Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Supervisor Dedra Meero checked her chrono. They would be late on arrival for sure. Syril pretended to read reports, but she knew him too well to be fooled. He was dozing with open eyes. The only person who enjoyed the flight was Captain Piett, who was munching on Imperial travel biscuits. He was already on his third pack.

Being stuck in Lambda-class Shuttle with notorious, unhinged pirate hunter was pure torture. Dedra noticed ice-cold animosity simmering beneath the naval gentleman’s mask from Captain Needa directed at Firmus Piett. Piett, on the other hand, was blissfully oblivious and took every opportunity to subtly clash with Needa. Captain Needa looked too delighted for Dedra’s taste, when he coldly informed her that his ISD was obliged to patrol the newly acquired Imperial planetary system and the only transport available was the Lambda shuttle.

“You know, children. It was the only way to get to Coruscant after my court-martial,” Piett said, tearing into the fourth pack with delight. Dedra wondered how such a small man could eat so much.

“You blew the neutral port to stardust during your shore leave, claiming it was a hub for Rebel activity and spice smuggling operations. The number of casualties and the property destruction were staggering,” Dedra sighed. She and Syril had been sent all the way from Coruscant to that hellhole to fish Piett up after the planetary governor wanted to hang him. Publicly ofcourse. Instead, after Piett delivered the evidence it was the governor who swung. Publicly. After Imperial cavalry rescued Captain Piett at the last minute before his execution.

Supervisor Meero and Lieutenant Karn were sent by Major Partagaz as ISB observers during the operation. The ISD Avenger delivered swift Imperial justice to Ralltiir with quick trials, followed by the subsequent release of the Imperial Naval Officer who caused a whole diplomatic uproar and facilitated an Imperial occupation.

“That. I just blew one ship up after I raided its data banks for intel. You know, GR-75 medium transport should not explode in such a manner as to cause a chain reaction that took down an orbital station,” Piett defended himself, biting into biscuit.

“You even threw havoc on the planet’s surface before contacting Imperial authorities about the Rebel activity on Ralltiir,” Syril Karn interjected.

“It was completely unintentional. It simply happened,” Piett attempted to look innocent, which, with his bland face almost worked, but both ISB officers knew better.

“After all that including the devastation of the local economy, the mass arrests, executions, we still don't know what, by seven goddesses, you did on Ralltiir,” Syril finally voiced what was nagging him, and presumably Dedra too.

“How is dating going?” Piett asked, deflecting with a very personal question.

“Fraternization rules are overlooked in our case, if you mean that,” Dedra replied stiffly. There was no point in pretending or even trying to cover up her relationship with Syril. The petite bastard knew anyway. Only thing they could do was to hold on to their dignity.

“I made sure of it. Pulled some strings for you. You know, some ISB big heads owe me a favor or two or three,” Piett said, stretching his legs as he sipped from his caf mug and rummaged through his pockets for an e-cig. The real deal was forbbiden in a closed environment, and surprisingly to both ISB officers, Piett respected the rule.

“Should I thank you for it?” Dedra sighed.

“Of course you should. Or rather, Syril should,” Piett winked seductively at Karn, who internally shuddered.

“I’m not—no, I don’t..,” Karn stammered. Piett and his flirting could be compared to mynock slime dripping from an overfilled garbage bin.

“Dear lieutenant, you are a dish, but Supervisor is a very possessive lady. I am not inclined to get a hole between my eyes from her blaster,” Piett added, winking at him again.

“Captain, back to the original question. What were you really doing on Ralltiir?” Dedra decided to steer their conversation back to safer waters.

“I was on shore leave. You know, I wanted to relax in Cambrielle. The capital of Ralltiir offers many intellectual delights,” Piett replied with a smile.

Truth was, he was there to chase after a unique kind of spice, but things got complicated when the dealer decided to rat him out to the local Hutt cartel. Problems quickly piled up. The Hutt recognized him immediately from the good old Axxilan Antipirate days and decided to do the logical thing. To kill him. It spiralled to absurd levels during his daring escape and discovery of Rebels’ connection to Hutt’s arms dealing. The rest was a blur of intel hunting and property destruction. He was pissed off. Sure, he got the Rebel nes,t but not the spice he wanted. He got his usual, not the Ralltiir one he craved for. Ruined Life Day festivities that were supposed to be filled with utter debauchery.

“You are not the type of man who is fond of intellectual delights aside from local brothels especially when you are on shore leave,” Dedra said chillingly.

“I don't deny it. I am a man of culture, Supervisor. However I visited Cambriele Exploration Auditorium in between,” Piett replied, looking hurt by her dismissal of his more intellectual pursuits. There was no need to deny it. It was, in a way safer, than explaining to her his ruined spice deal, which would undoubtedly land him in court martial again.

“I knew it!” Dedra exclaimed.

“Something went wrong in the brothel? Or you overheard some patrons being Rebel sympathizers?” Syril asked, his ISB investigator’s instincts kicking in.

“Aye. Aye. Typical concerned sailor on shore leave deciding to go vigilante to stop despicable anti-regime elements with too much enthusiasm,” Piett gave him a mocking salute.

“You are impossible, Captain,” Dedra rolled her eyes.

“You both love me because of that, children,” Piett said with a smile that spread across his face in a way that was very unsettling.

Suddenly, the shuttle shook, and the hum of the hyperspace engine died. Piett was on his feet, darting toward the cockpit, before Dedra or Syril could react.

“Detainer CC-2200 pulled us out. I hate tractor beams if they are not from my ISD,” Piett murmured.

