***

“I apologize for the wait, Major Regis, but I had to get the boys in Intelligence to check over your story.”

Regis and his friends stood as Grand Moff Nahdonnis Praji swept into the office. The severe-looking warlord had tufts of brown hair mixed with gray peeking out from under his officer’s cap. Like many of his officers, he wore a cape of white wampa fur that clashed with his black uniform and the sleek, sterile black-paneled walls and desk of his office. Regis saluted, but he was surprised when the Grand Moff reached across the desk to shake his hand.

Regis took his hand with a smile. “What did they say about me, sir?”

“They said they had no idea, and that you could very well be an assassin sent to kill me.”

Praji did not smile, and Regis was not quite sure whether or not he was joking. All the same, the Grand Moff’s handshake was genuine. “Take a seat, please.” Gesturing behind him, he added, “I hope my guards did not intimidate you.”

Regis glanced at the death troopers standing along the far wall. Six tall men in gleaming black armor looked back at him, just as they had during the uncomfortable forty-five minutes that Regis and the others sat waiting.

“They did, sir, but not unnecessarily so,” Regis admitted. “May I ask… are they real?”

“They are, Major. These death troopers have the proper conditioning and genetic modifications, just like the original death troopers before the Rebellion. They’re the reason I haven’t been killed by any Imperial pretenders.”

Praji flashed a subtle hand signal to the death troopers. One of them nodded and spoke, his words scrambled into a staccato garble by his helmet comm.

Grand Moff Praji took a seat, then looked everyone over. Regis was surprised when Praji did not seem taken aback by Chewbacca’s presence. Instead, his blue eyes hovered over Luke for a moment, then settled back on Regis.

“Well, Major,” said Praji, “I heard you caused quite a commotion upon your arrival.”

“I was… well, I’m not sure what got into me,” said Regis, suddenly embarrassed. “I suppose I expected something different, being on a Star Destroyer. A bit more discipline, more polish on the armor. You’ll have to forgive me, sir.”

“I won’t forgive you,” Praji immediately responded. “Because you were right. The men are in desperate need of discipline. And without the death troopers, I’m not sure we could maintain any order, not for as long as we have. In fact, your arrival has given us a shot in the arm.”

“I don’t think I understand, sir.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. You were special forces. You weren’t…” Grand Moff Praji leaned back in his seat and placed two fingers over his mouth, as if considering what he should and should not say. “It’s propaganda, Major. The boys need something to believe in. We survive by taxing a few worlds in the Outer Rim. It’s a protection racket. We barely scrape by, and to make matters worse, we’re at war with two other factions - former Imperials, mind you - and our alliance with two other factions is shaky at best. Less than a month ago, one of my own officers was caught plotting against me. I had worked with him for years, trusted him. But I had to order my death troopers to shoot him in front of the others. Still, some say I made a mistake.”

Regis had grown deeply uncomfortable listening to such a seemingly powerful man speak with such candor. “I suppose you did what had to be done, sir.”

“No, Major. No, I didn’t. I refused to have the man tortured, on account of our friendship. Now I look weak, and weak leaders don’t last long.”

“Sir, why are you-”

“When you went on a shooting spree on Tatooine,” Praji continued, “it was the biggest news to reach us since… well. Let’s just say, you did a lot for us, Major. In this era, humans fight humans, aboard this ship, we’re no different. I’m not sure that the Cheka even bother looking for us anymore, since my two biggest enemies wear the same uniform I wear. One of them even claims to be the rightful Emperor. These are dark times, Major. Humanity is losing. Humanity is desperate for something to believe in. You gave us hope.”

“Sir, I… all I did was shoot some aliens. I was angry. And scared. Honestly, I was drunk.”

“You lashed out at a force so powerful that most men would willingly sell out their own families just to stay out of the monster’s reach. You, and your brave companion, Sindo. And there have been other incidents, too, it seems. Have you been fighting New Republic forces on other worlds, Major?”

