There's One at Every Party...

I stagger back into my tent and promptly collapse atop my sleeping bag, utterly exhausted. My legs hurt -- despite all the advanced technology and healing magic among the Resistance, they're still not cooperating with extended walks. And my head is pounding, not surprising considering someone's got "Livin' La Vida Yoda" playing as loud as their stereo system will allow. Yes, the celebration of our victory over the Emperor is still going strong, with fireworks, music, dancing, goofing off in the nearby hot springs, food, Emperor-Palpatine-shaped pinatas, and enough racket to drive out every other camper and all wildlife in the ZIP code.

Briefly I wonder just why Vader elected to hold the celebration out here in the mountains. Maybe he was being respectful of Mom's property. Maybe he thought it would closely resemble the Endor celebration in ROTJ, minus Ewoks. Whatever the reason, I can at least be thankful that I won't have to clean up the mess.

Though it's caused some complications, especially since V saw fit to blow up the closest bathroom to the campsite. (He wanted to go for the ranger station, too, but Vader convinced him otherwise.)

I debate whether it's worth slipping back outside to snag a drink when the tent is suffused with an eerie pale blue light, and a familiar voice addresses me in a slightly condescending tone.

"Had enough of the party, I see."

"I need coffee," I moan.

"I thought your religion prohibited coffee."

"Doesn't mean I don't need it." I roll over to look the speaker in the eye. "As long as you're here, make yourself useful and grab me a Pepsi, please. I need some caffiene."

He shakes his head. "I'm not here to join in your festivities, premature though they may be. I'm here to talk to you regarding your... friend."

"You know," I note, sitting up, "it would have been you, wouldn't it? It would have to be my least favorite Jedi in the prequels who would pay me a visit, not someone halfway nice or interesting like Obi-wan or Qui-gon or even A'Sharad Hett or whatever the Tusken Jedi's name was. But no, I get Mace Windu."

I have to give him credit -- he almost smiles at that. "Kenya, we have things to discuss." He sits down at the foot of the sleeping bag. "Your friend Vader, for instance."

"What about him?

"You seem to think -- and let others think -- that the man is something other than what he is. You continue to perpetuate the misconception that he is merely a tragic hero who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and not the violent warlord that he is."

"I've never denied that he was a warlord. Nor will you ever hear me deny it. I know and have admitted that he's made his share of mistakes -- and yes, many of those mistakes are horrible ones. All I have said is that no one is born evil, not even Vader. And no one person is responsible for his fall to the dark side. He's the first to admit it was his decision to make a deal with the devil -- but there are others who pushed him to that edge, others who share the blame. Including the Jedi."

"You refer to the codes stating 'a Jedi shall not know love,'" Windu replies. "You are aware, Kenya, that we had a reason for that code."

"That love is easily twisted to hate, or vengeance, or jealousy, or any other number of emotions that feed the dark side," I reply. "I've heard that argument."

"And it is a valid one. If Anakin had resisted the urge to foster his relationship with Padme, he would never have brokered that deal with Palpatine."

"But if he had never fostered that relationship, you wouldn't have Luke Skywalker," I countered. "Or Princess Leia. Palpatine would have taken over the galaxy one way or another, and where would we be if the galaxy was short the two heroes it so desperately needed? And besides, it was Vader's ability to love, to feel, that drove him to rebel and overthrow Palpatine. The Force alone couldn't defeat the Sith. It took love to do that."

He shakes his head. "You speak as if he has renounced the Sith Order."

"He has."

"I disagree. The dark side is too strong. Once down the dark path..."

"'Once down the dark path you start, forever will it dominate your destiny,'" I quote. "I know that line, I'm not stupid, pal. Yes, Vader will have to struggle with his addiction to the dark side for the rest of his life. But there are thousands of people who fight addictions of all kinds, every day, and they triumph. Vader will never again be Anakin Skywalker, poster boy of the Jedi Order. But he is -- and will be -- a good man. Wiser this time around, and maybe scarred, but a good man."

He's silent a moment, and I almost drift off to sleep.

"What will you do now?" he asks. "The Emperor is gone, but the Empire remains. Will you continue to fight?"

"Of course. This is my galaxy too. I'll do whatever it takes to see a democracy rule it again."

He frowns. "With Vader at its helm?"

"I refuse to rule the galaxy," Vader says firmly, stooping to enter the tent. "I have found no joy in playing the tyrant. I will fight the Empire, I will even helm the Resistance. But rule the galaxy... that is something I no longer want."

"Then what do you want?" asks Windu.

"A quiet life," he replies. "A home on a remote world, in a peaceful area, where I can live, study, fix things, enjoy some companionship, for the remainder of my days. That is all I desire."

Windu's quiet again. Then he nods.

"I hope you find what you seek, Vader. And enjoy it while you are able. The Jedi Council commends you on your defeat of the Emperor... but there is much we require yet before we acquit you of your crimes against the galaxy." He shoots me a cautionary look. "Be careful, Kenya. This man is cunning."

And he's gone.

"Conceited jerk," I snort. "Help me up, Darth, I'm going back out for something to eat."

Vader stares at the spot where Windu vanished. "They'll never forgive me, will they?"

"They have issues of their own they need to work out before they can accuse you of anything," I tell him. "As Christ said, 'he who is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone.'"

"And ensure you're outside your glass house before you throw," Vader adds.

"Exactly. Don't listen to him. Just keep doing what you know is right and repay what you can. And whether it's God or the Force that decides your fate after this life, I'm sure they'll understand."

He takes my hand and helps me up, and we go back out to enjoy the celebration.

Coming Events

General Grievous reporting in the stead of Kenya Starflight and Lord Darth Vader, who are currently busy with preperations for the coming events.

I am here to announce that Count Dooku's funeral service will be held on Wednesday evening at the Garden Valley campgrounds in Idaho. Please contact Vader via his private e-mail address if you require transportation. Those who do not contact him by Wednesday afternoon will be expected to find their own ride, participate via Holofeed, or refrain from whining that they couldn't go.

Immediately following the services, there will be a victory celebration in the campgrounds. There will be no charge, though you are free to bring refreshments if you choose.

If you find having a party so soon after a funeral tasteless, please keep in mind that Dooku would have wanted it that way.

Another announcement -- Kenya's personal computer is down. Until it is fixed, no fan fiction updates will be made. Pass the word.

Flowers are acceptable for the funeral, but if they don't suit you, then in leiu of flowers a sizeable cash donation can be made instead for charitable purposes. Write checks to General...

*at this point the keyboard was taken from Grievous*

I Feel a “Queen” Song Coming On…

Thanks to the large number of medics, healers, medical droids, etc. we’ve recruited into the Resistance, my legs healed in a fraction of the time they would have on their own. I’m still pretty wobbly on my feet, but a pair of crutches will take care of that. I realize I got off pretty lucky – some of the Resistance members are a lot worse off.

