Chapter Text
For the first time, the blast doors to Lord Vader’s private hangar did not open when Piett approached them. He had to manually tap in his request to enter on the door panel and wait to be admitted.
Which he was, after a few nerve-racking minutes, and he walked into a scene that was more reminiscent of Lord Vader’s training rooms than his private hangar bay. There were mats stacked behind a collection of hovercrates, and a pile of broken combat droids sat haphazardly off to one side. Lord Vader’s ships were squashed to one side and his collection of tools were all put away between them in whatever gaps were available.
Lord Vader and Luke stood in front of the mess, watching Piett carefully. Piett approached them at a quick pace and bowed to Lord Vader.
“My Lord,” Piett began, “I –”
“Fleet Admiral,” Lord Vader boomed, “I did not request your presence.”
“No, my Lord,” Piett agreed, “but –”
“My time is valuable and I will not waste it on frivolous matters,” Lord Vader continued over him. “If fate of the fleet is not in jeopardy, return another –”
Lord Vader cut himself off to turn sharply to Luke. The two stared each other down, motionless for a long second, before Lord Vader turned back to Piett.
“What is it, Admiral?” Lord Vader said in a much more controlled tone.
Piett swallowed. “I have received word that my previous Ensign Tessel is alive and well. Someone used my code cylinder to reassign him without my knowledge.”
“If there has been a security breach, I do not see why you have brought this directly to me instead of following Imperial procedure,” Lord Vader said.
“I don’t believe there was a security breach, sir.” Piett replied, and Lord Vader crossed his arms.
“What do you believe has taken place, then?” Lord Vader all but purred. If the tone was meant to put Piett at ease, it was parsecs off the mark.
“I… am unsure. But that is why I am here,” Piett felt sweat trickle down his neck and into his collar. He knew he should get to his point but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
“I said my time is valuable,” Lord Vader loomed over him, “whatever you have to say, I order you to say it.”
Piett stared up at those red lenses. He prayed to the Force Lord Vader couldn’t tell how much he was shaking under his uniform, and tried to say something coherent that wouldn’t get him immediately killed.
“Leave him alone, Vader,” Luke cut in, and stood half in front of Piett. “Honestly, I don’t know why you do this every time you see him. You know he’s loyal.”
The breath caught in Piett’s throat. What was Luke doing? Whoever he was, he was going to get himself killed. Piett wanted to reach out and pull Luke away, even if it was a useless gesture that would get Piett killed as well. Distance was no protection from Lord Vader’s wrath.
Lord Vader’s helmet tilted towards Luke. “There is much you do not yet understand, young one. But you should know by now that you don’t need to protect my Admiral from me.”
Something in Luke’s stance, Piett couldn’t see well enough from behind him to say exactly what it was, gave way to amusement. “I know that. But he doesn’t, and it’s about time he did, don’t you think?”
Luke jerked his head in Piett’s direction and the weight of Lord Vader’s gaze returned to Piett. Piett fought the urge to hold his datapad between him and Lord Vader like a tiny, futile shield. He knew he should say something at this point, but if he was perfectly honest with himself there was very little of the conversation he was following. Why was Lord Vader allowing Luke to talk back at him like that? Why wasn’t Luke or Piett dead yet?
Lord Vader, perhaps sensing Piett’s confusion, gave a sigh heavily altered by his vocoder and looked down at the floor. “You may speak your mind, Piett, without fear of retaliation. I am aware the last few weeks have been… confusing for you.”
If Piett was with anyone else, he would have laughed. Confusing was one word for it. Piett had several more he couldn’t say in polite company.
“Confusing,” Luke snorted, “I’m surprised your Admiral isn’t entirely grey from the stress we’ve caused him.”
One of Lord Vader’s gloved fingers pointed down at Luke. “You informed me Piett was sleeping better –”
“Because his crew is happier and more productive since you stopped murdering them,” Luke cut him off. “This situation you’ve concocted certainly isn’t the thing doing him any favours –”
“Do not deny your own role in both matters,” Lord Vader argued. “It was not your purpose to befriend half of my crew, including my most senior officers, but only to –”
“It was you,” Piett said, mostly to himself, but both Lord Vader and Luke stopped arguing and turned to him. Piett cleared his throat quietly and added: “Sir. I mean, ah –”
“I believe,” Lord Vader spoke over his weak reply, “I ordered you to speak your mind, Admiral.”
