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Chapter Text

Piett waited in the big hangar bay, ostensibly inspecting the preparations for the return of their forces. 

In reality, he was trying to quell his fears that this time---this time would be the news that his friend had fallen in battle after the relentless campaigns they had been mounting with increasing frequency.

He clenched his gloved hands behind his back. Technically he was off duty, but had not bothered to go to his quarters, preferring to come here and meet the returning troops. He knew that Baldwin was watching him across the way as he worked with his teams on repairing four damaged walkers, but he could not spare the Chief Engineer a glance. 

Not these days. 

He must be on lockdown. The perfect picture of the Imperial cog. 

Because Death Squadron depended on him doing his job perfectly. Otherwise they would be mere fodder in Lord Vader’s obsessive quest to find Skywalker.

He had watched with dismay these past nine months as his commander had sunk further and further into the cold and ruthless machine he had always been rumored to be. Piett had begun to think that perhaps Lord Vader may value Death Squadron and her men. And initially, that had been true. For two years, he had been proud to serve with the most elite force in the Empire.

But then the hunt for the Death Star killer had become more and more pronounced. Lord Vader was purportedly searching for Rebels, to root them out, but this was far more than their war on the Rebellion.

This was personal.

Piett was sure of it. 

It was not because Vader had valued the Death Star and felt the affront to the Empire. Oh no. In fact he had been most open in his contempt for the weapon, and Piett was in hearty agreement with him. A planet killer may be a deterrent, but given the way the Rebellion had fought even harder when they learned about Jedha….

Or the massive uprisings and defections after Alderaan….

It was a genocide weapon and Piett wanted no part of it. Veers had informed him recently that he had originally been ordered to report to the Death Star shortly before Yavin. A happy incident that caused his shuttle to crash saved his friend’s life in an ironic turn of events. 

So Vader was not seeking Skywalker to avenge the Death Star---of this Piett was certain.

And he ordered, repeatedly, that Skywalker was not to be harmed once they cornered him. He could be stunned, but his Lordship had threatened slow and awful death to any who caused harm to the young pilot.

The thing was, even as Piett was convinced this was a personal search, the methods used to find him became increasingly impersonal .

Vader used men and ships ruthlessly. Veers had come close to losing his life in this galaxy wide search twice now, and Vader plowed on.

Piett had nearly been successful in capturing the young (Jedi? He carried a lightsaber, that he knew) man two months previous. He had been certain that Vader would execute him for his failure. Even now, he was not certain why he was still alive. And glimmers of humanity he had thought he’d seen from his dark commander were utterly quenched. 

This had become apparent in many ways, but for Piett himself it was having effect also due to Ozzel’s increased persecution once more. He had seen that Lord Vader was not giving his attention to intership matters the way he had in the past, and was finding ways to make Piett’s life increasingly difficult. 

He would not say unbearable ---nothing could match those awful months when he had first come aboard, and literally wondered if he would survive the experience. No, he had Veers and the Lady now---there was only so much Ozzel could do and the Admiral knew it. But what he could do…..he was .

Increased paperwork. Double shifts when he thought he could get away with it. Superfluous inspections. 

No physical assaults----even Ozzel wasn’t stupid enough for that again now that Piett was the Captain of the Lady herself. And Sergeant Ellery was still a faithful shadow when he was on board.

At the moment, however, Piett was hoping that Ellery was right behind a very exhausted (no doubt) General as the first of the troop ships began returning to the bay. 

The landing crews sprang into action, directing the ships to their designated spots in the bay, and Piett was careful not to be underfoot as his well trained crew did their jobs. 

He knew without looking when Vader entered. The chill was unmistakable, as was the tsunami of fear that rolled through the busy hangar bay. 

The kish kosh of Vader’s respirator echoed with gentle malice and Piett straightened, turning to acknowledge his superior officer.

“My Lord.”

“Captain.”

The mask was unreadable. This was an obvious thing to observe, but there had been a time that Piett had thought he was making headway in understanding the little tilts of the helmet, or the set in the shoulders of the Dark Lord. 

These days he did not dare speculate. 

“You are not required to be here,” Lord Vader rumbled.

Was that a hint….?

“No, my Lord,” Piett replied as evenly as possible, “I am off duty at the moment.”

A long pause and Piett tried to keep his breathing even. Was he to leave then….?

“It is perhaps opportune that you are here. I already know that Skywalker has evaded capture once more. I wish to discuss our next moves. When the General arrives, we will meet in my conference room with the other senior officers. Inform them.”

“Ah...yes, my Lord,” Piett replied, whipping out his datapad to type in an urgent message for the senior staff.

“And Captain.”

“Sir?”

“I will expect you both directly. Do not allow your …. concern for the General to impede your work to crush the Rebellion and capture Skywalker. Is that clear?”

Kriffing hells. 

“Yes, my Lord.”

Vader swept out again, the wind from his cape ruffling Piett’s hair.

He was not going to be allowed to give Veers any breathing room. All right. He could adapt. He swiftly typed in a galley order to be delivered here by service droid. Piett was reasonably sure his friend kept a spare uniform jacket in his office, which was across the bay. He moved quickly around the periphery of the action, aware now of the medical crews swarming around. The casualties had been heavy. More wounded than dead thankfully, but it was not easy any way you looked at it.

Piett had already been informed by Ellery that Veers was unhurt (he and the Sergeant had worked out an agreement on such matters) for which he was exceedingly grateful. Now if he could just help his friend through this meeting…..

He keyed in the code for the General’s office and found what he was looking for in seconds, hanging tidily by the weapons’ locker. 

He draped the jacket over his arm and briefly considered grabbing the flask he knew to be in the bottom left drawer, but decided against it in the end. The brief aid it might give the General would not be worth any grief from Ozzel later, should it be discovered.

He exited and secured the office once more, opting to stand outside it as more and more transports landed. The smell of hot engines and plasma was strong, as was ion residue and melted plasteel from damaged armor.

Sparks were already flying from various engineer teams around the bay, as they worked to repair ships and walkers alike. 

Vader expected a very quick turnaround then. Piett wondered if Veers would even be allowed any sleep. He would damn well find a way to give the General some rest Piett vowed internally. A service droid nudged his calf, and he looked down to see the simple food items and the water bottle he had ordered.

He retrieved them and the droid trundled off with a cheerful little *blat.

At least someone was happy.

And at last the final ship landed (because his friend was a strong proponent of no man left behind and thus made sure to be the first out and the last in) and Piett straightened. 

Troopers first, carrying more wounded. Several covered forms as well. Then Ellery next to the tall General. Even from here, Piett could see the weariness in the set of his friend’s shoulders and the halting gait that spoke of time spent far too long on his feet.

Piett moved to them swiftly.

“....and send another kriffing request for some decent cuirass’s for my men. These are a joke if that many of our troops can be injured while wearing them .”

“Sir,” he said, gaining Veers’ attention, and red rimmed grey eyes blinked down at him.

Piett kept his tone professional, aware that Max wouldn’t thank him for showing too much concern in front of all these men.

“Lord Vader has ordered a meeting of the senior officers the moment you returned, General,” Piett told him, trying to convey as much sympathy as he could with his eyes. 

Veers stared at him for a beat, looking so Force damned exhausted, and Piett felt guilty even though it was in no way his fault. 

“Do I have time to clean….?” he began and spotted his jacket over Piett’s arm.

“Sorry,” the Captain told him quietly. “I planned to have you change and eat on the way.”

“So I see,” Veers returned. “Ellery…”

“I’ve got things here, sir.” the big man said, throwing Piett an understanding look. 

Veers took a breath and dragged up stamina from somewhere down by his dirty boots before moving to walk beside his much shorter friend. 

“Do you know what it’s about, Firmus?” he asked once they were well clear of the earshot of anyone else.

Piett angled him a look. “I would imagine it will be our next mission to catch Skywalker, what else?”

Veers closed his eyes briefly, his face far more haggard that Piett had ever seen. 

“All right. Thank you for all this,” the General replied, opening his eyes and taking the water bottle off of Piett. “Bit of a risk for you, coming down here like this.”

Oh Piett knew it.

“Yes, well, I’m off duty at the moment. Though his Lordship did warn me about letting my feelings get in the way of my duty.”

Veers gritted his teeth as they entered the lift.

“You do your duty and more! How has he not seen what Ozzel is piling your desk with….?”

“Because,” Piett said, helping Veers shrug out of the jacket stained with dirt, and blood and sweat, “he is not concerned with that, General, as you well know. And Ozzel is not being stupid enough to come at me with physical means…”

“You being exhausted out of your mind is pretty damn physical!” Veers snapped, doing up the latch on his fresh duty jacket and finger combing his hair.

“I could say the same, Max,” Piett told him mildly, handing him the sandwich.

His friend stared at him for a beat.

“You are remarkably calm with all this, Piett.”

He took a huge bite and the Captain sighed.

“I internalize stress like a champ, Max, you know that. But….it’s Lord Vader and…..I don’t know anymore…..Ozzel in some ways, is the least of my worries. He can’t Force choke me after all.”

Veers coughed, crumbs spraying lightly around the lift.

“ Firmus . Please don’t even joke about that.”

Piett held his gaze.

“I wouldn’t, General. I am quite serious, given how things are, and have been the last few months particularly…..I used to think surely, he wouldn’t appoint me the Lady’s Captain and then…..dispose of me? It seemed more….right. Kriff, I just don’t know.”

Veers swallowed his bite.

“He choked someone else today, didn’t he?”

Dying moans on the central walkway and the sound of clanging as the man’s boot heels struck against the durasteel deck. 

The clammy feeling of horror on the bridge and the desperate attempts from every other officer not to look----to pretend it wasn’t happening…..

“Yes,” Piett said softly, staring at the riveting on the deck plating and the Lady swept the lift with her indigo sadness.

“I tried to step in…”

Veers looked at him with horror filled eyes.

“Son of a Hutt , Firmus, don’t make yourself a deliberate target!”

“What would you have me do, Veers?” Piett snapped, his grief fueling anger that wasn’t fair. He knew his friend was only concerned for his well being. “Stand by and cower? These are my men too Force damn it, and I have a duty to them ! You have done the same!”

Veers took another bite and finished it before answering in a much subdued voice. Piett didn’t like it---Max didn’t do subdued.

“I know. I know that, Captain, and it’s why you’re you. It’s why I’ll take a blaster for you as well…”

“Please don’t,” Piett muttered.

“...but please. Piett, you are my only friend on this ship!  At all really.”

He leaned against the wall of the turbolift and ran a hand down his face. He needed to shave, but would not have any time at the moment.

“Listen, Max,” Piett said, schooling his tone. Veers was equally, if not more, tired than Piett was, and they were about to have an undoubtedly stressful meeting. “I have the Lady. I do not think she would allow him to do me harm.”

The General raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? You think she would go against the commander of the fleet….?”

A wash of warm green light bathed them, and it brought a small smile to Piett’s face at last.

“Is that not answer enough? Yes, I think she has our backs.”

“Thank you, Lady,” Veers muttered, finishing his sandwich as the lift slowed. He straightened, wincing slightly.

“I thought you weren’t injured?” Piett inquired in a low voice as they made their way down the glossy corridors.

“I’m not. Just sore muscles, Captain.”

And they entered the conference room. 

*****

Vader sensed all their petty little feelings as he strode into the room. His officers rose at his presence and he waved them impatiently back down. 

He had no time for silly formalities or trifling reports on troop and equipment losses. They were the Empire. One of the uses of the bloated entity he had helped create was the unending supply of men and machines. They might as well be useful, he thought bitterly. 

And once Luke was at his side…..

All things would be possible.

Obviously he could not explain that to the officers here, nor did they deserve to know it. Most of them.

The Lady’s Captain sat across from Vader himself, next to General Veers as was his wont. They would know when the time was right. Then they would understand why he drove them so hard.

<Will they, Dark One? asked the Lady, and her tone was most definitely dripping with doubt.>

And she was becoming more and more vexing.

<They will , he told her, thrusting his confidence at her.>

She scoffed.

Ignoring her for a moment (and it was a very difficult task to ignore a pissed off 19 kilometer warship) he addressed his men.

“There is a distinct lack of headway, both in capturing Skywalker and in crushing the Rebels,” he began, rumbling ominously. 

The dark fear that rolled around the room satisfied his damaged soul. If he was feeling despair he would not be alone. A tiny glimmer somewhere in his head told him this was not the way to win support for his future coup, but he crushed it ruthlessly. He was the Emperor’s Fist. He was the most powerful Sith Lord the galaxy had yet seen. That was his whole being now. 

And Luke will want to join that? persisted the voice.

Hells why did the shredded remains of what passed as his conscience have to sound like Obi-Wan every time? It was like pouring magma on his wounds. And he would know…..

“I am most displeased with our lack of progress,” he continued, exerting Force pressure onto the shoulders of his most senior officers.

Ozzel whimpered slightly. (Of course, he thought contemptuously.)

Veers, who was haggard already, squinted slightly, but remained upright. The Iron General. Vader was oddly proud that he did not bend.

Neither did his steel spined Captain, though he pressed his lips together, but he actually dared to look Vader in the face, waiting for more. 

Several of the others twitched. His TIE commander immediately straightened again and he scored a point for the woman. 

“I wish to send out more probe droids. See to it, Admiral,” he said, releasing the pressure. 

“Ah, yes my Lord,” Ozzel managed.

“Captain Piett.”

“My Lord,” the man responded evenly though Vader could feel his turmoil. It had bothered him earlier---Piett had interfered with his….. discipline of that fool commander. He had used the Force to hold the Captain back and had not liked to do so. He knew Piett’s distaste for being restrained in such a way. And being reminded that he was a man in the suit, not a cold machine, was not something Vader wanted at the moment. 

“You will personally see to it that all of the data the droids send back is thoroughly examined. Any detail, no matter how minute, is to be logged. Anything you believe might remotely indicate rebel activity is to be reported to me.”

Ozzel was feeling smug at the work load he had just piled on the Captain. He shouldn’t. He trusted Piett here more than he would ever trust Ozzel. The Captain would know what he was looking for and would do an excellent job.

“Yes, my Lord.”

<He is tired! snapped the Lady. You ask too much of him, Dark One.>

<He can handle it. He has dealt with worse. I do not have time for you to coddle him, Lady.>

<You will push him too far, she told him. You will push me too far, Dark One.>

And that…..was that a threat? It had not actually occurred to him what might happen should he and the Lady truly face each other in open conflict.

Opting to ignore this troubling thought for the moment, Vader turned to Veers. 

“We have received word of a rebel uprising in the Brack Sector. You will deploy in 24 hours.”

He felt Veers’ internal wince but the man lived up to his nickname externally. 

“Yes, my Lord.”

Piett shot him a swift glance. Vader appreciated that the two had improved the efficiency between the army and the navy. However, their friendship was getting in the way of what he wished to accomplish. Their focus needed to be on their commander’s ultimate goals.

That’s not the real reason though, the voice in his head nagged. The real reason you don’t like it, is the reminder it gives you of what brotherhood looks like. 

Internally he snarled viciously at the voice. Anakin was dead. He no longer needed to worry about such horizontal ties. And his officers would do well to remember that too. 

“You will transfer to Devastator. She and Tyrant will escort you and provide support. You will rendezvous with the rest of the fleet near Seltos. We will be mustering there to crush a significant Rebel splinter group.”

He paused, the Dark Side purring around him due to the sheer strain and fear in the room.

“Dismissed,” he intoned.

Chapter Text

Veers felt the nudge but couldn’t be bothered to respond. He was warm and he was asleep, dammit, nothing would change that.

“Sir.”

Ellery’s voice reminded him that his duty could change that and he opened gritty eyes to realize that he was leaning against the big man’s shoulder. 

Nine hells….

He sat up swiftly, tugging his tunic, and straightening his cuirass. And apparently he needed to stop associating with Piett so much as he was picking up some of the Captain’s mannerisms. 

“Apologies, Sergeant. What’s the status?”

Ellery was looking at him with too much understanding and Veers narrowed his eyes.

“We’re ten minutes out, General. I thought you might want to get to your walker now, sir.”

“Very true, Ellery, thank you.” They had been seated in a passenger area on the Gozanti taking their walker and walker 12 toward Cularin. 

He rose in a haze, body and mind both moving more slowly than they ought.

He had appreciated being able to crash on the Captain’s sofa--his quarters being closer to Vader’s conference room--for a few hours, but Piett’s small efforts, however appreciated were not enough to overcome the huge sleep debt that Veers was working with.

Of course, Piett was faring no better. Between Ozzel’s persecution and Vader’s increasing demands, Veers wondered how in the galaxies his friend’s slim shoulders were coping with the weight. 

The Captain had not had time to walk with him to the hangar bay. They had said their quiet farewells without fuss. The General suspected that they had both written letters to be sent to one another should one of them die. He had----this he knew, and Piett would likely do the same. So their partings these days were usually limited to ‘good hunting’ and ‘safe stars’ as was their wont.

Veers privately thought he had the better job. He was facing a known enemy in the Rebellion. He went in, he led his campaign (hopefully to victory) and they departed.

Each time, he wondered if he would see Piett, or if this was finally the time that Vader had allowed his anger to get the better of him. That this would be the time he would hear that Piett’s body was in the morgue, because his friend tried to save a crewman. Or just happened to be in the area when their Sith commander needed to expel his rage on yet another person.

Yes, he knew the Lady in some mysterious fashion looked out for her Captain. But what could she do precisely to a Sith Lord? Veers had witnessed her impressive display when she obliterated the Hand. * But they had been by her plasma core at that point. What could she do if Vader were to unleash his frustration upon Piett somewhere else?

“Sir?” Ellery again, holding Veers’ helmet as he wrestled with his thoughts. He had to pull it together. He would do no one any good if he was not focused on the mission at hand.

“Right.” He took the helmet and put it on. “Let us remind the Rebels who holds authority in this sector.”

****

Vader felt the Emperor’s displeasure wash over him as he knelt before the glowing image.

“It is expected that my most trusted friend will be by my side, Lord Vader,” Palpatine said softly, but in a voice dripping with poison. “It is Ascension day after all. The day I humbly took the throne for the good of the galaxy. And you----you were most instrumental in placing me there.”

And internally Vader bled. His Master knew all the ways in which to torture him and reminding him that he had been the key to placing Sidious on his tyrant’s throne was one of his favorites.

“I am grieved indeed, my Master, that I cannot be with you,” he replied, straining his shields to repress his thoughts.

Soon you will be dead. And my son will be at my side. I can endure all things if that is the end of my plans.

“This…...splinter group of Rebels is such a threat you believe?” Palpatine pushed in his gravelly tones.

“It is, my Master. It is the largest we know of, and the most vicious. The ‘Alliance’ disdain their methods, though they are hypocrite enough to  use them as needed. At last I believe we have found their location.”

“And you have not yet cornered young Skywalker,” Sidious purred, his golden eyes glowing brightly even across a far distant connection. 

Which you well know you ancient serpent.

“I have not.”

“You are certain your reluctance to come to Imperial Center is not due to your desire to pursue him?”

He did wish to pursue Luke. He would. But he also wished to destroy this group it was true. He projected all his hatred for these Rebels into his answer. 

“It is not. I am working on plans to capture him. But this mission is more pressing, my Master. I do not wish to lose our opportunity for surprise.”

“No. Surprise is difficult is it not, my old friend? Especially as you have such a distinctive breathing sound now?” He cackled at his own wit and deep within Vader, Anakin screamed his despair.

“I merely jest, of course, Lord Vader.”

“Of course, Master.”

“It was I who saved you after all….”

To what end? Eternal misery? How Vader wished it had all ended that day. That Obi-Wan had had the courage to kill him with his own hand.

“Thank you, my Master.”

“Well,” Palpatine considered. “I am still most displeased with you, Lord Vader. I expected…..more from you. But your devotion to peace in our galaxy is indeed admirable. I will, of course, expect a report from you in person, when you finish.”

“Of course.” 

Palpatine disappeared. Vader rose and the room trembled around him. 

<You are angry with the Evil, Dark One. You do not need to …..>

He drowned the Lady’s voice out as the Force raged around him in a violent storm, and Vader was the anything but peaceful eye.

He gave himself to his despair.

******

Piett hurried toward the engine bays while trying very hard not to look like he was hurrying. He had purpose---he did not need to look panicked. 

The crew had had enough of that the day before.

Lord Vader had destroyed his own quarters in a spectacular manner after a conversation with the Emperor, to the extent that he had caused damage to the Lady’s structural integrity. 

All sorts of alarms had gone off on the bridge and almost comically as one, they had looked to him when the source was revealed.

Ozzel had confirmed it by ordering him to check on his Lordship. Piett could see his own demise in the man’s pig like eyes.

“Do you need assistance, sir?” Lieutenant Venka had asked and Piett appreciated his XO’s boldness.

“Thank you, Venka, with me then.”

He hoped madly that this was not the cause of Venka’s death as well as his own. 

They had reached the corridor which was utterly deserted as no crewmember in their right mind was going anywhere near the area when Lord Vader was on rampage.

The Lady herself was trembling from the impact and Piett and Venka both staggered. There was  a huge hole in the bulkhead between the corridor and Vader's quarters, as though a giant fist had ripped it like a piece of flimsi. This provided them the terrifying view of Lord Vader, standing in the center of his quarters, arms raised and cape whirling madly about him as the debris from all of the objects in his rooms furthered the destruction around them. 

Piett felt the datapad firmly grasped in his hand buzz, and he looked down to see that the Lady was showing him the location of the worst stress point. 

Kriffing hells. If it went, the resulting loss of pressure could rupture 8 decks.

“MY LORD!!” he had tried over the noise. Nothing. And now he could hear….was that the sound durasteel made when it was slowly being pulled apart? He would hear it in nightmares.

“He can’t hear us!” Venka had called.

Piett sighed internally. It was true. His Lordship was in a Force trance now. Only one thing he could think of to try and bring him out.

“Get back!” he ordered Venka.

“Sir….”

“MOVE Lieutenant. I don’t want you to get hurt if this doesn’t work the way I hope.”

Venka obeyed as Piett drew his blaster and took aim at his commander. 

“Son of a Hutt….!” Venka managed and Piett fired.

For a half second he worried that he might have committed the worst sort of treason, but then his blaster was yanked from his hand, the red bolt deflected back and he ducked, feeling the heat as it zipped by his head.

Then he was flung back against the opposite wall and pinned there, the pressure on his slight form increasing painfully. 

But he was still breathing……

“What was the meaning of that action, Captain?” Lord Vader’s voice---clipped and ominous sounded-- and the tall black form stepped out of his ruined quarters, the thunderous tumble of falling debris sounding behind him.

“My Lord…” Piett tried, and oh he was sure his back would be a colorful mess of bruises from this. “The ship’s integrity was being threatened. I do abjectly apologize---it was the only thing I could think of to bring you…..back to us.”

Venka was wide eyed near them, clearly waiting for Vader to snap Piett’s neck if he was merciful and throttle him if he was not.

He rather wondered why either option hadn’t occurred himself.

“And if you had failed? And hit me?”

The pressure increased again and Piett grunted in pain.

“I had faith that you would sense it, my Lord,” he answered truthfully. 

“Faith….” the Sith Lord trailed off. The lights in the corridor were flashing furiously quite suddenly and Venka looked around puzzled. 

“My Lord,” the Lieutenant began.

“That is not me,” Lord Vader said, lowering his outstretched hand. Piett slid to the floor. “That is the Lady.”

“A….malfunction?” Venka clarified.

And there was a strange moment where Piett could swear that Vader was looking him right in the eye.

“....of a sort,” his commander said at last. “See to the repairs, Captain. All the repairs.”

And he strode off toward his training rooms, while Venka helped him up.

“Sir, do you need sickbay or….?”

Piett hurt, but nothing was broken. “No, Venka, thank you.”

“Bloody hells, sir, I thought you were kriffed for sure.”

“So did I, Lieutenant,” Piett breathed, straightening his tunic and opening various screens on his pad to communicate with the teams needed for repairs. “So did I.”

Now he was going to check in with Baldwin as the Chief needed to speak with him and show him some of the issues that they were having after pushing the Lady so hard these last months in their pursuit of the Rebels (Skywalker).

He had barely had time to stop in the officer’s mess closest to him and snatch a quick bite of dinner. Something hot, that’s all he recalled, because he had wolfed it down. He needed fuel--he didn’t have time to sit and savor or relax. The first of the new data streams from the probe droids was incoming, and his teams were working around the clock to pore over them for any possible leads on the Rebels (Skywalker). 