Including one close to my heart…

I’m working on my laptop when I hear a conversation coming my way.

“…knows how to do the rites for a Jedi funeral, but not a Sith. I know he was both, but…”

“The Sith never had funeral rites. When a master or apprentice died, a replacement was found. That’s all.”

“Then I suppose it will be a Jedi funeral then…”

The bottom drops out of my stomach as Fett and Maul enter the room, the latter with his arm in a sling. They can’t be talking about… Vader didn’t… I had heard he was doing so well…

“He died, didn’t he?” I whisper, tears filling my eyes and emotion clogging my throat. “Vader’s dead.”

Fett shakes his head. “Not Vader. Dooku.”

I almost start bawling with relief. Then guilt sweeps me for being so happy that it was Dooku and not Vader. “Dooku’s gone?”

“He gave his life to protect Leia from an Imperial Guard,” Maul explains. “His death was almost immediate. He didn’t suffer.”

I only nod. Dooku may have gone to the dark side for awhile, but he died honorably. I hope his soul finally finds some peace.

“What’s going to be done with the body?”

Yoda hobbles in at that moment. “With your permission, Miss Starflight, bury him on your property we would like to. No family or next-of-kin that lives can we find. And his home for a time your farm was. Provide for everything needed I shall.”

I wonder what Mom’ll think of having a grave on the property… but I don’t think she’ll mind. And if there’s some county ordinance against it… well, what they don’t know won’t hurt us.

“There’s a beautiful little area in the corner of the north pasture, under some elm trees,” I offer. “We can lay him to rest there.”

Yoda nods. “Make the arrangements I shall.” He gestures, and a set of crutches floats to the side of the bed. “Up. Here to meet you someone is.”

I wonder who it is as I get up – thank goodness I’m in some decent PJs and not a revealing hospital gown – and grab the crutches, wincing as my legs protest the movement. Mom was here yesterday with Kevin and Brandon, so it can’t be them. It’d take Armageddon itself to get my dad here, and I strongly suspect it’s not my sister…

“By the way,” Fett tells me as he and Maul escort me down the hall, “I must thank you for saving my life. I owe you.”

“Nah, you don’t owe me…”

“I am a man of honor, Kenya. I am in your debt, and I intend to pay it. Remember that when you are in need.”

“Thanks.”

Maul ducks into another room, where I get a glimpse of Trisha sitting up in bed and playing a video game. Thank goodness she survived, or I’d never hear the end of it from Maul…

“Those two took down an entire squadron of Vong warriors on their own,” Fett tells me. “It was quite the sight.”

“I’ll bet. Too bad I missed it while I was out.” Then something occurs to me. “How’s Shmendrick?”

Fett laughs. “Bit the medic that tried to pick him up – thank the Force the Engorgement Charm had worn off by that time, or he’d have lost a hand. Your dragon has some minor burns, but that’s it. I’m sure he’s in the galley stuffing his stomach as we speak.”

Sounds like the Shmendrick I know.

“Are Mom and my brothers still here?” I ask. “Or did they go?”

“They left a few hours ago,” Fett replies. “But your brother… he insisted on staying longer than they had planned. He visited every one of the injured and said a prayer over them… including Vader. A priesthood blessing, he called it.”

I smile. “That’s Kevin for you. He has a big heart.”

Fett leads me to the bridge of the Phoenix and gestures out the huge viewports. A coal-black planet streaked here and there with rust-red hangs before us… and it sends chills down my spine.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Byss,” Luke tells me, leaving his conversation with Rodimus to talk to me. “We decided to check up on the tips Roseprincess and Dash Rendar were sending us, and everything we’ve heard confirms that the Emperor has plenty of forces stashed here.”

“As well as some clones of himself,” Leia adds.

I can’t help but shudder. The books always said Palpatine resurrected himself several times via healthy uninjured clones of himself. To think that all our efforts could have been in vain…

“They will not be in vain.”

I turn as quickly as I can on crutches.

Vader stands in the doorway, looking rather unsteady on his feet… but still on his feet. His armor’s dull and looks slightly charred in places, and the patched areas over his ribs and chest are ugly testament to where the Emperor stabbed him in his dying rage. But he’s alive… alive and, if not entirely well, swiftly recovering.

The tears I’d nearly shed over Dooku erupt now. I hobble toward him as quickly as I can. He limps forward to close the gap between us and catches me as I stumble, holding me.

“I had heard you were dead,” he rumbles quietly.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” I sniff. “I was so sure I would lose you…”

“You could never lose me,” he replies, embracing me tighter. “Even if my material body were destroyed. I would live on in the Force, and the Force would always be with you.”

For the longest time I stay there, relief and joy sweeping through me at finding my friend alive and awake at last. Then I wipe my eyes on his cloak and try to pull away.

“Um… can you let go? You’re starting to squish me.”

He releases me. “Sorry.”

“Father…” Luke embraces Vader. “You’re all right.”

“We did it,” Vader murmurs. “We overthrew him. All of us.”

“Not quite,” Leia remarks, nodding out the viewport.

“Ah yes, Byss,” Vader muses, limping forward to get a better view of the planet. “Secret stronghold of Palpatine. Well…” He turns and gives me a look that, even through the mask, I know too well. “I think we can do without it, can’t we?”

Fett gives a dry chuckle.

“Can someone let us in on the joke?” requests Ackbar.

“Let’s just say that when the Empire abandoned the Death Star project,” says Grievous with an eager gleam in his eyes, “we scrounged something promising from it.”

“You have the weaponry from the Death Star on the Phoenix?” Threepio squawks. “Oh my…”

“We use it once,” Vader says firmly. “This once to eliminate the Emperor once and for all. Then never again.” He turns to the troopers manning the weaponry. “Commence primary ignition.”

Levers are pulled, dials turned…

Space lights up with a thousand fires as Byss bursts into a cloud of light and dust, and those gathered on the bridge roar with triumph. Hugs are exchanged, shoulders slapped, bets collected on. Someone somewhere – I suspect Admiral Piett – starts to sing “Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead” in an off-key voice, substituting the word “Sith” for “witch” whenever it comes up. Someone else breaks out champagne and starts passing it around.

“We’ll have an official party when we get home,” I tell Vader. “To celebrate the end of the Emperor at last.”

Vader clasps my shoulders. “I have dreamed of this day for years, Kenya. It has come at last, and I have you to thank.”

I blush and duck my head. “The others did more than me…”

“Had you never opened your home to me, had you never set up the blog to spread the word, we would never have accomplished this. You played a greater role than you know.”

“I… ah… well… I… now what?”

Vader laughs. “What do you mean ‘now what?’”

“You’re still sticking around now that your mission here’s completed, aren’t you?”