Really, there was nothing Piett wanted less than to become a part of this conversation, but he couldn’t disobey Lord Vader. And Lord Vader had said he could speak without fear…
Except Piett didn’t know what was on his mind. Half his thoughts were tied around Luke’s baffling and somehow survivable display of disrespect, the other half was trying to comprehend the things he’d heard today, and a tiny part of him wanted to point out to everyone that he was only a little grey around the ears and he thought it made him look distinguished…
Piett summoned the scraps of his professionalism and drew himself to his full height. He came here for a reason. The least he could do was see it out.
But another thought crossed his mind, and he frowned ever so slightly at Lord Vader. “You… enquire after my sleeping habits?”
Lord Vader tucked his thumbs into his belt. “I instructed Luke to keep a close eye on all my officers,” Lord Vader said carefully.
Piett let it go. “So Luke is an agent of yours, my Lord,” Piett said, glad to be getting somewhere. “But why have him watch us? Your crew is loyal. And I,” Piett took a deep breath, “I would like to think I have proven so.”
Lord Vader was still for several long, laborious breaths.
“You have, Piett,” Lord Vader said. “Exceptionally loyal. Perhaps… even beyond reason…”
One of Lord Vader’s gloved hands reached out towards Piett, almost absentmindedly, before he quickly returned it to his belt and turned away.
“Your loyalty was never in question, but the loyalties of the rest of Death Squadron had to be determined,” Lord Vader paced a few steps away, his cape flaring out around him. “Not to the Emperor, but to me. I assigned Luke to you because you have access to every officer in the fleet and the presence of your aide would not draw suspicion.”
Lord Vader turned back towards Piett. “Your own suspicion of Luke worked in our favour. Under your careful eye Luke could not step a toe out of line and as such drew no suspicion from the Emperor’s spies.”
Piett’s eyes widened minutely at that revelation. “You’re plotting against the Emperor,” Piett breathed, and when no rebuttal came, Piett nodded to himself.
Alright then. Piett was now involved in a coup of some sort. “How may I be of assistance, sir?”
Some tension in the room Piett hadn’t paid attention to eased. Both Luke and, somehow, Lord Vader relaxed slightly.
“You may continue as you have been,” Lord Vader instructed, “attending to your duties and, vitally, keeping Luke safe. While you have already done admirably in that regard, his safety is now your highest priority.”
“Yes, sir,” Piett nodded again. “I imagine an agent like him could be quite useful in your plans, my Lord.”
“Indeed,” Lord Vader agreed with a slight nod to Luke. “But most importantly, he is my son.”
Piett openly stared at Lord Vader. “Your son?”
When Lord Vader refused to repeat himself, Luke sighed and confirmed his statement. “Yes, I’m his son. And he also has a daughter, but we can get to that later.”
Piett redirected his stare to Luke. Lord Vader’s son. Oh, that explained everything, from Luke’s casual talk around Lord Vader, to Lord Vader’s refusal to execute his crew in front of Luke. And clearly Lord Vader and Luke were training in here before Piett arrived, judging by the mats and the droids thrown about, so Luke must have inherited some of his father’s skills with destruction.
“Your son…” Piett said again, still staring at Luke. Finally he seemed to shake himself out of it, and stood at full attention for a brief moment before thinking better of it and giving Luke a gracious bow. “My apologies, sir, for any offense you suffered as my aide –”
Luke was quick to shake his head. “None at all, and please, I’d still very much prefer to be called Luke. Nothing should change between us. And,” Luke gave his familiar grin, “I’ve really enjoyed being your aide.”
Piett, for the first time, allowed a tentative smile in return. “Even when I make you chase up the Captains for their weekly operations reports?”
Luke hesitated. “…Even then,” he said without much enthusiasm.
“Son of Lord Vader…” Piett said mostly to himself, “and to think I mistook you for Luke Skywalker. I should offer you another apology just for that.”
Luke frowned at Piett. “No, you were right. I am Luke Skywalker, son of Anakin Skywalker.”
Luke inclined his head at Lord Vader, who crossed his arms. “I will not tell you again, Luke. That name no longer has any meaning for me.”
Any hint of humour left Piett and he pointed an Imperial finger at Luke. “You… you were Skywalker this whole time! I thought I was going mad, but I was right all along!”
Luke’s eyes flicked from Piett’s finger to Lord Vader and then back again. “I’m truly sorry about the stress my father and I have caused. If it helps, we never once lied to you.”
