Meeting Room #3

The Liberty

In Orbit Around Sullust

8 hours later

"I have to go to the refresher," Leia Organa Solo stated in an uncompromising tone.

"Maybe we should just move the meeting to the corridor next to the refresher," her twin brother suggested innocently. "It would be more convenient for you."

Leia grabbed a glass of water from the table with the Force and flung the contents into her brother's face. Or tried. The youth, laughing, lifted a hand and water bounced off an invisible shield, slightly splashing the Mon Calamari Admiral Akbar and Rebel Leader Mon Mothma in the face and clothing.

"Children, really," Mon said with a slight smile.

"Sorry, Lady Mothma," Luke said apologetically. "I'm afraid we're all a bit punchy from lack of sleep.

"I don't know why you aren't sleeping well, Kid," Han Solo drawled. "You aren't sharing a bed with a short pregnant lady."

"Yes, but I am the Force sensitive twin brother to said pregnant lady," Luke explained. "Every time she wakes up, which is about every 5 minutes apparently, I wake up a little as well."

"Just think, Luke," Leia commented, rising carefully to her feet and beginning to waddle toward the door, "in a very small way, you are experiencing the joys of two small beings kicking your bladder mercilessly. Vicariously, I mean."

"Mon Mothma!"

The foursome at the table, and Leia, jerked in surprise as a wild eyed ensign rushed into the room, drooling in astonishment.

"What is it, Ensign Melka?" Mon Mothma demanded, standing up worriedly.

"The Emperor and Vader! They are dead!"

/

The Executor

In Orbit around Takodana

Mid Rim

3 weeks later

Firmus Piett nodded at his captain, "Very well. Alert me to any issues with the loading of supplies. Ensure that all shuttles are scanned carefully when they arrive from Takodana. We don't want any rogue stowaways or miscreants."

"Yes, sir," Captain Vrita replied, and allowed himself a sympathetic smile. "Get some sleep, sir."

Piett sighed and turned on his heel, heading towards the elevator off the bridge. Yes, he wanted some sleep, desperately. The last three weeks had been completely chaotic, with the two leaders of the Empire officially dead and the Death Star mired in problems and a triumvirate of slimy politicians duking it out for power on Imperial Center. He had kept Death Squadron in hyperspace most of the time, only stopping for necessary supplies, and was carefully avoiding all holocalls from frantic officials of both military and civilian persuasions. Thus far, he had managed to be 'out of range' quite successfully, but he couldn't hide forever. And the more time went by, the more likely that he would have to return to the Imperial fold and submit to the leadership of someone. Thrawn was probably the best of the lot, but still, the Admiral preferred to be autonomous for at least a little while longer.

He stepped on board the elevator and pushed a few buttons before sagging against a wall. He wanted to sleep, he did, and he would, but he had one stop to make before he could curl up with his bantha plushie. He would make it quick.

The door slid open and he wearily walked down a corridor, to the right, to the left, through a secure door, through another secure door, and finally into a large, unofficially empty med bay.

Which wasn't empty at all.

The protocol droid outside the door checked his credentials and retinal scan with care, then opened the door.

"Is Dr. Sert inside?" Piett asked.

"No, Admiral," the droid replied. "He is having a rest period now. The patient is stable."

"Very well," Piett grunted.

Yes, the patient was stable. The patient had been stable for two weeks. But the patient was not waking up!

He stepped through the decontamination chamber to ensure he wasn't carrying any nasty germs, then through a door into the room where Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, lay quietly on a very large reclined bed.

Piett gasped in shock even as he reached for his blaster. (Yes, he carried a blaster nowadays. With the Empire in disarray, he knew he was a possible target for assassination. The Executor and the other Star Destroyers of Death Squadron were quite a prize!)

Sitting on a chair next to the giant body was a slim form, clad in black. The head was turned away so Piett couldn't see his face but he didn't need to. No sentient was allowed in here except Piett and Dr. Lenz Sert, Vader's private physician.

"Hands up. Don't make any sudden moves."

He felt thoroughly silly saying these words, so common in every pathetic holodrama the galaxy across.

The man obeyed, lifting his hands carefully and turning to face the Imperial Admiral.

The blaster wobbled briefly as Piett gasped in shock, "Skywalker! How did you get in here?"