“What? Why did the Imperial Navy pull us out …” Syril began, but Piett cut him off.

“Their IFF transmission is not Imperial. Confirm it, Ensing!” Piett barked at the pilot. The second pilot frantically tried to put more power into the engines in a futile atempt to break free from the tractor beam.

“Not Imperial, sir,” Ensing checked the screen and Dedra saw pure dread on his face.

“The question is how those rebel terrorists got possession of Detainer CC-2200. Anyway, cut the engines or we will explode before we can solve this little mystery along with the additional one who ratted our course,” Piett said, his pale face devoid of any emotions, his tone chillingly calm as it filled the cockpit.

“They are having us served,” Syril muttered, feeling his palms sweating inside his gloves. He couldn't show his distress. He was an ISB officer, but knowing what Rebels or pirates did to ISB personnel did little to quell the rising terror in his chest.

“They were waiting for us,” Dedra said grimly, watching Piett, who was glued to the console wiping the ship's databases clean. Once he finished,he took out his cylinders and rank bar, placed them on the ground, and pulled out his service blaster, frying them with a quick shot. Ignoring startled faces of ISB officers, he turned towards the pilots.

“Sending a signal and not even bothering to put heavier code on it. So sure of yourself,” Piett sounded disgusted,holstering his blaster. There was no point in killing those traitors now, but it was definitely on the menu. The chances of escape were low while caught in the gravity pull of the Detainer and its in the tractor beam. Patience was a virtue and Piett wasn't a virtuous man when it came to the delight of the flesh. When hunting started, he was more religious than the Bendu monk.

“Two ISB officers and a Captain of the Executor, who threw havoc on Ralltiir, disrupting the commerce across the whole sector causing the neutral system to be occupied by the Empire,”the Ensign spat out, pointing his gun at Piett and the other pilot kept his weapon trained on ISB officers.

“Juicy prize. I am flattered,” Piett snorted, ignoring Dedra and Syril. This was about survival and, if possible, taking that damn CC-2200. Dedra, to her credit, looked appropriately furious, while Syril was clearly calculating their meager chances. Piett felt almost pity for them.

“Drop your weapons, and you still have a chance,” Dedra ordered in her sharpest, most commanding ISB officer tone.

Meanwhile, Piett discreetly coughed. As he covered his mouth, he let an universal microtool slip from the hem of his glove to his mouth. The sharp point stuck uncomfortably under his tongue, safely lodged there. It hurt like hell, but no pain no gain. Piett was not an amateur but hoped the Rebels were.

“First time?” Piett murmured, leaning casually against the wall.

“You are a dead men walking, Imps” the Ensign sneered, setting his blaster on stun and firing. Piett fell to the ground. The stun shot didn't knock him out cold, but he pretended it had, sliding down the wall feigning unconsciousness. Syril and Dedra weren’t so lucky—the stun shots hit them hard, and they collapsed onto the floor.

The shuttle docked in the CC-2200 hangar bay, and their fates seemed sealed. The Rebel guards dragged them through the corridors to the interrogation room. The ISB officers and the naval captain ended up bound and seated in cold metal chairs.
When Dedra groaned, Piett decided it was time to open his eyes. He blinked several times and discreetly squirmed against the restraints, testing the binding. His half-lidded eyes darted around the room, subtly taking stock of their surroundings: the hidden control panel next to the door, the ventilation mesh above Dedra’s head, the Pantoran Rebel officer flanked by two guards glaring at them. Judging by the insignia on her uniform, she was a lieutenant. Indeed the Rebels were very sure of themselves.

Beside him, Dedra and Syril stirred, exchanging uneasy glances, that quickly turned into alarmed expressions, when Piett yawned theatrically next to them.

“Captain Firmus Piett, welcome aboard Freedom’s Hope,” Lieutenant Taylana spat, knowing exactly who was in front of her. Piett had earned a reputation in the D'Astan sector for hunting anyone the imperial regime deemed unsavory. Taylana lost many friends during his raids and arrests. Finally, she had him tied up at her mercy. If the prisoner exchange went wrong, it was time to make him pay for everything.

The ISB officers would be interrogated, and depending on the intel they provided, they would either meet a swift end for their war crimes or rot in an Alliance holding facility, forgotten, like the rest of the captured Imperials.

“You are the Captain of the SSD Executor. Vader’s operative. Do you know what kind of leverage you give us?” Taylana pointed her finger at Piett. He simply looked at her with his usual blank expression, the same one he used whenever Admiral Ozzel was dressing him down.

“Leverage? On his lordship? Good plan,” Piett replied, ignoring the groan from Syril. Karn, it seemed, was destined to be an excellent distraction. Dedra shot Piett with a venomous look. Captain Piett was insufferable, even in the gravest situations, a fact that drove Dedra furious.

“If he wants his priced captain back, he is going to come along with our terms,” Taylana said. She knew Piett’s role was far more significant than just being skipper of the Executor. The man was like a shadow around Vader. Whenever something happened in the Outer rim that loosely connected to the Dark Lord, Piett was there. The recent incident on Ralltiir spoke volumes about his sinister importance.

“Will he? There is no need to show me personally. Supervisor Meero and lieutenant Karn were posted as my escort. Show them to his lordship and try to talk on your terms. I will be waiting, ” Piett said and his thin lips curled into a very unsettling smile. He felt a flicker of satisfaction when the Pantoran woman ordered guards to take ISB officers with her, leaving Piett in the interrogation cell.

