Chapter Text
Luke hurried down the gray corridor, away from the living quarters section of the Executor and towards the large dining room, the one that his father preferred when meeting with important guests. He straightened his plain dark gray uniform, notable only in that it displayed no rank, and then moved his arms to his sides as he walked as quickly as possible. He hadn’t been told who was coming, only that he had to have the room ready in an hour. As usual, his father had explicitly stated that Luke could not use droids. He would have to set it all by hand. It meant that if even one knife or plate was out of place Luke would be the only one to blame and, no matter how hard he tried, it seemed like he always forgot something.
He kept his eyes to the floor and focused on breathing deep, using some of the meditation techniques he had learned when he had been allowed to train. When both he and Leia were the shining stars in his father’s eyes, destined to be his right hands after the Emperor died or they killed him. And the Skywalker family didn’t much care which way it went. The sooner, the better.
However, today he was careful to stay away from the true Force. His mind danced around the edges of the Force like a nervous bird, but it had been a long time since he had been allowed to train or use the force in any meaningful way.
He arrived at the Executor’s large dining room and quickly focused on his task. It was a magnificent room. Three of the walls and the ceiling were made of glass that had a special coating that stopped any reflections from bouncing back at anyone in the room. It made it appear as if the room and anyone within it were not just observers of the stars, planets, and nebulae of the galaxy, but part of it. Luke looked from the stars to the long empty table and his heart sank a little. Nothing had been done. A tablecloth had not even been laid down. He shook his head and got to work. The precision and attention to detail needed to set the table for the formal meal helped him relax. For the moment he was just Luke, purveyor of fine linen and plates.
Luke finished just within the hour. He held back the little ping of happiness and pride he felt at aligning every piece of the dinner set perfectly, making sure it didn’t radiate away from him. The computer alerted him that the guests were arriving in the main shuttle bay and he was expected to be in the greeting party. He took one last look over the various dishes and silverware, said a silent prayer to the galaxy above him, and made his way to the main shuttlebay.
He gave a silent sigh of relief when he entered the shuttlebay and saw that the guests’ shuttle had not yet arrived. The welcoming party that his father had assembled for their guests was impressive, even by Imperial standards. There were easily a couple thousand stormtroopers in the room and a thousand officers. By Luke’s rough calculation, half the ship was in the bay at this moment. His father and sister stood by the doors to the shuttlebay, at one end of the corridor made by the Imperial troops. This was standard operating procedure. The visitor’s shuttle would land on the other side of the bay, in line with the corridor. Then both parties would meet in the middle.
Luke moved off to the side, by the wall. He would likely be positioned at the back of the group, behind Piet. Luke often wondered why his father had him come to these events at all, as he was often so hidden as to be completely unnoticed. The only answer he could come up with was that his father wanted to remind Luke of what he was missing, what he could be if he only tried harder.
He caught a glimpse of his sister through the small crowd. She was dressed in her finest set of Sith armor. The black metal gleamed and, when she moved, you could see that swirls of flame had been carved into the surface. She wore a black cape, mirroring her father’s. Her hair was looped on her head in an elegant weave of braids. Yellow jewels were woven into her hair within and between the braids, complimenting her eyes. Her lightsaber hung from her belt, the silver sword hilt seeming to taunt Luke with every swing.
Leia felt Luke’s presence through their twin bond and glanced over at him. The bond was weak, but always there, whether either of them wanted it or not. Leia beckoned him over with a small pull of the bond and turned away, walking toward their father. Luke swallowed hard and silently made his way through the crowd, weaving between admirals. They ignored him, but Luke took no offense. He was used to it by now.
He approached his father and sister slowly and stayed two steps away, as they preferred. His father glanced at him. Vader’s armor, mask, and helmet were perfectly polished, but other than that, there was no indication that Luke was standing in front of the supreme ruler of the known galaxy. Not that Vader needed any special indications. Whole worlds had been destroyed when they refused to bow to Vader’s demands. As far as Luke knew, it was very likely that there was no one left to question the Skywalker dynasty.
“Are the rooms for our guests prepared?” asked Vader, the modulation of his vocoder making even this banal question sound sinister.
“Yes, my lord, exactly to your specifications.” replied Luke, keeping his face neutral.
“And the dining room?”
“Set and ready to go.”
“Good.”
Luke again carefully hid his delight at his father’s praise, slight though it was. His father wasn’t exactly one for compliments and he had to savor them when he could. Luke was about to bow and return to his place at the wall when his father spoke again.
“You will stand behind Leia in the welcoming party. I want you to use your… abilities to observe our guests as closely as possible during their visit. You will serve all three meals and be present for the evening entertainments. If you notice anything, you will tell me or Leia immediately. Do you understand?”