This meant, of course, that Piett himself was poring over the things that they flagged personally. He was genuinely wondering how in the galaxies he would get any sleep at this rate. But Lord Vader had said it needed to be him personally. And while his Lordship had been spending ships and men like water at this point, he was not the sort to assign busy work, unlike Ozzel.

(And don’t get Piett started on how much the Admiral had laid on his plate, his happy little smirk in place.)

So he could only assume that this was somehow deeply personal for Vader. He had suspected it for some time, but this increasing obsession with capturing Skywalker over catching the Rebels was confirming it every day. 

He entered the lift and spent the ten minutes it took to reach the vast engine bays, reading the minutiae reports that Ozzel had handed off to him. Checking those as done, and sending a few departmental notes regarding them, Piett exited.

His stomach churned a little as he moved down the last corridor to the second catwalk level.

He couldn’t get sick now….

“Captain.”

Baldwin was an oasis of calm in 19 kilometers of stress, and Piett was grateful. 

“Chief. I wish I had time for more pleasantries, but I am afraid I need to get right to the point today.”

“I understand, sir. Over here.”

They moved to a section where massive conduits led from the plasma core out to the rest of the ship. 

“This, Captain. I have tried to bring it to the attention of the Admiral, sir, as I’m very concerned, but he has not responded to my requests.”

Force damn his self important little soul , Piett thought viciously, his stomach now really bothering him, and he felt himself sweating lightly.

 He could see the vast amounts of carbon scoring, black against the normally gleaming silver conduits.

“How exactly is this happening, Baldwin?” he asked, trying to unobtrusively lean against the railing.

The Chief gave him a quick look, but didn’t ask questions. With any luck, Piett could get through this and stagger back to his quarters to be miserable alone. 

“Sir, the last five months, we have pushed the Lady to her limits as we hop around the galaxy. Captain, I appreciate the zeal for hunting out the Rebellion, but sir, even the Lady needs time for maintenance and we haven’t given her a proper overhaul in a year and a half. We need to be at Kuat, sir.”

And Lord Vader would love to hear that. No doubt Piett would be sent to tell him too. The pain took another sharp ratchet up and he couldn’t stop himself from bending slightly.

“Captain!” Baldwin was at his elbow.

“It’s fine, Chief. Likely coming down with….oh…”

Fire was ripping through him now and he dropped to his knees on the metal catwalk with a slight clang. 

“Sir, I’m getting a med team.”

“Please, no, Baldwin,” Piett gasped, hating the thought of being stuck in sickbay with so much work to do. Vader was not in an….understanding mood. His Captain had just shot at him after all.

“I just… I….”

The Chief anticipated him, seizing a big tool kit and dumping its contents before thrusting it under his face.

Piett lost whatever he had managed to put in his stomach. But the expected relief he had been anticipating didn’t come. The pain was as though he’d been shot .

He curled into a fetal position on the grating, feeling the cold metal pressing his cheek and vaguely was aware of Baldwin comming a med team above him.

“Can’t be sick, Chief,” he muttered, “kriffing hells it hurts!”

He heard Baldwin moving and then something softer was placed under his head. The Chief’s duty jacket.

“Sorry,” Piett managed and another red wave of agony tore through his stomach.

“Maybe an ulcer sir,” Baldwin said calmly and a warm hand landed on his shoulder while another was removing his cap. The Chief touched the back of his hand to Piett’s clammy forehead. 

“Fever, Captain. I’m sorry, but I’m not rescinding the med team. You need to be seen, sir.”

He didn’t understand. “I don’t…..have time, Baldwin!” he insisted, grasping at the man’s sleeve. “Henley will keep me, things will get missed and people will die, Chief!!!”

He convulsed again and what in the galaxies was causing this? He would rather be shot at this rate.

A comforting hand on his head. “It’s not all on you, Captain,” Baldwin told him. “Don’t worry about that right now, sir. I’ve got you.”

****

Piett moaned under his touch and Baldwin could see that clarity was becoming difficult for the younger man. 

He had witnessed Piett’s anguish when Veers had been near death with an illness only months before. Baldwin wished he was surprised that the Captain was now battling something as well. The way that their commander had been pushing all of them was fierce, but their senior officers in particular…..

“Baldwin,” his Captain tried again. “I have too much to do. Lord Vader…”

Yes, Vader was the issue for most of them. Vader was also an issue for much of the galaxy, but the Chief wouldn’t dwell on that too much. 

“I know, sir. I can’t affect that at the moment, Captain. I can help you. One thing at a time, sir.”

He ran a hand over Piett’s short brown hair, feeling the sweat gathering and tried to stay calm. He was very much hoping Henley had answers for whatever was wrong with the Captain. Given how things had been, Executor needed him. For whatever reason, no matter how hard Lord Vader pushed Piett, he seemed to draw the line at killing him. 

Baldwin was very aware of the previous day’s events having been up to see the damage himself. And the scuttlebutt had already swept the length of the Lady.

The Captain had fired a blaster at Lord Vader. To protect the ship and crew. Piett likely had no idea just how much respect was directed at his small form, but Baldwin heard all the discussions.

Piett would stand between his crew and Lord Vader if it came to it. And Baldwin could see it was slowly killing him.

“Chief,” Piett ground out. “Thank you.”

The med team showed up at last and Baldwin stepped back to let them examine the Captain.

One of them turned to him as her colleagues lifted Piett to a grav sled.

“What happened exactly?”

“I could see he didn’t feel well. He was sweating lightly. It progressed quickly from there to vomiting and acute pain. As you see.”

The woman nodded. 

“You may want to come with us, Chief. Doctor Henley is rather concerned.”

Baldwin raised his eyebrows.

“He said that?”

The woman gave him a small conspiratorial grin. “Not in so many words. It was more the ‘how many kriffing competent captains does Lord Vader think we have to run through? He’s killing the man, the Sith bastard .’ and more to that effect. He did mention that he was glad you were with him Chief, by which I take it that he may want to hear from your lips what happened.”

Baldwin nodded. He had questions and this would be a good opportunity to speak with the Doctor without arousing any suspicions.

He followed the small group out, ignoring the curious looks they received as they came out into the corridors. Piett was mercifully not in the same amount of agony having been given heavy painkillers, but he was still restless on the gravsled and Baldwin hurried to move ahead of two medics to walk at the man’s side.

“Please…..” the Captain moaned, and Baldwin reached to take his hand, gripping it firmly to let Piett know he wasn’t alone. It may have helped. He liked to think so when the pressure was returned as they entered the lift and Piett seemed a little calmer.

The moment they entered Henley’s sickbay the man was on them with a scanner.

“Yes, all right,” he said abruptly, “get him to a bed.”

The medics swiftly obeyed and Henley barked more orders. Baldwin had a rare moment to appreciate the Doctor in his element--this was his command and he was supremely competent in it.

“Captain,” he said, leaning over Piett and unlatching his duty jacket. “Have you been suffering with this pain long?”

“No,” Piett panted, “came on quickly.”

Henley did a swift blood draw and the scanner beeped at him.

He frowned slightly.

“What did you eat last, Captain?”

“Just before….going to Engineering,” he answered, and Henley and a medic between them had his jacket off.

“I have a sample sir,” the woman said. “I didn’t find any poisons.”

Henley adjusted something on his scanner and took the sample.

He growled at the results. 

“No poisons in that very deadly sense of the word, no. Time for a sedative, I think.” And Henley followed word with action, allowing Piett to slip into blessed relief.

He came to Baldwin’s side and inclined his head for them to move apart from the medics as they finished making Piett comfortable.

“What is it?” the Chief asked, trying not to feel deeply uneasy about Henley’s manner. “I thought you said he was not poisoned…”

“He wasn’t….conventionally,” Henley answered quietly.

And that was not in any way reassuring. 

“What happened then? Will he be all right?”

“He will be fine now,” Henley replied quickly. “It was food poisoning---a very vicious one at that.”

“Should we pass the word in the galleys, Doctor? Trace it….”

“It was very specific, Chief. This sort of ‘poison’ if you will, is not something we would find occurring naturally in any of the foodstuffs on board the Lady. It had to have been added.”

A chill swept Baldwin and he glanced back at Piett’s quiet form, peaceful now and tucked in securely.

“Doctor, you mean….”

“You know exactly what I mean, Mr. Baldwin,” Henley pinned him with that penetrating gaze. “This was done to him deliberately.”

“ Why? ” asked Baldwin. As though Piett’s situation wasn’t hard enough.

“I don’t know,” Henley admitted, “though I have some ideas. After all, if the Captain is unable to fulfill his duties, there are consequences. Or if he had been taken ill on his own….and fallen? In Engineering?

“ Force , Doctor. That’s tantamount to murder.”

“Agreed, Chief. I can’t prove anything of course.”

The two men stared at each other for a beat.

“Damn, but I wish the General was on board,” Baldwin said, frowning furiously. “Who can we report this to?”

“I would have said Lord Vader at one time,” sighed Henley. “But he has no care for that now. If the Captain had actually been poisoned perhaps, but…”

“What of the first officer….what’s his name?”

“Lieutenant Venka? The XO?” Henley stroked his chin. “That is not a terrible idea, Chief. He seems to be a good man. Yes. I’ll let him know. When the Captain wakes I shall inform him as well. He should make sure all his meals are prepared by someone trusted. Imagine if this had happened on the bridge!”

Baldwin blanched slightly. Surrounded by numerous officers and an Admiral who hated him? Who had possibly been behind this? Awful indeed to contemplate. 

Chapter Text

Venka waited in the bay as the big ships made their smooth landings. Veers and the Herd were returning triumphant, having put down the Rebel uprising. 

Executor had only been at Seltos for one day before word had reached them that their people were returning. 

Four day campaign.

Impressive indeed. Though it was likely the uprising had not been a large one. Regardless, Venka was deeply pleased that they were back. 

He was less pleased with the news he had to deliver to Veers, but the General should be apprised of the situation immediately and quietly, rather than find out from anyone else.

The Gozanti carrying his walker touched down and the XO moved through the teeming bay toward the ship. He waited respectfully as the dead and wounded were unloaded and finally Veers appeared, dirty and unshaven, with Ellery faithful by his side.

“General Veers.” he saluted as Veers turned to glare at him.

“You’re…”

“Lieutenant Venka, sir. The Captain’s XO.”

“That’s right.”

“Sir I need to….”

“Can this possibly wait until I have actually had a chance to take a breath in the Lady’s hangar bay, Lieutenant?”

All right, yes, the General was hugely intimidating, staring at him with red rimmed grey eyes, currently burning with exhausted fury.

Venka straightened. 

“No, sir, I’m sorry. I need to speak with you privately right away.”

And Veers’ countenance changed. The General was quick, and had clearly put together this was about Piett.

“My office,” he said curtly, and strode in that direction clearly expecting Venka to follow.

He did so, reminding himself that he was an officer, damn it, and his heart did not need to be thundering like this at the thought of facing the rage of ‘Iron Max’ Veers.

The door had barely hissed shut behind them, and the lights flicked on before the General rounded on him.

“Is he alive?” he clipped, removing his helmet to set it on his desk and running a grimy hand through his hair.

“Yes, sir,” Venka said immediately, but the set of the other man’s shoulders remained unchanged. 

Awful that his first question was that one but Venka understood. 

“What the kriff happened? I did not think Executor saw any action.”

“We did not, General.”

Venka took a breath. 

“Sir, Doctor Henley sent me to intercept you to fill you in.”

Veers was radiating tension now---the exhausted man who had stepped off his ship was gone and a coiled tiger waited.

“Then fill. Me. In,” Veers ordered through clenched teeth.

Venka was not picturing a wolf protecting its young at all, he wasn’t, but he half expected the General to growl.

Kriff he was terrifying.

“Sir, the Captain fell ill yesterday. He is going to recover and is in sickbay currently…”

“What does he have?” Veers asked, some of the tension bleeding out from his shoulders, and Venka was able to stop picturing vicious predators.

“He doesn’t have anything in that sense, General. He suffered food poisoning.”

Veers raised an eyebrow. “And you came down here to head me off with great secrecy to tell me that ?”

Vicious predator images were back in Venka’s brain for this next part.

“No, ah, no sir. The Doctor….he said it was done deliberately, General.”

He forced himself not to back up a step.

The General hadn’t even moved, but something about his whole demeanor screamed danger, and it was assaulting Venka in the primal fear centers of his brain.

“I see,” the General said, and Venka half expected the room to freeze over.

Abruptly Veers stood straight, and removed his armor. He reholsterd his blaster however before shooting a piercing look at Venka.

“Henley’s sickbay you said?”

“Yes, General, but….”

“All right then.”

And he was out the door before Venka could blink.

He hustled after him as a big sergeant intercepted the General, matching his stride. Veers appeared to give him orders but carried on. Venka had to jog to catch up and did so in time to slip into the lift beside him.

“General, we can’t let this get out. We don’t need that kind of havoc on the Lady after all the other things we’ve been dealing with----looking for the pilot, the Rebel campaigns….”

“I am not a green ensign, thank you Lieutenant,” Veers responded coldly.

“Sir if you come storming in, it will look suspicious….”

“Who said I will storm?” Veers lifted an eyebrow. “I will enter calmly to visit my friend. I assume  precautions have been taken regarding his food?”

At least Venka could reassure him here.”Yes, General. I spoke with one of the galley chiefs. They will be the only ones to prepare the Captain’s food from here on. And the Doctor has recommended he have it scanned first even so.”

“He’s awake then?” Veers asked keenly.

“Well. He has been in intervals. Insisted he be released yesterday and Henley actually laughed in his face, sir.”

Veers’ lip twitched at this, but he gave no other indicators.

“Mmm. Well, thank you, Venka.”

“Yes, sir.”

They were silent as they walked down the cold corridor toward sickbay and the warm, white contrast was notable as they stepped inside. 

Piett was the only one in this sickbay at the moment and the lights were dimmed  to allow the Captain to sleep.

Veers paused briefly,  then moved quietly to his friend’s side.

Venka felt rather like an intruder in this moment, but couldn’t move his fascinated eyes as the killing machine rested a hand on the arm of the Captain and stood there for some minutes, watching Piett.

Henley came out, and caught Venka’s eye.

He had done his duty. It was time for the Doctor to take over.

******

His friend looked so kriffing small when he wasn’t conscious. Veers knew objectively that Piett was small always, but there was something that made him more so in sleep. Perhaps it was the vulnerability that the Captain never allowed himself to show when awake.

Henley came to his side and checked readings before turning to look at him.

“Well. You need to sleep yourself, General. You look awful.”

“Always good to see you too, Doctor. Lieutenant Venka says you are the man to talk to about this.”

A sigh from the Doctor. “Yes.”

He must have read more in the General’s face than Veers would have liked because his angular face softened ever so slightly.

“He will be perfectly fine, Veers. Some of this is the massive sleep debt he has. Let’s come into my office to talk.”

Veers moved his hand from Piett’s arm and the warmth that proved his friend was alive, to follow Henley.

Once the door shut, the Doctor motioned to a chair and then snagged a water bottle to shove across the desk to the General.

“Drink that. You came straight from the hangar bay didn’t you?”

Veers took it gratefully. “Yes. Talk to me Henley. What the kriff is going on?”

The Doctor rubbed at the back of his neck.

“That could take a while to discuss, General. But, and you are only getting my theories here….”

“Yes,” said Veers impatiently. “Your theories are usually right, Doctor, however much your method of delivery leaves to be desired.”

Henley snorted. “Very well. I think that it is likely Ozzel or his flunkies. They don’t have the courage to outright attempt murder. Lord Vader may not have the same attention to his command staff that he used to, but I think we can reasonably assume he would note that . However, if Piett can’t perform his duties---and it’s a ridiculous amount by the way----he could incur his Lordship’s…..ire.”

“You think that they are hoping Vader himself will dispose of the Captain.”

“Yes.”

Veers pondered this. A year ago he would have said that was unthinkable. That Vader had personally chosen Piett. That there was clearly something about the ship that connected with the Captain. That Vader had seemed to care…..He had been so careful when they were retrieving Piett from under the pile of debris the Hand had dropped on him. Veers and Vader had worked together there….

Now, however, the General wasn’t sure. Vader was executing men for seemingly small failures. 

“I wondered if it would happen a few days ago,” Henley said interrupting his thoughts.

“Why?”

“Lord Vader….well he had one of his Sith temper tantrums.”

Force the man was bold.

“Doctor,” Veers said, rolling his eyes. “Could we not refer to it that way for kriff’s sake?”

“True though,” Henley shrugged. He leaned back in his chair. “He spoke with the Emperor. These days that usually results in death and destruction.”

This was true.

“However, this one was particularly bad. Naturally, Ozzel sent Piett to try and deal with it. Venka went with him. The ship’s integrity was at stake.”

Son of a Hutt.

“So he sent the Captain on a suicide mission, that fat bastard!!”

Henley nodded. “Venka said that Piett tried to get his attention but it was like a tempest inside the ship.”

Veers could imagine.

“So the Captain shot him.”

A pause.

Veers blinked.

Force damn, Piett.

“He shot…...Lord Vader?”

He had to hear it to be sure.

Henley gave him a smile with no humor. “You may recall the kind of spine our Captain is rumored to have. It didn’t hit him obviously.  He supposed that the threat would draw his Lordship out of the Force storm. He was correct.”

“How is he still alive ?” Veers marveled.

“This is what gives me a glimmer of hope, General,” Henley replied, folding his arms across his chest. “He apparently threw the Captain across the corridor, but he never tried to throttle him. Venka was there. Piett explained the situation and then Vader released him.”

“Just like that.”

“Just like that,” the Doctor agreed.

Veers very much wanted his friend to wake up. Karking hells they had some things to discuss. But he had to return to something else….

“So you believe Ozzel…”

“Just my theory, General, but yes. I think he is looking for ways to cause Piett to stumble. Possibly fatally. Maybe just get him demoted or transferred. But his hatred has visibly increased for the Captain and with Lord Vader focused elsewhere, he doesn’t have much to stand in his way.”

There was the Lady , Veers thought. And there was himself.

“Your proof, Doctor?”

Henley swiped his data pad and slid it over to the General. 

“The Chief and the head gallery steward did a full investigation, very discreetly, so as not to attract the attention of the Admiral. You can see all the details there, but it boils down to this—- only the Admiral or the Captain have the code to override safety scans on the ship’s mess. The code was entered the moment Piett put in his order at officers’ mess hall 239.”

Veers considered this. “Someone was working with Ozzel to do that.”

Henley sighed. “Fully droid service in that hall. Of course it’s entirely likely an Ozzel flunky overrode droid sensor programs there but that’s a screw in the Star Destroyer. Ultimately, the Admiral is responsible.”

Veers picked up the datapad on Henley’s desk without a by your leave and ignored the Doctor’s huff.

“No no, by all means, help yourself.”

He typed in his request, and the Lady showed him the Admiral’s current location. Perfect . Heading for the bridge. 

He typed in an intercept route from sickbay, then rose as the Lady flashed it up for him.

“Doctor. Please comm me with Piett wakes up. I have something to do, and then get a shower before reporting to Lord Vader.”

“Veers…..”

Henley rose as well and came around the desk.

“Whatever you’re planning…”

“You don’t know about, Doctor.” Veers replied, lifting an eyebrow and staring at him hard. 

Henley stared back unphased. “Actually. I very much want to hear about it. In glowing detail.”

Veers grinned at him wolfishly. “I’ll buy you a drink then later.”

Henley chuckled. “I look forward to it.”

*****

Veers knew he looked absolutely horrifying---grimy, unshaven and his blaster very clearly at his hip.

And the hot fury of every god the galaxy could cook up in his heart. 

Crew members scurried out of his way as he moved with all the purpose of a campaign objective toward his target. There. 

Strutting---did the man ever walk normally?--- to the lift. Veers lengthened his stride, and slapped a hand in between the door and the jamb before it could close. 

It hissed back open obligingly and he stepped in next to Ozzel. A young ensign was also in the lift, and looked at him with open fear.

“Get out,” he ordered, and the boy obeyed gratefully.

The doors hissed shut as Ozzel turned to him with a frown.

“That was my aid….”

Veers slapped the emergency stop button and looked up.

“Lady. Cut all security feeds in this lift.”

A green light washed them and he knew he’d been answered.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing Gen….!”

Veers surged into Ozzel’s space, deeply glad of the two inches in height he had over the man, and enjoyed his recoil. 

“We need to have a little talk, Admiral,” he snarled, the force of his anger filling the small space. “Lord Vader may not be doing much about your persecution of the Captain, but I can .”

“How dare you, General? Are you threatening a superior officer?”

“Threatening?” Veers smiled slowly, showing his teeth. “Abso kriffing lutely. Superior? Hardly. I know you were behind what happened to Piett two days ago.”

Ozzel’s jowls were trembling slightly in a combination of fear and rage.

“How dare you, sir! There is utterly no proof of foul play….”

Veers punched the bulkhead next to Ozzel’s cap and the man flinched, his normally puce expression going pasty.

“I don’t care . Do you understand me, you whomp rat bastard? The gloves are off. You think you’re the only one who can arrange things to look like accidents?”

“I…..” Ozzel trailed off then gathered himself in a pathetic attempt to bluster. “I shall report this to Lord Vader, Veers. I will…..”

The General laughed dangerously, and gripped Ozzel’s jaw in his hand, forcing the man to look at him.

“You do that. And I will explain why I acted the way that I did as well. You better believe I can produce proof.  And I hear that we had another Sith display of anger. How do you think he’ll react to this sort of behavior among his senior officers? I’m prepared for the consequences, damn your quivering little soul. You will leave the best man I know alone, so help you, or I will see to it that the mouse droids have to clean up your corpse with vacuum hoses. Shall we go see Lord Vader, Admiral ? I’m prepared to die for my friend. Are you?” He squeezed tighter, enjoying the fear in the other man's eyes.

Ozzle shook his head ever so slightly, sweat now beading at his temples.

“Glad we’re clear then,” Veers purred, releasing his jaw, the white marks of his fingers stark against the flaccid skin. “You so much as look at the Captain wrong…..You will answer to me. And you won’t know when retribution may come.”

He slapped the button again and the lift rose, stopping at the floor Veers indicated.

The doors hissed open as Ozzel leaned weakly against the wall.

“I’ll see you later, Admiral,” Veers said with promise and strode to his quarters.

****

Piett was latching up his jacket when Veers entered sickbay. His friend surveyed him a moment before striding over to give him one of his rare embraces.

“Good to see you intact,” Piett told him, stepping back and scanning his friend.

Clearly the General had donned a fresh uniform and had found time to clean up a bit. Henley had informed him upon Piett’s waking that the Herd had returned successfully. He had also informed him that he had filled Veers in on what had occurred on board the Lady.

Piettt was already inwardly bracing himself for the inevitable lecture from Veers, but right now he just wanted to get back to his quarters, possibly squeeze in some reports and then sleep some more.

He already knew from the look on the General’s face that this was not going to happen and he reached to snag his cap from the small bedside table.

“And you,” Veers replied seriously as Henley came out of his office, holding a small jar.

“Bacta rub,” he said, handing it to Piett. “For your back, Captain. You really ought to have seen me for those bruises right away. I’ve treated them several times, but you need to apply this until it’s gone, is that clear?”

Piett frowned slightly at the tone of command, but arguing would only prolong his presence here.

“Yes, Doctor, thank you.”

Henley gave Veers a quick glance.

“I’ll take you up on that drink tomorrow, General.”

Veers returned the look with one Piett couldn’t interpret. 

“I’ll message you then. Shall we Captain?”

And they were walking out of sickbay together.

“I’m sorry, am I living in an alternate reality where you and Henley get drinks now?” Piett asked curiously.

Veers snorted. “Let’s just say, Piett, that on occasion, buying an ally a drink is a good idea.”

“Allies in what?” the Captain asked seriously as they stepped into a lift.

Veers waited until the doors closed and they were moving before he answered. 

“In making sure that Ozzel doesn’t off you.”

Piett sighed. “He wouldn’t actually go that far.”

“No?” Veers said, grey eyes snapping fire. “What if you had passed out on the catwalk without Baldwin, Piett? Fallen over the rail? Or less serious but damaging, what if this had happened on the bridge?”

Piett had had all these thoughts himself and had listened to Henley’s theories.

“He couldn’t have known I would be going to engineering in time to have my food tampered with. That part was coincidental.”

“Yes, but that’s my point,” Veers stressed, folding his arms and leaning back against the bulkhead tiredly. “This is a Super Star Destroyer. The nature of your job takes you anywhere upon her. There are a million and one ways that having you taken ill suddenly could be fatal, even if the illness itself isn’t.”

Fair point.

Piett rubbed at his temple. “What do you suggest I do, Max? I’m…..kriff, I’m so tired.” And that sounded pathetic, even to his own ears. “Sorry, I know you’re exhausted too….”