“I thought I had established that. After all, despite our defeat of the Emperor, I highly doubt the galaxy at large would welcome me. Earth is the only place for me at the moment.”

“Good,” I tell him. “Because I’d hate for you to miss out on all the fun we have planned. We’re going to Lagoon in July…”

“Lagoon?”

“It’s an amusement park in Utah. Then this August is Fandemonium again, then Mom promised to take us to Disneyland next summer when she gets her bachelor’s degree, then you have to come to college with me…”

“Life is never dull on your planet, is it?”

I just smile. “Not since you moved in.”

We turn and stare out the viewport again, watching the fires of what was once Byss smolder with an eerie splendor against the jeweled blackness of space, his hand on my shoulder. It’s over, and we’ve won. We have prevailed. Freedom and justice, the prize millions have fought for and some have died fore, have returned to the galaxy. We are truly the champions today.

An odd sound impinges on my hearing, and I turn around to confirm it. Yup, Vader’s singing. He laughs a little and continues with the song. Oh, what the heck – I join in.

We are the champions, my friends
And we’ll keep on fighting ‘til the end
We are the champions
We are the champions
No time for losers
‘Cause we are the champions of the world…

The dark is dead.

Long live the light.

*”We Are the Champions” lyrics belong to Queen, not me.

The Price of War

My eyes open slightly. Everything’s fuzzy… but then, everything’s ALWAYS fuzzy when I first wake up and haven’t had a chance to slap on my glasses. My mouth is dry, my legs and chest hurt, my head feels like someone pounded it in with a sledgehammer, and I feel like throwing up. Ugh, what kind of wild party was that last night…

“Ah, you’re awake at last.”

I open my eyes the rest of the way to find a medical droid staring me in the face.

“What the freakin’…”

“You are in the medical center of the Phoenix,” the droid replies. “Please hold still, I’m about to administer an injection…”

My memory returns with a sickening click, and I sit straight up, even though my chest complains at the movement. “Oh no, Vader! How’s Vader? Please tell me Vader’s okay…”

***

I remember it now. Last night we met the Emperor’s forces on Mustafar. The treacherous corpse did indeed have a trap laid out… his entire fleet awaiting our presence.

Zacharias’ space forces met the Vong forces head-on, but I didn’t have a chance to see whether the Asgard ships were having an effect on the coralskippers. The Phoenix dodged the mixed fire of the Yuuzhan Vong and the Imperial ships, streaking down to land on a patch of solid ground. Orange light gleamed on every reflective surface – ship, armor, scales, even eyes – as we slowly exited the ship, weapons ready. Where was the Emperor…

“We meet again, Lord Vader,” grated a sickly voice, and a cowled form emerged from behind some unidentifiable piece of machinery.

Vader stepped forward to confront his master, saber gleaming. “It is finished, Sidious. Let us end this here and now.”

The Emperor laughed coldly. “Finished it is indeed, foolish apprentice… but not in the way you think. Do you honestly think you can defeat me? Chosen One you may be, but of what use is a broken, half-mechanical Chosen One against the mightiest Sith who ever lived?” His lips twist in a hideous sneer. “Why do you think I sent you to Mustafar in the first place all those years ago? Did you honestly think I had ANY intention of letting you grow more powerful than I? Do you honestly think I placed you in the armor because I had no other choice? No, I had to contain you somehow, and in what better way than in the cage of your own life-support systems? You are far less than you could ever have been, Vader, and no match against me.”

I saw Vader shift on his feet, suddenly uneasy. So I was right all along – the Emperor HAD engineered his injuries on Mustafar. Stang, maybe he’d even had the droids botch their repairs of his body on purpose just to make things worse. And all in the name of having him as his own…

Before the Emperor could rattle Vader anymore, I stepped forward.

“I never thought I’d say this, your Lowliness, but I feel sorry for your Master. He must be rolling in his grave now – a grave I’m sure YOU put him in – to see your perversion of the Sith Order. And he must be wondering what in the galaxy he did to botch your training. Isn’t his fault, though, that his apprentice can’t even be a true Sith.”

The Emperor’s grin faded. “What do you mean?”

“A true Sith would not have abused the Chosen One. The Jedi recognized Anakin for what he was, even if they didn’t know how to handle his power. But the Sith… the true Sith would have revered him for what he was. The true Sith would have treated him with the respect he deserved. They would have won him to their side and treated him as a comrade, a worthy ally. And instead the only Sith Master in the galaxy chose to beat and chain him like a dog, to break his body and spirit and make him a slave rather than a comrade.”

The Emperor’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“You’re pathetic, your Wretchedness. You’re a shame to the Sith. You’re not even worthy to lick the soles of Vader’s boots.”

The Emperor’s gaze moved to Vader, who drew himself up to his fullest height as I spoke and stepped forward, all uneasiness gone.

“You stupid girl,” the Emperor snarled. “With every word you speak you dig your grave deeper.”

Vader shoved me to the side as blue lightning arced through the space between us, deflected by Vader’s lightsaber.

And after that… chaos broke out.

Molten lava burst upward in fountains of liquid flame as our forces met the Emperor’s troops head-on. Stormtroopers fought stormtroopers, were-cats fought dementors, Rebels fought lycanthropes… a dragon soared over the battle with fire reflected in her scales… out of the corner of my eye I saw Prime facing down an AT-AT walker single-handedly… Malfoy shouted orders to a huge, serpentine Patronus as it wove through the bedlam, snapping at dementors… Luke dueled viciously with a horribly scarred Yuuzhan Vong warrior…

An Imperial Royal Guard lunged at me, his force pike aimed for my throat. Without thinking I raised my blaster and let him have it in the chest, and he fell to my feet. The force pike rolled out of his hands and came to rest a few feet away.

My gorge rose and my hands trembled. I’d just killed a man…

“Kenya!”

I looked up. Boba Fett was in trouble, backed to the edge of a spit of rock by two Vong and a snarling were-panther. I fought to keep myself from being sick as I fired on one of the Vong, knocking him backward into the lava. The other Vong and the lycanthrope turned to face me, snarling.

On impulse I picked up the force pike and took a quick glimpse at its sharp end. Silver… so the Emperor was expecting some of the were-beasts to turn against him. Or he intended to destroy them once he’d won the war.

The were-panther sprang, claws extended, fangs bared. I wanted to scream and run, but instead I jabbed the pike upward, slamming it into the beast’s chest. It hit the ground with a screech, but I didn’t stick around to see if my blow had gone true or not.

The last Vong had turned back to Fett, thinking the were-cat could take me out, but Fett blasted him with his flamethrower. The Vong collapsed – contrary to “Heir to the Ring,” they aren’t fireproof – and Fett shot me a thumbs-up. I returned the gesture, but the sick look on my face must have reached him.

