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It was silent on the bridge except for Lord Vader’s breathing. Admiral Firmus Piett stared at the man before him, whom he knew was prone to… violent outbursts. Piett’s face held an expression of horror.
The Millenium Falcon had gotten away.
The faces of previous officers killed for their incompetency flashed before his eyes. Ozzel, whose foolishness got him killed, and whose death was the reason Piett was promoted to the rank of admiral. Needa, who lost the Millenium Falcon… the first time. When Vader inevitably killed Piett, who would replace him? Would it be the man standing next to him, promoted from luck in the same way he was? Or would Vader follow the chain of command to pick the next admiral?
As Piett considered these things, Lord Vader turned around. Piett steeled his expression and prepared to face his commanding officer’s wrath. He would not die a coward, but oh, he was scared to die.
Vader began to walk forward, but he did not face Piett. In fact, he simply walked past him and through the doors, exiting the bridge without saying a word. The doors shut with a whoosh. The deck officer standing by the doors glanced up from his datapad to look at Vader on his way out before looking back towards Piett, appearing to be bewildered by the fact that the admiral had not been disciplined at all.
Was he being spared?
Piety had no way of knowing what Lord Vader was thinking. Without a visible face, he couldn’t even begin to guess how he was feeling about the admiral’s failure. Since he had no way to understand the current situation, he resigned himself to uncertainty. If he were to die, then he would face it when the time came. Until then, he decided to talk to a good friend.
—
It was crowded in the cafeteria, with soldiers and engineers of all ranks and levels of experience milling about, discussing various topics during their midday meals. They chatted about their days, what they had recently seen on the HoloNet, news about the war, and more. The constant sound was aggravating, and General Maximilian Veers was beginning to develop a mild headache.
Veers was munching on a dry ration bar when he saw Piett enter the room. His usually composed friend had a strange look on his face, and he was paler than usual (despite the fact that he was typically as white as a sheet, as he did not get much sunlight in space). Veers stood and waved to Piett, grabbing his attention. His friend made his way over to him. “Max, I need to talk to you. I… may need to get my last affairs in order.”
“What?” Veers replied, confused at what his friend meant. An anxious feeling began to unfurl itself, intensifying his headache. “Firmus, what are you talking about?”
Piett hesitated before explaining. He took a deep breath before he said, “The Millenium Falcon got away.”
Veers’ stomach dropped. “But– the last time that happened, with Needa…” He trailed off, deciding against explicitly stating what happened to the man who made the same mistake as his friend had.
“I know.”
“You’re–” Veers cut himself off before continuing in a whisper. “Vader hasn’t killed you?”
“I guess not. I figured that he was waiting until later. He can be methodical at times, although he usually lashes out pretty quickly. He doesn’t seem to plan revenge, he just strangles officers. I don’t know why he isn’t reacting, butI know he won’t just brush this off, kriff–”
Veers cut him off, trying to give him any comfort he could. “Hey, hey. Don’t worry about it right now. Just breathe for a moment.”
—
Just breathe for a moment.
All Piett could think about when his friend tried to help him was of the distinct breathing of a certain cyborg. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry at making this connection, so he opted to stay silent. Veers looked at him with a worried expression on his face. “Let’s go to the hangar.”
“You’re not a pilot, Max,” Piett stated bluntly.
“Of course I’m not, you fool. We’re not going there to fly.”
Piett’s further questions were cut off by Veers, who abruptly stood up and led him to the hangar.
The two walked through familiar hallways, ones which Piett had traversed on many occasions during his time on the Executor. The footsteps of Piett and Veers echoed through the durasteel hallways as they made their way to the nearest turbolift. They stepped into the small tube, and Veers entered a number onto the keypad. The doors closed quickly, and the descent began, made apparent by the humming of the lift.
When they reached the correct level, the doors opened and Piett and Veers stepped out of the turbolift. After walking for a while and taking a few turns, the two ended up in the hangar. Pilots walked to and from their TIE fighters in dark uniforms, technicians made repairs to ships and scrubbed carbon-scoring off of hulls, and deck officers made notes of the various occurrences on their datapads. Piett watched all of these people until Veers demanded his attention. “Look at the stars.”
Piett glanced at his friend before briefly looking to the viewport of the hangar to look at the bright dots outside. Immediately, he turned back towards his friend. “Yes?”
“Just look at them.”
Piett’s annoyance grew. I should be working. I don’t have time for this, he thought to himself. In fact, he voiced this thought to Veers, who sighed. “Firmus, you need a break. You’ve been obsessing over your job. I understand what dangers come with working under such a volatile superior, and I know it’s dangerous to slack off. Hell, you got this job because Ozzel had an ego bigger than his brain!”
Piett winced at the reminder.
“Even though it’s dangerous,” Veers continued, “you can’t do this forever. You’re burning out, and it’s going to cause you more trouble than it’s worth later. So please, look at the stars.”
Piett gave in to the request of his friend and turned his full attention to the viewport. Outside were bright pinpricks of concentrated light. Although they didn’t illuminate the whole sky, they broke up the vast emptiness of space. They were mere flecks of beauty amongst nothingness, yet they were enough.
Piett and Veers stood together, looking to the stars in reverence and awe; there was awe for the stars, for beauty, and for life itself. An unfamiliar feeling or calmness washed over Piett.
Despite his many fears, Piett took this moment of peace, latching onto it like a lifeline. For the first time in a while, he didn’t worry about the next day. He didn’t think about the potential consequences of possible mistakes. Amongst the noise of the pilots and the maintenance crews, there was the sound of Piett breathing.