Veers looked at him sympathetically. “In a different way sure. I don’t have to contend with the mental stress of my superior officer hating me so badly, he’d resort to these methods. However, that should be taken care of for the time being.”

Piett felt a twitch of unease in his chest.

“What do you mean, General?”

“I mean,” Veers responded calmly, “That Ozzel should back off, at least for a while.”

“ Max . What did you do?”

Veers grinned at him wolfishly. “We just talked, Firmus, don’t worry.”

Piett was very much worried, but at this moment the lift stopped and they stepped out to the deck their quarters were located upon.

“I’m taking your sofa,” Veers announced to him as they walked to the Captain’s quarters. “Because I am tired and we have more to tell each other.”

Piett raised an eyebrow at him, but did not protest this. 

They settled themselves in the accustomed places, Max stretching his long length on Piett’s sofa after toeing off his boots, and Piett seating himself in an armchair after pulling out the extra comforter and pillow he kept for just this purpose.

He tapped his datapad to check on the status of the repairs for Lord Vader’s quarters and to see just how far behind he was in scanning the reports his teams had sent him from the probe droid material. 

The answer was depressing. He laid the pad on his lap and looked over at Veers.

“Max. What did you say to Ozzel?”

“I promised him death and dismemberment if he so much as twitches his pinkie finger at you in future.”

Veers had threatened the Admiral of Death Squadron on his behalf.

“And…..he’s just allowing you to threaten an superior officer without consequence is he?”

“Oh I offered to go with him to Lord Vader if he so wished. Apparently he didn’t.”

Piett was giving him a very hard stare.

“Veers. You took a huge risk….”

“Of course I did,” the General said firmly, “but nothing as risky as, say, firing my blaster at my Sith commander in the hopes he wouldn’t fracture my spine into a million pieces.”

Which.

Touche’. 

“You…...heard about that then.”

Veers cocked an eyebrow at him. “Talk of the Lady, Firmus. 19 kilometers of scuttlebutt. So, friend of mine, I care about you more than anyone else on this ship, but perhaps let’s not preach at me about risk taking hmmm?”

“It’s just….” Piett began, but Veers held up a finger.

“You are going to tell me that you are the Captain of the Lady and thus, it is your job to stand between your crew and any threat from within and without, correct?”

Veers could be very irritating sometimes.

His friend read his expression and smiled thinly.

“Right, so hear me out here, Firmus. You seem to have this belief that while it is your chief duty to impose yourself between threats and others, no one needs to do that for you. I am here to correct that erroneous assumption. I will always stand between you and a threat. Which is what I did. I didn’t even hurt him. Much.”

Piett took this in, feeling warmly bolstered and slightly apprehensive at the same time.

“What do you mean ‘much’?”

“I may have squeezed his face. That’s all.” Veers had a mischievous look that Piett knew well by now.

Yes, that would be terrifying coming from an angry General.

And Piett found himself inexplicably smiling.

Veers nodded in satisfaction. “Exactly. I’m in your corner, Captain. Now. I am also in desperate need of sleep and so are you. Put that damned data pad away and go to bed. I don’t suppose you still have the sweats I left here….”

Piett tossed them on his friend’s face as he rose.

The indignant sputtering was worth it.

Chapter Text

Vader watched the bridge crew, ever so slightly clenching his gloved right hand at his side. Their strain was powerful---everyone from the lowliest ensign to the Admiral was exceedingly aware of his presence as they made their way toward Seltos.

Vader knew that part of his tension was caused by their proximity to Naboo at the moment. Part of it was his ongoing burning desire to retrieve his son. But at the moment a large part of it was….

<They fear you and shall not be as efficient if you continue to be like this, Dark One.>

<I have always been feared, Lady. Nothing is new there. They will be efficient or deal with the consequences.>

She had been relentless on behalf of her crew and Captain. 

Piett was conferring quietly with the defense station as they prepared for the Rebel presence. This group was rumored to have some sort of new black market weapon. Vader was keen to discover this and destroy it. But it was also assured that there would be star ships present as well. Oh nothing the Lady could not handle, almost on her own. But this sort of group needed to be an example to the rest of the galaxy. Vader intended it to be one that would stick just as much as Alderaan.

Of course, he had not approved that action---Alderaan had been a planet of rich resource, and while Vader had slaughtered many in his quest to bring order to the galaxy, he abhorred such a disgusting display of wasteful hubris. He felt no regrets whatsoever that Tarkin’s project had been destroyed and taken him with it. In an odd obscure way, he was proud of Luke. 

Now of course, a new one was in the works. That, combined with discovering his son’s existence, had cemented his decision to overthrow Palpatine. 

And he must find Luke. Why could the Lady not understand the urgency? She was the only one who knew all his reasons for what he did.

<No one can be efficient when they are dead, Dark One, she told him reprovingly.>

He knew what she was implying. She had been furious at him for flinging her Captain into her bulkhead.

<I did not harm him! He snapped at her. I could have killed him!>

<You could not , she said with cold finality.>

And again with the unspoken threat....

<Lady….he began, trying to mellow his tone. Do not challenge me. You know that I must find Luke. Then I will explain to your Captain and likely the General, what we must do. But they must remember that they serve me first, not each other.>

<Dark One. My Captain sees his duty as to his crew and to me, as well as to you. His code means he must protect them. Even from you.If he and the Loyal One did not have each other this crew would be very different.>

She was right---he knew this. Regardless….

<They are good officers. I am their commander. They will do what I say. I do not drive them any harder than I drive myself.>

<They do not have your powers, Dark One! My Captain was ill! The Fool hurts him.>

Vader glanced to Ozzel who was keeping his distance from his Sith commander over by the weapons station.

<He would not dare. Your Captain is right over there, Lady, and you would also do well to remember that you serve me.>

He felt a chill from her that he had not thought possible. It was powerful as she pushed herself at him.

<I am no one’s SLAVE, Dark One. You promised me equality. You offered me friendship. Do not lie! >

<You are not a slave, he returned, feeling guilt that he tried to shove down. But like me, you serve the Emperor. Together you and I, Lady, shall find my son and we shall defeat the Evil.>

A pause as though she was gathering herself. Then….

<I do NOT serve the Evil as you do, Dark One! You kneel to him. He gloats over you. Because you ARE a slave!>

The bridge temperature plummeted and a slight crack started in one of the viewports. Ozzel gasped audibly and moved back toward the communications station in the foyer.

Piett, predictably, looked to his commander, tugged his jacket and moved to him.

<I am not a slave! Vader snarled at the Lady. I command this squadron. The galaxy fears me. Do not test me, Lady!>

“My Lord?”

Piett. Standing before him---the picture of calm, but internally fearing for his crew.

“Is there…. something wrong?”

“Nothing that concerns you, Captain.”

Piett shot a swift glance at the cracked viewport. “Shall I…..get a repair crew, my Lord?”

Ever the efficient one. Vader was suddenly desperate to put Piett in full command. To fill him in on everything he had planned. He could do it right now. Come up with something, some reason to execute Ozzel who was sweating somewhere behind him…..

No. He could not tip his hand to the Emperor yet. Luke was not with him. His son would not be safe.

“Yes, Piett. Get a crew.”

<The galaxy may fear you, Dark One. I do not. I want you to be yourself. Like you were in the beginning. I want you to be better .>

<That is not possible, Lady, Vader told her coldly. And if you threaten me, bear in mind, that I may not be able to harm you, but your Captain…>

He actually staggered at her anger, and covered the motion by turning to walk off the bridge.

<You do not know what I can do, Dark One. How dare you threaten him! He is loyal! Why would you….?>

<He is, Vader told her sternly. I do not wish to harm him. But stop testing me. Or he will die. And you may be angry, but you cannot stop it---he will still be dead.>

Her anger burned white hot against him.

<You saw what I did to the Hand, Dark One.>

Yes indeed. Could she….? No. He could stop her. 

And he was surrounded suddenly by profound grief. Her grief. It tore at his soul and nearly took him to his knees.

<I know you mourn her , the Lady told him. I would mourn him as strongly. You do not wish to hear me, Dark One. So. I shall be the slave you desire. But I will not speak with you. I do not know you anymore.>

And a strange sense of emptiness filled him.

<Lady!>

Nothing. 

Force damn it. He needed her…..

<Lady! Do not sulk. It will not come to that, why do you not understand… .?>

Her silence was deafening.

*******

Baldwin glanced at his datapad. Message .

Tapping it, he returned his gaze to the coupling he was delicately maneuvering. There. That would do it.

“There we are, my girl,” he said, patting the ship and wiping his hands on his coveralls as he turned his attention to the message.

Heading your way again. Need your skills, Chief. Hasn’t eaten today.

The Chief engineer sighed. 

He and Ellery had begun this alliance some months ago now and occasionally Henley was in on it. Their Captain was doing his best to keep his ship functioning and his crew alive. His own well being was not something he was very good at. 

The General did his best, but Veers too had been pushed so very hard. Baldwin was aware that it was 0200. He liked the night shifts personally. It was quiet and peaceful and he got much done. But it also meant that Veers ought to be asleep, so it was up to him to help his Captain where he could.

Piett’s habit when he couldn’t sleep (which was far too often these days) was to prowl his Lady, often finding a spot in engineering or a hangar bay where he could get more work done before heading back to his quarters. 

Baldwin had cooked up a plan with Ellery after the food poisoning incident to steer his Captain somewhere he could look out for him a bit more effectively.

He tapped the pad to message back.

Understood. I’ll take it from engineering, Sergeant.

He swiftly shucked his coveralls and hung them in his locker before moving deeper into engineering to let his crew know he would be stepping out for a while.

Then he returned to the expected catwalk that led to the Lady’s plasma core and found a bolt that he could unscrew in order to screw it back in.

And thus he was right where he needed to be as Piett stepped onto the catwalk some minutes later. He pretended not to notice the Captain’s arrival, focusing on his pointless task as the other man moved toward the Core.

“Oh, Chief. Apologies. If you’re working here, I can….”

“Captain. A bit late for you, sir, isn’t it?”

Piett smiled at him ruefully and rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“Always is, Baldwin. I do appreciate being able to come here---something about your bays that is soothing to the soul.”

Baldwin didn’t comment on the fact that Piett was drawn to what he considered to be the heart of the ship. He was the Chief Engineer---she was his Lady and this was her heart. Clearly, the Captain felt that as well. It was one of many reasons Baldwin appreciated the man.

“Well, if you want to get a different job sir…. I can always use more hands down here. And you’re not half bad with a hydrospanner as I recall.”

Piett laughed, but it was rather hollow.

“There are moments, Chief, where that sounds like just the thing….”

A soft golden light shone from the Captain’s datapad and he smiled in a curious manner.

“Thank you,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Need to get some work done, sir?” Baldwin asked carefully, feeling out the situation.

“Yes. I was just going to get the last of these reports signed off on. The fleet is prepped for action tomorrow and….well, I don’t need to bore you with all of this.”

“Well, Captain, may I suggest somewhere more comfortable then?”

Piett coughed slightly and Baldwin noticed his red rimmed eyes.

“If I’m in the way Chief, just say the word…..”

“Never, sir. Just...I could use a breather. Shall we head this way?”

Piett looked at him curiously, but followed.

After a moment, the Captain spoke. “This…..is the route I take through Galley 52.”

Baldwin gave him a sly grin. “Is it, sir?”

“Am I that predictable?” Piett asked with a sigh, that ended in another cough. 

“Well….yes, sir. Also, that’s a cold, Captain.”

Piett waved a hand casually. “ Just a cold, Baldwin. I’ll live.”

His Captain hated overt fuss, the Chief recalled. He tolerated more subtle means and Baldwin sighed internally. He would stick with those then.

They reached the entryway to the galley and the head steward met them.

“Captain,” the man said with a smile. He had flaming red hair, and was holding a large mug of tea.

Piett paused and looked at both of them somewhat bewilderedly.

“You…..are working together, MacDonald.”

“I am, sir. I’ve known the Chief here for what, now Baldwin?”

“Easily 25 years, Mac,” Baldwin responded, grinning and putting a gentle hand to Piett’s back to steer him further into the warm galley.

They sat at the corner of many highly polished steel tables and the Steward placed the mug in the Captain’s hands, deftly trading it for his datapad.

“What sounds good, sir? I can make you a mean omelete, if you like.”

Piett closed his eyes over the steam curling up from the mug, then opened them again, looking from one to the other of them. 

“Gentlemen. I really do appreciate it. But you don’t need to take all this extra time. I can assure you, I am well used to a lack of sleep.”

Baldwin exchanged a look with MacDonald.

“Omelete, sir?”

Piett sipped the tea and regarded them over the rim. “Why do I have the distinct impression that I am being ‘managed’?” he asked, but without heat. 

MacDonald snorted and began cracking three eggs into a bowl.

“Is that what’s happening here, Mr. Baldwin?” he asked, whisking expertly and adding spices before pouring the eggs into a pan and the smell filled the air.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Baldwin said. “You’re far too capable. Now, taking care of my Captain? Yes, I think that might be going on here. He’s a bit rubbish at it himself.”

The Steward chuckled, sprinkling some cheese in.

“Chief….” began Piett, that eyebrow up, which meant he was digging in his heels.

“Sir, with respect,” Baldwin interrupted “And I very much mean that, Captain. With the utmost respect sir, you can’t keep this up. I can’t make you sleep, sir. Or give you orders. But I am more than happy to have you come see us in Engineering and get your work done at odd hours….. provided you come here first. Mac can make you something to keep you going, sir.”

Piett looked between them as Mac unconcernedly flipped the omelete and then slid it onto a plate to place before the Captain. 

“I….don’t know what to say,” he managed helplessly, and Baldwin could see his Captain really wasn’t sure what to do with people looking out for his well being. 

“Is it true that you fired a blaster at Lord Vader to keep him from damaging the ship, sir?” the Steward asked calmly, digging out a fork to hand to Piett.

Piett took the fork. “Yes.”

“I think that merits an omelete on occasion, wouldn’t you say, Chief?” Mac asked, smiling at him.

“I agree, Mac. A fair exchange. We keep the Captain fed, and mostly sane, and he saves our lives on a regular basis. Omelete merited.”

Piett was flushing now as he took a bite. “It’s hardly that dire on a regular basis….”

He trailed off at their serious expressions.

“We may not be on the bridge sir, but we know that it’s usually you between our crew and Lord Vader’s anger or Ozzel’s incompetence.”

Piett coughed lightly at that.

“So,” MacDonald said, picking up the thread, “you are welcome here anytime, Captain. You can sit here and get your work done with food, or you can get manipulated into fixing something for Baldwin and getting your uniform dirty.”

The Chief gave him an indignant look. “All these years Mac, and you have the gall to imply I would put my own Captain to work.”

“You have before,” Piett put in, smiling slightly now and for that moment, Baldwin considered this night’s events a success.

“Hey if you prefer that sir, I’m not judging,” the Steward said, tidying away the pan and dishes into the washer. “Just saying that Baldwin can’t make tea for spit.”

Piett pulled his datapad back over to himself then looked between them again. “Sometimes I like to get my hands dirty, Mr. MacDonald. And this omelete is excellent. Thank you both.”

“Anytime sir,” Baldwin said, rising and placing a hand briefly on the younger man’s shoulder. “I need to get back now. Mac. If you need your stoves fixed again, good luck getting me to come.”

“Big words, Mr. Baldwin, big words.”

*****

The young comms officer ducked into the maintenance closet and activated her comlink after tapping in a specific code. The tiny blue holographic form popped up on her wrist.

“Has the trail been laid?” he asked her.

“It is done, my Master,” she replied softly. 

“Good. The destruction of Death Squadron must look like unfortunate odds. Can you assure me of this?”

“Yes, my master. The weapon should take even Vader by surprise. If he digs into it, the technology was sold at high cost on the black market from an agent who was on Eriadu.”

The tiny form nodded.

“Lord Vader is not to be harmed….yet. He will be useful to bring us young Skywalker. Ensure he leaves the fleet before the weapon deploys.”

“It will be done, my Master.”

The image blinked out. She smoothed her hair and stepped back out to report to the bridge.

Chapter Text

Piett knew something was wrong by the feel of the deck under his feet. The minute vibrations were slowing….

He spun to the pilot’s station. “Do not bring us out of hyper space yet! It is too soon….!” 

The Lady snapped into real space two minutes too soon, and a much further distance from Seltos than the rest of the fleet which would be ahead of them now. 

The pilot was ashen and staring at him with wide, horror stricken eyes.

“Captain. I didn’t do that sir, I swear! I don’t know what happened!”

“Get me engineering!” Piett snapped.

“What is the meaning of this, Captain?” Ozzel’s officious tones sounded across the bridge. “You were told to drop two klicks out. Not nine !!”

Bloody kriffing hells . He didn’t need Ozzel on top of everything else.

“Get us there with full thrusters,” Piett commanded the pilot. Then, to Ozzel, “Yes, Admiral. I do apologize. We are not certain what occurred, sir, but it was not the pilot.”

“Captain, I have engineering!” called the comms officer, and Piett moved to her…..

As Lord Vader strode onto the bridge.

It got quiet, the yellow alarm lights flashing silently. The sound of the respirator filled the air with ominous purpose.

“And why,” Vader said in low, predatory tones, “were my express orders disobeyed? Why have we dropped from hyper space here? Losing all advantage?”

Piett caught the terrified eyes of the pilot across the bridge. 

Vader’s helmet shifted unerringly toward the unfortunate Lieutenant. Venka watched near weapons. Ozzel was frozen, as though he could go unnoticed if he didn’t move.

“My Lord,” Piett began.

Vader strode forward down the central walkway, cloak rippling behind him as he came to tower over the unfortunate pilot.

Piett moved swiftly around the starboard walkway.

Not again. This couldn’t happen again.

“My Lord,” he tried again. “We are checking with engineering. Something has occurred…..”

“I did not ask for your input, Captain,” his Sith commander informed him, not even looking in his direction as the man before him began to choke.

“My LORD!” Piett knew what he was doing was suicidal, but he couldn’t bear it. He moved to stand in front of the dying pilot, knowing it was futile, but Force damn it, he had to try.

The Pit gasped collectively as he did so, and Venka hissed, “ Captain… .”

“I. Am. Tired. Of. Failure.” Vader intoned.

“He did not fail you!” Piett tried desperately, and suddenly he was flying back, along with several other men in the vicinity as Vader flung out an arm.

He impacted with the viewport and slid to the deck, completely winded. And for one horrible second, when he couldn’t draw breath, he thought perhaps he was being throttled as well. 

Instead, he was helpless to watch the pilot collapse out of his chair, both hands clutching his throat…..

…..when the bridge went black.

Piett rolled to hands and knees, and at last air returned to his lungs. And judging by his body’s response, he had a whole new raft of bruises on his back.

He couldn’t see anything. Then he realized that the emergency lighting had not gone on. 

What was happening?

*****

The Lady dropped all the lights and Vader snarled.

<Put them back immediately, Lady! This is not your concern!>

Nothing.

Kriffing hells. His own ship…..

He released his hold on the pilot who gave a huge whooping intake of air at his feet. 

<Lady! You go too far! I will not play games with you….> He reached in the Force for her power sources.

And his ship pushed back.

It was strange and unlike any Force user he had ever encountered. And she had killed all power, holy hells…

They were utterly helpless and drifting further toward the enemy.

<Lady, Force damn it!>

And she shoved him.

He stumbled to a knee, furious beyond reckoning and simultaneously proud of her. His ruthless Lady. Showing him her immense power.

<I will destroy you, Dark One, she told him, and if a ship could tremble in anger, she was.>

<Then you will destroy all those upon you! he shot back.>

<NO, she responded and kriff, she was frightening in a way he had not felt in many years. Just YOU.>

He could not rise. However she was doing it, she was exerting some power field and he could not rise.

<You harmed my Captain!  Again . He is stronger than you. He knows he will lose and he fights you anyway. You use your power against the weak. I will not let you up until you agree to leave the bridge. Now. And if you hurt my Captain again, Dark One, I grieve. But I will end you.>

He believed her. 

And she increased the pressure until it was nearly unbearable.

<I will go, Lady, he told her.>

A beat.

<Good.>

The pressure was gone, and he rose as she brought the lights back. The bridge crew blinked in bewilderment, then stared in renewed terror at their commander. Piett was making his way from where he had been thrown and yes, Vader could sense the damage to his Captain. 

Piett was not looking at him very deliberately, and moved to help the groaning pilot up.

“He needs sickbay, my Lord,” he said quietly.

I’m sorry, Anakin wanted to say. I’m sorry, Piett. You are a far better man than I could ever be.

Anakin was dead. He was a weak fool who got too attached. 

“As do you, Captain,” Vader said curtly. “Both of you go. Admiral, take the bridge, I will….”

“My Lord.” 

It was the comms officer. “My Lord, an urgent communique for your eyes only.”

She read the code to him.

One of their very top spies.

“Ozzel,” ground out Vader, and the Admiral gulped.

“Yes, ah, yes, my Lord. I have the bridge.”

And Vader swept out to his office.

****

Venka met Piett’s eyes.

“I can help here, sir,” he told his Captain, aware that Piett was reluctant to leave things with Ozzel at so critical a time.

Piett nodded to him, getting his arm firmly around the unfortunate pilot and helping him stagger down the walkway. The Pit studiously avoided looking at them, and even Ozzel chose to ignore this after the display they had just witnessed.

Piett helped the man into the turbolift just off the bridge and leaned against the bulkhead himself, keenly aware that he had a cracked rib and wondering what the Lady’s actions back there had meant. 

For he was sure that had been her. And that she had done it to stop Lord Vader. Had he just witnessed her protecting him from his Sith commander? And if so, what did that mean going forward? 

He took them to the closest sickbay, and barely had they entered when the Lady’s battle alarms went off. 

He smacked at his commlink.

“Report!”

A medic was scanning him and he tried to wave her away, but she must have enrolled in the Henley school of imperviousness and shook her head at him, pointing imperiously to an exam bed before moving off to rummage in a drawer.

“Sir, we have engaged the enemy. Captain, the weapon…..”

Venka’s tones took over. “Sir, this weapon is far more powerful than anticipated. Avenger has received heavy damage…”

The Rebel splinter group had a weapon that could damage a Star Destroyer like that?

“On my way,” he replied and started as the medic pressed a hypospray home, then followed it quickly with another.

“What the hell….?”

“Sorry sir, but I know you have to get back to the bridge. One is a painkiller. The other is bone regen solution. Not ideal, but will speed the healing.”

He looked at her in appreciation for her insight. “Thank you, ensign. Sorry, I swore at you.”

She grinned. “I trained with Doctor Henley, sir. All due respect, that was nothing.”

He nodded as he moved to the door. “Well. Thank you.”

He hustled back to the lift, willing it to go faster as the red lights blinked all around him. 

His comm chimed again.

“Piett.”

“ Firmus .”

He switched immediately to the private setting.

“Max, I only have minutes. I’m heading to the bridge.”

A pause. 

“I was told you were in sickbay.”

“Just left.”

“Piett, for kriff’s sake….”

“With permission , General. I’m fine. Mostly.”

Even on the private comms, Veers lowered his voice. “They’re saying he threw you across the bridge. That you went and got between him and that poor bastard….”

“Max….” he deeply appreciated that someone cared about his well being. But he had a disturbing weapon to worry about. “It wasn’t that far. And….well. He didn’t throttle me for it. I….I think the Lady stopped him.”

“What. The. Hell.”

“I know. I’m sorry,  look Veers….”

“I know. I’m getting ready to deploy. I just….”

Had to know if you were alive, was unspoken.

The lift was slowing. Every time they parted to deploy for battle now, Piett considered just how many things he wished he could tell his friend. But always, they only had time for brief good byes. 

“Good hunting, General.”

“Safe stars, Captain.”

And really, they both understood the unsaid things at this point. Piett just wished he could get over his insecurities and say them.

Before it was too late. 

Thank you, Max. For being my family. For seeing more than a nothing from Axxila. For being you.

He exited back to the command deck just as his Lordship came striding toward him from his office.

“Captain. Walk with me.”

The battle was the other way….

“Yes, my Lord,” he responded, falling into step with the much taller Dark Lord. “Did you hear that the Rebel’s weap---?”

“I have been given news that Skywalker is headed here. I intend to intercept him and bring him to the Executor. Once you have defeated the Rebels remain here to wait for me.”

He was leaving…?

“My Lord….”

“Do not. You have tried this before, Captain. It is imperative that I capture Skywalker. Nothing is as important as that. You do not need to understand that--- you merely need to follow orders. Is that clear, Captain Piett?”

Force damn it. He was abandoning them.

“Yes, my Lord.”