“Well…” Despite the Grand Moff’s bold appraisal of Regis, he did not feel comfortable boasting. “Sir, it’s not like I’ve been executing a plan for some kind of grand uprising. I just… I suppose once you shoot a few aliens on one world, it’s hard to run to another world without more aliens coming after you. I was lucky. That’s all. Lucky that I ran into enough friends to keep me alive, sir.”

Grand Moff Praji’s expression of stern judgment never wavered as he listened to Regis’s awkward account. One of the death troopers spoke up, his garbled words distinguishable only to his comrades. Another responded, his words punctuated by an odd hiss that Regis hoped was appreciative laughter rather than derision.

“You are a fool, Major,” Praji finally said.

“Sir?”

“You are a fool. But in a galaxy filled with schemers, aliens, and disloyal scum, you are just the sort of fool we need to bring us together.”

“I don’t really know how such a thing could be done, sir.”

“You’ve already done it. When you showed our alien overlords the business end of a blaster, word got back to every Imperial faction hiding in the Outer Rim. And it’s their own fault that we ever heard about your exploits. You know how aliens are. They’ve been parading around “evidence” of our evil nature for so long that it was only natural for them to spread your story. Aliens don’t want to be admired, Major, they only want sympathy. They thought your story was proof of their oppression. But to us… to us, it was a reminder that a human will only allow himself to be pushed so far. At some point, a man must choose whether or not he will wholly submit to those who hate him, and allow the entire galaxy to degenerate into some shantytown marketplace… or make a stand. Even if he must be cruel, anyone with any humanity left in him will fight to protect those that he loves.”

Hearing such words from a severe, hardened leader of the remnant of the Empire, made it difficult for Regis to breathe. He had never thought of the past few weeks of his life in such grandiose terms, and yet a part of him was calling out, desperate to know that someone, anyone in the galaxy understood what was happening. Regis bowed his head, then forced himself to hold the gaze of the Grand Moff. Praji unexpectedly smiled.

“All that remains of us, the factions bitterly fighting over scraps of farmland and asteroid mining operations, have at least come together over this tiny nugget of good news. We even filmed a bit of propaganda about your exploits…”

Regis laughed, a release of nervous tension at listening to himself being talked about like some kind of hero.

“It’s true!” Praji continued. “The false “Grand Moff” Sheckil contributed equipment and actors. Admiral Mallo Motti is in control of a small desert world, which was used for the set. My people provided stunt actors - even one of my death troopers played a Wookiee during the final shootout! And, as much as I hate the pretender to the throne, Emperor Loutka has under his command the finest musicians. It really is a rousing piece of work…”

“Am I in it, sir?” Sindo asked. Though Regis was surprised at her interruption, turning to her, he saw that she was not speaking in jest. Her jaw was clenched, as if fearing to hear the answer, and yet desperate to know the truth. Realizing that she was very, very afraid that the secret of her life after the fall of the Empire was out in the open, Regis understood her desperation.

“Yes!” said Praji. “Quite so! The part of Sindo was played by a stunning comms tech who works under Admiral Freeling, our good ally. She even did much of her own stunt work. I find it difficult to watch her escape from the aliens who imprisoned her, but it is… inspiring, nonetheless!”

Regis and Sindo shared a look. Though her expression never changed, Regis knew that the word “imprisoned” was a relief that reached down to the very depths of her soul. The last thing she wanted was for her comrades to know how she had survived the past few years. She smiled at the Grand Moff, then nodded, saying, “I look forward to seeing it, sir.”

“Alright, I don’t mean to interrupt,” said Lando, “but there’s something that we need to discuss. Grand Moff, I have in mind a plan that could put us on stronger footing against the New Republic. It might not be ideal, but if we…”

As Lando began to sketch out his plan, Regis felt annoyed. After being honored by a man who had never given up wearing the uniform of an Imperial officer, Regis was in no mood to hear Lando rehash his plan for hiding out and bribing New Republic officials. Fortunately, Grand Moff Praji cut him off.