Dedra’s mind raced as she tried to think of ways to escape the mess they were stuck in. Nothing would work. Every scenario ended the same way, with them dead. How could Piett look so composed? It was clear the Rebels would skin him alive if his lordship refused the proposal and he would. It was madness. The guards pushed them through the ship’s corridor. The Imperial insignia had been replaced by the Rebel Alliance’s despicable crest. They didn't bother to blindfold them, after all they assumed two ISB officers were already familiar with the ship design. The murderous glares they received from the crew were unnerving. The ISB was universally hated by friends and foes alike. But there was one thing hated and feared more than the ISB: the Dark Lord himself. The guards marched them onto the bridge. The Rebel captain, a human, surprisingly one of the few they had encountered during their walk gave them yet another perfect look of contempt. But the worst was yet to come. The comms officer ran toward the captain, and from the expression on her face, Dedra knew that whoever had hailed the ship, it wasn’t good news.

“We are hailed. They know our position. The Executor,” it was out.

Dedra thought she was dreaming, but wasn’t sure if it was a good dream or a nightmare. So far, it felt like a nightmare. The flickering hologram of Lord Vader appeared above transmiter.

“You have the Executor’s Captain and two ISB officers. I want them back,” the voice boomed through the bridge. Rebel or Imperial, all of them paled.

“He wants us,” Syril whispered to Dedra, unsure if that was good or bad.

“The Empire has several Alliance members in custody…” the Rebel captain didn’t manage to finish. His hand flew to his neck. His eyes bulged, and the dreadful sound of choking filled the room.

“You misunderstood. You made a grave mistake,"Lord Vader said as the bridge lights flickered. He knew the Life Day gift had been opened. “You will beg me to take them back. Contact me in eight hours,” With that transmission was cut. His Captain was no doubt on the loose.

“Take them back to the holding cell,” the Rebel captain rasped.

Dedra and Syril were roughly pushed toward the blast door, which slid open to reveal the Pantoran lieutenant strolling past them. The emergency lights were flashing around them. Suddenly, all lights flickered and went out for several seconds before the secondary power source kicked in.

“Move,” one of the guards barked, shoving Dedra forward. What she overheard from passing troopers made her stomach clench.

“They found them practically torn apart. They said he’s just a harmless Imp, but now he’s somewhere on our ship,” one voice whispered.

The tone was hushed, and Dedra strained to catch more, but it was impossible as they were rushed through the corridors to the brig. Her eyes went wide when a hover stretcher moved past them, carrying two bodies in body bags. Blood splatters on a ruined console and scorched blaster marks on the walls painted a grim picture of what had happened. Piett got out.The troopers shoved them roughly into their cell.

“Piett,” Dedra murmured as she sat down on a narrow cot.

“How did he get out of custody?” Syril sat next to her, just as puzzled as she was. What little was available to them from Piett’s dossier described him as a specialist in asymmetric warfare, having body modification, and extremely dangerous operative.

“You can ask him if we get the opportunity,” Dedra replied. She wondered what Captain Piett would do now. He was trapped on the ship like they were. Everything was against him. He would be caught. There was no doubt about that. The hours streched painfully slowly, leaving them in uncertainity. Then the door to their cell cracked open, revealing Captain Piett. His uniform was far from spotless. Blood, grime and occasional scorched marks bore a witness to hours signs of fighting and crawling through the bowels of the ship.

“Hello, children. Did you miss me?” He said, flashing them a huge grin filled with sharp, artificial white teeth.

“You! How?” Dedra stammered, her eyes wide.

“You are covered in blood,” Syril muttered, certain he had lost all his reputation points in Piett’s tabs, if he had any reputation to begin with.

“Come now, don't look so horrified. I am one rescuing you, after all,” Piett tossed them blasters he confiscated along the way.

“How did you get them?” Syril asked, checking the power pack and almost missed the belt with additional packs flying in his direction.

“What do you think? By looting corpses, like always. Sorry if those don’t meet the Imperial standard your posh ISB ass is used to,” Piett snorted and motioned with his blaster muzzle for them to move.

“What..what are you doing?” Dedra asked as she darted after Piett and Syril into the smoke filled corridor, nearly tripping over several mauled corpses.

“Securing the ship. And by securing, I mean killing every last of these Rebel pests,” Piett sharply turned to face her. “ You are trained to obey the orders, Supervisor. Obey, and you will live. Hesitate, and you will be another corpse. Follow me. I will escort you to the secondary bridge. From there, you will have control over the ship while I finish … cleaning.”

“Are you sure we can get there without facing any resistance?” Dedra asked, her fingers gripping the blaster so tightly it hurt. She had some basic training, but she was more of a paper-pusher than an operative. She knew it, and so did Syril, who at least had some experience with violence back when he worked for the corpo. Still, they both were painfully inexperienced and would be more of a hindrance than a help if a fight broke out.

“I hope we won't. I made sure of it. Now follow me, children,” Piett replied, turning on his heell. Dedra and Syril followed Piett down the corridors. The feeling of unease turned into pure terror as they moved through the carnage.The walls were streaked with blood, the floor was littered with remains of the Rebel crew. Some bodies were intact, their faces frozen in expression of terror. Others shredded beyond recognition.

“Move!” Piett barked when they started to slow down. He basically was pushing them at the end. The emergency lights were flickering erratically, revealing more horrors on their way. The blaster fire marks on the walls, loose cables hanging down with occasional blue sparks, and scorched walls bearing signs of explosions. The secondary bridge was abandoned. The Rebels stationed there were scattered across the floor dead. They hadn’t been shot but dispatched in hand-to-hand combat, Dedra realized, and the thought left her feeling strangely illogical. Piett closed the blast door behind them.