Piett folded his hands behind his back and glanced down. That did not particularly help, no. Not with the revelation that Piett was committing treason with not only Luke Skywalker but the legendary Anakin Skywalker as well. The only thing that probably could help was a stiff drink or two.
“If we are finished here,” Lord Vader said, utterly dry, “there is work to be done –”
“We are not finished here,” Piett snapped, surprising everyone in the hangar including himself. He swallowed, half to check he still could, and half to buy himself another Corellian second to regain his composure.
But he had to speak. If he was free to do so, then he must. “My apologies, my Lord, however, I feel I could be of more use if I knew exactly what your plans were.”
Lord Vader considered him for a long moment. Piett found he had stopped shaking, and probably had quite a while ago, because both Lord Vader and Luke were right. Piett was loyal, beyond rank and regulation, beyond reason, even so far as to accept the Empire’s most wanted as his aide without any clarification because Lord Vader wanted it so.
“Very well,” Lord Vader said. “Events will play out as follows…”
The second Death Star exploded. A resounding cheer echoed through the Lady’s reduced but very loyal bridge crew and the comms stations lit up with messages most likely echoing the same sentiment.
Piett watched the shockwave from the explosion roll across the Lady’s bow like a wave, guided safety away by her roaring shields.
“Hmm,” Piett breathed with no small amount of contentment, and then turned to his bridge crew and rapped out commands. “Eyes on your consoles. Our work is not complete until Lord Vader and his son are safely aboard. Is there any word from Mon Mothma?”
“A message just came in, sir,” a young comms officer informed him. “The Alliance fleet will aid us in removing the remaining ships still loyal to the Emperor.”
“Excellent,” Piett replied. “Get me Avenger and Devastator and we will head to our positions…”
A full rotation later Piett stared up at the Death Star’s debris from Endor’s forest moon. The small moon was safe from the worst of it – the gaseous Endor was much larger and most of the wreckage would disintegrate in the planet’s raging storms. What did escape Endor’s gravitational pull would be similarly reduced to atoms in the moon’s atmosphere.
Piett nodded to himself and then inspected the party around him, filled with rebels and Imperials alike all celebrating their victory in the native population’s wooden city. All in all, it was a very neat and tidy operation to remove all trace of the Emperor’s corpse, his abomination of a space station, and unite the two major factions warring for the galaxy.
“This all worked out rather nicely, didn’t it,” Piett said to Veers, but Veers had wandered off to talk to a young rebel pilot. His son, perhaps? Had they found each other?
“From Death Squadron’s perspective, that is true,” a voice from Piett’s other side replied, scaring the living daylights out of Piett. Princess Organa stood next to him and nursed a drink the little bear things had been distributing all evening. “But the New Republic has their work cut out for them.”
“Ah, I agree with that, Princess Organa.” Piett offered her a small bow. “I can’t imagine the work that will go into designing a new galactic government. Rest assured Death Squadron will provide you with our full support.”
Princess Organa tilted her head just a fraction at him. Somehow, the motion seemed familiar. “Forgive me, Fleet Admiral, but I would have thought someone in your position would be… more hesitant to offer their support.”
“Perhaps most beings in my position, yes.” Piett turned slightly to glimpse Lord Vader and his son on the edge of the wooden platform, apparently having a serious conversation with the railing. “But I have my own reasons.”
Princess Organa followed his gaze and spied the pair. Lord Vader had found a way to shed his helmet and cape, and if Piett didn’t know better he would have said Lord Vader was disguised as human. Luke practically glowed by his father’s side, animated and alive in clear contrast. But considering Lord Vader’s drastic change in appearance, perhaps a bit of that light had rubbed off on him.
Luke sensed their attention on him and found Princess Organa’s eyes, and they seemed to have some sort of silent conversation.
“You’re following him, aren’t you,” Princess Organa guessed, and Piett knew she wasn’t referring to Luke. “His plans. After everything he’s done, even all the things he’s now admitted were wrong, you would still follow him?”
“Luke is happy to follow him,” Piett offered.
“You know what he is to Luke,” Princess Organa countered, sharp as a vibroblade, but then her countenance softened. “What is he to you?”
“I…” The words choked off in his mouth and Piett swallowed. “I am his Admiral.”
“You don’t have to be,” Princess Organa said. “This is the beginning of a new galaxy. The New Republic Navy could use a Fleet Admiral like yourself. You have an opportunity to be something more.”
“I…” Piett said again, mind racing. He was getting the message, but he wasn’t sure if it was the same one the Princess was giving him. “Thank you, Princess. I will take that into consideration.”