“They would have killed you,” he told me. “If you must worry about their deaths, do so after the battle. It will only get you killed if you do it now.”

Saphira roared as a wave of blue fire rose from the lava and swept the battlefield, passing harmlessly through our troops but bringing agony and death to the Emperor’s forces. General Grievous’ four arms whirled and slashed in a brilliant pattern of red and green and blue as he carved into the opposing army, a cyclone of destruction. Maul and Trisha fought back-to-back, his lightsaber a blur of scarlet, her blaster pumping green fire. An AT-AT toppled sideways into the lava from the force of Prime’s blow. And Vader…

Stang it all! I’d lost sight of him after the Emperor had tried to zap me. I sidestepped a dementor and ran, searching.

They were on a platform some twenty feet over the lava, scarlet sabers clashing, black robes billowing like wings. The Emperor bore a grin of pure savagery as he hacked at Vader. Vader’s armor smoked on one shoulder and across the ribs, and it was clear that every move hurt him. Zacharias had told me he’d installed a shielding unit in Vader’s armor while he was asleep, why wasn’t it working…

A flash of red, and Shmendrick darted down to land on my shoulder.

“Draco!”

The boy wizard ran to my side, followed by the silver-white serpent. “What?”

“I need you to put an Engorgement Charm on Shmendrick!”

“Get him off your shoulder, then!”

I yanked the dragon’s claws out of my shoulder and set him on the ground. Shmendrick flapped his wings and squawked dismay.

“Engorgio!”

Blue light enveloped the dragon, and he swelled rapidly under the spell’s influence. By the time the light had faded, he’d reached the size of a small horse.

“Thanks,” I told Malfoy as I climbed onto Shmendrick’s back. “Shmendrick, fly!”

He obeyed me, leaping into the air and angling for the platform. The Emperor was too focused on trying to kill his former apprentice to notice us, but Vader saw us coming and gestured frantically for us to stay back.

Instead, I ordered Shmendrick to dive.

We were twenty feet from the platform when the Emperor turned and saw us. A purely evil grin smeared across his face, and he extended a hand…

Blue light filled my vision, and I felt myself falling… Vader was screaming, Shmendrick was roaring in pain… something hurt…

***

And now…

“Please, how’s Vader?” I plead.

“Hold STILL!” orders the droid. “You’re badly injured yourself. Broke both your legs and suffered a concussion from your fall, not to mention burns from the electricity and splashed lava…”

“If you don’t tell me if Vader’s okay or not,” I snarl, “I’ll twist your circuits!”

The droid gives the injection and turns away. “Skywalker can tell you better than I.”

I look at the doorway, where a red-eyed Luke is standing.

“No,” I breathe. “He’s not…”

“I saw it happen,” Luke says softly. “After you fell, Father seemed to gain new strength. He attacked the Emperor with all he had, not even stopping to notice he was being injured. The Emperor stabbed him several times and struck him with lightning… but Father backed him to the edge of the platform and… and knocked him over.”

I gasp. “Then he’s…”

“The Emperor’s dead,” Luke confirms. “But Father’s in… bad shape…”

Luke comes over to the bed, and I hug him close, crying into his shoulder. We stay like that for a very long time.

Vader, I hope you’re all right. Please, you have to recover. You have to stay strong. I need you. Your children need you. You can’t die on me. You just can’t! I can’t lose you, not now…

I can’t lose my best friend.

A Funny Thing (Okay, Total Anarchy) Happened on the Way to Mustafar

TK-508 of Vader’s personal battalion of stormtroopers reporting. No, Kenya and Vader are not dead; we haven’t even reached Mustafar yet. I simply thought that, since neither of them seemed interested in updating the blog, I’d do it for them.

Our ship, christened the Phoenix, will reach Mustafar sometime Saturday evening. In the meantime, my stormtrooper sisters and I (yes, we’re the female clones) have kept a log of the goings-on onboard the Phoenix during our journey. We’re not sure whether it’s the close quarters, conflicting personalities, or simply anxiety of the coming battle that keeps us so on edge and at each other’s throats, but all we can say is it makes for an interesting trip.

Each of these conversations actually happened. Make of them what you will.

Luke: Are we there yet?

Han: Have some patience, kid, we’re not even out of the solar system yet.

Luke: Sorry, it just seems time’s crawling by…

Kenya: You should talk, you’ve done this before. I’ve never shot at anyone in my life.

Han: Then why are you here in the first place?

Kenya (after a few moments of consideration): Shut up.

Vader (enters room): What’s going on in here?

Han: Luke’s getting cabin fever and Kenya’s getting antsy about fighting.

Kenya: You be quiet!

Vader: We are not in hyperspace yet. There is still time to turn the Phoenix around and take you back.

Kenya: Nuh-uh. I told you I’d watch your back. I don’t go back on my word.

Luke: If it makes you feel any better, Father, I’ll guard her with my life.

Han (rolls eyes): Sure, like that’s supposed to make him feel any better…

Luke: Hey!

Kenya: *rolling on the floor laughing*

***

Fett: Scoot over.

Dooku: You have plenty of room. I’m not moving.

Fett: My butt’s hanging half-off the bench. Move over.

Dooku: There’s no more room to move over.

Fett: Stang it all, did Vader bring EVERYONE and their bantha on this fool idealistic crusade?!

Dooku: Last I checked, the list consisted of… *ticks off on fingers* …all Resistance leaders, Rogue Squadron, select stormtroopers, Eragon and Saphira, Draco Malfoy and Keily, Supersonic, Maul’s tart…

Trisha: Hey!

Dooku (oblivious to poison glare): …a bunch of cats, five lycanthropes, Aslan, that Transformer fellow Prime, Han Solo and Chewbacca… *thinks a moment* I think that’s it.

Fett: You’d think, with a crowd like that, he’d at least order an extra ship…

Dooku: Really, Fett, one would think all that time living on Miss Starflight’s farm has spoiled you slightly…

Fett: I’ll show you spoiled, you stuffy, pampered, haughty… *rest of this sentence cropped to keep contents of blog halfway clean*

Leia (enters room): Okay, you two, if you have to fight, please no crippling injuries. Our med droids are going to be busy as it is, let’s not make their job any harder…

***

Prime: So which did you think was the better crossover, “Centaur of Attention” or “The Stag and the Dragon?”

TK-687: “Centaur,” man.

Prime: Blasphemy.

TK-687: Well, “Centaur” had the better plot. Luke gets sucked into computer game, Vader gets sucked into computer game, Luke and Vader meet, butt heads, come to an understanding, then they go back to their world and ROTJ happens anyway and Vader dies! It ends on a dark note! That’s what life is, is a series of dark notes! All “Stag and the Dragon” had was a bunch of stormtrooper bashing!

Yoda (in passing): Hmm, seen too much Kevin Smith someone has…

***

Grievous: Knight to G5.