“You have basic training in ship operations. I know this is different, but what I need you to do is lock down the decks in the order I com you. I don’t want escapees before I’m finished. I’ve already cut the life support on several decks to cull their numbers. I need to get to the main bridge to ensure the ship is ours,” Piett explained, pointing out the monitors and control panels he needed them to operate.

“How? Where did you learn this?” Syril asked. He was either feeling more daring or had simply stopped caring about his reputation in Piett’s eyes.

“You both read my dossier. You have an idea. I was used to board the ships during my days in Axxilan Antipirate. Sometimes, I even got hired as a hand on a pirate slaver ship when there was a risk of them killing the cargo. To make sure those unfortunates were released unharmed. As for the crew, I got creative. Why fill already overcrowded prisons with more necks to feed?“ Piett replied as he methodically stuffed his backpack with grenades. He slung an emergency respirator around his neck.

“You are telling me you were used to murder and plunder?” Dedra asked, narrowing her eyes. She was aware of Piett’s covert missions, but all she knew was that they existed. The only records available were summaries of ship names and the fulfilled objectives,never the details.

“Dedra, now I am hurt. I am a good guy, and if some credits or small amounts of spice and booze disappered, who cares?” Piett gave her an innocent look.

“Because aside from being a murderous prick, you are also a junkie and an alcoholic who fucks in every port?” Dedra shot back. She wasn’t shocked. Somehow, she’d always expected Piett to be of the same ilk as the terrorists they hunted; the only difference was that he wore an Imperial uniform. For now.

“I cut back on some of it,” Piett replied casually. “I crawled through the vents and maintenance tunnels, picking them off one by one and sending them in front of the afterlife deity of their choice. It wasn't fast, and being one tiny naval captain against a fully crewed CC-2200 required a bit of creativity” he added, sounding almost hurt, as he checked the life support system. He disabled it on most parts of the ship, effectively killing those unfortunates sealed on those decks. Which, he noted, was the majority of the crew. The life signs were sparse and quickly fading except the main bridge; those bastards had sealed themselves in and were desperately trying to regain control of the ship’s system.

“I wonder why,” Syril muttered, sighing as he picked up a small empty envelope that had been used for spice from the console.

“I needed a boost. Besides, I am highly motivated to get to my boyfriend for Life Day,” Piett replied and tossed the backpack over his shoulders.

“YOUR BOYFRIEND?” Dedra exclaimed. After all she’d seen and endured, she didn’t think anything could shock her anymore. And yet, here she was, staring at Piett with her mouth open in utter disbelief.

“What? I am gay. Do you have a problem with that?” Piett bristled.

“No, I am feeling safer knowing that I am not the target of your sleazy amorous attempts!” Dedra spat out. She had many issues with Captain Piett, but him being gay was definitely not one of them.

“You're not boyfriend material. You practically live in brothels during your shore leave. You are insufferable. Reckless. And now this…you are…” Syril was babbling nervously. He had known Piett was into lads, not ladies, ever since he and Dedra had attempted to arrest him in the brothel back on Coruscant. Piett’s attempts of flirting had made Syril nearly jump out of his skin. The man was a disaster.

“My man is a very understanding and gentle soul, who loves me undonditionally. I promised him I'd be at home for Life Day,” Piett said sheepishly. He took his oath very seriously. His man deserved a lovely Life Day filled with all the silly traditions they agreed on.

“I can tell. He has to deal with you being an unhinged one-man army on steroids, with a set of venereal diseases that would be found in entire battalion, all while looking like typical bland-faced career officer whose competence is just being in the right place at the right time” Syril muttered, trying not to think about what kind of man would willingly date Piett. Piett and his strange missions. Piett and his utter contempt for social norms and laws. Piett, who had dragged them into his schemes, forcing Major Partagaz to make Dedra and himself Piett’s ISB liaison officers.

“Syril. I will regret shooting you, but you’re not giving me a choice,” Piett said, his eyes hardening as he raised his blaster. He hated being mocked. Usually, Piett could control himself, letting most insults slide. But high on spice and adrenaline from all the things he had done so far aboard the Detainer, his emotions were blurred and volatile.

“The Rebel captain was contacted by Lord Vader, not the other way around. His lordship knows we are here. Captured. He told them. They would beg him to board this ship,” Dedra interjected, desperate to stop Piett from shooting Syril.

“WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME SOONER?!?” Piett roared.

Dedra took several steps back. Piett, covered in blood and grime, was a terrifying sight on his own. But very angry Piett was demonic.
“When?! Look, you are clearly used to swimming in rivers of blood! I and Syril are paper-pushers! You led us through the slaughterhouse! And now you want to shoot Syril!” Dedra’s voice sounded hysterical, even to her own ears. If someone asked her to choose between being locked in a room with a very angry Piett or a hungry rancor, she would take her chances with the rancor.

“Alright. You have a point, child,” Piett said, holstering his blaster and giving Syril a look, that made him scutte behind the console.

“I am sorry, Captain. All good?” Syril asked nervously. He knew nothing was good. He just needed to know whether he’d be shot by an angry maniac on spice or by the sane Rebel terrorists.

“Whatever. Just don’t push my nerves ever again!” Piett snapped, before turning to Dedra with a wary look. “His lordship knew we would be captured and when. Now, what did he tell those bastards?”

“He told them they have eight hours before he would contact them again, expecting them to surrender and return,” Dedra replied. Her sharp brain suddenly caught onto what Piett said. Lord Vader knew they would be caught. He knew the Rebel ship’s calling frequency. To his credit, even terrified out of his mind, Syril realized it too.