That helmet tilt. The one that meant Vader knew what Piett was thinking. 

“I am not abandoning Death Squadron, Piett.”

The Captain desperately tried to clear his thoughts, but the traitorous bastards were running rampant.

You did that some time ago now. A Rebel Jedi has more value than the Lady and her 300,000 crew.

Vader stopped abruptly and Piett paused with him.

I’m so very kriffed.

But the Sith surprised him yet again. 

“Lead our crew, Captain.”

A beat.

Neither of them said anything about Ozzel and perhaps they didn’t need to.

“Yes, my Lord.”

And Vader was gone in a black swirl while Piett turned to move swiftly back toward the bridge. 

*****

He should be angry with his Captain. Part of him was. 

I am not abandoning you all. I am providing a means for us to be free!!

He strode to his hangar bay, and wondered what was missing.

The Lady.

Normally she would be bombarding him with thoughts and feelings.

It was as though he was walking through a cold, impersonal shell.

Fine. She was angry with him. 

Justifiably so….

Stop! He told the part of himself that was weak enough to care about this. Neither she, nor her officers would understand until he had Luke. Then . Then he could reveal his plan. 

And hope desperately that they would join him even after all he had done….

Kriffing hells. He almost looked over his shoulder to see if Kenobi was standing there, looking at him sorrowfully.

They would join him--they would !! He had to believe that Piett would certainly. A good man---a man who secretly despised what the Emperor had done. Who truly wanted justice in the galaxy. Who was brave enough to stand for that justice, even against his Sith commander. 

And that is the problem, isn’t it Anakin? You are merely using Death Squadron now. And they know it. What in the galaxy makes you think they will help you, even if you find Luke?

Anakin is dead! Vader insisted.

Anakin wants his son. If you were just Vader, you would kill the Jedi rebel.

Vader paused in the shadows near his hangar bay. His breathing was regulated for him, so why did it feel as though he could not catch his breath? 

He had a mission. He would fulfill that mission. His men would then help him overthrow the Emperor. And beyond that…...beyond that he would have to figure it out. And Anakin was dead .

Anakin spared Piett’s life. Had done so numerous times. Because he needed him. Anakin had a friend in the Lady. And he needed her. 

No! Such connections were weak. Sith did not need any others. 

Sith may not. Are you truly Sith though? You doubt…..

I want Luke !!

He looked up as an alarm blared in the hangar bay and realized that in his anger he had bent a huge strut that held one of the catwalks. 

Terrified personnel were gaping at him as he strode in, and then something else…..

From a great distance---a questioning presence….

He reached for it….

“...are you all right? You staggered…”

“It’s fine. For a moment---it felt like someone was calling to me….”

“Calling to you? How?”

“I….you know what? I don’t want to focus on that, Leia, we have other…”

And it was gone. 

His son had felt that. Had felt the deepest longing of his soul.  

Vader boarded his shuttle, ignoring the techs and engineers now scrambling around the bay to repair what he had done. 

He would find Luke. And then perhaps…...he might begin to heal the poison in his soul.

Chapter Text

Venka stared out the viewport. 

Kark.

No, really. Kark . 

Avenger was…. drifting . 

Ozzel was barking for status reports and Tyrant was moving ponderously to get closer to the massive form of the Lady, like a child seeking protection from its mother.

This Rebel group was supposedly a splinter. They were not even the main force, and somehow they had got their grubby little paws on black market and supposedly highly secret tech. 

The only other weapon that Venka had ever seen wreak destruction like that had been…..

...the Death Star.

Clearly, this weapon wasn’t as powerful or Avenger would be space dust. But one shot had crippled a Star Destroyer….

The doors hissed and the feel on the bridge was immediately different. 

“Admiral.”

Venka turned as Piett approached Ozzel with respectful urgency.

“We need to protect Avenger, sir. I imagine if we put all power to the Lady’s starboard shields we could take at least one hit….”

“We need , Captain, to get out of the range of that thing!”

Piett shot a swift glance to meet Venka’s gaze--both men knew Ozzel was a coward at heart and didn’t want a fight he couldn’t win. This however, didn’t have to be that and they couldn’t leave Avenger and all her crew at the mercy of the weapon.

Smaller fighters were deploying from the motley assortment of Rebel ships.

“Mr. Venka!” Piett barked. “Deploy our squadrons.”

“Yes, sir,” Venka responded, happy to have an assertive order to fulfill.

“We need to get out of range of that weapon, and then decide what to do!” Ozzel snapped, red in the face.

Piett was clearly in the process of doing just that, leaning over the shoulder of defense station.

“Play me the footage of the weapon’s attack,” he ordered, “And get us between Avenger and the weapon!”

“Aye, sir,” the pilot responded, and the Lady moved once more as Ozzel sputtered.

“Piett, that will take us into danger!”

The Captain straightened slowly, and Venka could only imagine all the things that were going through the man’s head at the moment.

“Yes, Admiral. As the strongest ship, we have the greatest chance to protect our fleet. I assume that is what you wish me to do, sir?”

Dead silence on the bridge. 

Piett held his Admiral’s gaze steadily and Venka (and no doubt everyone else) could almost see the duel happening between the two men without a word spoken. 

“Well….of course, Captain, but….”

“Sir. I have the footage.”

Piett, having won the field, nodded to Ozzel and turned to look.

Venka only just managed to keep a smile off of his face. 

Why did Vader tolerate this fool? Why had he not done what most of the bridge crew hoped he would and promoted Piett?

But those were thoughts that could get Venka killed, and he would just have to hope that his Captain would survive long enough to perhaps become his Admiral.

The flash from the weapon reflected off of Piett’s face as he watched it.

“Admiral. Given the size of this weapon as opposed to the Death Star, it is possible that it has more maneuverability.”

“Meaning, Captain?”

Venka glanced at the Pit and glared at them.

Pay attention to your jobs and not the idiocy of our Admiral, you kriffers!

“Meaning sir, that it can reach us unless we’re on the other side of the planet.”

“Then we need to retreat there right now, and….!”

“Sir!” Comms called over.

Both Piett and Ozzel looked at the woman. “Avenger reports all senior bridge crew killed. They just managed to set up the secondary bridge. They want orders, sir.”

Venka saw the moment Ozzel's decision to murder his Captain crossed his wide face. 

He smiled thinly and turned to Piett.

“Captain. Take a shuttle and get over there. Take command .”

Another stunned silence on the bridge. Piett was Fleet Captain. In Lord Vader’s absence particularly, he should be on the flagship. And crossing to another Star Destroyer during a battle….

The bridge lights flickered suddenly in tandem with defense yelling, “They’re firing at us!!!”

“Full power to starboard shields!” roared Piett. Defense was slapping at the controls, and Venka had just enough time to grip the back of a chair when the blast struck them.

The Lady rocked . 

But her shields held. Alarms were screaming and less lucky crew were crying out with injuries. 

Avenger had been saved from certain destruction. The Lady had just proved that she could take a hit. Whether she could take another……

And Piett had been right. The weapon had clearly moved to target them.

“Contact Tyrant,” Ozzel ordered, “Have her move to the other side of the planet. We will join her. Piett. Take command of Avenger.”

Venka could not stand by.

“Admiral. I volunteer to get to the Avenger, sir. I know that you could use the Captain here.”

Piett raised his eyebrow as he stared at his XO.

Ozzel sneered.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. But I wasn’t asking for volunteers. I was giving orders. Captain. Go now. Rendezvous with us on the far side of the planet, and we will decide what to do.”

“Sir,” Piett said stiffly. “We don’t have time to regroup and do that, Admiral. We have already deployed our ground troops. We need to cover their attack. We need to take out this weapon or it will cut through the Herd like grass.”

“There’s a problem with that, sir,” Defense called. “I can’t get a lock on it. It fires and then it just…..disappears.”

“ What? ”

Ozzel and Piett spoke in unison and the Admiral glared.

“What do you mean ‘disappears’?” Piett asked. “Is it shielded?”

“I think so, sir. But not shielding that I’m familiar with. The signature shifts constantly. We’ve fired on it several times,” he shot a glance at weapons which nodded in confirmation. “And clearly we haven't hit it.”

“Then get us out of here!” Ozzel snapped. “Even more so with this information. Contact Veers. Tell him to destroy the shielding around this thing!”

Venka shared another look with Piett.

“Sir,” Venka said, “If we can’t get a lock on the shields, the General won’t be able to either.”

“He can get close enough to get a visual,” Ozzel returned smugly and Venka heard Piett draw in a sharp breath. 

“Sir….that close and he can also be vaporized by it.”

The Admiral sneered. “Our General is so very brave , Captain. I’m sure he can handle it. Once he has the coordinates, we can come back around and destroy the weapon from orbit.”

Venka bit his lip. With Vader gone, Ozzel was playing his hand indeed. Getting rid of the two men he hated most…..

But at what cost? Did he think that Vader would thank him for that?

“Now. Follow my orders, Captain . Get to the Avenger.”

Piett ran a swift glance around the bridge which was unabashedly watching this exchange, and his eyes landed on Venka’s.

Please don’t leave us, sir.

The Captain nodded very slightly at him. 

“Yes, Admiral. Good luck, sir.” But he was looking at Venka, and the Lieutenant knew that was meant for him.

He nodded back

Please come back to us.

And Piett left the bridge.

*****

Veers snapped off his comms and took a steadying breath.

Ozzel wanted him to find the weapon and destroy its shielding. The shielding that was unique and constantly shifting to the point that the Lady--the Lady --couldn’t hit it. 

A suicide mission.

Piett could not have taken that well. 

He looked to Ellery.

“You heard?”

The big man stared grimly back.

“Yes, sir.”

“Pass our orders to the Herd. Begin scans.”

He knew they would be futile but he had to try. He turned to the navigations officer.

“Get the data from the Lady and Tyrant regarding the trajectory of the weapon's fire. Do your best to calculate the location of this thing from that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How many of our ships didn’t make it down?” he asked Ellery.

“Three were hit, General. A significant loss of speeder troops, sir.”

Great. This was a situation that he could have used all of them as well.

“Contact the Lady. Ask for more troops if we’re going up against this thing. Our estimates of their ground forces are sketchy at best. If we’re going to crush them, I say we do it utterly. I want all our troops deploying now.”

“Yes, sir,” Ellery responded, turning away from him to speak to the Lady.

Was Piett on the other end? Would Ozzel delegate this to the Captain? It was technically Piett’s purview. 

Veers pulled down the periscope once more and looked at the terrain ahead.

This planet was very forested---stark, tough pine trees and a cool climate. The sort he rather liked actually. Not cold enough for snow, but it was bracing. There was a mountain range off in the distance to the west and they were in a broad valley. A glint far to the North meant a river. There were three moons orbiting around Seltos. Veers almost wished he could enjoy an overnight camping trip to see that. But he had wished such things on many other planets before. His time pounding ground was never for leave. Oh, he took his designated shore leave which was medically required to declare him fit for duty. 

But it was never truly relaxing. Certainly not since Myra and Zev…..

This was not the time. 

“Peth company,” he snapped into his comms. “Anything?”

“No, General.”

“Grek company, sightings?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Usk, report.”

“Nothing as yet, sir. I find that odd, General.”

He agreed. Commander Travis was his second for a reason--the man had good instincts...

“Stay extra sharp. We aren’t getting caught with our pants down is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Shouldn’t we have heard from our speeder scouts by now?” he asked, turning to Ellery who had just got off of comms with the Lady.

“Yes, sir. General.”

Ellery looked exceedingly grim, and Veers stepped back away from the pilot and navigator to give them a little more privacy.

“What is it, Sergeant?”

“I’ve put in the request, sir. I was told the Admiral thinks it too dangerous to send down transports as they are in the middle of a firefight out there, sir.”

Force damn the cowardly old Griz weasel.

“Why is the Admiral dealing with these requests? Did it not go through Piett?”

“No sir, and when I asked about that….” (because Ellery would know to do so, good man) “I was told that the Captain had left the ship, sir.”

What in the nine kriffing hells…..?

“In the middle of this very unsafe fire fight which will not allow us reinforcements yet?”

Ellery stared at him for a beat, understanding in his dark eyes. “I was informed that the Admiral has given Piett command of the Avenger due to her senior bridge crew being killed in that blast, sir.”

He was sending Piett over to the damaged Star Destroyer. In the middle of the space battle.

Veers felt cold.

“And…..is he there now?”

“No confirmation on that at the moment, General.”

Veers wanted to swear so hard his walker melted. Vader off ship. Veers leading the ground campaign. The Rebels with a weapon no one had planned for, and that needed to be looked into because it had all sorts of implications about traitors….

And in the middle of it, an incompetent, bitter Admiral had found an opportunity to kill a Captain he hated with no one to stop him .

He knew Ellery could see what he was feeling, and the big man even put out hand toward him tentatively before dropping it back to his side. 

“I can keep tabs on that, sir if you like.”

Veers swallowed.

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

He had a battle to run against very dubious odds. Veers must do his duty to his men first.

And when he completed that…..

He had an Admiral to destroy.

****

“Has he departed?”

“Yes, my master.”

He cackled and even from this far distant part of the galaxy, she felt the familiar chill up her spine when he did so.

She suppressed this. He was her Master. She was his Hand. Chills had no place in her body.

“And your estimate on how well you laid this false trail?’’

She had worked very hard on it. This was to deceive the most powerful Sith in the galaxy after all. The ‘Chosen One’. 

“I would say four days, my Master, but as this is Vader, it is quite likely he will realize in three that he has been misled.”

“Good….good. And have you witnessed yourself how effective this technology is?”

She had indeed. She had ruthlessly suppressed the qualms in what was left of her soul as thousands of lives upon the Avenger had been snuffed out. 

“It is as exactly as potent as we hoped, my Master, without being something that is beyond our purview to destroy. Ozzel has deployed Veers with the Herd to find it and is trying to protect the squadron by moving to the far side of the planet. I believe he is trying to kill his Captain as well.”

“Oh yes? How diverting. Why?”

“Piett is far more competent. More, he has Vader’s trust. Two times now I have witnessed moments that should have left him dead at Vader’s hand. He injured him. But he did not kill him.”

A pause as her Master considered this. 

“It is quite likely then, that Lord Vader is grooming him for Ozzel’s position. It is not just Veers he is relying upon.”

“Well,” she amended carefully. “He was . The Captain embarked on a shuttle to take command of the Avenger moments ago at Ozzel’s order.”

“Ahhh. Our ambitious Admiral seeks to have him die in battle as well. Very good. Saves us the trouble.”

“My Master….” she hesitated, but he needed to know all that was happening. “This ship….she seems to resist me. I have had a difficult time shielding my Force signature. I think it has something to do with her.”

“She is the most advanced ship in the galaxy. It is possible the AI is somehow ‘loyal’ to Vader. Continue as you are. I am confident in your ability to hide yourself.”

She felt a thrill of pride at his praise.

“Thank you, my Master.”

“When Vader returns, come back to me.”

“It shall be done, my Master.”

Chapter Text

Piett sat at weapons and looked over at the young pilot who was getting ready to take them out of the hangar. 

Piett had had to turn off his datapad. The Lady was flashing indigo and red alternately at him, and yes, he knew. He knew… ..

“I’m sorry, Lady,” he’d whispered to her as he boarded his shuttle. “Orders. Do not interfere, please. Force willing, I can bring Avenger back to some semblance of control. Protect your crew.”

She had troubled him by putting up a picture of Ozzel right next to a picture of her mighty, glowing hot engines.

“I do understand,” he’d murmured, pausing in the passenger hold of his lamda. “And I appreciate the sentiment, but Lady….”

What could he say to her? His world was in shambles around him as well. 

“You are to protect life. There are 300,000 crew aboard you. Take care of them.”

She placed a picture of him next to her plasma core and his throat felt tight.

“I….” he stopped, unable to speak and finding it difficult to see.

“Captain?”  the young pilot had called.

He had wrestled himself under control and turned off the pad. He checked his blaster and took his seat.

Now they faced the atmospheric barrier and Piett was half waiting for his Lady to close the huge blast doors….

But she listened to him, and he hurt for her as the lamda cleared the bay and shot into the velvet of space.

And right into the vicious fighting. 

The pilot gave a stomach lurching downturn and Piett scanned the screen at weapons.

“Captain!” yelled his pilot as laser fire scorched around them.

“You focus on getting us to Avenger!” he ordered. “I’ll focus on trying to keep us alive!”

He fired the forward lasers and wondered if Ozzel was giving him any covering fire at all. Would the Lady herself? Could she?

Three more lights on his screen and he targeted….come on…..fire.

“Nice work, sir!” the pilot called, but Piett did not have time to thank him. The rear proximity alarms sounded and he switched his attention to the guns located aft before firing.

And then….

A massive jolt and all sorts of alarms screaming at them.

Well.

He hadn’t really expected to make it to Avenger really.

“How bad?” he called to the pilot who was frantically slapping at controls.

“Bad, sir.”

“Can we get back to the Lady?”

“No, Captain.”

Piett fired again, and a small freighter spun out of control to explode in fiery destruction against another Rebel ship. 

“Best chance of survival then?” he yelled. Sparks were descending from a side panel and he ducked reflexively.

“Head to the planet, sir!”

“Do it! Try to get us as close to our troops as possible!!”

He slapped at comms.

“Piett to Executor!”

Nothing for a moment and he wondered if their comms were shot…

“Captain.” Venka’s tones and Piett was deeply relieved.

“Lieutenant. We’ve been hit, badly. Heading toward the planet now. Do you have our coordinates?”

“Sir. Are you certain you can’t make it to the Lady?” 

He appreciated the suppressed concern he could hear in his XO’s voice.

“I’m sure. Do you have our coordinates, Venka?”

“Yes, sir, I….” 

Static broke the connection and he couldn’t get it back.

The heat was flowing over their shuttle now as they hit atmosphere. A crack appeared in the viewscreen.

Oh kark, he thought. 

“What can I do?” he shouted at the pilot.

“Shoot anything that might have followed us, sir,” the boy shouted back, and Piett was keeping his eyes on the scanners (assuming they still worked) but it looked like they might be in luck for this one. 

As lucky as two men crashing a lamda onto an enemy planet could be of course.

“Roughly how close are we to our lines?” he asked, flicking switches to see if he could get comms back.

“Best guess, sir, we’re going to come in about a mile behind them!”

He could work with that. They were shaking madly now, and he deeply appreciated the work the young man was putting in to muscling the lamda into submission. 

“Brace yourself, Captain!”

And they impacted, the force flinging Piett violently forward, and then back as they skidded through dirt and debris before halting against a large tree which had the effect of utterly shattering their viewscreen.

And then it was oddly silent.

Piett was panting and so was his pilot. But they were alive, and now he had time to notice the sharp scent of pine and freshly turned earth drifting in to his senses through the ruined lamda.

“Injuries?” he asked, looking over at the pilot. He himself felt as though he’d received a beat down (and he did indeed know what that felt like), but other than a raft of bruises and a sore neck from whiplash, he was unharmed.

Miraculously, so was his pilot. 

“We need to find our troops,” Piett said, unstrapping and moving toward the passenger area, careful of sparking lines, which he carefully moved out of the way. He retrieved the medkit and rummaged for any other supplies that would help them.

The pilot joined him, locating the emergency rations kit and the canvas rucksacks to put things in. 

“What’s your name, son?” Piett asked, accepting a rucksack to place the medkit and water bottles in.

“Lewis, sir. Ensign Lewis.”

“All right, Ensign. We’re in enemy territory now. Have you been on ground missions before?”

The boy looked at him with wide blue eyes. “No, Captain. Just the training back in the academy.”

Piett tried not to feel aggrieved about this. It wasn’t the kid’s fault. No, the blame was very squarely Ozzel’s. 

“All right. Stay close. Blaster on your hip? Good. Then let’s move out. If the Rebels are tracking ships that enter the atmosphere--and I’m sure they are---we want to be far away from here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Piett took his bearings, glancing up at the watery sun and trying to recall the sketchy holo map he had looked at with the senior officers.

“We should head west, I think, Lewis,” he said as confidently as possible, and was amazed at how assured the boy was at this order.

Burden of command he supposed, Piett thought as they set off, staying close to the edge of the trees line in case they needed quick cover. If one said anything with enough confidence, the crew could take heart. 

He wondered how Veers was doing. Had he reached the Rebels’ location? He was fighting very hard against the image of that weapon sweeping through the Herd…..

Of stumbling upon a field of wreckage and bodies, smoke rising from the once lofty machines that were the pride of Veers’ soul….

Stop .

He was tired, this situation was already so very kriffed, he didn’t need to borrow trouble or anguish that wasn’t there. 

It was late afternoon planetside and he didn’t like the idea of stumbling around in the dark. They would likely need to make camp in the trees and resume the search for their troops at dawn. 

If they all made it that long.

And son of a Hutt when had he become so terribly pessimistic?

But he already knew the answer to that. 

The air, which had been chilly but fresh, was now starting to feel damp. Rain was on the way then and Piett sighed internally. 

“Lewis,” he said quietly to the young men beside him. “We need to keep a sharp eye out for a good place to make camp. Stumbling around in the dark here will do no good. And it feels like it might rain soon.”

“Yes, sir,” the Ensign responded. “Um...sir….have….have you been in many situations like this before, Captain?”

Piett shot him a swift glance from the corner of his eye. So very young and inexperienced. At least on the ground. Lewis was trying not to let nerves get the better of him, but Piett could see that the young man was very shaken in their highly uncertain circumstances.

“I wouldn’t say many, Ensign,” he responded, “since like you, I’m a man who prefers to stay in the stars, but yes, I’ve had my share of ground missions. Stay close and follow orders, Lewis and it will be fine.”

“Yes, Captain,” he responded, visibly taking heart and Piett hoped he was worthy of this trust. The wind was picking up now, and they may have gaberwool uniforms, but this was sharp and if, no when , it started raining, things would be quite miserable. 

Cursing Ozzel inwardly helped a great deal for a while, but as the first drops spat from the sky, even his inward rage toward his appalling admiral wasn’t enough to keep him warm.

“Time to take cover in the trees, Lewis,” he said and they ducked into the darkness of the pine forests. He was trying not to worry that he had not heard a single hint of Veers’ forces and they had been walking for two hours now. Surely, if their troops were ahead, he should hear or see evidence of it?

He glanced around in the dim light struggling through the trees and spotted a dense thicket behind which they would be well concealed. He set his rucksack down and rubbed at his sore muscles. The violence of their landing was taking a toll and it was just as well that they stopped now. 

He and Lewis drank water and ate their self heating rations in silence---Piett because he was listening all the time for the sounds of Imperial walkers and trying not to be deeply concerned about the lack of that, and Lewis because he was frightened and trying not to show it.

And then…..

Sounds Piett had been hoping he wouldn’t hear. 

Speeders whining and the thud of running and booted feet.

“Down!” he hissed and he and Lewis flung themselves on their bellies to the damp forest floor. Carefully, he snagged his rucksack and tugged it over his shoulders, the boy following suit before they crawled forward cautiously, using their elbows to get deeper into the thicket.

Lewis was pressed shoulder to shoulder with him and the two Imperials waited, hardly daring to breathe as the boots got closer.

The Rebels weren’t trying to be subtle. And there were a lot of them. Piett’s worries for Veers came roaring back with a vengeance.

Then his blood ran cold as he heard a voice ring out.

“Thermal scans. They have to be around here, given the time of the crash and the speed of going on foot.”

Karking hell. They were actively looking for them. Which implied that they had the beings to spare for such a search, but why? This was answered for him a moment later.

“Why are we looking for these greybacks so hard anyway?”

“Command says anything in a lamda is usually officer material. Could be useful. And if not useful….”

“Fun to take apart,” a chorus of voices answered in unison and there was laughter.

Lewis trembled next to him. Piett had heard of splinter groups this vicious. The main Rebel Alliance prided itself on being the civilized ones. He had heard that they were keen to be seen as the merciful and gracious ones. They would not mistreat prisoners like the cold Empire.

Part of him knew this was true---the Empire was brutal to Rebel prisoners. He hated it. He had not signed up for that. 

And so there were splinter groups like this. That took equal pride in…. destroying anything Imperial. And he had heard the awful rumors of what happened to captured Imperial officers at the hands of such groups….

He would go down fighting then. He had no desire for that.

“Sir!”

Piett knew they were kriffed. He carefully eased his blaster from his side and knew Lewis did the same.

“Over there, I’ve got something in the brush. Could just be an animal sir.”

“That big? I doubt it.”

And the boots drew closer and Piett knew they were going to close in a circle….He needed to at least get them a chance to break out and run for it….

“We know you’re in there, Imps! If you surrender now, we’ll kill you quickly.”