Notice anything? What, exactly, was his father looking for? Who were these guests?
Even as his mind swirled with possibilities, he quickly answered, “Yes, my lord.”
“Don’t mess this one up, boy.”
The warning in his father’s voice turned the blood in Luke’s veins to ice. He felt his sister smirk through their bond.
“Yes, my lord. I will not fail you.”
Vader turned from him, effectively dismissing him without another word. He didn’t look at his sister, but kept his eyes to the floor as he moved to take his place behind her. He was just settling into place when the doors to the shuttle bay opened again and a cool chill flowed into the room. Luke suppressed a shiver and the urge to look behind him to confirm what he already knew. Two of his father’s Inquisitors had arrived.
Inquisitors were the only other force users allowed to exist in the Empire other than his father, his sister, and himself. Their main job was to find other, illegal, force users in the Empire and either train them or eliminate them. Luke always found their force presences different from those of his family. They were as much an absence of something as a presence of something, a vacuum of need and want. He suspected it was the result of their rigorous training. Luke had never been allowed to visit the planet where the Inquisitors were trained, but his sister had and she confirmed that it was singularly unpleasant. Leia had even been allowed to participate in training the new recruits after she had turned. Although Luke didn’t ask, Leia had told him that she had enjoyed it.
The Inquisitors disliked Luke and Luke disliked the Inquisitors. They considered him a failed Sith, a weakling, and were more than a little bit curious as to why he was still alive. Luke tried to stay away from them whenever possible. They seemed to enjoy making a game of cornering Luke and taunting him, burning him with their sabers as they mocked him and challenged him to battle. Of course, they all knew it was an empty challenge. Luke had no lightsaber. Vader and Leia, the only two individuals that the Inquisitors would answer to, rarely stopped them. After all, it would not be very Sith of them to protect a weakling such as Luke.
The crowd naturally parted as the Inquisitors made their way into the room and took their place behind Vader’s left side. The rest of the welcoming party quickly got into formation behind them, giving the force users a healthy margin of space, as the speakers announced the arrival of the shuttle. Luke thanked the stars that the shuttle was arriving so quickly. He wanted to get away from all of this as quickly as possible.
Luke’s heart caught in his throat when he saw that the shuttle was of a Mandalorian design. This explained the enormous welcoming party. His father controlled all of the known galaxy, but his grip on Mandalorian space and the surrounding region was weakest. Added to that, their home planet was the only known source of beskar, a metal that could block the Force, as Luke understood it. He still couldn’t imagine how that was possible, but it must be true if his father was putting so much time and effort into their visit.
As the shuttle landed, Luke carefully sampled the feelings in the room, trying to gauge the temperaments of force-users and non-force users alike. His touch was light and effectively unnoticeable. It was a skill that had saved him a number of times. The room felt of excitement, nervousness, and boredom. And not a few of the stormtroopers had to pee and were considering using that feature of their armor for just that purpose. It was an effective and clean method to relieve oneself, but it meant that the user would have to clean out one of the tanks hidden in their leg armor later. Hence the debate.
When Luke turned to the ship he was surprised to discover how normal it felt. It appeared as if the outside of the ship, at least, was made of common metal alloys. The circuits inside hummed happily with the standard voltages and polarities for a vessel of that size. He quickly drew back when he felt his father and sister begin to explore the ship. He had just enough time to glimpse empty spaces. That is, areas on the ship where people or other items would be, but instead there was nothing. It was a different nothing than the Inquisitors. Where the inquisitors’ aura were constantly sucking in, subtracting from the world around them, the empty areas of the ship were passive and asked nothing of Luke.
Vader started forward as the ramp lowered and the rest of the welcoming party fell into step behind him. Luke, for once at the front, marveled at the feeling of walking down the corridor of troops and Imperial officers. Each person was standing at attention, unmoving and perfectly aligned, for them. The feeling was intoxicating.
The sound of their feet on the metal of the landing pad was drowned out by the ship’s cooling fans as they neared the shuttle. Luke tried not to look like he was trying to look around the billowing capes of his father and sister as the shuttle’s ramp extended. Vader halted the group as five figures appeared at the top of the ramp. The figures looked bulky, almost droid-like, and Luke was confused until the first one stepped into the light of the shuttlebay.
That’s right, thought Luke, I forgot. Mandalorians always wear their armor in public. Like stormtroopers.
But the second after Luke made the comparison he had to revise it. He saw that the armor of the Mandalorians were not like stormtroopers at all. Instead, each person’s armor was colorful and distinct. It was also imperfect. There were dents and scrapes and repairs. But Luke noticed that the repairs were done in an almost artistic manner and seemed to not affect the pride or confidence of the wearer. The other difference was that the armor often did not cover an entire limb. Instead, thick fabric covered any area not already protected by metal. Luke wondered at their reasoning.
