Chapter 1

Meeting Room #1

Executor

In Orbit around Kuat

Admiral Piett looked down at his command notes for a quick half second to center himself. They were two thirds through today's command meeting and Darth Vader hadn't murdered anyone so far. It was already quite a successful conference.

"Lieutenant Rebla, you have two minutes to describe the shielding issue in forward starboard section #24," he ordered. It was always wise to give these nervous officers a time limit. Rebla was a new transfer from Star Destroyer Avenger, and new recruits were the most likely to annoy the Sith and find themselves on the floor gasping for breath with a hand around the throat.

The dark haired male nodded, quivering, and stepped in front of the holoprojecter with a surreptitious glance at Vader. Piett grimaces slightly. Nervous looks seemed to piss off his commander, though how could anyone not be nervous around a hulking cyborg with bad lungs? The Admiral regretted that he hadn't had time to coach Rebla before this command meeting; the transfer had happened rather suddenly after Vader had strangled Lieutenant Koft, and Piett had been busy dealing with a sewage problem in the far rear aft of the Lady.

The door slid open and Piett actually jumped slightly. No one was supposed to interrupt a command meeting unless a.) the ship was under attack b.) the Emperor was injured or dead or c.) there was news of Skywalker.

What did it say that either a. or b. was preferable to c.? Skywalker was a total, complete, unending headache.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Piett demanded quickly.

"Um, my Lord, Admiral, there is a transmission from an individual matching the description of the Rebel Skywalker," the man squeaked nervously.

Piett cursed inwardly. So, c. then.

"What does he want?" Vader demanded.

"My Lord, he ... er ... requests a private conversation with, um, you, my Lord," the man sputtered back.

Three seconds went by.

"This command meeting is over," the Sith snapped abruptly. "Clear the room. You are tracing the transmission, of course."

"Yes, my Lord," the man replied thankfully, turning and scurrying out of the room.

Piett quickly shut down the background visuals (no need to let the pesky Skywalker observe any Imperial data of any kind) and took a step toward the door, only to be stopped by one gauntleted hand.

"Not you, Admiral. I wish you to stay."

Mountains of Axxila. The last thing he wanted was to look that slippery Rebel in the face. But ...

"As you wish, my Lord."

Thirsty seconds later, the room was clear save for an anxious Imperial admiral and a heavy breathing cyborg. The large screen flickered for a moment, then cleared to reveal the face and black clad figure of the Empire's Most Wanted.

Not for the first time, Admiral Piett was filled with reluctant awe. Skywalker was so young, so innocent, though he had acquired a few scars over the years. There was Hoth, where he had apparently been attacked by a large beast called a wampa, and Bespin, where he had been attacked by a black beast called Darth Vader. And a host of missions before and after those epochal events. It was a miracle the young man was alive, much less walking around wreaking havoc.

"Skywalker," Vader intoned dramatically.

The boy blinked and looked first at the hulking cyborg, then at Piett.

"So, um, it looks like maybe you are in the middle of a conference with your admiral? I ... ah ... I could maybe holocall back later?"

The great Sith shifted slightly even as the deep voice responded quickly, "No. The meeting can be rescheduled."

A moment later Piett found, to his horror, that the clear blue eyes were now fixed on him.

"My apologies Admiral ... Piett, isn't it? I didn't mean to disturb you."

This bizarre courtesy from the Empire's Most Wanted Man briefly robbed Piett of speech, but a dangerous twitch by his Lord quickly untangled his tongue.

"Not at all," he said with a mixture of deference and authority.

"Well, then," Skywalker said, then glanced to the right for a long moment.

"So," he continued, looking back at Vader. "So something crazy happened. A few months ago I was on a mission ... somewhere … and I got, um, injured."

"Corellia or Carida," Vader intoned coldly.

The youth scowled hideously in response.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Skywalker complained petulantly. "It's like having a galactic stalker."

"You destroyed the Death Star," the Sith pointed out grimly. "You should expect to experience significant notoriety and indeed pursuit from Imperial Forces."

"Which is totally why you are hunting for me," the boy replied resentfully, then sighed. "Anyway, I needed some special, er, biological products …"

"Corellia," Vader interrupted angrily, his right hand fisting so hard that Piett heard the leather creak. "I knew that you had been exposed to high levels of radiation during that explosion in the munitions factory. You should never have been sent to such a dangerous locale! How badly was your health compromised?"

The Rebel pilot shrugged slightly, "It was kind of bad but I'm totally fine now."

"That seems unlikely," Vader argued. "Radiation at that level will cause long term damage to white blood cell production. You should be recovering in a med bay, not running additional missions, but I would expect nothing else from those fools in command of your petty Rebel Alliance. But if you think I will permit …"

"Could you please just stop!" Skywalker snapped. "I. Am. Fine. Yes, there was radiation damage and yes my bone marrow was affected to the point that I needed a bone marrow transplant, but they did a check for someone with matching marrow and, well, it turns out I have a twin sister."

57 seconds ground past in silence.

"What?" Darth Vader finally asked, his deep voice a mixture of incredulity and, Piett could tell, anger.