Liar , thought Piett, aiming for the voice, and he fired.

A curse sounded as he and Lewis fired rapidly, and the shrieks and screams of pain were promising. 

“Go!” he hissed. “Further into the woods!! Behind us!!”

And he and Lewis eased out of the brush and then began to run, bent over as blaster fire began clipping branches and splinters of wood off the trees around them.

Shouts of anger and pursuit.

Piett’s bruises were forgotten as he sprinted---adrenaline giving him wings. For a few minutes, he thought they might actually make it. 

Then Lewis shrieked and went down. Piett swung around, reaching for the boy. He could see where he’d been hit.

Force damn it. He’d been hit in the gut.

“Sir!” panted the boy, “Sir! Don’t leave me, please sir.”

“I’m not leaving you, Lewis!” Piett hissed, gripping his arm and tugging him along to take cover behind a large trunk. He knew the Ensign only had moments, but he couldn’t abandon him to die like this. He risked a glance--the Rebels were approaching cautiously as they searched, and their damn thermal scanner would find them…..

It would mean his capture.

Likely awful death.

Logic said to run--the boy would die anyway.

His heart wouldn’t let him. And kriff them all. He would take as many of them as he could.

He waited, one hand on his blaster, the other holding onto Lewis’s with a tight grip as the boy tried not to let his suffering be heard. 

Closer….closer…..

“Well, greyba-----” was as far as the voice got.

Piett stepped out and fired taking a stance as though he were on the range of the Lady. Four went down and angry snarls and swearing surrounded him as he ducked back.

“Oh we are definitely taking you alive, you bastard !” he heard the leader snarl.

Not if I can help it , he thought.

Lewis was coughing, his feet digging furrows in the soft earth.

“Sir…..my blaster….”

And the boy was holding it out to him in a shaking hand.

Piett briefly touched the boy’s head and accepted the blaster.

“I’m sorry, Lewis,” he said softly.

“Thank you, sir. For…...staying…..” the Ensign managed and then he slumped.

Piett took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. 

Best of luck, Max, he thought. See you on the other side.

He wished he could say good-bye, to both the General and the Lady.

“Don’t kill him!” called the voice and Piett rose, stepping out.

They may not want to kill him. He felt no such restrictions. 

He fired rapidly, both weapons getting warm in his hands as he turned, ducked behind his meagre cover and moved to the other side, continuing his assault.

He wanted to make them kill him. He wanted to cost them too much….

But he was tired, and there were too many.

He stepped again, firing and suddenly was plowed to the earth from behind---two of them holding him down as they wrested the blasters away from him and he was cursing and fighting, trying every trick Veers had taught him.

One of them held his face into the forest muck and then he couldn’t breathe….

He couldn’t breathe and he was panicking and then things were getting fuzzy….

“Don’t kill him I said. If we’re lucky---we get to do it slowly back at base. And damn do I want him to die slow.”

Binders clicked around his wrists and he was hauled up, gasping in air and dirt and, coughing violently as they dragged him away from poor Lewis’s body and out of the forest. The sun was almost gone now and he could barely make out the forms of his captors.

“Well, who do we have?” another voice called and lights snapped on, blinding him.

“A captain,” a different voice said as they looked at him and he was patted down for more weapons. 

“Hmmm. That could be anything. What’s your name greyback?”

Piett spat dirt out of his mouth and glared into the lights.

“Captain Firmus Piett. Imperial Id-Aurek 29147.”

And that was all they were going to get from him.

“Well, Captain Firmus Piett. We shall see just how useful you are then. Let’s get back to base.”

“Oh kark.”

“What?”

They all conferred over near one of the larger passenger speeders.

Piett was gripped firmly between two large men. They weren’t taking any more chances with him.

The rain was starting to come down in earnest and the Rebels groaned and complained.

“We’ll have to come back for the bodies in the morning. With only two working transport speeders, some of us are going to have to walk now.”

“This one will definitely be one of them, then,” said the man on his left, shaking his arm painfully. 

And so they began a slow and nightmarish journey for Piett.

He was already exhausted and they were giving him no respite. They had tied a rope around his waist and attached it to one of the speeders, but his hands were still cuffed behind him. He fell numerous times and struggled up, occasionally being dragged before he could make it to his feet.

His uniform was soaked through with rain and mud, and the water dripped into his eyes from his drenched hair. His cap was in his pocket, much good it would do him now anyway.  

The beings around him cursed and grumbled at him, the weather, the broken speeder and him again. 

He fell again and couldn’t get up, being dragged slowly along and wondering if he would just die from this.

The speeder stopped and he was hauled up by his hair, a snarling Bothan getting in his face. “Keep moving!” it spat at him and he laughed breathlessly.

“I simply can’t.”

“You will!” And it punched him in the jaw.

He was flung back to the ground and was deeply tempted to laugh hysterically. Oh yes---punching him would definitely get him to keep going.

“What’s the delay?” came another voice, sounding very put out.

“The greyback won’t get up.”

Piett felt the vibration on the ground as someone climbed out of the speeder he was bound to.

A booted toe nudged his side. “Get up or be dragged.”

He managed to get to his knees, tasting the copper from his split lip. 

“Then I think you’ll be delivering my corpse. Because I simply can’t keep going.”

Conferring took place out of his hearing---then he was hauled to his feet and dragged to the speeder to be dumped unceremoniously to the floor. 

“Why should I have to walk so an Imp…?” complained a voice.

“Shut up and deal. We just need to get there, and he has to be alive.”

And they set off again. The floor of the speeder was dirty and smelled of things that Piett would rather not think about, but he was so far beyond his endurance, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He didn’t know when he closed his eyes, but somewhere on that hideous journey he must have, because when he opened them again, he was being hauled out like a sack of supplies and dumped to a hard stone floor.

Chapter Text

In the end, Veers decided to split the Herd. If they were going up against this weapon, he was not going to come in, ride or die, and lose everything in some fatalistic move. 

He sent Commander Travis east and ordered the speeder scouts to head north and west. He himself headed northwest, deciding to hedge his bets. 

He was fully cognizant of the fact that it was likely an attack would come now that he had split his forces.

He wasn’t wrong.

“Sir, speeder scouts are reporting strange readings, but no visual as yet. Definitely an energy output about half a mile ahead, General. It’s possible most of their base is underground.”

“Yes,” Veers responded thoughtfully, “that would explain some of the trouble we’ve had locating them. But this weapon has to be huge. We should see it surely.”

He was not aware of any cloaking technology that could hide something so large as this thing had to be.

He suddenly had a suspicion.

“Weapons. Target half a mile ahead and about five hundred feet above ground level.”

He appreciated that his men were well trained enough not to question this seemingly random order. 

“Yes, sir. Target acquired.”

“Fire.”

His AT-AT spat laser fire ahead of them. One second. Veers was watching through his periscope and saw the moment it impacted and a blue ripple suddenly shimmered into being before disappearing again. 

“They have reflective panels! I don’t know how they’re shifting the energy signature, but that’s it!”

And all hell broke loose. 

The weapon was suddenly revealed, its huge maw looming toward them and then it fired, utterly vaporizing the AT-AT to Veers’ right.

Holy kriff.

At the same moment, small gun ships came zipping out of hiding and Rebel troops were flooding toward them. 

“Get Travis and Jackson on comms. Give them the coordinates!” Veers barked. “Send them to the Lady as well. Have her start pounding these bastards!!”

How long did it take this thing to recharge?

He found out five minutes later as another of his beloved Herd disappeared in a bright flash.

“Nine hells,” breathed his pilot. “Sir, we don’t stand a chance….”

And this was utterly true….

“Get the walkers into the tree line,” he ordered, thinking furiously. He had found the weapon. He could freely acknowledge that he couldn’t do anything about it. He was a fighter yes, but he had no intentions of getting his entire Herd slaughtered.

Where was the Lady’s all consuming fire?

“Did we get those coordinates to Executor?” he snapped.

“Sir, they jammed the orbital signal,” Ellery said grimly.

Force damn it.

“Travis!” Veers barked, slapping at his personal comm.

“General?”

“Pull back. Contact Jackson and pull back . We can’t take this thing on and we can’t reach the Lady yet. Keep trying to give her the coordinates….”

Static. Lovely. No doubt a broad jamming signal now.

“Orders, sir?” Ellery asked.

Veers hated to do it. But it was their best chance at survival and it might give the rest of his divisions time to get out of danger from this weapon.

“We need to abandon the AT-ATs. This thing can easily take them out.”

His command crew stared at him.

“Abandon….. Lola , sir?”

It hurt him too. He wasn’t as connected to the walkers as Piett was to his Lady, but many of his crew were.

“Yes. Give the order. Use the running lights to send Imperial code as they’ve jammed comms.”

Their AT-AT stopped just inside the woods.

“Lower her,” Veers ordered and the walker’s legs began to retract slowly, locking with a clang. He and Ellery were slinging their blaster rifles over their shoulders before she had finished.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, moving to the main hold where the troopers waited.

The 501st began to descend and Veers was in the middle, Ellery right at his back. 

As he reached the ground he could hear the battle now---the sounds so very different on the ground as opposed to filtering through the systems of his walker. He could smell the ozone and the mud and that unmistakable scent of death.

“We try to fight through to that shielding system!” he ordered. “We need to try and destroy it. Secondary objective---destroy their jamming signal so we can communicate with the fleet!”

And Veers entered that strange state of battle mentality where things were both fast and slow, where he noticed tiny details like the scratch on the side of a speeder going by, but he could tune out the massive explosion from a detonator behind him, so as to focus on firing at the enemy in front of him.

He could see low concrete buildings now. He fired again rapidly at oncoming troops, mowing them down and motioning to Ellery and the men with him, pointing two fingers toward the bunkers.

But it seemed the Rebels had figured out who was in charge and they were targeting him. 

A thermal detonator exploded to his left, throwing Ellery back, and Veers didn’t even have time to check on his Sergeant before something hit him hard in the side, spinning him around to the damp, churned up earth. 

He still had his grip on his blaster rifle and he rolled to his knees, coming up firing and seeing a speeder go down in flames.

He took that brief moment to assess himself. A blaster shot had glanced off his cuirass (which had undoubtedly saved his life) but managed to wing his right side.

Not good.

And now the enemy was close. He threw his blaster rifle down as he drew his hand weapon and took out as many of the bastards as he could.

As he became surrounded, he reached for the detonator on his belt. 

“I don’t think so, General.”

And his whole body seized in a stun blast.

****

Vader glided into the main offices of the spaceport, ignoring the terrified squeaks of random citizens who suddenly found the need to be elsewhere. 

His son’s trail had led him here and he found the manager of the port immediately-- a gaunt man with a deeply lined face who, interestingly enough, merely looked up at Vader with a galaxy weary expression. Clearly, he had seen much in his years and while Vader sensed fear, there was also a callous resignation.

Interesting.

“I wish to know when Rebel ships passed through here. It was recent. When? And where did they go?”

Subordinates were shooting the manager bewildered and frightened looks.

“My Lord. If there were Rebels here, they did not make themselves known to me.”

“Footage. All of you review the footage from the last two days. Immediately. Look for a small man---blonde hair. Blue eyes. Flag anyone that seems as though they would fit that description and show it to me.”

The manager hesitated slightly. “My Lord---this is a busy port---we have ships coming in….”

“And they will wait,” Vader rumbled, exerting Force pressure on everyone in the room. A blanket of fear settled over him in the Force and he didn’t care.

The manager swallowed slightly and flicked some toggles. “Very good, my Lord.”

He and his staff obeyed, calling up the security footage on all of their displays while Vader paced impatiently around the room, which felt small and oppressive.

Why had Luke come here? The Force signature was powerful…..and slightly….off. But in his obsession, Vader did not worry about that too closely. Their top spy had yet to be wrong and if Luke was on a secret mission for his Rebellion, he was much easier to catch away from his companions.

“My…..my Lord?” the tremulous voice of a mousy woman behind one of the terminals.

He turned his helmet toward her and did not speak. In his frustration he was taking vicious pleasure in evoking profound terror from the occupants of the room.

“I….have an individual fitting your description….”

He strode over to look, the scanners built into the lenses of his helmet examining the image.

“It is not him. Keep looking.”

This was going to be tremendously tedious.

The next hour was spent in building frustration as image after image proved not to be the correct one. 

“This one, my Lord?” asked the manager, somehow sounding both respectful and bored. Vader was almost amused. No. That was not an emotion he had any longer.

He looked….and looked again, scanning... yes .

“That is the Rebel.” The time stamp flashed up. 

Two days previous.

“What hangar is he headed toward?” Vader asked.

“17, my Lord.”

“Very well.”

He turned without another word and strode out.

It was a matter of moments to reach the bay, demand the bay chief show him the footage and take off trajectory for Luke’s ship and then reach with the Force…..

There.

“Is there anything else, my Lord?”

The manager had followed him.

“No.”

And he went to find his TIE Advanced.

*****

Piett stumbled as he was hauled to his feet yet again and he locked his knees, his exhausted brain pleading with his body to work.

It was dim in the room, but they were moving once more and suddenly things were bright indeed from harsh overhead lights. 

He sneezed quite suddenly, his cold deciding to assert itself in the moment and there was a chuckle nearby as he tried to adjust his eyes, squinting at the blurs around him.

“Well. Is this what you recovered from the lamda?”

“Yes, sir. Only two of them as far as we can tell.”

Piett could now focus on the form in front of him. The man was only two inches taller than Piett himself, with a vicious scar running from his eye to his throat. He was considerably older than the Captain, his hair iron grey and his face deeply lined. 

His eyes….

His eyes were disturbing. Flat, green and emotionless, they reminded Piett of nothing so much as a snake. 

“Where’s the other one then?”

“Dead. They were a great deal of trouble. Killed eleven of our people.”

“Eleven!” Scar face snarled, rounding on the Captain.

“Who are you greyback?”

Piett was getting exceedingly weary of this designation.

“Captain Firmus Piett.”

He stared the man in the eye as he felt himself assessed.

“Brought most of the forest floor with you I see, Captain Firmus Piett. And how did you rate a lamda then?”

Piett curled his lip slightly. He had said all he was going to say.

“I would love to be personally involved in destroying him, General,” said the man who had been in charge of the expedition that had captured Piett. 

“Hmmm. I’m sure that can be arranged. There are countless captains in the Imperial forces,” the ‘General’ mused. “Some more important than others. How do you rate, Piett?”

Piett coughed. 

The occupants of the room chuckled. 

“Well, apparently even slaves of the mighty Empire get colds. More unfortunate you, then. It’s not particularly warm here.”

“Perhaps he could be useful in breaking down the other one?” suggested a woman.

Other one?

The General nodded slowly. “He can keep him alive as well, so we don’t have to waste too many resources doing it ourselves. All right. Toss him in with the other greyback. I need to confer with my staff.”

Piett was hauled, stumbling, down a series of dimly lit corridors. They were clearly underground. He was very conscious now that his uniform was soaked through---which, with gaberwool, was not remotely pleasant. His whole body was sore, both from the crash and the subsequent fight, then the long trudge in the mud. 

Nonetheless, he did his best to pay attention to his surroundings and the turns they took. 

At last they stopped in front of a nondescript metal door. His hands were freed from the cuffs behind his back, but imprisoned once more in front of him, this time with a small length of chain between them.

“You need to keep the other one alive, got it?” growled a burly Hylobon, his broad jaw inches from Piett’s forehead. 

Piett just stared at him and the others around him grumbled.

“You are going to be delicious to take apart,” hissed the human who had captured him, palming the door lock and he was shoved inside.

The door slammed behind him and he just stood for a moment letting his eyes adjust to the near darkness. The only light came from a small opening in the door, filtering in from the corridor. 

The walls were  made of quickly constructed cement and the floor was dirt, though it might have been stone, given how compacted it was. 

A bucket was in one corner, but that was it. No beds. No blankets. It was comfortless in the extreme. 

And there was another occupant….

He could see that it was indeed another Imperial officer and he lay on his side, with his back to Piett. Now that his eyes were adjusted, the Captain could see a stain on the man’s uniform. 

He’d been shot then. Wonderful. And he was supposed to keep him alive in here? With nothing?

He already knew he’d do his damndest. Because it was not in him to give up. And also---kriff these Rebels to every hell imaginable. 

Piett knelt next to the man, his joints complaining vigorously, and reached for him with his bound hands. 

“Are you awake, sir?” he asked, carefully turning the officer onto his back.

And then he just slid to the floor.

Because it was Veers.

Veers was here, prisoner and shot.

Somehow in his mind (when he consciously focused on it) Piett had hope that Max was out there somewhere, figuring out a way to defeat this weapon and allow them all to try to survive another day. At least until Lord Vader returned from his mad quest.

Piett had allowed himself to think that. And then he was suddenly furious--his anger boiling over and he swore viciously to the room and to his unconscious friend.

How dare Vader leave to them to this? How dare he assemble this squadron and make them believe it mattered in the least, only to take all that away? How dare he abandon them to this? To a galaxy where General Max Veers could die in a dirt floored cell on some karking obscure planet?

He wanted to hurt. He wanted to destroy. He didn’t even have anything he could throw to ease his rage and frustration.

Well.

That wasn’t entirely true.

He had the knife in his boot which the Rebels had missed in their hurried pat down, looking for a blaster.

But he needed to reserve that for the very remote possibility of escape. 

He took three breaths in with his nose (and the smell in here was not pleasant) to calm himself down. Max needed him right now---he didn’t need Piett’s temper.

He felt Veers’ forehead and was unsurprised to find heat there. He checked his pulse next and to his admittedly inexperienced perception, it seemed a bit fast. 

He peeled the scorched uniform away from the General’s side. How long had Max been here?

It surely couldn’t be more than 24 hours given when they had deployed and the moment Piett himself had been shoved in here. And he couldn’t even bandage the wound. His own uniform was hopelessly filthy and because his hands were bound, he couldn’t shrug out of the jacket to use the henley beneath.

Force damn it.

He hated feeling helpless more than anything else.

All right, think Piett.  

He had nothing to offer his friend but himself. That was something wasn’t it? He could try to give him a little more warmth---something more than the cold dirt floor.

Piett moved to sit against the wall and then hauled Max’s not inconsiderable bulk into his arms. The General’s hands were also cuffed and so it was awkward all around, but at last Piett settled the blonde head against his chest, and rested his own arms over Veers.

His mind returned to the Lady. His gorgeous, wonderful ship. He had only scratched the surface of all that she was. Was she looking? Could she do that? Both he and Veers could be considered dead for all he knew. Ozzel would be only too happy to declare that officially and wait for Vader’s return before trying to retrieve their bodies. If that was even a consideration. 

Of course, Piett couldn’t imagine Vader would be best pleased to discover their losses. Still. He was no longer the leader that the Captain had hoped he would be. There had been moments, glimmers really, where Piett had almost suspected something human there. And he had learned his commander’s posture and helmet tilts well. Well enough to know that Vader did not like the Emperor.

He was careful never to say anything to hint that he knew this. But he was sure. And that had ramifications. But now. Now all Vader cared about was capturing this Skywalker. Why?

Piett’s brain had returned to the main question he had been asking himself for the last year. 

Why was this kid so kriffing significant that Vader was happy to throw all of them away on his behalf? He wasn’t hurt by that---such a thing would be ridiculous. Piett was well used to being thrown away in his life. It was bound to happen really. But it was disruptive and he longed to have something constant in his life. 

Of course, none of that really mattered now. No one knew where they were. Ozzel wouldn’t bother to look and Vader was not in the system.

It was himself and it was Max. And while he would wish that his friend was not here, he was comforted by the fact that he wasn’t alone and waiting to die.

Chapter Text

Veers couldn’t make sense of his situation.

He’d been stunned. He recalled that much. He had awoken briefly to blurred forms and loud voices and shouted questions. He thought he recalled telling…..someone, to kriff off. 

A beating. He recalled that. Then darkness.

But now. He was cold and warm at the same time…..

Why?

His rigid training had him calmly assessing the situation before hinting to anyone else in the room he was awake. 

Something cold and hard at his wrists. He was still cuffed--no surprise there. Throbbing pain in his side and heat. He felt ill and feverish. Infection no doubt. These were not the sort that were going to waste medical supplies on Imperials.

He cracked his eyes very slightly. It was mostly dark and it smelled badly in whatever hole they’d tossed him.

But his head moved very slightly because it was resting on something softer than the hard floor, and Veers fought to keep his breathing even. 

He was leaning on someone. That was why his back was warm. He was leaning against another body and his head was resting near their heart. He could hear its regular rhythm now. And there was something else. Something he recognized….

A faint, unmistakable whiff of something that reminded him of wood smoke and bourbon and spice…

Only one person was close enough to him that he knew the scent of his after shave.

“I would imagine you’re awake and assessing things by now, sir,” came a familiar voice above him, then Piett's slight frame shifted beneath him, and the General realized that his arms had been resting on Veers’ chest.

“Firmus,” he breathed, and Piett’s heart rate increased slightly.

“Are there cameras in here, General?” he asked, and good man. He was thinking tactically and it would not do for their captors to know of their friendship.

“No,” Veers responded. Why was he certain? That’s right….

“No...power source for it. Down here.”

He heard Piett looking around as well as he could from the floor..

“You’re right. Well. I have to confess I was not happy to find you here, Max.”

Veers snorted lightly.

“What in the hell are you doing here, Firmus? Why aren’t you on the Avenger?”

“I didn’t make it there,” the Captain responded grimly. “No doubt Ozzel is working hard to restrain his rejoicing at the moment.”

“Damn him,” Veers said with feeling. 

“Agreed,” Piett said above him, and then both of them snickered . They were like school boys with a stupid joke, Veers reflected, and wondered at himself that they were able to laugh about this.

But he knew the answer. They were together. They were facing some horrific things and they both knew it. Were most likely going to die here, but they were together. 

Both or none , Piett liked to say. And there was no one in the galaxy that Veers would rather have at his side for something like this, for his likely death, than Firmus Piett. 

“Your men?” Piett asked, sobering up again and Veers felt his hand rest on his forehead.

“I’m not sure. I ordered them out of the walkers. I split the Herd and ordered a retreat. No way we could stand against that weapon.”

“No.”

“We tried to contact the Lady with coordinates. Obviously we found the kriffing thing. Vaporized my Herd….”

He suddenly found his throat tight, remembering at least two crews gone in a flash of brilliant and devastating light.

Piett’s wiry arms tightened around his chest, and Veers felt his friend’s binders dig slightly into him.

“How’d they get you then?” he asked. 

His friend sighed. “Tracked our lamda. Sent a hunting party for us, figuring a lamda is used for officers. They’re not wrong.”

“Us? Where’s the pilot?”

He knew the answer.

“Dead,” Piett said curtly, in the tone he had which meant he didn’t want to discuss it further. Piett took his losses very personally. Veers did too, but his friend saw it as a failure on his part. 

“How many did you take down before they got you?” he asked, knowing the Captain well.

“Eleven,” Piett murmured. “Max, this fever…”

“Is there. I know. Firmus. Don’t try to divert me. You did your best. I know you did. Can you honestly tell me you can think of something different you could have done to allow your pilot to live?”

A pause. 

“No,” Piett whispered.

“Then, friend of mine, do not give yourself additional anguish wishing you could change something you can’t. Here. I’m going to sit up.”

He moved, and pain lanced through his side, leaving him gasping. 

“I’ve been tasked with keeping you alive,” Piett told him, getting a hand under his upper arm and helping him move to lean against the wall. “But I have nothing and that isn’t acceptable. Hold on.”

The Captain rose, then paused, coughing so much so that he put a hand to the wall. 

“Piett….”

His friend shook his head. “Damn cold. Hardly our greatest worry, Veers. Infection will kill you before a cold will kill me.”

And before Veers could respond Piett was yelling for a guard.

“Firmus!”

But a guard was already coming and Veers braced himself, wincing as he did so.

“What are you making a ruckus about greyback?”

“I was told to keep the General alive. But I do not have the means to do so. His wound is infected and he needs treatment.”

“We’re not interested in treating any of you Imps.”

Veers watched Piett’s shoulders pull back in his familiar stance of command and it must have had effect even on the Rebel guard.

“Very well. You can explain to your General why his prisoner died then. Or you can give me the most basic supplies I need to help him.”

There was muttering and then the guard left.

Piett turned back to him.

“I’m not sure, but they may bring something. They want to kill us personally I think.”

Veers squinted up at him as Piett returned to his side. 

“Cheerful way to look at that, Captain, thank you.”

Piett sighed and eased himself back down next to Veers. 

“Were you planning on giving up then, Max?”

Veers gave him his best offended stare even though he knew Piett couldn’t see it very well. 