She nodded at him and then that smuggler of hers dragged her and Luke away deeper into the party. Piett watched them disappear into the night and realised he was not alone in doing so – Lord Vader’s eyes followed the three of them with an unreadable expression and then that intense blue stare flicked to Piett.
Piett straightened his spine and adjusted his belt slightly, and before he knew it he was crossing the wooden platform to stand before Lord Vader.
He bowed. “My Lord,” Piett began, but Lord Vader held up a hand.
“There is no need for that, Admiral,” he said, and Piett found himself surprised at how different his voice sounded. Smoother, warmer, but still tinged with a familiar hard edge. “I am no longer the Lord of anything.”
“My… sir,” Piett eventually settled on, “what do you mean?”
“I have given up the title,” Vader explained, tucking his hands behind his back. “It is not who I truly am. Luke has shown me that.”
The faint ghost of a smile crossed his face as he unerringly tracked Luke despite the crowd of beings between them.
“Luke is remarkable,” Piett replied. And Luke truly was, if he could change Vader’s mind about something. “I imagine he will go on to do many remarkable things in this new galaxy,” Piett added, and privately sighed at the thought of having to find another competent aide. Maybe he could request Tessel to return to Death Squadron…
“As will you, Piett.” Vader said. “I believe Princess Organa planned to offer you a position with the New Republic Fleet. You will take her up on her offer.”
“S-sir?” Piett fought to hide his shock. He had no real intentions of taking the Princess up. Why would Vader want him to?
“There is more good to be done with the New Republic than some old Imperial remnant,” Vader explained, and then he looked away. “It is about time your skills are put to better use.”
“Better…” Piett breathed to himself. Better use with the New Republic than what? Than with Death Squadron? He highly doubted it.
Piett, out of Vader’s line of sight, frowned. He was missing something, even now.
Vader must have sensed some of Piett’s confusion because he turned his chin in Piett’s direction. “It’s an out, Piett. You are no longer obligated to serve under me.”
Piett’s frown disappeared as he understood. Perhaps the old Imperial remnant to which Vader referred to was not, in fact, Death Squadron.
Well. Maybe it was time Piett explained something to Vader, for once.
“Sir, if I may speak freely,” and Piett didn’t wait for an answer, “I don’t want to be an Admiral for the New Republic. I want to be your Admiral.”
Vader’s eyes met Piett’s. “You shouldn’t.”
Piett took a step forward. “And yet, sir.”
“You know my first priority is my children,” Vader insisted, voice tense. “If it were best for them, I would resign my position.”
“I understand, sir.” Piett took just a half step further. “And you must know that I would resign as well and follow you.”
That stopped Vader short, and his brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Because if I can’t be your Admiral, then I still want to be yours in whatever role you’ll have me. Sir.”
There. He’d said his piece. Piett nodded to himself and retreated a small distance, clearing this throat.
“Piett.”
“Sir?”
There was something coy in Vader’s expression. “What if I asked you to be my aide?”
Piett pursed his lips.
Maybe Vader saw his face in the flickering light, or perhaps he sensed Piett’s mood change. Either way he grinned wide and bright and held his hand out to Piett.
“It is my privilege to have you by my side, Admiral,” Vader said, eyes alight with a shine that reminded Piett so much of Luke. “Thank you. In the future I will not take that for granted.”
Piett took his hand and shook it. “It is my privilege as well, sir.”
Vader’s hand lingered over Piett’s, his fine synth-leather glove brushing over Piett’s well-worn, regulation glove. Finally he retracted his hand and tucked it into his belt.
They watched the celebrations for a short while before one last question occurred to Piett.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Piett?”
“Why did you pick the name Lucas Starkiller?”
“That was one of Luke’s suggestions,” Vader informed him. “Apparently there is a real Lucas Starkiller on Tatooine, a safety inspector of some sort. He even bears a passing resemblance to Luke.”
Something seemed to occur to Vader. “Luke wishes to begin a new Jedi Academy. Perhaps it would be safer for him if it we spread the word he is your aide, except we replace him with –”
“Please, no more deceptions, sir.” Piett had no choice but to cut him off. There was enough to worry about without any more secret identities, what with the formation of a new galactic government and all that.
“Very well,” Vader replied. “You should be aware, then, that Luke’s sister is Princess Organa.”
Piett shut his eyes. Of course she was. Of course.
“Thank you, sir.” Piett opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders back. “Was there anything else?”
“That is all.”
“Good.”