The Mandalorian at the front of the group wore a set of stunning dark silver armor that was accented by a cape that was black, but of a coarse weave, so that it had a texture not seen in the Empire. The silver plates were almost perfectly polished, but there was one major exception. A long streak of red blood down the right arm and torso of the figure. It looked newly dried. The only other Mandalorian with any sort of blood on him was a large figure in blue-green armor at the back of the group, easily half again the weight of anyone else in the party. The helmet of the man was almost entirely covered in drying blood.
As he carefully explored the figures with his mind he found the source of some of the absences he had felt earlier. The feeling was so uncanny that he struggled to assign any other descriptor to their presence. Some of their armor seemed to deflect his thoughts, but not in the same way that some armor deflects a laser blast. No, it was as if his force slipped through the metal and then tried to convince his mind that he had, indeed, observed the metal and what it protected. Except, what he saw was nothing. But he knew that was not possible. Was this what his father was looking for?
The group of Mandalorians confidently strode down the walkway as the fans cooling the engines died down. None of them uttered a word or looked around. The group stopped in front of Vader, who gave a nod of his head. Smoothly following their leader, Leia bent slightly at the waist, while the Inquisitors, Luke, and the officers behind them bowed deeply. They straightened, waiting for Mandalorians to mirror their behavior.
Instead, the silver Mandalorian held up his gloved right hand and one of the figures behind him handed the leader a black bag. The man in front took the bag and dumped the contents at Vader’s feet.
The sound of the wet something hitting the ground and bone cracking rang out through the shuttle bay. The thing rolled a few times and then stopped. Luke didn’t have to look to know what it was, he had heard similar sounds often enough, but he did anyway. A severed head lay at the feet of his father, eyes punctured, stump bloody, and mouth slack. It even drooled a little.
Vader stood, looking down at the head for a second. It felt as if the entire room was holding its breath.
And then… Vader began to laugh. The hollow, overprocessed barking sound seemed to fill every bit of empty space in the bay. It wiggled between fingers and pushed its way into their ears. Luke knew that Vader was using the force to amplify his voice and create this unsettling effect, but it still spooked him. Every time.
No one moved as the laughter died down. Vader looked from the head to the silver Mandilorian.
“I see you found our spy,” Vader began, his voice warm in a way that meant real approval.
The silver Mandalorian gestured to the head, obviously annoyed, “I thought you wanted us to trust you, Your Excellency, but this is the third spy we have found in as many months.”
“I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t found them.” answered Vader, evenly.
“Then this is a test?” asked the silver Mandalorian.
“Consider it… a show of support. People that cannot take care of themselves are rarely worth my time.”
“And people that betray our trust are rarely worth a Mandalorian’s time.”
Vader laughed again. It would not be obvious to most of the people in the room, but it was a genuine laugh. Vader was happy. Delighted, even.
“Come,” said Vader, “We have much to discuss.”
Vader turned and the group behind him smoothly split in half to allow the group to reverse without violating the strict Imperial hierarchy. The other solutions, Luke supposed, were a “u-turn” or a chaotic rearrangement, neither of which was particularly regal. The hierarchy readjusted. Din walked with Vader, the Mandalorian in green was next to Leia, etc. Luke slotted himself in the back next to the incredibly tall Mandalorian, not wanting to jostle with the Inquisitors for position.
Luke couldn’t help but look up at the tall Mandalorian in wonder as they started back towards the entrance of the corridor formed by the stormtroopers. The large man looked down at him, or perhaps at him in general. It was hard to tell because he couldn’t see the man’s eyes through the helmet. Luke quickly looked away, not sure if he was being rude or not. He could see the Mandalorian continue to stare at him for a couple seconds longer before turning to look around the troopers that surrounded them.
Vader led the way to the dining area. As they walked through the corridors, Vader and the silver Mandalorian exchanged platitudes in the way that one might at a formal gathering of polite acquaintances and not the leaders of the two strongest armies in the galaxy. Luke was used to galactic-level politics, but even he felt a bit on edge by this. He marveled at the confidence and poise of the silver Mandalorian. Luke wished he could feel even a tenth as strong as that man.
When they entered the dining room, the one Luke had so carefully set up not an hour earlier, the Mandalorians paused, looking around at the illusion of the table, chairs, and floor floating in space. Only the wall with the door they had come in through was visible. The rest of the walls were glass. The tall Mandalorian next to Luke automatically reached for something on his utility belt, before the green armored Mandalorian gave a small signal with his hand and the large man relaxed.