“You know I can’t do that, Firmus.”

“I do actually.”

They both stopped to listen as footsteps sounded again and then a light was shone in on them.

“Stay back or we’ll shoot off a leg.”

The door swung open and a young man with a medkit entered, followed by two burly Rebels, pointing very illegal blaster rifles at them. 

“Move.” Piett was shoved away from him and they fastened his binders to a heretofore unnoticed ring in the wall. They did the same to Veers before the boy knelt at his side.

“How long’s this gonna take then?” one asked. “I need a smoke.”

“A while,” the medic (at least Veers assumed he was) replied. 

“We’ll leave the light then and step into the corridor, yeah?”

“Fine.”

The door swung shut again and the voices went further away.

The boy opened the kit without speaking and pulled out antiseptic wipes as well as a laser cutter.

“Here!” Piett exclaimed, and now that Veers could see him, he realized just how terrible his friend looked. “What do you need that for?”

The young man looked over at him with a disgusted curl to his lip.

“Just cutting the uniform away. I’m not going to use it on him if that’s what you’re thinking. That’s the sort of thing you lot do.”

Piett rolled his eyes and Veers snorted.

“Oh yes, right. We’re the monsters in the closet. I forgot.”

The boy stared at him a moment and then cut his uniform and began cleaning the wound. 

The sting was fierce and Veers compressed his lips. 

“It’s infected,” Piett put in. “He needs…”

“I know , for kriff’s sake. Can you stop being a bastard for even thirty seconds, or is that just naturally bred into all of you?”

Veers felt a drop of sweat trickle down his temple, and he held himself as still as possible as the boy began to swab the wound with a more stringent cleaner.

Force but the pain was intense. Veers had grown used to the reality of readily available pain killers. 

Piett growled across from them. “Can’t you give him something before you do that?”

The Rebel snorted. “Painkillers? For you lot? Yeah….we have so much to spare…”

“Leave it, Captain,” Veers managed through clenched teeth. Piett was caring too much, and they needed to maintain the idea that they were just two random Imperial officers thrown in together lest things get much worse.

Piett stared at him, but understood, and then was doubled over coughing once more. Veers shut his teeth around his own concern and the medic paused to look over at his friend.

“That sounds bad.”

Piett lifted his head and glared at the boy with red rimmed eyes.

“Yes, well, I just spent about six hours in the rain and mud and now I’m in this cozy little spot.”

“And serve you right,” the young man said, but he sounded less certain as he turned back to Veers’ wound. He slapped a bandage on the spot (no bacta of course) and began to tape it into place.

“I can give you one antibiotic shot now. If the fever gets worse, have your friend there tell a guard.”

“Not my friend,” Veers told him in his best Imperial tones. “He’s a Captain. I’m a General. He’s a subordinate officer.”

The boy shook his head in disgust. 

“Typical. Do you all care about anything beyond your kriff awful Emperor and your stuffy Imperial rules?”

Veers was more than happy to handle his disdain if he could try and protect Piett in this small way.

“Not that I know of,” he responded coolly. “I make sure to read the rules every night before bed, though.”

Piett made a strangled noise and the boy sat back on his heels to regard both of them with a considering expression.

“You…..are not what I expected.”

“You haven’t met Imperial officers before?” Piett asked hoarsely. “What did you expect?”

“Monsters,” the Rebel responded, closing his kit after giving Veers the antibiotic shot.

“Oh we’re that, all right,” Veers assured him. “At least five atrocities before breakfast every day.” He was feeling hot and unwell and exceedingly done with holier than thou bantha poodu.

“ General ,” Piett said warningly.

“ Captain . As though the Rebels are currently demonstrating how much better they are than us. He’s going to get a chest infection in that wet uniform and in this cold cell. But he’s an Imperial . So he deserves to suffer, do I have that right?” he snapped at the medic who looked rather taken aback.

“You destroyed Alderaan. You enslave the galaxy….!”

“We didn’t do that,” Piett said mildly. “Nor would I condone it. But I joined the navy long before the Death Star was a known entity.”

“You work for those that did it. Same thing,” the boy returned.

Were they really having ethics discussions now?

“You’re right. We’re monsters. Congratulations, our torture and death will right all the wrongs. Are we done?” Veers snarled.

“You….” he paused, eyes big. “Rebels caught by the Imperials die horrible deaths. We know this!”

“Oh for….” Piett sighed and rested his head against the wall. “ Some Rebels caught by some Imperials have had that happen, yes. If my men caught you, I promise that you would be treated ethically.”

The kid snorted.

“Right. Everything you stand for is oppressive and evil.”

Veers shook his head.

“Are you done? I’m going to live long enough for your compatriots to take me apart?”

“Why do you keep saying that?” the Rebel asked.

Did he really not know? Was he that naive?

Piett asked the question for him. “How long have you been in the ah….Rebellion, son?”

The boy flushed. “Just….just a month. But we don’t….. torture… .” he trailed off at their grim expressions.

“Look,” Piett said wearily, “I fully acknowledge that the Empire has a lot of flaws. I know that. I would wish many things were different. I…...am trying in my own sphere to make a difference. I can’t just up and run off to a Rebellion. I have men under my command who need me where I am.”

Veers was staring at him. Piett did not often open up like this---his friend was exhausted and ill and likely going to die here, but his nature couldn’t allow him to leave this young man on his own to find out some nasty truths.

“But neither is this Rebellion of yours as pure as the kriffing snow. I know Mothma and Organa and others would like you to think so. I know they pride themselves on being more principled . And maybe they are. But this group? This is not the main body of the Rebellion, kid. This one enjoys pain and death for us. I would suggest that you don’t come back here. It won’t be pretty.”

The kid literally had his mouth hanging open as he stared at the Captain. Piett was shivering now and clearly couldn’t stop. Veers wanted this Rebel gone so he could do what he could for his friend.

“I…..”

“We’re done,” Veers said with the finality of command, glaring at the boy. He got the message finally, and rose to his feet, taking the light and calling out to his fellows in the corridor.

They came stomping in and released the two Imperials from the wall before leaving again, grumbling and complaining about having to waste their time on ‘greybacks’.

Veers rose painfully to his feet and paced around a little to get his blood flowing. It was slightly better now, though he still felt hot and ill. But he could put that to good use. He came to sit beside Piett who had been watching him tiredly and nudged his friend in the side.

“Don’t want you to get hypothermic. My turn. Lean on me, Captain.”

“Max….”

“That’s an order.”

Piett snorted in the dim cell and Veers smiled slightly, but the naval officer obeyed, scooting slightly to allow Veers to get his cuffed arms around him and draw him closer.

“Kriff, you’re a furnace.”

“I know. So use it. You’re a sad soggy little mess.”

And Piett actually laughed. “I’m trying to decide which term in there I should be most offended about.”

“Probably all of them.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Why did you try, Firmus?” Veers asked after a while. “I am curious what drives you to try and help people whether it’s their messed up thinking or physical danger.”

His friend was still trembling with chills and Veers tightened his hold.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I….I joined the Axxilan fleet to help people---save them from the pirates and spicers ravaging their worlds. I thought the Imperial navy would be an even bigger scope for that. That illusion was shattered quickly, but not quickly enough for me to be able to leave without consequences to my men.”

Veers pondered this. He had not heard this before, but that was not entirely surprising he supposed. Such sentiments could get one arrested for treason and killed. 

“I can try to keep others from being too naive. That kid…..I feel sorry for him.”

The General shook his head.

“You would. Don’t worry, Piett, that’s not an insult. You just….I wasn’t expecting how big that heart of yours was when I met you.”

The Captain shifted in his hold. “Are we pretending here that you don’t have one, Veers?””

Veers was reasonably sure they both knew he did, but he didn’t like talking about this.

“We should rest. Not much to look forward to after all.”

“Yeah…” Piett sighed. It was quiet and Veers realized that the Captain had fallen asleep. Veers sat for a long time, alone with his thoughts.

******

Venka left the conference room, and managed to make it to a fresher before his rage exploded and he punched the wall five times. The pain of that ill considered action brought him back to himself and he stood, hands braced on the counter and taking in deep breaths.

Ozzel had appointed him acting Captain after the ‘regrettable’ shuttle accident. He had refused to send landing parties to the surface even though Venka had the coordinates sent in those last moments of speaking with Piett. 

And he was a nerfherder. That finger was broken.

He sighed and looked at his haggard reflection. He didn’t think it would ever come to this. Certainly, he wanted to be a captain, but not in place of Piett. And the General was missing too. Presumed dead, Ozzel had told the assembled staff cheerfully.

He was therefore waiting for Lord Vader’s return before he sent more troops down. This weapon was awfully effective. And now there was a jamming signal in place so they had no news from the surface to even know if any of the Herd had survived.

Had Piett survived the crash?

He found himself moving toward Henley’s sickbay and he must be far gone, he reflected, if he was heading there for some sort of perverse comfort from the acerbic doctor. But he knew that Henley was on his side with this, particularly after the ‘food poisoning’ incident.

He stepped into the white cleanliness of the quiet bay. “Doctor?”

Henley’s head popped out of his office. 

“Lieutenant. You’re a long way from the bridge. What did you do? And why didn’t you go to the closest medbay?”

He was already moving into the main part of the room with his scanner.

“Punched a bulkhead,” Venka said crisply as Henley scanned the hand. 

“Mmm. And it clearly won. This finger is broken. All right, sit there.” He gestured to one of the exam beds and Venka obeyed as the doctor retrieved supplies. 

“And why, dare I ask, did you decide to fight the bulkhead?”

“Just had a meeting with the senior officers. And the Admiral.”

“Well, yes, that would do it.”

Henley cleaned the abrasions swiftly and gave him an injection.

“Bone regen. But you’ll need a splint for 24 hours or so. Do I get to know what was said that had you getting violent?”

“He intends to wait for Lord Vader. Doesn’t want to risk more losses. Doctor, we are an overwhelming force! If we went in full strength these Rebel bastards wouldn’t stand a chance. If he truly let the Lady just start shalacking the planet….”

Henley cocked an eyebrow at him as he worked. “There’s a good possibility she would take out our own people though correct?”

Well. That was a fair point. 

“Yes, but….we should be sending our forces there. Veers is the senior General of the fleet ! The Captain was appointed to the flagship by Vader himself. And that’s leaving out the hundreds of men under the General’s command! And we just sit here….!”

“Dangerous talk there, Lieutenant,” Henley commented dryly.

Venka glared. “You dealt with what happened to Captain Piett. You had me informed specifically. Not the Admiral. Not Lord Vader. I think you and I are beyond worrying about what we should and shouldn’t say to each other.”

Henley finished the splint and set the scanner down on the bed beside Venka. 

Then he crossed his arms and frowned horribly at the floor before looking up to meet Venka’s eyes.

“Look,” he said at last. “You’re acting Captain correct?”

Venka nodded.

“Doesn’t that give you, I don’t know, greater access? Access that you can keep from more….hostile eyes?”

Venka bit his lip and cocked his head. “Access for what, Doctor?”

“Could you do scans of the planet without Ozzel knowing? Search for this weapon’s energy signature?”

Venka considered this. “Possibly…..”

“What if Veers is trying to contact you with other means? Yes, I hear they’ve jammed signals, but the General is resourceful. So is the Captain if he survived the crash.”

Venka winced. But the man had some good points. 

“I could look into that. It can’t be from the bridge though….”

Henley gave him one of the most irritatingly superior looks in his arsenal. “I hear we have a reasonably competent head engineer. I do hope he might know how to help with this.”

Venka slid off of the examination bed. “Thank you, Doctor. As always your condescension helps me feel a great deal better.”

Henley waved a hand without turning around as he walked back to his office. “Not your mother, Lieutenant! Go find our people. Save the day. Bring back my worst patients.”

Venka grinned. Baldwin was just the man to talk to.

*****

Baldwin looked up from rummaging in the supply locker in the huge storage room off of Engineering Bay 9 when someone cleared his throat.

Looking up, he pondered the red headed form lounging in his doorway, extending what smelled like a truly magnificent cup of caf in his direction. 

“Long way from the galleys there, Mac,” he said, rising and wiping grimy hands on his coveralls.

“Seeing as I am much more thoughtful than you, I decided to give you this after I got off my shift,” the head Steward responded and Baldwin came to gratefully accept the warm mug.

“Why is it that we can’t have this quality of caf throughout the Lady?” he asked, appreciating the nutty, roasted flavor.

Mac snorted and seated himself on a crate, pulling out one of his signature fat cigars. “Do you mind?”

“Is it the musky one or the vanilla one?”

“Vanilla.”

“Then go ahead. Ruin your lungs.”

“Baldwin, just because you can’t appreciate the finer things in life…. This is a Grandulan tobacco, cured for….”

The Chief held up a hand. “I am appreciating finer caf and do not care to hear about how you dry plants to burn in your lungs.”

Mac chuckled and then took a deep inhale.

“Fine. And the reason, Chief, that we don’t have caf like that is because the Empire does not spring for the good beans. Only friends of mine get those.”

Baldwin saluted with his cup. “Thank you then.”

They were quiet, and then Mac breached the silence. 

“We going to talk about the fact our Captain is missing? And the General? And that our ass of an Admiral is a spineless coward…?”

Baldwin coughed slightly on his caf.

“ Careful , MacDonald!! If someone hears….”

His friend snorted derisively. “If someone hears in your crew, are you telling me they will trot off to the Admiral?”

Baldwin smiled ruefully. “Not my people that’s true.”

Mac nodded, taking another pull of the cigar, its vanilla scent filling the space pleasantly.

“Are we…...just sitting back and watching this?”

Baldwin sighed. “What would you have us do, Mac? His Lordship is not here. You and I, we don’t hold any sway or influence to affect this.”

“What about the XO?”

Baldwin nodded. “I’m sure he’s doing all he can. But Ozzel hates the Captain. And the General. No doubt he feels like he just got the best Life Day present.”

“Well the crew aren’t taking it well. Not only are they being held back like cowards, their Captain, the one they think rather highly off, could be dead and we’re now being commanded soley by an Admiral who couldn’t find the Lady’s engine bays with both hands and a map!”

Baldwin raised his eyebrows. “Wait….wait I’m getting an idea. It’s true. Ozzel knows almost nothing about the Lady’s workings. And if the crew will help us…..”

His mind raced.

Mac looked at him, cigar smoke drifting gently up from his hand.

“What are you thinking? I know that face. That face has a manic planning gleam.”

“We could send a search team. Without telling the Admiral.”

Mac whistled then took another inhale of his cigar.

“It’s what I like about you, Chief. You go big or go home. Direct defiance of orders. I’m in.”

Baldwin grinned at him widely. “Ok. So…”

“Excuse me. Your men said I could find you here.”

Both of them whipped to their feet and turned to see Lieutenant Venka in the doorway.

“Sir. What can we do for you?”

Mac had the cigar behind his back as though that would hide the potent smell of vanilla in the air.

Venka grinned and came further into the supply room, allowing the door to hiss shut behind him.

“I can smell it you know. And it smells quality. Would be a shame to waste it.”

Mac sheepishly brought his hands back around to the front.

“Mr. Baldwin,” Piett’s XO said, turning to him, “we have a problem and I think you can help me with it.”

Baldwin exchanged a swift glance with Mac.

“Is something damaged sir….?”

“Not exactly no.” Venka considered him, hands on his hips, for a moment. 

“Look. The Captain trusts you. I do too. And I would like to get him back. Thing is, we’re not even actively looking for him.” He took a breath as though coming to a decision.

“I can’t do it from the bridge. It would be noticed. So…..I wondered if there was a way to scan the planet from somewhere else. Without it being noticed.”

Mac chuckled and Baldwin smiled.

“Mr. Venka. Are you…..asking me to scan without the Admiral’s knowledge, sir?”

Venka held his eyes. “Damn right I am.”

Baldwin chuckled and held out his hand to the Lieutenant.

“Let’s find our Captain, sir.”

Chapter Text

Piett was shaken awake by Veers.

He blinked blearily at his friend and wondered why his lungs were imploding.

“Because you have a cough. But also they’re coming, we need to move apart.”

Oh. He must have said that out loud then.

He and Veers struggled away from each other, and Piett was grateful that at least his shivering had ceased.

He leaned, panting, against the wall and Veers stretched himself out on the other side of the room, feigning sleep.

The door hissed open and suddenly the room was flooded with light.

“All right then.” It was the hated voice of the General. Piett squinted, putting his hands before his face to better adjust.

Four Rebel soldiers came in with the man, and someone with a holo camera. 

Great .

The door shut behind them and the scar faced General kicked at Veers, causing his friend to grunt in pain as he sat up.

“General Veers. You may not recall who I am given that you were most inconsiderately trying to kill my men when we saw each other last. I’m General Rasha. You are going to make a message for your Imperial friends.”

Piett watched Veers give the man his best sneer.

“I won’t.”

Rasha sighed, and rubbed at his temple.

“It’s rather simple….”

“No,” Veers cut across him rudely. “The only simple thing here is you. You think the Empire cares that you captured me? The Imperial Forces do not bargain with terrorists.”

There was growling amongst the gathered troops, and Piett’s heart was thundering madly. He didn’t think they would kill his friend here---after all they were supposed to suffer---but he was worried they might start in with the torture now.

“So you say. But you are the General of Death Squadron. So. We will try this.”

Veers laughed in his face.

“I will do nothing of the kind. I am no mewling green trooper, and you have nerf for brains if you think that is what you will get.”

Piett deeply admired Veers’ courage even as he was doing his best to suppress the waves of fear for his friend.

And indeed, one of the Rebels, a strong Mirialan male, strode forward and kicked the General viciously on his wounded side.

“Son of a….!” Veers rolled with it, trying to curl on himself in agony.

“Now then. It’s a simple message, General.”

“You’re just going to torture and kill us anyway. I don’t see why I should give you the satisfaction,” Veers snarled, managing to sit up once more.

And Rasha turned with awful slowness to look at Piett assessingly.

“Well, you were right, Faslik. This one will be handy.”

Piett saw that the man who had captured him was present and grinning down at him.

The Rebel General inclined his head and Piett was seized under the arms and dragged toward Veers who watched with an impressively impassive face. 

“Now General Veers. Your own pain is not something I think you’d consider, given your reputation. How about your officer’s?”

Veers’ eyes met his for a beat. “He’s not mine. Kriff , you Rebels really are a bunch of unwashed ignorants aren’t you? He’s navy. I’m army. Tends to be a difference when you serve in an organized force.”

Rasha looked angry, Veers’ defiant and insulting attitude finally getting to him.

“Well. I was going to appeal to your humanity, General….apparently you have none. Still, perhaps it would be good for you to see a taste of what’s to come. Hand!” he snapped at the men holding Piett and he was forced to his hands and knees, two of them pressing his arms firmly toward the ground.

He would not panic, he wouldn’t, but he couldn’t recall facing so vicious an enemy before. Force let him be brave….

The Rebel General drew a wicked knife.

“I could just cut off a hand,” he commented calmly, allowing the lights to glint off the wide blade. 

Veers compressed his lips, but said nothing, watching this, and Piett saw the skin around his eyes tighten slightly. Do not waver, Max .

“But then that would make you much more difficult to restrain.” He laughed nastily and Piett was feeling ill. He couldn’t move his hands, splayed on the floor in front of him. He couldn't help but study them in fascination. They hadn't been all that special to him before---just hands. But now, he saw every detail. The scar on the right one, the faint line of the blaster burn on the index finger of his right hand. They were not remarkable, but they were his. They made decent prosthetics…. If he lived through this, perhaps he could get one…..

But his hands… .

He met Veers’ gaze, and for a brief moment he saw Max's anguish before the Iron General was present once more. Rasha spoke again. “No I think we aren’t ready to be quite that messy yet. 

“Faslik,” the General said, turning to the man who stepped up eagerly. “The left one. Your blaster rifle.”

Piett didn’t have much time to brace himself----were they going to shoot it off….?

But Faslik moved forward, adjusting his hold on the rifle so that he brought the butt end down to smash into Piett’s left hand.

He couldn’t help the partially suppressed scream as he felt numerous bones shatter. Fireworks exploded before his eyes and it was as though someone had dipped his hand in molten lava.

The two men holding him released him and he collapsed to the floor, not able to hear what was being said as he fought to get control. 

He had a litany of swearing going through his head and tried to focus on his breathing most of all. Gradually, his world came back into focus in time to hear Veers.

“....makes you think I will do anything for you, you son of a Hutt?”

“Because I think it does matter what happens. A simple message, General. You could spare him a great deal. Or should I do the other hand as well?”

Oh kark. Kriffing hells. He couldn’t . Piett moaned before he could stop it. He would be helpless. Please, Force not both . 

Booted feet were standing before him and then he was pulled to his knees, bright shards of pain lancing up his arm and things were in a sort of hyper focus:

Veers’ white face, grey eyes flaming.

Rasha with a superior curl to his lip that twisted his scar grotesquely.

The man with the holo camera waiting patiently to the side as though he were at an interview.

Faslik was grinning like the sadistic bastard he was, waiting for further orders.

“No,” Veers said, and his friend sounded defeated . “No, just…..for kriff’s sake, leave him alone. I’ll record it, fat lot of good it will do you.”

“You see? As I said, simple.” 

Veers was prodded to his feet and shoved against the wall. 

A blaster was put to Piett’s head, but Rasha scoffed.

“No, you idiot. We don’t want him dead. Yet. Point it at his kneecap. Now, you will say exactly this, General.”

And Veers read something to the camera, but Piett wasn’t focused, using all his power to stay conscious and breathe through the throbbing agony in his hand.

It finished and two paper cups of water were left for them before the little contingent filed out.

Piett allowed himself to slump to the floor when they were gone, forehead touching the cold earth, but he wasn’t there for long.

“ Firmus… ..I’m so sorry.”

Strong hands on his arms and Veers was carefully moving him.  “Come on, help me out a bit, Piett, I don’t want to jar you any more than I have to.”

He struggled to help, and then found himself leaning on Max and water was being held to his lips.

“It’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing. Come on.”

Piett drank it, and it was better than nothing. He coughed and the movement sent electric shock through him.

“Can I see?” Veers asked and Piett hated the guilt he could hear in his friend’s voice.

“Not…..not your fault,” he panted, carefully extending his cuffed arms.

“Is it better to rest them higher or on your lap?” Veers asked him.

“Higher,” he answered. When they were in his lap the binders pressed down….

Veers shifted them both so that his own bound arms were around the Captain, allowing Piett to rest his arms on those of his friend.

“Best I can do I’m afraid,” Max said, but Piett was grateful for the effort. 

“Firmus….”

“Don’t. Do not, Veers. None of this is on you. What did he have you say?”

“Typical nonsense about how they’ll kill me if the Empire doesn’t leave them alone.”

Piett nodded. “So they’re sending it to Ozzel then?”

“Apparently. Which is why I had to resist that long to make it believable.”

A spear of hope went through Piett. He didn’t bother trying to see the General’s face in the dim light. He didn’t want to move too much anyway. 

“What did you do, Max?”

His friend’s chest moved slightly with a satisfied huff.

“Used blinks to send Imperial code for the coordinates of this weapon.”

Piett digested this.

“You….Max. You are kriffing brilliant .”

“They’re jamming all the signals. I don’t know if Travis managed to get the coordinates out or not. So. This little message of theirs is the only way. Now we hope that someone other than Ozzel noticed what I did.”

Piett thought of Venka. Surely his XO would see it. Or…..could the Lady? Would she find a way to flag it?

“So,” he murmured, “our deaths won’t be in vain.”

“That is the hope. Though, Firmus, I’m a little surprised at you.”

“Oh?”

“I would still very much like to escape. You aren’t giving up on me are you?”

Piett smiled into the dim cell, resting limply against his friend's chest.

“No, General. But….I’m not very mobile. I think….”

“If you’re going to spout some nonsense about leaving you here, I will never help you with Henley again, and when we get out I’ll personally make sure you are off duty for months .”

Heavy threats indeed.

“All right. Then….Veers…”

“Yes?”

“I have a knife in my boot.”

Above him, Max’s snort of laughter ruffled his hair.

“This is why we’re friends.”

******

Veers had no concept of time down  here. He could only guess that it had been a matter of hours since that bastard Rasha had been here. Time tended to pass more slowly in captivity. 

He was surprised therefore, when he heard footsteps. And damn it, Piett was asleep or unconscious against his chest and he wasn’t about to try and disentangle himself from his friend with his hand in that state.

Fine. Let them see that he cared enough to look out for a fellow officer. 

The door hissed open and a figure entered with a light before it shut once more.

Veers squinted as the figure drew in a sharp breath and then came to kneel beside him, setting the lamp by Veers' leg.

The medic. The kid from before.