The young man smiled slightly even as he gestured with a finger. A moment later, the blaster was yanked harshly out of Piett's hand and flew into the young Jedi's.

"Through the duct work, Admiral Piett," the Rebel said cheerfully. "There are advantages to being small."

Piett bit his lip and moved his hand slightly toward his com, only to have it also whisked away into the young man's hands.

"Relax, Admiral," Skywalker ordered. "I have no intention of harming you."

The older man's eyes narrowed and he gestured toward the still form on the bed, "And what of your father, Skywalker? Will you harm him?"

Skywalker's expression shifted from vaguely reassuring to surprised, "He told you."

"I figured it out during that ridiculous holocall," Piett huffed angrily, striding to the other side of Vader's bed. "I'm not stupid."

Skywalker nodded, "I realize that. A man who commanded Death Squadron under my father's oversight has to be a very smart individual. No, Admiral, I won't harm my father either."

The boy looked grim as he stared at his father's exposed pale visage. The Sith was hairless, his face a mass of scars under the oxygen mask which was providing oxygen to his scarred lungs. Various tubes were poked into the old man's arms and torso, providing life giving fluids. "He looks pathetic. Horrible. What is wrong with him?"

"I'm afraid that would take many hours to answer in detail, Skywalker, even if you were cleared for the particulars, which you are not. He apparently was very badly burned more than 20 years ago and his subsequent medical care was substandard. Then 3 weeks ago he crashed his TIE fighter and suffered substantial additional injuries. It is a miracle that he is alive."

The youth nodded, his face solemn, "He deliberately crashed into the Emperor's Throne Room, didn't he."

It was not a question, but a statement.

"It appears," Piett replied carefully, "that Lord Vader lost control of his craft after flying in a rather ... reckless manner on the way to the Death Star, resulting in the accident."

Skywalker snorted, "And people actually believe that?"

"Even very good pilots can have accidents."

"Vader is not a good pilot, Admiral Piett. He's the second best in the galaxy."

The admiral shot a look at the Sith, then looked at Skywalker, "And who would you say is the very best pilot?"

"Me, of course," the boy said, his eyes glimmering with suppressed amusement. "I've spent way more time in a snub fighter in the last few years than he has. Mostly he's been stuck on this behemoth."

"The Lady," Piett replied indignantly, "is worth a million of your X-wings."

The boy chuckled before shifting his gaze to his silent father, "Has he woken up since ... the accident?"

"No," Piett replied heavily. "Doctor Sert, an excellent physician, has been working on his lungs and ... other issues, and he says your father is responding to treatment, but he is in a coma. Not ... not brain dead, you understand, but he has not woken up."

"You rescued him from the Death Star."

"Yes," Piett agreed carefully.

"And convinced everyone that he was dead."

"He certainly looked dead. It was relatively simple to carry him to his shuttle and send out a message that he had died of his extensive injuries."

"Why did you save him, Admiral?" Skywalker asked softly. "He is a hard man, is he not? The rumors are that he violently murdered more than one of your fellow officers for minor failures."

Firmus Piett scowled at these words, "I am loyal to the Empire, Skywalker. I am not a Rebel."

"My father deliberately assassinated the Emperor. You and I both know that."

"It may be," Piett replied carefully, "that I had major concerns about Palpatine's leadership of the Empire."

The blond eyebrows rose, "So you're saying you like my father more than the Emperor?"

Piett shivered slightly. Like? No one liked Lord Vader.

"I respect Lord Vader's leadership a great deal. He is brave and willing to lead from the front. He demands much, but he has shown himself willing to serve his men in ways that the Emperor did not."

The boy bit his lip, "If Vader is a better leader than Palpatine was, I'm glad I never met the man."

"You should indeed be thankful, Skywalker," Piett growled. "It is clear that your father's actions were deliberately intended to protect you, your sister, and her child."

The blue eyes widened, "Are you sure?"

Piett took a deep breath, "When we found him in the Throne Room, he told me that 'his grandchild would be free.' No doubt he expected those to be his last words."

Skywalker looked shocked, then smiled tremulously even as he reached over to touch his father's hand, "That's ... that's amazing."

Piett frowned now, "How did you get here? Not to this room. I know you told me you crawled through the duct work, which explains the dust on your clothes."