“It … it was planned,” Syril said, his voice shaky as dizziness washed over him. It was meant to kill them. To use them as a bait to lure the Rebels out. They were all cannon fodder. There was no difference between them and those corpses in the corridors.

“The Detainer CC-2200 in the wrong hands could cause terrible losses for the Empire,” Dedra needed to sit down and practically collapsed into the chair next to the main console.

“Life Day. It is all about Life Day,” Piett murmured. His transfer from his bellowed Accuser to Executor had been a source of tension and spats between him and Vader. Piett liked his independent command. He liked his black op missions. The Executor was a ship. He was buried under paperwork. Admiral Kendal Ozzel gave it to him hard for his Outer Rim origin and, in Ozzel’s view, Piett’s unremarkable naval career. It was, in a way, ironic that Ozzel’s clearance was so low and he had no idea who Piett really was. Otherwise, even such a pompous dickhead would think twice before belittling him during a staff meeting. Vader, on the other hand, sensed Piett’s brooding and unhappiness, which could, in some way, become very dangerous. The Dark Lord responded in typical Vader fashion, by either trying to kill him in a convoluted and complicated way, or by giving him a “necessary challenge” to stretch his body and mind, refocusing him on duty. Piett intended to ask that bastard about it someday, after a good round of mattress polka.

“Captain?” Syril’s voice broke Piett’s train of thought. He felt surreal. Instead of panic or anger, all that seemed to bother Piett was Life Day.

“We have one hour, more or less ,” Piett checked the chrono on the wall. He knew Vader would make his second contact with the Detainer soon. He had to be on the bridge by then. If not, the Executor would pulverize them into stardust.
Piett was not naive about Vader. They were close but that closeness didn't prevent Vader from killing him if necessary. Piett admitted to himself, he liked it that way. Vader had once coldly informed him of the well-known rule: “Don’t stick it in crazy.” But with Piett, Vader made a personal exception. The lovemaking after that particular “discussion” had been spectacular.

“Before what?” Dedra felt cold sweat running down her spine.

“Before we all die, children,” Piett adjusted the straps of his backpack.

“I …” Syril stammered. He had never felt so hopeless in his life. He was going to die here. Running through the corridors filled with carnage earlier had left him viscerally sick, barely able to stop himself from vomiting. How Dedra had managed to stay composed was beyond him. Perhaps that was why he loved her so much. She was strong where he faltered.

“You both will sit here. Stay alive. Monitor the ship systems. Prevent any boogies from getting under my skin. This is your mission. Mine is to make it to the bridge in time. Can you do it, officers?” Piett’s tone made it clear it wasn’t a question—it was an order.

“Yes, sir!” Dedra said sharply. What could they lose? Her heart was beating fast in her chest. She was ISB Supervisor. She had to be strong.

“Yes,” Syril nodded, pale, but moved behind the console.

“Good. Behave and lock yourself in, children,” Piett darted out of the secondary bridge into the smoky corridor, leaving Dedra and Syril behind.

It was race against time. The Rebels were smart and had barricaded themselves well on the bridge. Piett didn’t blame them. The sounds of their comrades being picked off one by one echoed through the corridors,screams, gibberish over comlinks, blaster fire, and the wet crunch of flesh and bone. It was time for the final push. Piett briefly toyed with the idea of contacting the bridge to give them a chance to surrender, but in their place he would not surrender either. Instead, he would use the time to get the intruder killed. With elevators disabled due power shortage from Piett's sabotage it took him longer than he expected to reach the desired service hatch. The occasional survivor didn't help either.

“Captain?” It was Dedra in his comlink.

“Yes?” He replied, having just shot dead the Pantoran lieutenant, who had interrogated them. She led a fine party, hoping to catch him, but instead, he had caught them. They scored themselves. The blaster burn on his tight was annoying and slowed him down, but wasn't enough to stop him.

“I have visuals from the bridge,” Dedra was proud of herself, “they regrouped. There are twenty of them. The bridge personnel and some soldiers. They fortified the entrances and set up barricades and turret.”

“All for one man. I feel finally appreciated. Dedra, patch it to the screen Delta-9-Alpha-34,” Piett said as he checked the screen,patching his tight with bacta bandage at the same time. He sniffed the spice from another envelope. The kick was potent. Warming his muscles. Making him crave for speed and thrill that needed to be satisfied. The pain was gone. The fear was gone. The Rebels made good fortifications except for one thing. They expected an attack coming from the blast door. The question was why they didn't disable surveillance on the bridge. It could be a trap or a grave mistake.

“Sir…will you need our help?” Dedra asked.She sounded unsure. It seemed impossible for one man to reach the bridge in time.

“You are already helping, child,” Piett replied, hissing slightly as he tightened the bandage.

“Are you hurt?” Dedra asked, alarmed. Piett could not blame her. He’d feel the same if he weren’t flying high on spice.

“Shot. Nothing too serious. I've already patched things as much as I could,” he informed her, working on the opening of the service shaft that would bring him directly above the bridge. The hatch and its safety mechanisms had to be disabled.

“Sir…are you sure you …don't need assistence?” Her voice trembled slightly. Piett knew if he asked her to come, she would, but it was vital to have control over the ship from the secondary bridge.

“Kiss from Syril would make it all better,” Piett replied cheerfully. If he made it, he would demand to stare at the ceiling with his feet up for at least a week. The hatch opened, and stale air filled his nostrils.

“Are you high?” Dedra asked in disbelief.

“Of course he is,” Syril’s nervous voice added.