He stared at Veers for a long moment---brown eyes full of horrified revelation. 

“Why are you here?” the General growled and Piett stirred, roused from his light doze at this.

“I…..they don’t know. I mean---I wasn’t sent. I told the guards I was but….kriffing hell.” He was staring at Piett now. “They um….they were boasting about it. How it was only the start. They….they were impressed you didn’t make more….fuss.”

He was reaching for Piett’s hands as he spoke, but Veers stopped him cold.

“Touch him and I’ll kill you.”

The boy blinked in shock. “But….I’m just trying to help. I wouldn’t…”

“General….” Piett’s tired voice. “A bit dramatic….”

“ Captain ,” Veers stressed, “I don’t trust any of these kriffers. Besides, what could you possibly do even if I let you look? He’ll need surgery no question.”

Piett sighed and Veers could feel the tension in his wiry frame as he no doubt fought against the pain. An injury like that would be transmitting all over his body. Veers had experience with such wounds himself.

The Rebel medic nodded. “I know, but...I could maybe straighten things out? Make sure it’s not affecting um, nerves or blood flow?”

“Can you give him a pain killer before messing with his bones?” Veers snapped, and the young man looked abashed.

“Sorry. We have to be careful with those. I have a topical numbing agent in my kit. Best I can do.”

Veers scoffed at him, but Piett moved again.

“I believe he wants to help, General. And I am not too proud to admit that any relief would be welcome at this point.”

“I’m Thayer. Chris Thayer,” said the boy, opening his kit. “Ah, Captain..... oh damn. The binders. General can you help him?”

Veers considered. The kid did seem sincere. And if they were to attempt an escape….well perhaps the he could be useful. He seemed appalled enough at the situation.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked gruffly.

“Help hold his arms? Keep as much pressure as possible away from his hand?”

“All right.” He moved a bit and brought his cuffed hands up to rest on his own drawn up knees. Thayer then slowly moved the Captain’s bound hands to rest on top of Veers’ and Piett exhaled, pressing his head back against the General’s sternum.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Veers murmured to him. 

Thayer very carefully rubbed something white onto the surface of Piett’s shattered hand and his friend twitched in his arms, doing his best not to pull away.

“Ok,” the medic said, setting the tube back and pulling out a roll of gauze bandage. “I need to see if anything is displaced enough to cause you major problems…”

“You mean aside from excruciating pain?” Veers interrupted, anger sitting cold and uncomfortable in his stomach.

“Ahh….” the kid clearly wasn’t sure what to do with his life anymore, but Veers couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when the dear friend in his arms had every muscle tensed from the agony he was in.

“Captain….may I just…?”

Shame, Veers realized. Thayer felt ashamed that those he had idealized, had risked everything to join, had just proved themselves to be the monsters he thought he was fighting. 

He let out a breath and raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“I know it will hurt. But if I can prevent permanent damage, I’d like to try if you’ll let me.”

Veers knew what Piett’s answer would be without needing to see his face.

“I’d appreciate that,” his friend responded quietly, and Thayer tentatively touched the mutilated hand. Immediately the Captain stiffened further, pressing back into Veers, but he didn’t make a noise.

“You don’t have anything to prove, Firmus,” Veers murmured to him, “You can swear all you want if it helps.”

“I am…..in…...my head.”

Veers snorted then turned his attention to the medic cautiously feeling the bones in Piett’s lean hand.

“As to permanent damage, kid. We only have days at best to live anyway. Death is pretty permanent.”

The young Rebel winced, but he was still very careful. “I….damn it. Just….I need to focus right now, General. This bone here….I can move it a bit or it will be blocking blood flow. Captain?”

“Do it,” said Piett through a clenched jaw.

Thayer did something and Piett half sobbed, throwing his head back against Veers’ chest again. 

“Sorry,” he managed a minute later, “you’re going to have some bruising there, I expect.”

This man. Veers admired his strength so much. And the way that he thought about others.

“Yes, Firmus, that is the chief issue here. Not my blaster wound or your broken hand.”

A breathless chuckle from his friend as Thayer began winding bandage around his hand.

“I know this isn’t going to do all that much,” the young man commented as he worked, “but I can try to keep most of the bones stable at least.”

“They’ll know you were here then,” Veers told him.

Thayer finished and pulled two water bottles out of his satchel, opening one and holding it out to Piett.

“I know.” He paused realizing that Piett wasn’t taking the bottle.

“Thank you,” the Captain said in a strained voice, “But I’d rather not move my hands at all at the moment.”

The young man flushed. “Right sorry. And you can’t either General while you’re holding his arms….” he paused as an idea flashed across his eyes. 

“I could make you a sling, sir,” he said eagerly, “with more bandage. I know you still can’t use your hands since they’re cuffed, but it might help. And then the General can help you with the water….”

A beat as he looked at them, like nothing so much as an eager puppy, Veers thought. Were all the young so easily swayed? He witnessed suffering and he was sympathetic. Suddenly the Imperials weren’t the monsters anymore. Veers was too experienced to feel badly about manipulating that to his advantage.

“What’s the point?” he asked harshly, and felt Piett shift in surprise against him. “We’re going to be dead. They’ll likely come for us in the next day once they get it through their thick heads that the Empire has no interest in bargaining with them.”

The boy stared, looking between the two.

Piett had another coughing fit and Veers held him grimly.

“Oh kriff. Force . Veers, I’m just about ready to ask you to knock me out, ” his friend panted when it was over, but the timing had been right for the wavering Rebel before them. The General could see it in his sympathetic face. 

“More of that to come,” Veers told him harshly. “Anything you do now they’ll just undo and worse. Proud of your rebellion now?”

“I…..this isn’t what….”

Piett seemed to have caught on to what Veers was angling for.

“You thought you were joining the Rebellion everyone’s heard about. You thought you were joining the heroes .”

Thayer nodded. “I would never have wanted….this,” he said in an anguished voice, motioning at them. “I mean, I know that the Empire doesn’t treat prisoners well, but I thought we’d be better .”

“You do realize that there are well documented incidents of how Imperial prisoners have been treated right?” Veers asked him. “ Especially officers?”

Thayer looked embarrassed. “I thought those were just….”

“Propaganda,” Piett finished dryly for him.

“Yeah. Here, can I make you a sling, Captain? Please?”

Piett sighed. “Very well. Veers, I’ll need help moving…”

The General shifted as Thayer reached again for Piett’s arms.

“Here, sir. Rest yours on mine and then the General can move away.”

Piett complied, hissing under his breath and Veers moved from behind him, rising stiffly and coming to the medic’s side.

“Now what?”

“Now you hold his forearms again and I’ll get the bandage in place.”

Veers obeyed, meeting Piett’s eyes again for the first time in a while. He was quite clearly worn out from the pain, but he was also aware of what Veers was doing and gave a slight nod to his friend.

Thayer was bustling about him and in short order had a very credible sling made for Piett.

“All right, there we are, Captain….” and he rested the left arm within the sling, allowing Piett to adjust his right hand. 

Damn these binders , Veers thought with renewed anger. His friend couldn’t even move his uninjured hand that much with only six inches of chain between his wrists.

He took the open bottle of water, and crouched by the Captain. “May I?”

Piett leaned his head back on the wall. “Thank you, Max.”

Veers helped him drink, aware of Thayer standing silently behind them.

He took his time, almost able to feel the boy’s roiling thoughts. 

When he turned, Thayer held the other bottle to him.

“You’re friends aren’t you?”

Veers realized they had indeed been referring to each other with first names. That their demeanor before the young man had been less guarded.

“Yes,” Piett said behind him.

Veers lifted his eyebrows aggressively at the kid.

“Shocking for you, Thayer? The big bad Imperials have friends, and family? People they care about? Did you think we were all little brain washed machines?”

The Rebel glared.

“No, I….”

“You just thought we were all evil zealots then,” Piett said calmly.

The boy flushed anew. 

“ Force the kind of propaganda…..!” Veers snorted in derision.

“Is ours any better?” the Captain asked mildly. “And frankly, is this really the time to be having deep discussions about the flaws of the Empire or the Rebellion? Nothing we can say is going to change anything. We’ll die here, his people will keep doing what they do, and no doubt they’ll die at some point too.”

“Unless….” Veers said, staring the kid straight in the eye, significant meaning in his tone.

The medic stare back, brown eyes getting bigger.

“But…” His eyes darted to Piett, lines of pain etched into his face at the moment, then back to Veers.

“I….I have to go or they’ll wonder…” He gathered his things and moved to the door where he paused as it hissed open, the light from the corridor spilling in. He looked back at them briefly.

“Ask them what they intend to do with us. What they have done to others, boy. Get educated. We’ll be here.”

The door closed.

He had done what he could. Next step was getting Piett a small measure of relief.

“I could use that knife now, Firmus.”

“Left boot,” the Captain replied wearily. “Think he’ll come back?”

“60/40 I think,” Veers responded, pulling Piett’s boot off and sliding out the knife.

It was a beauty.

“What do you intend with that then?” Piett asked him as Veers muscled his boot back on.

“For now? Get your damn binders off. Then getting your help with mine.”

Piett sighed. “Let’s move to the light then over by the door. Help me up.”

Chapter Text

Vader destroyed asteroid after asteroid in his TIE Advanced. The intense heat of his anger sang in the Force.

How was Luke doing this?

He could definitely sense his presence, but always the boy was gone.

If he was ever there…..

Why had he thought that? He could sense Luke’s Force signature.

Something is off….

He took his finger off the trigger and reached with the Force once more.

Two days. Two days he had been hunting.

He was familiar with Luke’s elusiveness. But their contact had been so certain . The man would die for it if this was a false lead. 

But the Force signature…..

He kept returning to that. If it was indeed a false lead, someone with great power had laid a fake Force signature trail. Not just any one could do that. 

But what was the point? Why send him on a wild tooka chase….?

And for the first time since he had received the transmission, it occurred to Vader that he had left Death Squadron to deal with this new weapon. 

Oh now you think about the several hundred thousand crew under your command?

He scoffed. They were perfectly capable of dealing with a Rebel splinter group. 

A Rebel splinter group that managed to get their hands on the most powerful technology the galaxy had seen…….

And how had they managed to do that?

Vader was not comfortable with the amount of serious and unanswered questions crowding his brain. 

Of course you’re not comfortable. You just left everything and everyone you have been shaping into Death Squadron because of a potential lead on Luke. The son who wants nothing to do with you.

Death Squadron was a tool. A means to an end. That was all. 

Really. That was why you have been protecting it from Sidious? Why you call the Lady ‘friend’?

The Lady…...was not something Vader wanted to ponder. She had posed both a challenge and possibly a threat due to her attachment to her Captain. Her crew.

The ship itself cares more for their well being than you do.

He was not thinking about the crew of Death Squadron. He was thinking of Luke. Which brought him again to this puzzling trail. If it was false, someone skilled had laid it. To his knowledge, the Jedi were gone and why would they do so anyway….

Was Ahsoka gone…..?

He shoved that thought away ruthlessly. Her fate did not matter.

Which left those who used the Dark Side. And that brought Vader to some unpleasant possibilities.

Did  Palpatine know his intentions? Did he know that he sought Luke because he wished to overthrow his master?

Sidious had always woven tricky webs. It had to be in his mind that Vader would look to usurp him. But he was reasonably sure that he did not suspect that Vader had no use for the throne. That his driving motivation had nothing to do with seeking the power for himself. No. Luke would be better….

How would Luke be better if he turned? That’s not it is it? You have been assuming all along that Luke will help you--- without turning to the Dark Side.

Shaking this unpleasant realization aside, Vader pondered what Sidious might do in this moment. If he was somehow behind this fruitless hunt of Vader’s, what was his purpose? 

And again the Force prodded him. You left Death Squadron. You left Ozzel in charge with a powerful weapon threatening him…..

Piett was there. And Veers. And numerous other competent officers. They could overcome it……

Ozzel hated Piett. Would never listen to him.

And the Captain feels betrayed. By you. No doubt Veers as well. And isn’t it ironic that their loyalty lies with a Sith who doesn’t acknowledge such connections? But who has them all the same.

Vader growled in the confines of the TIE. Because the cold hard fact was, he needed Death Squadron. He could find Luke, but if he didn’t have Death Squadron to back him, he did not have a chance against Sidious. Against the minions of the Emperor who would challenge him for the Empire, should he overthrow his master. 

Yes that is true. You do need them for that very practical reason. But you’re denying the fact that it would mean something to your blackened soul if the Lady was destroyed. It would hurt Anakin to lose her friendship. It might even hurt him to lose so loyal a Captain. A crew. 

Vader bowed his head over the console. Was he a failure even at this? Could he not even be a true Sith? Why could he not utterly kill Anakin Skywalker?

And the Force flooded in---urging him, shoving him.

He needed to get back to Death Squadron. Somehow this lead on Luke was wrong. He knew it. Which meant it was just possible Palpatine was trying to destroy, or at least cripple, Vader’s loyal power base.

He punched in the coordinates and shot into hyperspace.

*****

Venka looked over at Ozzel when the comms officer called for the Admiral’s attention.

“Sir. A transmission from the surface, Admiral.”

“Can we track where it came from?”

“Sorry, Admiral, it’s been bounced around too much. It says it’s for the commander of Death Squadron, sir.”

Venka could almost see Ozzel’s chest inflate importantly.

“Well. I will take it in my conference room. You have the bridge Lieutenant.”

“Aye sir.”

Venka’s mind whirled and he glared at the curious looks from around the bridge. 

“As you were.”

He moved to the head of the walkway and paused in the Captain’s favorite spot.

A transmission from the surface. Likely the Rebels then as they were jamming signals. He could think of few reasons they would contact the Lady, and none of them were pleasant. Would Ozzel bring in the senior staff?

He found himself in the increasingly odd position of wishing that Vader was here. Had thought this several times now in the past few days and if that didn’t push the red alert on how strange his life was now...nothing would.

He didn’t like to stay here long. This was Piett’s place. He was usually to the right if he stood by his Captain here. 

“Sir.”

He turned back to the bridge.

“The Admiral is requesting the senior officers, sir.”

“Thank you,” Venka responded, curiosity burning in his chest along with a hope that he ruthlessly crushed. 

Piett was in all likelihood dead. If Veers lived it would not be for long. But hope still whispered to him as he gave command of the bridge over and strode toward the blast doors. 

Or this transmission could bring news of them…...

He entered first as Ozzel turned away from the holoprojector.

“Admiral?”

“This Rebel….General, as he terms himself, has the audacity to make demands. I wish to discuss our options, though of course there can only be one answer.”

Venka found his heart thundering.

“What sort of demands, Admiral?”

The doors hissed open to reveal the Senior TIE commander, along with Commander Landis who was now senior for the army in Veers’ and Travis’s absence. The holoimages of the fleet captains shimmered into existence around the big table as well.

A thought speared into Venka’s brain.

“Admiral, should we have the Chief here, sir? In case he can help shed technical light on this transmission?”

Ozzel raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would we need that?”

Internally Venka swore so hard that he imagined the finish blistering off the Lady’s bulkheads. Outwardly he said, 

“Perhaps he could help us to trace it sir? Tell us what they used to transmit it?”

“Fine.” Ozzel waved a dismissive hand as Venka sent a priority message to Baldwin. 

Ozzel offered caf while they waited, his smug superiority filling the room in stifling waves. 

The Chief was panting slightly and Venka raised his eyebrows. Baldwin glared slightly. But he had sprinted at some point on his way here, and the Lieutenant could appreciate that.

“Ah, yes, ah…..Chief,”  Ozzel said and Venka realized he didn’t know Baldwin’s name. Of course not.

“I received this transmission from the Rebels on the surface,” Ozzel said, tapping at a button and the lights dimmed to pull up a holovid. “As the Senior officers you should know about it, even though regrettably we only have one option.”

Baldwin gave Venka a look and he shook his head ever so slightly. He didn’t know what it was either. 

The vid began and it was Veers.

Venka stiffened and saw the others around the table in similar postures. 

He looked terrible, bruised and ill, but he was standing straight and his eyes were the cold and furious grey eyes of ‘Iron Max’. 

He was clearly reading something out of sight and his eyes darted to the side a few times at something else they couldn’t see. 

Venka wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying so much as how he said it. The content was precisely what he expected--The Imperials were to withdraw or the General would be killed and his divisions utterly destroyed. 

It wasn’t very long, but Venka was puzzled.

“Well,” said Ozzel as the vid ended on Veers’ glare. “Obviously the Empire does not negotiate with terrorists. It is of course most tragic that we should lose so prominent an officer as General Veers, but rest assured, his sacrifice will not be in vain….”

“Admiral,” Venka interrupted and the others looked at him in surprise. 

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Ozzel said primly.

“With respect sir, why did Veers agree to make this? He knows our protocols as well as any of us. He knows we won’t bargain for his life. It doesn’t seem in character for him to make this vid.”

The TIE commander was nodding thoughtfully, as she stared at the frozen image. Commander Landis was in vigorous agreement.

“I concur, Admiral. It is odd for the General to make this. He is under some sort of duress.”

Ozzel sighed longsufferingly. “Of course he’s under duress. They’re threatening to kill him!”

Venka frowned. “Sir, General Veers would not make this just because they threatened his life. There has to be something else.”

“Have they captured his men as well?” asked the TIE commander. “I could see Veers wanting to prevent a slaughter.”

“Even if they have, that does not change our policies,” said Ozzel stiffly. 

Venka seethed internally. All those troopers and Ozzel would just throw their lives away…..

“Can we play it again?” Baldwin spoke up suddenly and Ozzel frowned.

“I don’t see why, Chief. We are going to disregard this of course….”

“Sir you asked me here for my expertise. I will attempt to trace the signal. If there’s a chance we could rescue the General, shouldn’t we take it?”

“Agreed,” said one of the holoimages. Captain of the Tyrant, Venka saw.

“That weapon is not to be trifled with. I will not lose our ships….”

“The Lady took the hit,” Venka commented calmly. “If we come around and have them fire at us again, we could be ready to fire right back on the same path. With everything we’ve got. Surely they can’t withstand a full barrage from the Executor.”

“Yes, but we don’t know that,” Ozzel argued. “It is much safer to wait for Lord Vader’s return. No doubt he can find the weapon’s source with his…..abilities.”

Oh Venka could imagine Ozzel suggesting this to the Sith Lord. He didn't want to be in the vicinity when he did.

“If we could play it again, Admiral,” Baldwin persisted.

Ozzle pushed the button and it played again. 

“Stop,” said the Chief. “Did you see that? He’s blinking a lot.”

Ozzel snorted. “It’s bright on his face, Chief. Of course he’d be blinking.”

But Venka knew Baldwin wouldn’t say something if he wasn’t sure. 

“Yes. Could we see it again, but mute it this time?”

Ozzel sighed and looked to Baldwin. “I’ve given you control, Chief.”

Baldwin muted the vid and then zoomed in on Veers’ eyes before playing it again. 

He was blinking a lot. But there was a pattern…..

“It’s Imperial code!” exclaimed the TIE commander triumphantly. “That’s why he agreed to this. He knows we’ll see this!!”

“Lady,” Venka ordered, as Baldwin set it back to the beginning. “Please decipher the pattern of General Veers’ blinks and pauses.”

A separate blue display came into being as the vid began again.

It finished and all of them looked to the Lady’s translation.

W-E-A-P-O-N. 40 degrees 37’ N. 79 degrees 68’ W.

Venka took a moment to appreciate how very good Veers was at his job.

“Sir. We can take out the weapon! He’s given us the coordinates!”

Ozzel looked supremely put out. Of course he did. He didn’t want responsibility for anything that might go wrong. 

All of them were watching him expectantly.

“It’s quite possible,” he said at last, “that we will kill Veers if they’re holding him near this weapon.”

Yes it was. Venka didn’t care for that thought. But the General himself had done this so they had the chance to destroy this thing.

“Yes, sir,” he said evenly, “but our orders are to obliterate the weapon. At all costs.”

“And we may be saving the rest of the Herd by doing so,” put in Landis.

“The Lady’s targeting is the best in the galaxy,” put in the TIE commander. She was pinning Ozzel with an intense stare. “With these coordinates, she can hit this as much as needed without slagging a significant portion of the planet.”

“I also still think that we could attempt a rescue effort,” Venka put in, determined not to just give up on Veers like this. “We have the numbers. We send everything we’ve got, get the TIE squadrons down in the atmosphere to cover our troops---we can overwhelm them.”

The room was nodding, but Ozzel was clearly having none of it. “So I can explain to Lord Vader why we lost so many troops? All for the sake of one man? Who the Rebels will kill anyway before we reach him no doubt.”

The TIE commander compressed her lips and Baldwin looked over at Venka.

“Veers would not want that,” Ozzel said, as though he cared. As though he knew what the General prioritized. 

“It’s possible they might, Admiral,” Landis replied and Venka could see how hard the man was trying to remain calm. This was his commanding officer after all. Veers’ men were nothing if not loyal to him. “But we could give him a chance. If we do what Lieutenant Venka suggests, we could surprise them with numbers. Especially after the Lady does her work. We could at least be on the ground to support any of the Herd that are still there.”

And look for our Captain, Venka thought but didn’t say. Ozzel would dig his heels in if he mentioned Piett’s name. 

Ozzel was wavering. With the whole room pressuring him he was starting to bend. 

“Lord Vader said to destroy the weapon,” Venka pressed. “No we have the coordinates and we definitely have the numbers.”

“Agreed,” the TIE commander said. Venka didn’t really know her, but was determined to find out after this. He appreciated her firm support.

Ozzel huffed in frustration and paced. “Your TIE squadrons will take the lead to protect our troops on the ground, Colonel Anders?” he asked, pinning the woman with a glare.

Venka tucked her name away.

“If the squadrons from Avenger, Tyrant and Retribution can handle things up here? Yes,” she replied. 

“And you feel you can lead the troops do you, Commander Landis?” he said.

“Yes, sir!” said Landis eagerly.

“If you do not deliver, this will be squarely on your shoulders,” he told them both. Venka exchanged a disgusted look with Baldwin. Trust Ozzel to cover his own backside by shoving responsibility onto his subordinates. 

“Understood, Admiral,” the woman said dryly. 

“All right then,” Ozzel said, attempting a tone of decisive command. “We will deploy in 8 hours. I trust that gives you all enough time.”

A chorus of affirmation.

Baldwin waited for Venka as they exited the Admiral’s conference room. 

“I notice you said not a word about looking for our Captain, sir,” he said in a low voice.

“Quite right,” Venka replied as they walked further away and round a corner to speak more privately. “You know how he would be if I brought up Piett’s name.”

“So what is the plan, sir?” the Chief asked. “I have to tell you, I would volunteer to go myself if I weren’t chief.”

Venka smiled at him. “I appreciate that, Baldwin. I intend to give Commander Landis some suggestions. I can’t order him of course. But I rather think he might be inclined to send a division to search the last coordinates we had for the Captain’s shuttle.”

Baldwin nodded. “Well done, sir. In the meantime, I’ll keep looking for a way to break through the jamming signal. I’ve been running algorithms with the Lady---she’s able to process much faster with my adjustments….”

Venka grinned. “Thanks, Chief.”

“Thank you , sir. For standing up for our people like that. For giving them a chance.”

And he sobered. 

“They would do it for us,” he replied with conviction. 

Chapter Text

Piett tried to be patient as Veers worked at the binders with his knife. The General was reasonably good, but he did not have the skill set here that Piett himself did. Working in the Axxilan fleet one acquired  some unusual abilities due to dealing with pirates and spicers. Being able to pick numerous types of locks was an exceedingly handy skill, Piett had found. 

Of course, Veers was hampered, not only by his own bound hands, but by trying to be exceedingly careful of Piett’s broken hand as well. He appreciated this very much, but they needed to hurry.

“Max,” he said quietly, and the General looked up from where they both knelt in the small square of light afforded by the little opening at the top of the cell door. “Don’t worry about being gentle. I’ll survive. Just get them off please.”

Veers held his gaze for a few seconds, then gave a small nod. “All right, Piett. I’m sorry in advance.”

And he moved more quickly, squinting at Piett’s wrists as he manipulated the blade in the locking mechanism of the binders. 

Piett tried to remember to breathe evenly through each bright stab of pain as his friend worked. 

In through his nose, out through his mouth, hold his hands as steady as possible….

He was on the verge of asking Veers to stop for a few minutes when something clicked and the binders opened, swinging to hang off of his left hand. Naturally. 

Biting his lip so hard blood came, Piett made to take it off, but Veers beat him to it, lifting it away carefully and then resettling the Captain’s arm in the makeshift sling. 

“Okay?” he asked.

Piett nodded. What else could he do? 