"Hey, is it my fault that you don't clean the ventilation shafts properly?"

"How did you know your father was alive, and here?"

The boy tilted his head, "Do you believe in the Force, Admiral?"

"Of course I do. Anyone who has the privilege of working alongside Darth Vader believes in the Force."

"Well, he's my father, and I'm his son. We have a connection. I knew right away when the reports of his death came in that they weren't true. After that, it was just a case of meditation and following the bond between us. I'm guessing if he had been conscious it wouldn't have been as easy. He's kind of ... passive right now."

There was just something horrible about Darth Vader being passive. It made Piett's scalp itch.

"I'm trying to reach his mind," Skywalker continued softly, running a hand along the cyborg's chest plate, "and I think I'm making progress but he's still not connecting with me in a conscious way."

The Admiral hesitated, then decided to ask, "I trust your sister is doing well?"

The youth considered him for a long moment, then pulled out a hand held holoprojector, "The Empire has enough spies that you'll figure this out anyway. Yes, she's doing great. She had her twins two weeks ago."

"Twins!"

"Yes, they run in the family, apparently. A boy and a girl."

Piett looked absently at the holo which had appeared above Skywalker's hand, and then his eyes bugged out.

"Wait, isn't that ..?"

"Leia Organa, yes."

"Leia Organa. Of Alderaan."

"Yes."

The boy sounded amused.

"Is your twin sister."

"Yes. She wasn't happy. About me, she was. About him, not so much."

"Asteroids of Hoth," Piett breathed out, running a weary hand across his forehead. Of course Vader's daughter couldn't be some random Rebel. She had to be Princess Leia of destroyed Alderaan.

"Asteroids of Hoth?"

"It was," Piett explained stiffly, "a difficult time in my life. Have you ever tried to hunt a small freighter through a major asteroid field with a very focused Sith Lord breathing down your neck?"

"Have you ever been on a small freighter in a major asteroid field? I wasn't on the Falcon, as you know, but Leia and Han and Chewbacca were nearly smashed to oblivion a million times. It's a good thing Han is an awesome pilot."

Piett frowned, "I thought Solo had been ..."

He trailed away. Probably not a good thing to bring up given how messy Bespin had turned out to be. Vader had captured Solo and Organa, and tortured them both, and cut off Skywalker's hand.

"Frozen in carbonite and shipped off to Jabba?" Skywalker asked brightly. "Yes. And we rescued him. Leia killed Jabba. She and Solo got married. He's father to the twins and therefore Darth Vader's son-in-law."

There was a strangled gasp from the bed and Skywalker and Piett turned in surprise. Darth Vader lay there, his blue eyes open wide.

"Father!" Luke said joyfully. "You are awake!"

"Solo?" the raspy voice muttered. Without the vocoder, the man did not sound like Darth Vader.

"I think we have more important things to talk about than Han, Father."

"Married to my daughter ..."

"Yes," the young man said indignantly. "He's a great man."

"He's a scruffy looking nerfherder..."

"Leia has said the very same thing..."

"I tortured him ..."

"And Leia, and you cut off my hand. You don't get any Father of the Decade awards for sure."

Piett winced at these words. Even lying on his back without his mask, Darth Vader was a dangerous man and Skywalker seemed intent on poking the dragon with his words.

"But I love you anyway," the youth said seriously, "and we are very thankful that you killed Palpatine."

The scarred lips lifted in a slight smile, "Your sister, did she ...?"

"Yes, here they are. Twins."

The blue eyes widened in amazement as they focused on the holo, and the old man smiled, "Twins ..."

"Yes."

Piett suddenly felt very uncomfortable. It didn't seem right that he was in the middle of this (admit it) touching family reunion.

"You may go, Admiral," Vader ordered even as one half of his bed tilted up more.

"Yes, my Lord."

"I'll take good care of him 'til the doctor shows up," Skywalker said helpfully, his eyes on his father's face.

"Very well," Piett murmured.

He left, swiftly, and fifteen minutes later he was curled up in bed with his plushie.

The situation was insane and crazy. But as he drifted off to sleep, somehow ... somehow ... Piett was certain everything was going to be all right ...

The End

Except I might write an epilogue.