Malfoy: That’s an illegal move.

Grievous: Is not! Two up and one over… look, he’s making the move now…

Malfoy: This is wizard’s chess. The rules are slightly different. And it’s illegal to move a knight right after a check…

Eragon (watching game over Malfoy’s shoulder): You just made that up, didn’t you?

Malfoy: Shut up, you’re not playing!

Grievous: Still knight to G5, and I have a checkmate.

Malfoy: That’s not checkmate, you great sack of Muggle scrap!

Grievous: What did you call me?

Malfoy (gloating): You don’t even know what that means, do you? Bloody stupid droid doesn’t even know the word Muggle…

Grievous (ignites lightsabers): But you’ll be telling me in a moment, won’t you?

Malfoy: Ha! You don’t frighten me, mechanical one. You’re just a Muggle bit of hardware. I’m descended from one of the great wizarding families, destined to become the greatest wizard there ever was…

Vader (in passing): *splut*

Eragon: *bursts out laughing*

Grievous: Heh heh, look at that, he snorted an entire Pepsi through his air intake vent.

Malfoy: Laugh all you want, Lord Vader, but you’ll be singing a different tune when you’re bowing before me!

Vader: *still laughing* Keep talking, boy. Let’s hear how far your ego can expand.

Malfoy (reaches for wand): Why, I’ll show you for laughing at me, you great Mudblood *rest of sentence is suddenly muffled and garbled*

Eragon: Saphira, stop that!

Kenya (rushes in): I can’t leave the room for two minutes without one of you getting into trouble, can I? Grievous, put away the lightsabers. Eragon, can you wipe Vader’s chestplate off? I think he’s in too deep of hysterics to do it himself. And Saphira, spit the brat out, you don’t know where he’s been.

Saphira: *bluch*

Malfoy (spluttering): She tried to eat me! She’s a monster! She’s vicious!

Kenya: She just mistook you for a sheep, the way you were so brainlessly bleating. Look everyone, I know we’re all on edge here. I can’t sleep, I’m pretty sure the rest of you can’t sleep, we’re all packed together like sardines in this ship, and we’re facing the biggest battle of our lives in just a few hours. Under those circumstances, I hardly expect any of us to be in the sunniest of moods. But can we at least TRY to maintain some semblance of sanity here?

Grievous: What if you were insane to begin with?

Kenya: Then try not to let it show too badly. *yawns* Okay, I’m off to bed. The first person to disturb me gets written into my next fanfic as an annoying Imp who dies a gruesome death.

Vader: And sweet dreams to you as well.

Kenya: Sarcastic tonight, aren’t we?

***

Trisha: It’s beautiful out there, isn’t it?

Maul: *shrugs*

Trisha: I’ve always loved the stars. I loved to sleep outside and imagine I was out there, traveling through space. And here I am, doing it with the man I love. *sighs* If only the circumstances were happier.

Maul: For me, space was always just distance. However many parsecs to the next mission, that sort of thing. I never took time to enjoy it before.

Trisha: Never?

Maul: Not before I met you.

Trisha: *giggles*

Maul: I will die for you if need be, Trisha. I have a score to settle with the Emperor… but my first priority will be your safety.

Trisha: No, Maul. Your first priority will be YOUR safety. I’m not having you die on me.

Maul: Very well. *kisses Trisha* You have my solemn vow.

Luke (enters room): Maul, have you seen… ugh, get a room!

Trisha: You’re just jealous, Lukey.

Luke: Am not!

***

Kenya (enters room): Can you sleep?

Vader: Not with you talking.

Kenya: You know what I meant, Darth.

Vader: I am about to engage in a duel, possibly to the death, with the most treacherous being in the galaxy on a fiery planet where I suffered the most traumatic experience of my life, with the fate of the entire galaxy possibly hinging on the outcome. Under the circumstances, I’d say I am as relaxed as I’ll ever get tonight.

Kenya: I can’t sleep either.

Vader: I cannot fault you.

Kenya: Hmmm… Vader?

Vader: Hmm?

Kenya: Why me?

Vader: What?

Kenya: Why me? All this time… why did you pick me? What made me so special? What drew you to me that day at the theater?

Vader: You picked 2:30 in the morning to ask this?

Kenya: Hey…

Vader: Fine, I will answer. *searches for words* There are many on your world who are fascinated with my character in the films, but for the most part that fascination ends when the film ends. A few people – a chosen few – their fascination goes deeper. They do not see me as a simple movie villain, but as a living, breathing being. When I came to Earth, I knew I had to find one of those few to take me in. It was the will of the Force – or if you will, the will of your God – that made you the first of those few to encounter me.

Kenya: Chosen few, eh? Does that make me a Chosen One too?

Vader: No, simply one who sees beyond the surface of the character. There are others – your friends who read the blog are prime examples.

Kenya: So if you’d landed in California, you would have gone to Sith Snoopy’s. If you’d landed in New Jersey, Rinnalaiss’ place… and so on.

Vader: And who knows how things would have developed had I arrived anywhere else? But I chose to land my ship in Idaho, and thus, I have come to know you.

Kenya: If I may ask… why did you come to Earth in the first place?

Vader: Do you really want to know?

Kenya: No, but I need to know.

Vader: Excellent choice of words. The reason I came to Earth… is the same reason we are flying to Mustafar.

Kenya (after a few stunned minutes): So you’ve been planning this all along. You came to Earth to overthrow him.

Vader: *nods*

Kenya: If you succeed in your mission… will you leave the planet?

Vader: No. This is my home now. It is where I belong.

Kenya: I’m glad you feel that way. Because life without you would quickly get boring.

Vader: Get some rest, Kenya. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.

Kenya: *sings softly as she leaves the room*

Hope of Israel, Zion’s army
Children of the promised day
See the chieftan signals onward
And the battle’s in array
Hope of Israel, rise in might
Blaze the sword of truth and right
Sound the warcry – watch and pray
Vanquish every foe today

The Approaching Storm

NOTE: Vader now has his own e-mail address – yeah, took him long enough. If you want to contact him, here’s the place to do it.

The Emperor has done it. He’s made contact with the Terran Resistance. And he’s offered to make a deal.

Translation: he’s baiting us in an effort to jack us around at his leisure.

Oh well, at least we know what to expect from him…

This weekend, while my family was busy in the garden and Vader and Yoda were getting in some lightsaber practice, an Imperial shuttle arrived out of nowhere and landed in the pasture, forcing some Varden dwarves and mutated hedgehogs to flee to avoid being crushed. While I scrambled for the barn to get blasters for my mom and brothers, Vader and Yoda strode down the driveway and addressed the Imperial representative that disembarked. By the time I got there, the verbal jockeying was over and the parleying Imp was delivering an ultimatum.