“Your turn,” he stated, reaching for the knife and Veers gave it over, holding out his hands.

Piett found it much more challenging to do this with one hand, but at least he was right handed and the old knowledge was right there. He manipulated the knife carefully, feeling the blade catching in the mechanisms….there. He gave a twist and Veers’ binders opened.

“Ok, for doing that one handed in the dark, that was impressively fast,” his friend told him, grinning. 

Piett gave him a small smile in return. “I just had the right training, General.”

Veers snorted lightly. 

“So now what?” asked the Captain, handing the knife back to Veers. He had two working hands---he should wield it for the moment.

“Two options the way I see it at the moment,” Veers replied, moving to sit on one side of the door. Piett copied him, leaning against the wall on the other side. “Our gamble paid off and young Thayer is going to help us. Or, he doesn’t have the nerve and we try to overpower the next people to come through the door.”

“Or die trying,” Piett put in grimly. 

“Or that,” Veers agreed quietly.

“How’s the side?” Piett asked after a few minutes of silence. His stomach growled and he had no idea the last time he’d eaten. At least 36 hours, he surmised.

“Painful. But I can work through it,” Veers said in clipped tones. “I’m not going to ask about your hand because I can guess.” He paused. “I have to confess, Firmus, that part of me wants to find Rasha so that I can break his filthy neck.”

Piett smiled over at him even as his hand throbbed with each beat of his heart. “Thank you I think. But I would rather just get out.”

“Think they realized what I was doing with blinking the code?” Veers asked. “If we’re being kept near the weapon, and I suspect we are, I have half been waiting to die in a fiery inferno.”

Would the Lady fire on a position that was likely to contain her Captain?  She couldn’t know he was here though, Piett recalled. 

“If they do recognize it, they still have to make plans to get into position,” he said thoughtfully. “And that’s if Ozzel wants to attempt it at all.”

“Speaking of more necks I want to break….” Veers growled. 

Piett suddenly found himself wondering what Lord Vader would make of this. Would he be frustrated that the weapon was still intact? Was he still looking for Skywalker? What if he found him? In their obsessive hunt, Piett hadn’t had much time to ponder that question. Finding him had been the point. But then what?

Veers broke this train of thought.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered.

Piett could hear the footsteps as well and tensed himself by the door.

“I don’t know, I think you’re being soft, kid. These greybacks don’t need….”

Then the unmistakable sound of two stun shots in rapid succession.

He met Veers’ eyes across the way, daring to have a little hope as the door hissed open.

Both of them were immediately on the person entering, Veers with the knife to his jugular and Piett sliding in to relieve the figure of its blaster.

“Hells,” said Thayer’s voice quietly. “How’d you get out of the binders?”

Veers dropped the knife to his side.

“More than happy to tell you on the way out of here, kid. At least I assume that’s why you stunned your friends out there.”

“Not my friends,” the boy replied indignantly. “But…..Yeah. I um, I asked what they had planned. If they’d done it before.”

Piett waited as that young face contorted in disgust and distress. “They laughed. And then they told me….”

He looked into the Captain’s eyes. “I couldn’t let them do the things they want to do to you, sir.” He looked over to Veers. “They spoke of it as though you were…..an animal. I….” he blew out a breath and then straightened. “So here’s the deal. I will help you get out. In return, I want you to take me with you with the promise that you’ll let me go.”

Piett met Veers’ raised eyebrows.

“And what makes you think we won’t just slap you into a detention block the moment we reach our ship?” Veers asked.

And the boy looked straight at Piett again. “Because I think you’ll keep your word if you agree to this.”

Such trust. And such desire to do what was right. Risking himself in the process. 

“Very well,” Piett told him. “You have my word.”

“And mine,” Veers put in, “can we go now?”

Thayer nodded, and didn’t seem bothered that Piett had kept the blaster. 

“We should hide them in the cell.” He gestured to his erstwhile comrades.

He and Veers dragged them in and the door hissed shut. Veers made to move down the corridor, but the young Rebel stopped him. 

“Just a second. I thought this would help, so we could move faster….” he was rummaging in the satchel slung across his chest as he spoke, and had pulled out a hypo, approaching Piett who raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Painkiller, Captain,” Thayer said earnestly, brown eyes wide. 

“Thought those were in short supply,” Veers said dryly as the kid pushed it home and Piett hadn’t realized just how much he needed it until the cool relief was pumping through his bloodstream. He couldn’t say he was a new man, but not fighting the constant agony gave him renewed purpose.

“They are,” the boy replied seriously, “but he needs it. This way,” and he was trotting down the corridor cautiously, motioning them to follow.

Piett complied, blaster ready. In other circumstances (like ones without a broken hand) he would have offered Veers the blaster and taken the knife, but as it was, he didn’t think he could handle close combat, and appreciated that the General no doubt had the same thought as he never questioned it.

Piett couldn’t recall much of the tunnels here as he had been exhausted when he’d been dragged down here. But the young Rebel took a sharp turn at one point and Piett was quite sure he didn’t recall this area.

“Is this…?” he began, but Thayer put a hand out to shush him.

“I’m going a round about way,” he whispered. “Trying to avoid the busier areas.”

Piett nodded. “What time is it?” he asked in a low voice.

“About 2300 hours, sir,” Thayer responded just as quietly. “Most beings are sleeping or unwinding in the rec areas at this time. That’s why I picked it.”

Piett still expected to have to fight his way out of here, but it was good thinking on the young man’s part.

Veers stumbled slightly next to him and immediately the Captain’s internal alarms were screaming. Veers didn’t stumble. He was the type who would march on grimly and drop without notice because he’d used up the very last bit of his stamina. 

A stumble implied that something deeper was wrong.

“Max,” Piett murmured. “The infection is worse isn’t it?”

Veers gave him a sharp look as they followed their guide into a narrower corridor where the dirt walls were exposed. 

“It will be fine , Firmus.”

“It’s me, General. I know you. And I need to know just how much you have left in your tank because we will inevitably have to fight. Don’t kriff with me Veers.”

His friend huffed slightly through his nose.

“You and your damn ability to see stupidly tiny details….”

Veers tightened his grip on Piett’s knife. “Yes it’s not feeling all that good. Fever’s back. But I can function, Piett. If we get attacked, you and I know what battle adrenaline can do.”

He did. Rather needed it for himself as well. And Veers would hate fuss, so he swallowed what he wanted to say.

“All right. Just…..be straight with me, Max, if it gets worse.”

Veers touched his shoulder briefly. “I will.”

To Piett’s amazement, they made it outside without running into another being. They had had to duck into hiding several times, but no one had been any the wiser. He knew a clock was ticking. The absence of the two men Thayer had stunned would be noticed, but getting outside helped his outlook enormously. 

They were on the side of the building. Clearly all levels but the first were underground, but he had known that given the numerous stairs they had climbed. 

His calf muscles burned and he desperately wanted to cough, his lungs seizing and searing him as he repressed it. Veers glanced at him and in the dim visibility afforded by the distant lights somewhere behind them, Piett could see that his friend was not well at all. 

Max grinned at him quite suddenly.

“Quite a pair we make, Captain. Though if I were a betting man, you look worse than I do.”

Thayer looked at both of them inquisitively as they both smiled, and then shook his head. 

“You’re some of those then,” he hissed, eyes darting around the courtyard they were facing. 

“Some of what?” Veers whispered back. 

“The insane types. The ones given impossible odds and it makes them excited.”

Piett considered this. Excited was not exactly the word he would use, but…..

Well. The kid had a point. Not that he was going to tell him that. 

“Ok,” Thayer said quietly. “We have to cross to the guard station over there.” 

Piett squinted. He could just about see it. 

“And then…?” Veers prompted.

“Then….” the kid sighed. “We’re going to get noticed. You’re going to have to stun the guards.”

“Thayer,” Veers said grimly, “We’ll do what we have to in order to get out.

The boy ducked his head awkwardly. “I just….I don’t want to kill people who trusted me….”

Force he was so young .

“Thayer are you going to help us or not?” Piett asked sternly. “You can stay here. We can go on without you if that makes you more comfortable.”

The boy straightened. “No. I….I can’t be part of this group.” 

And he led the way, walking steadily toward the guard station. Piett followed, Veers beside him, trying to walk calmly in the dim night. 

Thayer waved in a friendly fashion as they neared, and Piett made sure to be close behind him so he was partially obscured.

“Hey!” the Rebel called. “Hobbes wanted to know if you wanted any caf?”

“How many?” Piett murmured to the boy.

“Two,” he returned quickly over his shoulder, and Piett stepped out from behind the medic as they were about 15 feet away and fired twice in succession.

Two forms dropped to the ground and Thayer looked back at him with wide eyed.

“That was….. You did that with one hand….”

“Admiration later,” Veers growled. “Where’s the control panel for the gate?” 

“Oh, right,” Thayer said jogging ahead. “Over here…”

And angry voices suddenly swelled out behind them.

******

Veers squinted at the panel as Thayer moved past him. 

“I haven’t done it more than once,” he said, clearly trying to quell his panic.

Veers resisted the urge to bang his own head into the wall in front of him. 

What he would give for his own experienced troopers right about now….

“Well I hope you have a good memory,” he growled as the younger man slapped at the buttons. 

Blaster fire began to spatter around them and Piett took a knee to better steady his good hand as he fired back.

He was hitting his targets judging from the screams and curses.

“New range challenge idea!” Veers called to him.

“One handed?” Piett yelled back, not turning to look.

“You read my mind.”

He was pretty sure the Captain laughed, but at that moment the gates groaned and began to open.

“Let’s go Piett!” Veers shouted as Thayer darted out the opening.

Piett heaved back to his feet and turned to run with them.

The General had a second to deeply regret that they hadn’t bound the Captain’s arm to his chest because the movement had to be terrible on the broken hand, even with the painkiller. 

But he had known for some time now the kind of mettle Piett was composed of, and his friend didn’t make a sound of complaint as they ran for the cover of the trees.

“They have….thermal scanners,” Piett panted next to him. “We need….to find a stream… or pond… .water. Disguise our…..body temperature.”

And that would be awful for them all, but Piett had a cold….still. He was right. And if they lived through this and evaded capture, Henley could work his sarcastic magic on the Captain. 

“Thayer!” he yelled. “Is there a river or stream near here?”

The Rebel partially turned to holler back. “Yes!”

“Take us there!”

They plunged into the deeper darkness of the treeline and Thayer risked turning on a small flashlight.

Veers knew he wasn’t moving as fast as he could have in other circumstances. His wound was definitely slowing him down. 

“This way!” the kid called back and they were breaking through brush and low hanging branches.

Piett made a muted noise of anguish and Veers realized he must have smacked his hand with some of the undergrowth. The General moved to his side and two things happened simultaneously. 

First he heard the unmistakable sound of speeders heading their way and big lights were now bobbing through the trees toward them.

Second something slammed into his leg as though he’d been kicked by an AT-ST and he went tumbling helplessly to the damp earth.

“ Veers! ”

Kriff every possible hell in every possible galaxy and universe, he’d been shot again .

But this one was worse. He could feel that immediately. 

Piett was suddenly at his side, big hazel eyes even wider as he stared down at him.

“Max. Can you get up? Can you try?”

“Sorry…..Go.”

Piett scoffed at him, actually scoffed, and rose to one knee once more as the whine of a speeder came closer and then he fired, the red light of the blaster lighting up his face, revealing his stern countenance. 

Veers heard the hit and then the light and sound from the explosion behind them gave him a moment to see the trees around them, Piett literally kneeling over him, and the Rebels closing in around them.

It was getting brighter as more and more lights converged.

Piett was firing like a machine but Veers saw to his growing horror, that more and more red dots were starting to hover on his friend’s center mass.

“Throw down the blaster, Captain or we’ll shoot you then the General.”

Rasha’s voice, amplified by comms. 

Piett froze, panting in both pain and weariness.

Then he glanced at Veers and threw the blaster away.

A tight circle of Rebels was surrounding them now---bright headlights from the speeders illuminating the area. And Thayer was shoved stumbling into the circle to join them.

“I should have told you to run home,” Rasha said, striding in through his men. “You were too young. Too naive. You helped greybacks . You know what they’ve done around the galaxy, and you helped these bastards .”

The boy looked down at Veers who was feeling hazy now. 

Blood loss, he thought. 

“It’s true the Empire is corrupt! But how are you any better?” the boy threw at him defiantly. “What you were going to do to them….What you have done to others….”

He looked ill.

Rasha curled his lip. “They got to you I see. Felt sorry for them did you? Force what a tooka kit you are. Well. I have no use for that in my forces.”

Veers knew what was coming---it was almost as though time slowed.

The General raised his blaster from where he’d been holding it by his side.

Piett put out a hand and took a step.

The sound of the shot and the boy looked surprised, gazing for a moment at the hole in his chest before meeting Veers’ eyes and toppling to the earth.

Piett’s anguished ‘no!’ echoed with the shot around the small clearing.

Rasha holstered his blaster and stepped over Thayer’s body to tower over Piett.

“You have cost me a great deal of inconvenience and men this night, Captain,” he intoned, and he slapped Piett viciously across the face. 

His friend took a breath before straightening to face their captor once more, and smiled, showing the blood in his teeth. Rasha glared.

“I can promise you that you will pay very dearly for it.”

Chapter Text

Venka shot a surreptitious look over to Baldwin who was seated at the defense station. It was not unusual to have an engineer stationed on the bridge. Indeed it was usually necessary.

It was unusual to have the Chief on the bridge. As in, almost unheard of. 

But they were both heavily invested in this action, and neither of them trusted Ozzel not to just abandon even more of their people if he deemed it necessary. 

The Lady and her fleet were slowly making their way around the planet to get in position for a shot at the weapon. 

Colonel Anders and her squadrons were even now deploying to take on the motley Rebel fleet, joining the TIE squadrons from their other Star Destroyers. 

Venka knew that Baldwin was quietly, but thoroughly, scanning the planet where Veers’ divisions had last been heard from. Jamming may be happening, but they could still try for a visual. 

Ozzel was nervous and therefore even more unpleasant than usual, since this action bore some risk. Venka, pacing calmly between the pilot and comms, did his best to keep his face impassive.

“We are certain a sustained barrage from the Executor will destroy this thing?” Ozzel asked for at least the fifth time to the bridge in general. The Pit cast collective looks at each other and Venka frowned down into it. He may despise the Admiral as much and more than all of them combined, but the Force damn protocols and dignity of the Imperial fleet would be maintained.

“Yes, Admiral,” Venka replied crisply.

“Sir, Colonel Anders has engaged the enemy,” reported the comms officer. “Also….”

But Ozzel was shushing the woman. 

“There’s no turning back now, Lieutenant,” he said, moving toward Venka who ground his teeth. If Piett ever felt misgivings he kept it to himself. He didn’t declare his uncertainties to the bridge.

Please be alive somewhere Captain….

“If you’re wrong, you will have to explain it to Lord Vader,” Ozzel hissed at him, ever keen to shove responsibility off onto other shoulders.

“It is unfortunate then that we don’t have Captain Piett here isn’t it?” Venka replied calmly, but staring Ozzel in the eye so that even he couldn’t miss Venka’s meaning. 

The Admiral narrowed his eyes. “Just what are you implying, Lieutenant?”

“Light cruisers firing at us!” reported Defense.

“Sir,” called the comms officer urgently, “sir, please… .”

“Not now!” Ozzel snapped. “Return fire on the cruisers.” He whirled back on Venka. “I don’t care for your tone, Lieutenant and you will do well to remember just who is in charge of this fleet!!”

“Indeed,” said a deep voice from behind them, and they turned, because those silky dark tones belonged to one person alone.

Venka surprised himself with the swell of relief and satisfaction at Vader’s presence. And yes, his life was monumentally bizarre. It was official.

“Lord Vader has returned,” said comms crisply, and Venka really couldn’t blame the woman. She’d tried. She met Ozzel’s glare impassively before turning back to her station. 

“You were reminding Lieutenant Venka who was in charge, I believe, Admiral,” said the Dark Lord towering over them both. 

The bridge was studiously focused on all its own tasks.

Ozzel swallowed. “Yes, my Lord. And obviously you are the commander….”

“Obviously,” Vader stated. “Why is this weapon not destroyed?”

“My...my Lord we only just received the exact coordinates. It did extensive damage to the Avenger. It has some sort of shielding that shifts….General Veers got us the coordinates recently…”

Ozzel was blustering his excuses, but Vader was scanning the bridge before hooking his thumbs in his belt to turn his helmet directly at Venka.

Oh kriff.

“Where is Captain Piett?”

The bridge had the sort of quiet that anyone who experienced a calm before a tsunami would recognize. 

Venka shot a glance at Ozzel.

“Do not look to the Admiral. I am asking you as the Captain’s XO. Where is he? I expected to find him here.”

“My Lord. We…..do not know.”

Venka realized he was holding his breath as that helmet tilted toward the Admiral.

“You lost him? How pray tell did you accomplish that, Admiral Ozzel?”

Venka was viciously delighted to see a trickle of sweat run down Ozzel’s puce face. 

“His shuttle was hit en route to take command of the Avenger, my Lord. Most unfortunate....”

“I see.”

A few beats of silence. 

“So you sent the Fleet Captain, the Captain of my flagship, to a damaged Star Destroyer during battle, Admiral?”

His gloved left hand flexed the fingers, and Venka watched it fascinated.

“it ….it seemed like the best decision…”

“No.”

And the hand was rising, when Baldwin suddenly spoke. 

“My Lord! I have a visual sighting on the Herd. They seem to be moving, Lord Vader.”

“Send some of our TIE divisions down to cover them,” Vader ordered, turning partially to the Chief. “Have my shuttle prepared as well.”

“My Lord,” Venka said, making a decision. He knew Piett would have the spine to do the same. “General Veers was captured by the Rebels. By your leave I would like to make an attempt to recover him before we destroy the weapon, and possibly him in the process."

Ozzel made a choked noise, but it was his own fury and not the Force.

Venka could feel himself being weighed by that impenetrable gaze. 

“Also, Lord Vader, we….we confirmed that the Captain’s shuttle crashed on the planet. It is possible….”

“You did not send our forces to back up the General? Or to look for the Captain?” Vader asked Ozzel, stepping fully into his space.

“They….they knew the risks, my Lord. We were merely following Imperial policy and the protection of the ships was more important at the time…”

There was a long pause.

“You will live today, Admiral, because I need someone on this bridge to give orders that I relay.” The finger was in Ozzel’s face.

“Lieutenant Venka, you will accompany me to the surface.”

Venka swallowed his shock and being allowed to go. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Lord Vader.”

It was Baldwin once more and Venka admired his nerve.

“I would like to volunteer to come with you, my Lord.”

“You have been on this bridge  only one other time as I recall, Chief Engineer,” Vader intoned. He looked between the two of them.

Did he know…..?

“Yes, my Lord. Sir, I would like to lead a team to search for the Captain with your permission.”

“That is highly unusual----” Ozzel began, and immediately shut his mouth as the black cape swirled when Vader whirled upon him.

“As is ordering the Fleet Captain off ship during conflict,” that vocoder purred with menace. “But then, Admiral, as this is my squadron, you really have no place questioning my orders.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“We will leave now. Chief you will join us.”

And he turned, the breeze from that heavy cloak ruffling the hair of them all.

Without so much as a ‘by your leave’ to Ozzel, Venka moved behind the Sith Lord, Baldwin rising quickly to join him.

They did not speak a word as they followed Lord Vader into a lift, and thus Venka endured one of the most tense and awkward ten minutes of his life as they moved swiftly down to the hangar bays. 

Venka had typed orders into his datapad on the way and thus, they were met with a weapons officer at the entrance to Vader’s personal hangar bay, who handed blasters and rifles to himself and the Chief. 

Venka strapped the blaster to his hip and slung the rifle over his head, focused on these tasks and therefore almost walked into the back of Lord Vader who had stopped abruptly at the foot of his lamda’s landing ramp.

“You are not coming.”

Venka was confused at first, before he realized that he was not being addressed. 

“You know perfectly well that you are going to need me. I am saving all of us the time of you summoning me for the inevitable injuries your officers will have.”

Baldwin coughed lightly at Henley’s utterly fearless demeanor.

Venka still didn’t understand why Vader let the man live all these years when he spoke like that to the Dark Lord. Clearly there was an understanding between then that he was not aware of.

And then…..was that…..a sigh ? Could Vader sigh in a vocoder?

“Very well. If you are shot, I do not feel in any way responsible.”

“Naturally,” replied Henley curtly, shouldering his medkit and entering the shuttle ahead of them. 

Venka smiled slightly at Baldwin and knew the Chief was thinking the same thing.

At last they were going to do something about their missing officers. That they were doing it at Lord Vader’s behest was frankly astonishing, but Venka had never been one to look a gift kaadu in the mouth. 

*****

Vader left his men seating themselves in the passenger hold (none of them were daring enough to join him in the cockpit. Piett would have, but Piett was not here and he was rectifying that) as he swept in and seated himself in the pilot’s seat, using the Force to raise the landing ramp. Then he touched the controls and his lamda shot out of the hangar bay. He had tuned it himself to respond to the slightest nudge and he ignored the startled exclamations behind him. 

He toggled comms as he effortlessly avoided clumsy Rebel fire.

“My Lord?”

“Admiral. You will wait to fire on the weapon until I give the order is that clear?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“How long until the Lady is in range?”

“Roughly fifteen minutes, my Lord.”

“Very good. If you disobey me, I will dispose of  you from here, understood?”

He enjoyed the fear he could feel.

“Yes, Lord Vader.”

He slapped the comms off. How he had longed to crush the man’s windpipe. But again, the Force was telling him the time was not right. And he rather wanted to see if Piett had lived, because he was Ozzel’s chosen successor, though the man had no idea of course.

His fury at Ozzel was a bright torch, but one he had contained. For Vader was still puzzling over the larger problem of the false Force trail laid for him. 

It was very possible, no, likely, that Sidious had some hand in it. He had placed a spy on board Executor before. It was not impossible that there were more. But one so good as to lay a trail like that…..

Very good indeed. 

Which meant that he had been sent away from Death Squadron with intent. That weapon had the potential to cripple the fleet. If Veers had not found the coordinates….

Vader did not like to think about that. Because he had left them open to that very possibility. 

Memory of Piett’s furious feelings of betrayal rose up. 

It was quite possible that Palpatine had just attempted to destroy everything Vader had been building. 

He fired at a Rebel freighter as it swooped by and it blew into a million shining shards.

It did not do much to assuage his utterly bottomless wrath, but it was something. 

Perhaps it is time to be productive with the great power you have been given?

He snarled at his internal voice because the Force was amused always to give it the mocking tones of Obi-Wan which was equal parts infuriating and painful. 

Nonetheless, he reached in the Force. He had tried speaking to the Lady when he arrived and been met with cold silence. He had expected distress over her missing Captain but she was refusing to hint at her feelings at all. 

He sensed her above him in orbit, but that was all. So that answered one question. She was capable of closing off from him. 

And her anger was formidable even for a Sith.

He stretched toward the planet and could sense the Rebels--there was fear, but also confidence in this weapon.

He was positive now that it had been no accident which led them to the black market plans of the Death Star’s mechanisms. No, they had been allowed to have them. And there was really only one source they could have come from. 

But they would discover shortly that the Lady would be more than a match for this weapon of theirs. 

He sensed the 501st, many with the unique clone signature in the Force. Renewed hope there with the arrival of the TIE divisions giving them cover.

There. 

What was that? Much closer to the Rebel compound than the Herd, he had sensed a spark. He pushed the controls of the lamda to their full potential and came screaming much too hot into the atmosphere of the planet. He could feel the fear from the passenger area but ignored it, reaching further for that spark…..

It was heading into the wooded area there. He was not quite close enough to see it, but he could feel the intensity now and was certain.

Piett. Likely Veers as well. 

He followed the trail in the Force and landed just outside the edge of the forest.

“With me,” he ordered curtly, sweeping by his startled officers and down the ramp before it had finished lowering.

Because he sensed the threat as well. And Vader would not arrive back from his fruitless chase to lose the officers he had been relying upon to help him in defeating Palpatine. He would not allow the wrinkled bastard to take away a key part of Death Squadron. They were his .

He moved swiftly, following Piett’s signature unerringly. Felt his spike of fear for Veers. Felt the familiar steel resolve as the Captain faced down his death.

He put out a hand. Death would come this night---but it would not be for his Captain.

*****

Piett could feel blood trickling from one side of his mouth from the force of Rasha’s blow, but it was inconsequential.

He stared at the scar faced General boldly.

“I have no doubt about that. You’re clearly a sadistic bastard. Tell me again, how evil we are.”