“I want to hear what you have to say, Planetary Governor Calrissian,” said Praji, “but first, I would very much like to say something to that man there.”

Praji leaned to the side and leveled his finger at the hooded man sitting behind Lando.

“You are Luke Skywalker,” said Grand Moff Praji. “Are you not?”

“... I am,” Luke admitted.

Praji lowered his finger and nodded. “My intelligence analysts may not have been able to tell me much about Major Regis, and whether or not this man is actually him… but we know quite a bit about you, Jedi Master Skywalker. We’ve had years to piece together the events of your life. And there is something that very much needs to be said between us.”

Regis felt the sudden tension in the room, which was made all the worse when he noticed two of the death troopers adjusting their posture. The movement was subtle, but he somehow knew that they were preparing to fire, should they be ordered to do so. Regis swallowed as his throat went dry, but tried to hide his misgivings as he wondered whether Praji’s warm welcome had only been a ruse to get them to drop their guard.

Glancing over his shoulder at Luke, Regis saw the Jedi lift his head slightly, but otherwise remained as still as stone. The effect was unsettling. The Luke he had once known now seemed to be replaced by a scarred figure with dark eyes, largely uninterested in anything going on around him.

“I don’t know how much your friends know about you,” Praji continued, “nor do I wish to air your laundry in public. So forgive me if I remain vague. I will say this: Your enemies have a habit of winding up dead. I’ve heard different accounts of who struck whom, and for what purpose, but all the same - this pattern will not continue here, Master Jedi. No one will die by your hand on this ship, or on any other ship under my command. Is that understood?”

Luke was silent for a long time. Finally he said, “I did not come here to hurt anyone.”

Regis had hoped that Praji would give some sign of acknowledgment, and that the tension would be cleared. Instead, the Imperial warlord remained impassive. He slowly got up from his desk, and with his gaze still fixed on Luke, he walked to stand at the front of his desk. He crossed his arms and took in a deep breath, then exhaled, his gaze never wavering.

“It is not common knowledge, the bond and the history between you and Lord Vader,” said Praji. “Not among the rank and file stormtroopers. But the debate surrounding what happened between you was one of the factors that separated us from our brothers. Imperial factions appear to fight over resources and territory… but in reality, we fight over ideology, and a fragmented vision of history. No, do not speak, Jedi Master Skywalker - I know quite a bit more about you and Lord Vader than you realize. In fact, go ahead and assume that I know the full truth. For I very well might.”

Regis heard the slight creak of plastoid armor as one of the death troopers shifted his weight again, and Praji immediately turned his head at the sound. It was a preternatural gesture, the instinctual movement of someone who had grown accustomed to betrayal. Though the gesture was slight, it was nonetheless commanding, a subtle assertion of dominance. Regis eyed the death troopers. Finally he heard the hiss of comm static as one of them slowly exhaled. Satisfied that he would remain in charge, and that his guest would not be immediately executed, Praji slowly turned back to Luke.

“You say that you did not come here for violence,” said Praji. “Let us see if that is truly the case. You see, I’m closer to you than you imagine, Master Jedi. Just before the Battle of Yavin, I was charged with setting a blockade around Tatooine. No ships were to get in or out while we conducted a search for information vital to the survival of the Empire. In tracking down the information, my forces came upon a couple - Owen and Beru Lars. You are familiar with them. Correct?”

Though Regis had no idea what the Grand Moff was talking about, he watched as Luke slowly raised his head all the way. His mouth opened slightly. Even with his hood drawn, Regis could see that he was struggling with something.

Praji nodded. “Of course you knew them. And because of your familiarity with them, you already knew that they had something to do with that stolen information. They proved uncooperative. I had them executed, and ordered that their home be torched, to stand as a warning against anyone working with the Rebellion.”

Grand Moff Praji watched Luke intently, as if trying to gauge the effects of his words on him. Luke showed nothing, save for a slight movement of his left hand. Though Regis did not know all the details, it was obvious to him that Praji had killed some of Luke’s friends. Only a moment ago he had been afraid that the death troopers were about to take aim at Luke, but now he was afraid that Luke would lash out and kill the Imperial warlord, thus ruining their chance of ever finding refuge.