"Twin. Sister," Skywalker stated firmly. "I have a twin. You didn't know about that, I assume?"

Vader actually shuffled back a few centimeters.

"Impossible," he muttered. "It …"

"Look, I don't have a lot of time since I know you are trying to track us," Skywalker continued. "I have a twin sister. We did full genetic cross typing three times because we were so surprised. There is absolutely no doubt. She donated some bone marrow because we are great matches. I recovered really quickly with a little help from the Force. So I'm good."

Vader stood still, his great mask pointed at the young pilot, then said haltingly, "I am ... glad."

"I don't know why you'd be glad," Skywalker snapped irritably. "You nearly killed me on Bespin and …"

Again, the youth turned to the right, apparently listening to someone out of range of the audio, then nodded resignedly.

"OK, yes, you're right. I'm sorry. I keep forgetting the time crunch."

He turned back to Vader, "I do need to keep this short. So my sister is married and she's, um, pregnant …"

Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, actually wobbled in place and Piett lifted a hand towards the cyborg before jerking it back. What was he doing? Even if Vader fell over, anyone in his path would be squashed like a bilge-bug. It wasn't like Piett could lift him.

"So we were on another mission recently and we got exposed, just exposed, mind you, to a nasty virus. Our local med droid wants us to get a specific vaccination to combat the chance that we could get sick but the vaccine is contraindicated during pregnancy in the case of certain genetic issues in our mother's line and well, we don't know who our mother is. So we were hoping you would tell us."

Another 12 seconds groaned by.

"Bring her here," Vader snapped suddenly, causing the usually unflappable Piett to jerk in surprise. "We have the very best medical facilities in the entire galaxy. I will personally insure that your sister and her child receive the very best of care."

Skywalker gazed back, his blue orbs wide in disbelief, and shook his head, "I don't know whether to laugh or cry at that. There is no way in all the star clusters that my sister is getting anywhere near you. You cut off my hand!"

"It was a regrettable incident," Vader rumbled, his deep voice urgent. "I pledge that I will not harm your sister …"

Skywalker turned to the right and frowned even as the youth rolled his eyes, "Yes, I know. Look, do you want to talk to him? Because if so, come on over here. If not, let me handle this, Ok?"

He turned back and lifted one eyebrow, "That is, of course, a hard no. Our mother's name. What. Was. It? Assuming you know."

Piett shifted slightly to one side as Vader straightened slightly. He was extremely adept at interpreting his Lord's body language, which is partly why he was still breathing. For some reason, this question enraged Vader.

"Do you dare to suggest?" the Sith began, his voice wrathful.

Skywalker interrupted irritably, "We have three minutes left before we have to go into hyperspace. Are you going to tell us or not?"

The wait was shorter this time, which Piett found merciful. This whole situation was clearly fraught with emotion and an emotional Darth Vader was to be avoided at all costs.

"Padme Amidala Naberrie Skywalker, of Naboo."

The young man looked startled, "That's, uh, a lot of names."

"Amidala was her political name," Vader rumbled. "Naberrie was her family name. Skywalker was her secret name, since her marriage to a Jedi was forbidden."

"Why was it forbidden?" Skywalker asked in puzzled tone.

Piett managed to choke down a snort. He was old enough to remember certain aspects of the traitorous Order; marriage was completely forbidden for unclear reasons.

"What?" Skywalker asked suddenly, turning again to the right. "Uh, Ok, here, give it to me."

A moment later, a holopad flew into the young man's hands and the Rebel glanced at the screen before turning it around. The image was of a young woman of quite startling beauty, with long dark tresses, and deep brown eyes.

"Is this our mother?"

The furniture trembled around the Sith even as the great mask nodded, "Yes."

"Thank you," Skywalker replied.

"What?" he continued, turning toward his secret sister. "Is that a happy hop? You have heard of her?"

There was a long pause.

"Really? Well, that's pretty cool, then."

Skywalker turned back now, "Thank you! She's really happy. Says our mother was a wonderful person. So did she have any, er, thyroid problems? Any history of Kragul disease? Did her hair ever fall out unexpectedly? Did she…"

"She was completely healthy," Vader riposted swiftly. "Her hair cascaded down her back like the waterfalls of Akar Kesh. She was absolutely perfect."

Hair cascaded? Darth Vader was a poet?

"Ok, great!" Skywalker replied. "We do appreciate it. We will, uh ... well, I hope we don't see you again but we probably will."

"Indeed," Vader replied, shaking off his brief foray into figurative speech. "It is your destiny."

"Whatever," Skywalker replied with a casual wave of his prosthetic hand. "Skywalker out."

The screen went blank.

Admiral Firmus Piett discovered, to his horror, that it was literally possible to shake in one's boots. There was only a few possibilities to explain this bizarre conversation. The most likely was, was … that his boots were a size too big.

"You will speak of this to no one, Admiral," Darth Vader ordered menacingly, and turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

"Yes, my Lord."

/—-

Author Note: Seriously, this one will be short. Like 3 chapters. Maybe 4. Thank you, dear husband, for editing for me!