“The Emperor suggests a means to end this pointless war with no more bloodshed on either side,” he announced. “He asks that you, Lord Vader, meet him on neutral territory… alone.”

“Does the Emperor believe I am THAT stupid?” Vader asked, sounding mildly surprised.

“You have read the book the Terrans refer to as the Bible,” the Imp replied. “Thus, I am sure you’re familiar with the tale of David and Goliath, and their battle which decided the fate of their armies. He suggests a similar deal.”

“So if the Emperor kills Vader, the Terran Resistance surrenders?” I asked. “And if Vader snuffs the Emperor, the Empire gives up?”

The Imperial nodded. “The Emperor demands you send a messenger to Corusant once you’ve made a decision.”

And with that, he hurried back onto his ship and was gone.

Yoda shook his head. “A trap I sense. Devious the Emperor has always been. No exception will this time be.”

“We all know the Empire’s not going to stop fighting us even if the Emperor dies,” I cut in.

“Nonetheless, if we can be rid of the Emperor, we can weaken the Empire,” Vader replied.

“Don’t make a decision right off the bat,” Mom advised, wiping her muddy hands on her work jeans. “Think about it, maybe sleep on it. Jumping into things always gets you into trouble.”

As Vader should know.

“I will think on this,” he finally decided.

***

Which leads us to today.

The weather forecast said “scattered thunderstorms,” but instead we got a tornado warning. Which is why I’m now in the staff lounge of the library – currently closed to the public – with nine other employees, four patrons who elected to remain in the library rather than drive home, and a Sith Lord whose presence proves a welcome distraction from the anxiety the storm is inducing. We all talk about books, munch on the snacks my boss keeps stocked for occasions like this, and ask Vader questions about the galaxy beyond our planet. I’m very skittish about thunderstorms and windstorms, so it’s nice to feel my nervousness ebb somewhat.

Until Vader decides, for some bizarre reason, to pick NOW to drop the bombshell – and in front of these poor clueless people, to boot.

“You took him up on it?” I demand.

“Took him up on what?” asks a little old lady seated on my left, looking up from a copy of Stephen King’s Cell.

“The Emperor has proposed that I, the leader of the Terran Resistance, meet him, the leader of the Galactic Empire, on neutral ground to negotiate a truce.”

“Negotiate?!” I repeat incredulously.

“Aggressive negotiations,” Vader replies. If he thinks he’s a wit with that comment, he’s only half right.

“You’re walking right into his trap!” I snap.

“I am going prepared,” he insists. “I will select the finest troops from all of our forces to accompany me. After all, I doubt the Emperor will honor the ‘come alone’ agreement at all.”

“Where are you meeting him?” asks Abby*, my boss.

I’m expecting anyplace but what Vader announces. “Mustafar.”

“MUSTAFAR!” That came out much louder than I had intended, but at this point, I don’t care. “Have you lost your freaking mind?! Don’t you remember LAST time you fought someone on Mustafar?”

“I’d be concerned if I knew where the heck Mustafar was,” mutters Tony*, the cataloguing clerk.

“I could never forget Mustafar,” Vader tells me in a hard voice. “But I am no longer the stupid anger-blinded youth Obi-wan wounded twenty-four years ago. I have learned much since then. I will not fail a second time. I cannot.” He glowers at me. “And you are in no position to stop me.”

“No I’m not,” I agree, glaring back. I may not have a steel mask to add force to my glare, but I can at least give it a good shot. “But I can make sure you don’t pull a Darwin-Award-worthy stunt on this venture.”

“How so?”

I turn to Abby. “Someone else is going to be working for me the next few days. She’ll look just like me and know how to do my job, so it won’t be too big a deal…”

“What?” demands Vader.

“I’m going with you,” I insist. “General Drache and I figured you’d pull a dumb stunt like this, so we worked it out in advance. I even trained her to do the shelving so she could fill in for me if this came up.”

“You cannot come.”

“And just why not?”

“Because I am an experienced duelist. The men accompanying me will all be veteran warriors. You haven’t even shot a gun…”

“Not true. I’ve taken shooting lessons, and I’m even a pretty good shot…”

“You won’t be shooting at paper targets or clay pigeons here,” he retorts. “You will be shooting at living targets. I fear you will not be able to handle…”

“I grew up on a farm,” I shoot back. “I’ve helped butcher chickens and rabbits and even a pig…”

“Can you kill a man if you had to? Your religion prohibits killing…”

“Not if you’re in the armed forces, or if you’re forced to defend yourself or your family and there’s no other way. And you’re part of our family, like it or not. I’m guarding your back.”

The other employees back me up with a cheer. The patrons look sorry that they elected to stay here until the storm blows over.

“You are NOT accompanying me, Kenya…” he snarls.

“You can’t stop me…”

“I forbid you from going!”

“What, do you think I’m helpless?”

“That has nothing to do with it…”

“Then why…”

“I CAN’T LOSE YOU!”

My mouth hangs open, my fiery retort dying before I can get a squeak out. Dead silence reigns in the staff lounge. My mind struggles to process what I’ve just heard…

“I can’t lose you,” Vader repeats in a much quieter voice. “You are my friend, Kenya – the first true friend I have had in years. I have already lost so many I have cared for… and if I were to lose you… it would break me.”

I force my mouth shut. I’ve thought of him as a friend for a long time, but I wasn’t sure if he reciprocated that friendship. Now, I’ve heard the plain truth from his mouth.

“Vader,” I reply, “thank you for worrying about me. But this is exactly why I need to go with you. Because if you leave me behind, I’ll worry myself sick over you. And there’s always the possibility that the Empire’s agents will kidnap me and use me against you the moment you leave the planet. If we’re together, if we can keep each other safe during the battle, we’ll stand a chance.”

Vader’s plants his fists on his hips. “You’re bound and determined to follow me to Mustafar, aren’t you?”

The little old lady, who’s been reading this entire time, pipes up. “You should know by now, sonny, that women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs might as well accept that and get over it. Now tell the lady you’d be glad for her help on Mufasa or Madagascar or wherever it is you’re going, and then go give her a hug!”

Everyone laughs at her comment… and smiles as Vader finally pulls me close for a quick but friendly embrace. I can’t help but blush. If I get back in one piece from this jaunt, I’ll never hear the end of it from my co-workers…

The Ra’zac are on their way to Corusant to deliver Vader’s agreement to the Emperor’s little deal, and Vader’s currently selecting troops for his task force. And as soon as I’m done posting this, I’m off to get blaster-shooting lessons from Luke. I don’t know when we leave for the fireball planet, but it’ll be soon. And I pray that it will not end as disastrously as the last duel to take place there.

Everyone keep a sharp eye and ear out, you never know if Vader’ll call on you for help…

*Name changed

Lessons From the School of Hard Knocks

I would have been a bit more receptive to this evening’s breaking news if General Grievous could have waited until I was out of the shower to deliver it.