Small holographic writing appeared at each seat. The Sith, and Inquisitors moved to take their seats. After another pause and hand signal from the leader, the Mandalorians did as well. The other Imperial officers had already been dismissed. Apparently whatever was about to happen could only happen for a select group of people, thought Luke. He had moved to his usual corner by the kitchen door and was carefully filling drink glasses on a small side table. As he poured he wondered whether Vader wanted him to serve a whole dinner or not. His father had ordered a full dinner set be laid out, but, Luke realized, over half of the group was helmeted. Surely it would be impossible for them to eat in such a state.
Luke turned back to the table, deciding to serve drinks while he pondered this conundrum, and almost dropped the drinks he was carrying when he saw what was going on. Because what he saw wasn’t possible.
Sitting at the opposite end of the table from Darth Vader, the silver Mandalorian had removed his helmet and placed it on the table (right over the salad plate, Luke noted). He was the most beautiful man Din had ever seen. Golden-brown skin covered wide, handsome cheekbones and a strong chin. His brown hair was mussed at just the right amount to give him an even more dashing appearance. The brown eyes of the Mandalorian radiated warmth and intelligence. Even to Luke, who had never met the man before, he felt like a person you could sit next to and talk to. Someone who would listen and give you the best advice he could. In short, he felt like someone who cared.
The other Mandalorians followed the actions of their leader a moment later. There were two women and two men. An additional layer of feelings and emotions hit him then and he almost gasped. He bit his lip as he struggled to understand what he was feeling.
At first felt only the aura of closeness around the group. Then the weave came into view. It was a multi-dimensional braid of respect and experience that only came with time, reinforced by the silver Mandalorian, as if he were a nexus. Luke examined it with fascination. He had never seen anything like it during his life on the Executor. Some of the aural weaves were as fine as silk, while others were robust as steel cables. The exact form and strength of the bonds was constantly changing, as if it responded to their thoughts and moods.
In comparison, the Sith’s and Inquisitors’ auras at the other end of the table were like pillars. Each was strong and hard, and independent of the others. Each aura had the potential to strike out like a scorpion, but it would never stay. His father’s pillar was the strongest and largest, but it was still just that, a pillar.
Luke kept his head down as he distributed the glasses. He was careful not to touch any of the dinner party. He stood to the side again and waited, wondering how long this first meeting was going to be. As usual, Luke was kept in the dark until the very last moment.
Paz waited in the main living area of the guest quarters for Bo-Katan Kryze to finish scanning their rooms for listening devices, idly standing and staring at the blood that was beginning to flake of his helmet, which wascarefully cradled in his hands. When she gave the signal, he let out a long sigh of relief. He almost threw his helmet on the couch before he thought better of it and carefully put it on a mat by the door. He then walked over to Din, who was looking out one of the many windows of the disturbingly large place. It seemed as if the whole ship was nothing but meticulously cleaned corridors and large empty rooms.
“The severed head move was impressive, Din. I thought that Vader was going to take us all out by himself for a second there, but Fett was right… he loved it.”
Din nodded absently, still looking out at the stars, “He responds well to strength, but only when he feels like he is in control. In his mind, it was the move he wanted us to make.”
The eyebrows on the tall Mandalorian shot up, “Whoa, you sound like Kryze now. Those lessons have paid off. Look at you go.”
“Yeah…” said Din.
“You, uh, feeling ok? Did the Imperials poison you or something?” Paz looked from his brother to the stars and back again, trying to figure out what Din was looking at.
Din finally turned to Paz, focusing on his face, “No, it’s not that… I don’t know. It feels weird here. Different from any planet or ship I’ve been on. Even other imperial ships. It’s like… someone’s gone through and sterilized the ship, but for feelings, you know?”
Paz snorted, “Well, I don’t know. But I suppose that’s why I don’t have the Darksaber.”
The shorter man turned back to the window, trying not to feel the weight of the weapon as it swung from his belt.
“This would be a lot easier if I had a Jedi left to talk to.”
“Those fools?” asked Paz, “You’re not serious, Din, are you? They murdered our people.”
“I don’t want the Jedi Order back, Paz. Just… I don’t know. One or two. Someone to give me the words that go with these feelings. These… sensings… Gah, see. It sounds stupid when I say it outloud.”
“That it does,” agreed Paz, nodding.
They stood there in silence for a minute, staring out at the galactic core. Soon, Koska called out to them from the other room. It was time to debrief and then Bo-Katan wanted everyone to get some rest before the morning. They had five more days to survive in the flagship of the Imperial Fleet. Then hopefully, thought Din, his part in all of this would be done.