down from the rush of adrenaline, and he realized that this was the second attempt on his life in the last few days, if he counted all of Ozzel's as one attempt. It was one thing to be shot at in battle. It wasn't pleasant, but it was expected. It was normal. But to be specifically targeted for assassination was a whole different thing. He was suddenly dizzy, and he raised a hand to his head, closing his eyes and trying to breathe deeply.

"Commander?"

"Luke?"

Both Piett and Vader spoke at the same time, and multiple hands reached for him to steady him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he insisted, but he did not attempt to shake off the supporting hands. He thought he could stand on his own, but walking would be difficult, and he would be in no hurry to attempt it, except that he could still feel the eyes of the other officers in the lounge, and his mind prickled with the force of their collective curiosity.

"Can we get out of here?" he asked his father. Vader's tight grip on his arm made it clear that he was as uneasy with the situation as Luke was. He could feel his father's conflicting desires, to hover over his son and make sure he was safe or to deal with the attempted murderer.

"Leave him to the Admiral," Luke said quietly. "He can take care of him." Piett nodded his agreement and released Luke's arm. Vader turned to leave, placing his hand against Luke's back in its customary place. The familiar pressure of his father's hand was comforting, reassuring, and Luke felt some of his tension drain away as his father led him out of the room.

Piett watched Darth Vader fuss over his son and wondered what everyone else in the room was thinking. The concern was entirely unlike their commander, and it was for a known Rebel, someone who was infamous on this ship. Anyone assigned to the Executor knew Luke Skywalker's name, and they knew what he looked like. The boy was top of the Empire's Most Wanted list, courtesy of Darth Vader's obsession and the significant bounty he had placed on that blond head. Wanted notices graced every message board and officer and crewman's inbox. There was no one in the Squadron who didn't know Skywalker's face.

So why was the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy worrying over him? Why was he allowed free rein on the ship in the first place, and accompanied by the Admiral? Piett knew his own presence in this equation was, if not equally confusing, at least on most everybody's minds in some capacity. He was already a source of a considerable amount of gossip, with his ability to hold his position for as long as he had and his seeming imperviousness to Lord Vader's intimidation tactics. The scuttlebutt ran the gauntlet of theories, but to his awareness, none of them even came close to the truth, for who would suspect the loyal second-in-command of the Empire of harboring treasonous thoughts and possessing the audacity to act on them?

Luke spoke quietly, probably answering some mental query of his father's, and Piett nodded his assent. He could easily take care of the young officer, and though he would not take pleasure in the man's fear, or the pain Piett knew Darth Vader would inflict on him later, he would be pleased to make an example of him for attacking a guest under both Lord Vader's protection and his own. It was poor form, conduct unbecoming an officer of the Imperial Navy.

Piett sighed and crouched down by the officer, wishing he had a pair of binders to restrain him. He didn't know what Skywalker had done to him, and he had no idea when the man might wake up and whether or not he would be inclined to violence when he did. The thought had barely crossed his mind when a gloved hand holding a pair of binders entered his field of vision, and he looked up to see General Veers standing next to him, leaning down slightly to hold the binders out for him to see.

Piett raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you always carry a pair of those on you, General?" In the field, certainly. Most groundpounders did, but in the officers' lounge of a ship?

Veers shook his head. "No, the bartenders keep a stash of them behind the counter for when officers get… unruly."

Piett accepted the binders and rolled the officer fully onto his back, quickly snagging each hand and locking the binders around his wrists. "Convenient. Have they ever had the chance to use them?"

Veers grinned. "A few times."

"That sounds like a story I need to hear someday."

Veers crouched down on the other side of the officer, and they each grabbed an arm, lifting the officer between them. Piett was grateful for the help, though he would never admit it. He had not been entirely certain how he was going to get the man down to the detention block by himself. He could hold his own in a fight, and he was stronger than he looked, but he was still small, and he knew he would not have been able to carry the man himself. He could have called security, of course, and given him over to the stormtroopers, but he trusted the General a fair bit more than he trusted a group of troopers, at the moment.

"Only if you tell me this story," Veers responded quietly. He looked over at Piett, a frown creasing his eyebrows, and Piett felt his own mouth twist into a regretful smile.

"I'm afraid the circumstances of this incident are still classified at present," he said.

"The kid?" Veers's eyes darted to the door Darth Vader and Skywalker had disappeared through just moments before. "He's Skywalker, right?"

Piett hesitated before nodding. There was no harm in confirming the boy's identity to the General. He already knew, in any case.

"Skywalker… I've always wondered," Veers said as they half dragged, half carried the unconscious officer to the door, his voice low so it wouldn't carry, "whether he was related to the, ah, Jedi General, Anakin Skywalker."

Piett froze, several pieces of the puzzle clicking into place in his mind. Jedi… Everyone knew, or rather assumed, that Darth Vader had once been a Jedi, but anyone who knew anything was very tight-lipped about the Sith's past. But Anakin Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear, favorite of the then-Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, was suddenly looking like a very good candidate for Darth Vader's former identity. The last name being the same as Luke's notwithstanding.

Veers jerked to a halt when Piett stopped walking.