I normally don’t shower in the evenings, but it had been a long day at work and at home – a bug in the library’s computer system (I’m personally blaming Artoo) wreaked havoc with checkouts and check-ins, and when I arrived home it was to find that a shipment of supplies for the Resistance miscalculated its landing and crashed atop the chicken coop. Thankfully none of the birds were injured, though they were rightfully peeved and attacked everyone’s feet and legs as we labored to unload the ship and repair the smashed coop. Oh yeah, and it was uncharacteristically muggy and we were all sweating like horses, so the smell wasn’t too pleasant.

So I’m relaxing under a flow of warm water, letting my thoughts wander to fanfic (what else?) and how I can torture the Emperor in this next story, when the shower door gets flung open.

“Kenya!”

I scream. Hey, wouldn’t you if a yellow-eyed cyborg with a history of homicide cornered you in a tightly enclosed space while you were stark nude?

“Shut up and hear this,” he snarls, handing me a towel. “The Alliance has landed on the farm.”

“What?” I turn off the water despite having shampoo still in my hair. “I thought they didn’t want to help out the Resistance.”

“I don’t know what the stang they want,” he replies. “Get dressed, they want to see the leaders of the Resistance as soon as possible.”

“Can you leave the bathroom? I don’t appreciate an audience when I get dressed.”

He gives me a cursory glance. “Believe me, Kenya, if I wanted to ogle a female body, it wouldn’t be yours.” He stalks out.

I guess I shouldn’t be TOO insulted; after all, the general wasn’t a human before his accident…

But still, what does the Alliance want? Have they had a change of tune? Do they want to join forces? Or are they here to deliver some kind of ultimatum?

Once I’m fully dressed, I rush out to greet our visitors. Vader and his “villain” pals are out there, as are Luke, Han, Chewie, the droids, and Yoda. And coming in from the pasture…

Is this it? The Alliance we were to meet? It can’t be. Even though the Rebel forces were sadly small next to the Imperial Army, they still boasted a good-sized force when last I met them at the close of the peace talks. Now… I only see three or four dozen, maybe fifty, men and women and aliens, all bedraggled and weary-looking. Some are so badly wounded I marvel that they’re even walking. Others have heart-wrenchingly haunted looks in their eyes. All of them are too exhausted to even blink at the motley collection of beings that makes up the Resistance, instead dragging themselves up the driveway to confront us.

“Good stars, what happened?” breathes Leia.

Admiral Ackbar stands before Vader, half-healed burns marring the left side of his face, a weary look in his eyes, and he salutes half-heartedly. “Lord Vader. Admiral Ackbar, leader of the Rebel Alliance, at your service.”

Vader nods. “I was under the impression that Lady Mothma led the Alliance.”

He lowers his head sorrowfully. “Lady Mothma was captured. We have no idea if she is even alive.”

The former Rebels among us exchange shocked whispers.

“Start from the beginning we should,” Yoda says gently. “Brings you here what does?”

Ackbar sighs. “When the Empire declared a truce and cease-fire with us, we were under the impression that the Emperor had truly changed his ways, that there would be reform in the government and the galaxy would be a democracy again. We were sorely mistaken. The Emperor granted the Alliance a system where we could station our men until they had been granted amnesty and could show their faces in the Empire again. And when we had fully lowered our guard… he set his new army upon us.”

Any smugness I might have felt upon hearing the Rebellion had received its comeuppance is totally gone now. The Emperor sicced dementors, were-beasts, and the Vong upon the Rebels after granting them a “safe” haven? Low blow!

“How many died in the battle?” asks Vader, sounding stunned. “Do you have more forces besides these before us?”

“There was no battle,” moans a teenage Chiss boy from behind Ackbar, his arm in a sling and a set of still-bloody scratches streaking his cheek. “It was a slaughter. They had us on the run before we could lift a blaster. The Vong forces decimated our fleet – only two ships survived the attack, and they’re both badly damaged. And on the ground… it was a massacre…”

The boy shivers, and the pain in his eyes moves me. I walk forward and wrap my arms around him as he starts to cry.

“He was bitten by a were-panther,” Ackbar says gravely. “And he is not alone. There are five of my men, including him, who are now lycanthropes thanks to the attack. And we still have victims of the dementors aboard our shuttle – they are practically comatose, without sense or mind.” He gestures helplessly behind him. “Forgive me, my Lord, but… this is all that survives of the Alliance that has not already defected to your side. This is all we can give to your cause.”

Vader is silent a long time. Then he speaks with a deadly force in his voice. “I swear to you, Admiral Ackbar, that the Emperor will be made to pay for his treachery. Someday, he will answer for the pain he has wrought. And we will do all in our power to ensure that ‘someday’ comes as soon as possible.”

Ackbar smiles gratefully. “Thank you, Lord Vader. I thought you would harbor a grudge against us for refusing to heed your warnings. I am glad to be disappointed in that sense.”

Luke motions for Ackbar to follow him. “Come with me. There are plenty of healers among our troops, and they can do something about the injured.”

“Unfortunate that Snape left,” Maul notes. “He could probably brew something to help those who have been made were-beasts.”

I just watch as what’s left of the Rebellion straggles off for some much-needed food, rest, and medical care. I haven’t the heart for an I-told-you-so. They’ve learned their lesson, and it was much harsher than I had wished. All we can do now is patch up those that we can and offer them sanctuary among us.

Palpatine, I’m guessing by now your access to Earth’s Internet is back up. Hear this, and hear it now – you will PAY. Recruiting monsters to back you up will only buy you time. You WILL go down. I’m no Jedi, but I can practically say I’ve foreseen it. You’ve brought about your own doom.

See you on the battlefield, buster. I’ll bring the frying pan…

The Dark Lord Speaks V: Triple Threat

May the Force, Kenya’s God, and any and all major and minor deities have mercy upon us all.

A desperate transmission has arrived in the Control Room at the farmhouse. Kevin has readily agreed to share his room with the Resistance, which is a blessing seeing as he is gifted with computers and has already helped repair system malfunctions. And fortunately, it was he who was manning the communicator when the hysterical message arrived.

“I cannot decipher the language,” I noted. “General Drache, bring Threepio in.”

“No need,” Kevin assures me. “It’s in Tahitian.”

“Tahitian?” I check the coordinates – it is indeed arriving from a Gungan-manned ship stationed near Tahiti and the surrounding islands. I had ordered the ship there as protection in case the Empire went after Kevin before he came home, and no one has yet sent an order for it to return.

“Why are they talking Tahitian?” Kenya asks as Kevin listens to the message.

“Perhaps to ensure that the Empire will not understand the transmission should they intercept it,” I reply. “There are translators for several of Earth’s major languages in the Empire, including French and Spanish, but Tahitian is not among those languages.”