“Syril, if we make it you will give me a proper kiss. Tongues and all,” Piett said in his usual flirtatious manner.

“FORGET IT!” Both Syril and Sedra screamed in unisono.

“Alright, alright. Twenty minutes. If I do not call you back, I am dead. Piett out.” Piett put on his respirator. He pushed his backpack inside and crawled into a tight maintenance shaft. He could hear the Rebels below.

“Captain Talos, we are trying to regain control of the ship system but everything is rerouted to the secondary bridge. Power is out in the crucial sections. Life support is down on almost all decks. The life-form detection system will be online in thirty seconds,” the twi'lek second in command’s report was as grim as expected.

Piett slowly pulled several flash grenades from his backpack and slowly worked on the ventilation mesh. It was just large enough for him to squeeze through if he left his weapons behind.

“There are living forms only in two places aboard, Captain” the Rebel officer said in a tight voice.

“Where?” Captain's voice was definitely unprofessional, in Piett's opinion. He was too emotional and his mistakes cost him dearly.

“The secondary bridge. Two life forms. Here…twenty…one. Kriff!” The officer screamed.

Piett pushed the mesh aside and tossed four flash grenades inside. The blinding explosion without damaging the bridge but leaving the beings inside desoriented. Piett hated slaughter but such was life and he made sure there were just four living beings left on the display. He shot the Rebel captain in his thighs and arms rendering him into a moaning mess on the command chair.

“Captain Talos, am I right? I am sorry for shooting you but I am in hurry to tie you up. I definitely do not want surprises. I had my share already. I am shot. Beaten. Tired. Maybe hungry,” Piett said, aware that spice was talking for him. He wasn't usually this talkative.

“You are not a typical naval officer, Captain Piett. What are you?” Talos asked, staring at the petite imperial who was babbling like an idiot. But this idiot took over his ship. Killed his crew.

“It is not important who I am, rather what I represent. I represent His Imperial majesty's Navy. Your lot stole an imperial ship and used it in terrorist activities. You kidnapped two extraordinary ISB officers and me. But that wasn't your biggest mistake,” Piett walked to the com station. The call should come soon. At least, he hoped so.

“What?” Talos asked, looking at him with disbelief. This man was nuts.

“You should listen to Lord Vader,” Piett replied, pressing a button. A huge holo image of Lord Vader appeared.

“My lord. The Detainer is fully under my control and ready to be boarded. The coordinates would be sent shortly,” Piett’s voice was bland devoid of any emotions.

“Survivors?” Vader felt turmoil in Piett’s mind. The spice indulged haze, but also something under it. Satisfaction.

“ISB officers and this sorry excuse of a commander ready to be interrogated,” Piett replied.

“Are you telling me that you eliminated the whole crew?” Vader felt a surge of pride and a fierce need to have Piett by his side.

“I told you so, my lord. It appears that I will manage to be at home for Life Day despite all obstacles,” Piett’s lips curled in a slight smile. He sent the coordinates.

“Prepare for the extraction, Captain,” Vader ended the call.

Piett sighed and tapped his comlink.”Children?”

“Captain?” Dedra replied, her voice carrying all the questions she wanted to ask.

“How about giving me a huge hug?” Piett replied smugly, ignoring the pitiful moans behind him.

“What was that?” Dedra’s voice sounded alarmed.

“Captain Talos who is all too keen to be delivered to ISB loving hands. We will be picked up approximately in ten minutes. We are lucky that my ship is in the sector,” Piett informed her.

“What a coincidence,” Dedra murmured.

“Indeed. Come to the bridge. Try not to vomit. I got carried slightly with Pantoran and her party,” Piett put his comlink down and walked to the window. It was always a sight when Executor came out of the hyperspace. That was usually the last beautiful thing scum ever saw before turbolasers pulverized them to the star dust. He walked to the door and after some fumbling he managed to open it, revealing two very pale ISB officers.

“Feel free to hug me, children,” Piett said with a huge smile.

“You smell, Captain. I would rather refrain from any personal contact,” Dedra replied coldly, though she felt an irrational urge to hug the man.

“Lieutenant Karn? I nearly died when keeping you safe. Come on. Give me a hug or kiss or both,” Piett winked at Karn.

Syril thought that bland-faced Piett with his tired expression was unsettling in some strange way. But smiling and winking Piett? That was the next level of nightmare, especially considering what the man had been doing mere hours ago while stuffed with spice. That man was dangerous. Unpredictable. Karn took a deep breath. He walked briskly toward Piett. He bent to give him a quick peck on his cheek.

“That will do,” Piett purred and gestured toward the window. “My ship, darlings. All we need to do is to wait, unless his lordship decides to blow this miserable crewless wreck to pieces. I would not blame him. But it would ruin my Life Day.”

“Your boyfriend will be sad or celebrating. Hard to tell with you, Captain Piett,” Dedra sighed, stepping closer to Syril. It was unprofessional, but she needed to be held. Syril took the hint, slipping his hand around her waist pulling her closer to his body.

“My boyfriend. I miss him,” Piett said softly, and truly meant it.

Chapter Text

Commander Jir was used to receiving strange orders from his Lordship, but this was too much even for the hardened veteran. As soon as they landed, he and a squad of stormtroopers were tasked with arranging Life Day decorations for Lord Vader’s inner chambers in his palace. The trees were decorated. The garlands were hung. The orbs were in their places.