"Admiral?" Veers asked, his tone colored with worry.

"You need to come with me, after we drop this one off." Piett shrugged his shoulder to indicate the officer between them. Veers was curious enough to keep mulling the situation over, and if he was already starting to put things together, it would only be a matter of time before he reached the right conclusion. Better for Lord Vader to tell him himself than for Veers to work it out on his own.

Piett resumed his progress towards the door, forcing Veers to move as well.

"What the blazes is going on, Piett?" Veers demanded, as soon as they were outside the lounge. "I have never seen Lord Vader act that way around anyone."

"I can't tell you anything," Piett hissed. He pressed the call button for the turbolift and glanced down at the officer. Still unconscious. Whatever Skywalker had done to him had worked well.

The turbolift dinged when the door slid open, and Piett and Veers dragged their prisoner into the lift. Through an unspoken agreement, they both let go of the officer, and he slumped to the floor between them. Piett entered the floor number of the nearest detention block.

"Skywalker's a Jedi, isn't he?" Veers said quietly, still pressing for information. "I know that's the rumor, but he really is?"

Piett sighed. "Max, I cannot – "

Veers waved away his protest. "Yes, yes. Firmus Piett, Lord Vader's devoted Admiral. But I saw what the kid did. I don't know how, but he just touched his head," Veers nudged the officer with his toe, "and he fell unconscious. That's Jedi stuff. I saw enough of it during the Clone Wars to recognize it. I saw Anakin Skywalker too, not in person, but I saw him often enough in holos. The kid's his kid. He has to be."

Piett could almost see the gears turning in Veers's head. "Please, Max. For your own safety, stop." He doubted Lord Vader would kill his highly loyal and competent General over this, but Piett would rather Veers didn't risk it, not with the levels of protectiveness Lord Vader had demonstrated when it came to his son. There were precious few officers on board that Piett would venture to call friends, and the General was one of the best.

Veers held his hands up. "Fine."

"You will find out the truth soon," Piett promised. "Lord Vader knows there are questions, and he's planning an announcement. But I will ask if he might want to inform you sooner, since you insist on thinking about it." Piett rubbed at his temples to ease the slight stress headache that was forming. "Did anybody else see what Skywalker did?"

Veers shook his head. "I don't think so. The kid's body was blocking that from everybody else's line of sight. I just happened to be at the proper angle to see it."

"Good," Piett said and let out a relieved breath. One less complication. It was bad enough that someone had already tried to assassinate Skywalker. They didn't need rumors confirming that he was a Jedi circulating too.

The turbolift stopped, and Piett and Veers picked up the still unconscious officer just as the door opened. The lieutenant on guard in the detention block raised his eyebrows when he saw them. It was a little unusual, Piett supposed, to have the Admiral and General of Death Squadron dragging an unconscious officer down to the detention block together.

"This man is under arrest for…" Piett faltered. He wasn't quite sure what to say. It was treason and attempted assassination, but no one besides himself, Lord Vader, and Skywalker knew that. He would have had a reason planned out before reaching the detention block, but Veers had distracted him. "For attacking a guest of Lord Vader's."

Piett internally winced. Not your best performance, Admiral.

The lieutenant raised his eyebrows. "I… was not aware Lord Vader entertained guests."

Neither was I, Piett thought.

There was a moment of awkward silence, then the lieutenant shrugged. Piett knew he wasn't about to disagree with the Admiral and the General, especially when it concerned Darth Vader.

"Any specific instructions?" he asked Piett, as he waved two stormtroopers over.

"Only that Lord Vader will deal with him himself."

The lieutenant winced and nodded. Everyone knew that anyone Darth Vader decided to deal with himself was in for a bad time, though Piett knew that it would most likely be worse than normal this time, considering the crime and who the target had been.

"Put him in cell block D12," the lieutenant told the troopers, and Piett and Veers relinquished the officer to their armoured hands. "And give me his code cylinder so I can find out who he is."

"Send me his name when you find it," Piett ordered, "and don't let anyone speak to him when he wakes up. He may know sensitive information, so leave the interrogation to Lord Vader. Do remember that I have access to the security recordings and will know if they've been tampered with." He doubted the warning was necessary.

The lieutenant saluted. "Yes, sir."

Piett nodded, satisfied, and turned back to the turbolift, Veers right behind him. As soon as the doors closed and the lift began its ascent, Piett slumped back against the wall. This day had been… stressful, and it was barely half over. He looked over at Veers, who was watching him carefully.

"Are you alright, Firmus?"

Piett exhaled what could have been considered a laugh. He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. "Not really. Have you ever had one of those days where it seems like everything that happens is trying to thwart your understanding of the Galaxy?"

Veers was silent for a long moment before he spoke quietly. "I can think of one, yes."

Piett looked over at him in time to catch the small flash of pain on Veers's face. Piett kicked himself for his careless comment, knowing Veers was thinking of the day he lost his wife.

"Max, I didn't – "

Veers shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I assume the cause of your existential crisis is the kid and is still classified?"

"Yes." The turbolift drifted to a stop. "You need to come with me," Piett said as the door opened to a corridor in Lord Vader's private wing of the Executor.