Kevin leans closer to better hear the strange dialect. “Hmmm… don’t know that word… hmmm… ouch… not good…”

“What is it?”

“Jar Jar and the boys caught an Imperial spy,” he replies. “They interrogated him and came up with some pretty bad news.”

“Well, spit it out, Kev,” Kenya advises. “Don’t leave us hanging.”

“Okay, but you ain’t gonna like it.”

“Whether we like it or not,” I counter, “if it can help us, we must know.”

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Dementors, lycanthropes, and Yuuzhan Vong.”

At first I think his answer was in Tahitian or French, as the words are all unfamiliar to me. But Kenya pales visibly, so she must have understood.

“You’re joking,” she breathes.

“Nope,” Kevin replies soberly. “The Emperor got Voldemort to kick in some dementors, and apparently he’s made a deal with the lycanthropes and Vong. Man, he’s messed up, isn’t he?”

“Who or what has the Emperor allied himself with?” I ask.

“You know about the Vong,” Kenya tells me. “You read ‘Heir to the Ring,’ didn’t you?”

I have – and I suddenly recall the scene where the Yuuzhan Vong ambush the protagonists on Vaal. Biotech-using aliens from beyond the Outer Rim… Those creatures exist after all?

“They must,” Kenya replies, still looking slightly faint. “And not only are they impervious to the Force, their ships are equipped with black holes that absorb most incoming fire and can strip an enemy of its shields in a hurry.”

“Lycanthropes – were-things,” Kevin explains. “Werewolves, were-leopards, were-bears, were-rats, were-foxes, were-cats, were-whatever. They either change into animals on the full moon, or they can change shape whenever they want – different authors say different things about that. But if you’re bitten by one, you get lycanthropy – you’re a were-thing. If you live through the attack, of course.”

“And dementors are cloaked creatures that feed on people’s emotions,” Kenya concludes. “When one’s around, you feel cold, fearful, and depressed, like you’ll never be happy again.” She shudders. “And given the chance, they’ll kiss you.”

“Kiss?” I repeat.

“Suck your soul out your mouth,” Kevin adds.

So the Emperor is marshalling more troops to fill out his crippled fleet and thinning ranks. This is not going to be as simple as I thought it would be.

But then, nothing ever is.

Last night, before we had learned of any of this, I accompanied Kenya’s family to the Anne Frank Memorial in Boise. It’s a small park within the much larger Julia Davis Park, consisting of a waterfall, a statue of its namesake, a good number of stone benches, and stone walls on which various quotes are etched, all promoting peace and human rights. One in particular struck me when I read it, and while I do not recall the exact wording, I can paraphrase it:

“All that is required for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing.”

The galaxy did nothing when the Emperor first took power. That mistake cost trillions of lives and brought on an age of darkness whose effects will always be felt.

The Terran Resistance will NOT make that same mistake. We will NOT back down, we will NOT stand by and watch as the Emperor asserts his dominion.

We will continue to fight, regardless of this dire news. We will topple the tyrant or die trying. There is no other recourse.

My thanks – and my heart – go out to all of you who have chosen to aid us. I wish I could repay you somehow.

The Welcoming Committee

At last the time has come. After so much time counting the days, the wait is over.

No, the war’s not over. A long-awaited milestone for our family has arrived – Kevin is home.

Late last night – or early this morning, however you want to put it – we traveled to the Boise Airport to pick up my brother. To say we were excited was an understatement, of course. Mom had been bouncing off the walls for the last three days, Brandon had gotten virtually no sleep the previous night, and I had been next to useless at the library that day (probably the true reason why my boss let me leave work an hour early).

And as if to add icing to the cake, when I entered the airport I got another pleasant surprise.

“Vader!” Ignoring the presence of anyone else – Mom, Brandon, my dad’s family, and the other Terran Resistance leaders who were present – I charged up the escalator and flung my arms around the cyborg.

Vader managed to look highly embarrassed even through the mask. Fett, Grievous, and Dooku fell to the floor laughing. Luke and Yoda just smiled. Maul gave no reaction – but then, he was pretty occupied with Trisha off in a corner. Yuck, get a room.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, excited to the point of tears. “I thought you were fighting the Fleet!”

“The attack was successful,” he replied. “Thanks to our volunteer forces, we have managed to destroy over half the Imperial Fleet and do significant damage to the cloning facilities on Kamino. The Empire is weakened, and we must plan our next move.”

“The airport was the only facility large enough for our forces to land,” Fett added.

No wonder all the flights were delayed – having starfighters clogging up the runway must’ve been wreaking havoc with takeoffs and landings.

“What are you doing here?” asked Luke.

“Kevin’s coming home!” I exclaimed. “His plane was supposed to come in at ten, but it’s been delayed, so he’ll probably come in around midnight.”

Vader’s gaze moved to my father’s clan, who were gaping at him as if he had just stepped off the set of a horror flick. “I take it a truce has been declared between you and your father now that your brother is home?”

“Eh, I can be civil to him in an airport,” I replied.

Mom settled for shaking Vader’s hand. “The house seemed pretty empty without you.”

“That reminds me – now that Kevin’s home, where’s Vader sleeping?” asked Grievous.

“We’ll make room,” Mom assured him.

Brandon held up a large roll of butcher paper. “Someone want to help me unroll this?”

Luke and Fett volunteered, and the colorful banner proudly declaring “Welcome Home Kevin” was unfurled for everyone in the terminal to view. It was no Rembrandt – the letters were crooked, and there were black marks where the cat had walked through the paint – but hopefully the thought would count.

“There he is!” screeched my stepbrother.

A tall figure in a gray-green suit was strolling toward us, a straw hat on his head, his shoulders weighed down with shell leies. I felt myself tearing up a little. Stang, my little brother wasn’t little anymore. Two years do funny things to your memories…

Mom was the first to greet him, and after a tearful hug Kevin removed one of the leies and draped it around her neck. He proceeded to welcome Brandon, Dad, myself, and all the rest of the family similarly – he had more than enough leies to pass out. Even a few airport employees who’d stopped to check out the action received the gifts.

At last he turned to face Vader. “So… this is the Darth, then.”

Vader nodded.

Kevin smiled, and he draped a shell leie over the domed helmet and around the cyborg’s neck. “Good to meet you. Thanks for taking care of Kenya.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “I hope to get to know you, Kevin. Kenya speaks most highly of you.”

After a few more minutes of hugging and talking, Kevin picked up his suitcase. “So… home we go to continue this lovely discussion?”

“Um…” I realized he knew nothing of the Terran Resistance yet.

“Don’t break it to him yet,” advised Dooku. “Give him some time to get over his culture shock.”

Yeah, but I still don’t know how to tell him that we turned his room into the Resistance’s Armory and Control Room…