“I want it more festive, Commander. Do not fail me!” Vader pointed his finger at Commander Jir, who wondered what could have driven his lordship to give such an order. The answer presented itself when he was tasked with picking Captain Piett from the spaceport. Jir held a grudge against Piett, who was everything that the austere Jir hated. However Lord Vader had a strange taste and if Piett was what his lordship wanted for a boyfriend, Jir respected it. Piett hawkishly observed two cadets loading his trunk into a waiting speeder.

“Captain Piett, his lordship is waiting and if I may, it would be very unwise to let him wait,” Jir said instead of offering obligatory greetings. Piett nodded and let himself be ushered into the passenger seat while Jir sat behind the controls.

“Any complaints should be directed to Admiral Ozzel, who almost canceled my shore leave,” Piett said as they ascended into Coruscant’s heavy air traffic.

“It is strange that you haven't murdered him yet,” Jir said bluntly. His frankness was one of the traits that had paved his way to becoming lord Vader’s adjutant.

“I was ordered not to do so,” Piett replied weakly. Vader had told him to be patient and wait, while systematically undermining Ozzel’s authority.

“I hope you are not under indulgence of your usual mix and visit med bay before departure,” Jir decided to take a savage jab at Captain Piett.

“Dear Commander, I am a better man than I was during the last Life Day. I've undergone some personal growth in order to become a more responsible partner,” Piett chuckled. He was clean in every sense of that word.

“I wonder what he sees in you, seriously. You are petite, with all those wiry muscles, rat-like face and balding,” Jir jabbed mercilessly, always ready to take a shot at Piett.

“I am not balding,” Piett squeaked indignantly.

“You know your temples are slightly receding,” Jir realized he found the weak spot in Captain’s Piett armor and was delighted to exploit it to the fullest. He could feel Piett’s glare burning into the back of his head. The sweet taste of victory should be savored.

“We should not let his lordship to wait,” Piett said stiffly.

“Your officer’s cap hides it, do not worry,” Jir quipped mercilessly, relishing the opportunity to taunt the man who had given his team nightmares ever since he became a fixture in Lord Vader’s personal life.

“Jir, my darling Commander. I never thought you would be interested in my appearance. Should my partner fear the competition?” Piett’s voice was venomously sweet.

“Captain, I would never dare to think about a man who is in a serious and one-sided monogamous relationship,” Jir subtly reminded the promiscuous sailor that he knew about his mishaps.

“Old habits die hard. Perhaps I should recommend some establishment which would help you loosen up a bit,” Piett offered.

“No, thank you. I would rather die with body count that can be counted on one hand, not one resembling list of ISD crew. I know a lot about fidelity. I can teach you, Captain,” Jir skilfully navigated the speeder through the traffic.

“Experience my dear Commander, and skills are what his lordship values on every battlefield. Love is the most dangerous war, but what do you know about it with your lack of skill and expereince,” Piett made sure to hit home.

“I am not one who…” Jir began but was quickly cut off by Piett.

“..who single-handedly took down the entire crew of Detainer, while babysitting two ISB paper-pushers. You still have so much to learn and prove,” Piett purred like a satisfied Loth Cat.

“True, but I also didn't have 30 men having their way with me during a weekend. Which is something I definitely don't want to learn and prove,” Jir countered. He had heard this from a very discreet source, who served with Piett in Axxilan Antipirate fleet. According to them Piett had been rather wild during his younger days.

“I hate you, Jir. I truly do,” Piett replied, knowing when the fight was over.

“The feelings are mutual, Captain,” Jir replied coolly as he pulled the speeder down for a landing at the higher levels of Vader’s palace. Commander Jir savored the rare victory over witty Axxilan. The truth was if there was ever a fight, he would still want Piett to be at his side. No matter how rotten the man was, he knew how to fight and win.

“Are we on time?” Piett asked and a worry creeped into his voice.

“We are. And Captain, my men and I shed blood while making all those decorations inside, so pay us some respect,” Jir said, deciding to make Piett slightly nervous with uncertainty about what awaited him inside. Piett didn't reply and allowed himself to be escorted by Jir into the inner parts of the Palace, where Vader’s private chambers were located.

“Your trunk will be in your room. I presume no one wants to know what is inside,” Jir infomed Piett who glared at him.

“I will give you my used boxers to sniff. I have one with a Loth cat print, you make like,” Piett decided to start a new round of verbal sparring.

“Loth Cat print? That is very adult,” Jir muttered.

“I shop in the boys' section. Fine material and prints for a very reasonable price and I find them cute,” Piett chuckled.

“Stingy. Just what I should expect from Axxilan. We are here. For kriff sake Captain behave, or not depending on what his mood is,” Jir was aware how fragile their lives were in service to his lordship.

“I am not whore to be pimped,” Piett replied, though he knew exactly what Commander Jir ment.

“True. You are doing it for free,” Jir shot back with an uneasy smile. The doors opened, revealing the Life Day overdecoration. It was completely over the top. It was the most beautiful thing Piett had ever seen in his life during Life Day.

“He is expecting you. I suggest you don't keep him waiting,” Jir said.

“Commander, remind me to hire you, when I redecorate my quarters,” Piett breathed out.

“Only if I get to call you Admiral Piett. Now go,” Jir gently pushed him through the door which closed behind Captain Piett, locking him in opulent Life Day themed rooms. Piett walked through the place amazed. The door to his bedroom opened, revealing the room had also been redecorated to fit the Life Day mood. The sound of the respirator startled him from his overwhelmed state.

“How do you like it, Firmus?” Vader asked. He fulfilled his promise to celebrate Life Day with Piett and going slightly over the top seemed appropriate.