“Luke-” Regis began.

“No,” said Praji. “Do not interrupt, Major. This is between the Jedi Master and myself. I think in his mind he imagines that I ruined his life. And perhaps I did. I certainly set in motion a series of events that I… well, I don’t know if regret is exactly the term that should be used. But it is close.” Looking fully at Luke, he said, “Because I did not just ruin your life, Luke. But you ruined mine as well. While aliens daydream about a false history in which we have always oppressed them, the fact of the matter is that our history is one of fighting each other. We have always fought each other. Even now, when we are surrounded by enemies calling out for our replacement… really, our extinction, we still dream of killing one another. We dream of revenge. Don’t you agree?”

The staccato bark of a death trooper’s comm-speaker cut through the air, and Praji immediately whirled on him, shouting, “No! You will stand down!”

Another death trooper stepped forward, growling in an angry, digitized dialect that Regis could not understand. The black-armored soldier had his rifle in hand, but he could have reached over the desk and killed the smaller Imperial officer with his bare hands. Still the Grand Moff stood his ground, replying, “Because I made you, death trooper. I gave you your genetic enhancements. I taught you your skills. I showed you the truth of the power of the Empire when no one else would. I made you. Just as I made him! That is why you will stand down! Is that understood?”

Regis turned to exchange a look with Birdy, wondering if his old point man would be ready.

A death trooper spoke one garbled word, and with a gesture, the others relaxed, slowly lowering their rifles. The Grand Moff removed his cap, adjusted his hair in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture, then set his cap back on before turning back to Luke. Regis exhaled.

“Hate has gnawed at our souls for too long,” said Praji, his lips a thin line as he forced out the words. “But as you can see, peace is possible between us. All humans are capable of mercy, Master Jedi. Even Lord Vader understood that.”

“What do you mean?” Luke said quietly.

“He could have killed me. I failed to recapture the plans stolen by the Rebellion. Though Lord Vader was notorious for killing those who failed him, he… for whatever reason, he spared me. I always wondered why he did that. Was it because he knew what would happen? That we would meet one another? And serve the Empire in her darkest hour? I wonder.”

Regis watched Luke, hoping to gauge his reaction. Though he gave no more sign that the Grand Moff’s words having any effect on him, Regis was almost sure that he could feel Luke wrestling with himself. Luke’s eyes focused on nothing, then finally settled on Praji once again.

“You think there was good in my father?” said Luke.

“Your father?” Birdy exclaimed.

Ignoring the outburst, Praji nodded. “I do.”

“You wouldn’t,” said Luke. “Not if you knew how he died.”

Though Luke knew that his father was, in the end, a good man, he did not know if Praji would have shared the same view. What would the Imperial warlord think if he had walked in at the very moment that Vader dispatched his precious Emperor?

Glancing over his shoulder at the death troopers, Praji said, “As I said, I know more than you might assume.” He sighed, obviously uncomfortable. Again he crossed his arms as he sat leaning against his desk, reminding Regis of a tired instructor at Carida Academy.

“Master Jedi, history is a tricky thing, and it can make fools of any of us, if we place too much faith in it without considering who it was that set the record. We accept the stories we are told about the “good guys” and the “bad guys”, and maybe there is nothing wrong with that. Unlike some bird-brained alien squawking in the dusty marketplace, we humans need a story to get our bearings. But when those stories make us hate one another?” Praji shook his head. “When we find that our back is against the wall, I think it would be wise to take stock, and reorient ourselves a bit.”

They sat in silence. Luke nodded, once, and Grand Moff Praji seemed satisfied with the gesture.

“Now, then,” said Praji. “We had better break for lunch. I can tell that Planetary Governor Calrissian has been wanting to tell me of his plan. But I cannot listen to such dry matters on an empty stomach!”