“My lord, I am at home for Life Day,” Piett darted forward and practically jumped into Vader’s arms. All was forgiven. The set up that put him and ISB officers in mortal danger. The suffocating life of being the flagship skipper. The buffoon of Admiral, who was making his life even hellish. Vader cared for him to the absurd point of forcing Commander Jir to turn the place into Life Day delight.

“Yes you are. Did you enjoy my preliminary gift?” Vader asked, waiting for Piett’s angry outburst which never came.

“You always know how to keep me on my toes and balanced. If I weren't enough, I would die there. I am conditioned for war. My body modification. My mind. Everything that I am needs to get out from time to time, especially when I am locked up in a fancy prison of being skipper of your flagship” Piett admitted. The painful truth had gone unsaid for months and had led to many furious spats with Vader. And afterward, Piett had always wondered why Vader hadn’t ended him on the spot.

“Knowing you. Also you were high as a kite when you rushed through that ship,” Vader said as he gently placed Piett on the bed.

“I need to be more insane than usual,” Piett admitted. “After the mess on Ralltiir during my shore leave…” The huge gloved hands were expertly undressing him and he let himself be handled. The Life Day Miracle rendered him into a mushy pile of need.

“Now Piett tell me, I wonder why did you go to Ralltiir,” Vader asked after he removed Piett’s boots, while Piett wrinkled out of his uniform jacket and pushed suspenders down from his shoulders.

“Truth or lie?” Piett offered, his voice uneven.. He gasped when Vader cupped him through his jodhpurs.

“Lie means keeping you chaste for the rest of the night. Truth will make you naked under me. Choose wisely Captain Piett.” Vader stroked Piett’s hardening cock the synthwool.

“You are using dirty tactics, my lord,” Piett breathed.

“I am using every means necessary. Push them down,” Vader ordered and Piett arched and pushed his jodhpurs down together with his underwear.

“Touch me, my lord,” Piett pleaded, feeling the synthwool slide from his legs. The gloved hand was surprisingly gentle on his cock, stroking him to full hardness in mere seconds.

“Tell me, Piett, what did you do on Ralltiir? I know, it was not some vigilante misssion for the greatness of the Empire,” Vader urged, his voice low as he pressed Piett to spread his thighs wider, granting him more access. His gloved thumb massaged the delicate skin under Piett’s balls.

“The planet…lube?” Piett whined as cold slickness poured over his balls, only to be scooped by Vader’s hand below them. The lubed finger breached him, probing carefully.

“I am waiting for your reply,” the second finger slipped in, joining the slow, deliberate movements..

“Spice. I was there … my lord more…for spice,” Piett moaned, spreading his legs wantonly to accommodate more stretching.

“Spice? You promised to reduce it,” Vader growled as he added the third finger. Piett was almost ready. The moans were delicious to Vader’s ears.

“I did. You know what we did during the last Life Day. I wanted to have…” Piett bit his lips, his hips instinctively moving to meet Vader’s fingers.

“Chem thing which drove you crazy with need, pulling me with you all the way,” Vader remembered too well what Piett had done with him.

“Yes, Ralltiir has the unique spice,” Piett clawed the sheets under him. He grunted angrily when fingers slipped from him.

“On your hands and knees. Ass up,” came the order, and Piett enthusiastically rolled over into desired postition.

“Before I managed to get it … things become complicated,” Piett said quickly, taking advantage of the brief moment of clarity while his mind was still coherent—something he lost entirely when Vader pressed into him. The years of experience being with his lordship allowed Piett’s body to relax and open under the pressure. His breath came in short gasps until Vader was fully inside.

“I can tell. Now my Firmus, what about making it rough and fast and later all Life Day slow and sappy?” Vader liked how Piett arched under him practically sucking him in deeper.

“Your battle plan sounds good. Make me to feel you,” Piett moaned, his voice low with need. Strong hands grabbed his hips as the first thrust propelled him forward, only to be pulled back, fully impaled.

“Good to know,” was all Vader said as he began taking him hard and fast. Piett let go of everything, and savoring every second of being fucked exactly the way he craved. When he finally came he screamed Vader’s name knowing it was the final push that would pull Vader over the edge. Vader slipped from him and lovingly patted Piett’s ass.

“Happy Life Day, my lord. I suggest we rest a little before moving on to open more presents,” Piett stretched like content Loth Cat.

“I am afraid to ask what you have in that heavy trunk of yours,” Vader sighed and lay next to him propped up on one elbow, observing Piett, who was in the process removing the last pieces of clothes he still had on.

“Life Day gifts. Some proper, some naughty but you will like them all,” Piett laughed. Then he noticed a discreet Boonta altar in the corner, and his features softened. “You remembered.”

“Of course. Only man like you could worship a slug god,” Vader chuckled,narrowly avoiding being hit by the pillow.

“It is not a laughing matter, Vader,” Piett protested but there was a smile on his lips.

“You told me we should celebrate Life Day with all the ridiculous customs of the planet of our choice, so I took the liberty of studying Coruscant traditions. Be prepared for tomorrow,” Vader promised darkly.

“You are scaring me,” Piett muttered,nestling closer to Vader, who covered him with the blanket.

“That is the point of being a Master of Dark side, you twat,” Vader chuckled.

“I love you too, my lord,” Piett replied cheerfully.

Chapter Text

The holocom station beeped loudly in the middle of the night. Dedra groaned unhappily, while Syril switched the lights on.

“Who is calling at this hour?” Dedra muttered as she put on her robe before and pressed the button.

“YOU!” Both of them screamed in unison at the hologram of Captain Piett, who was dressed in a Life Day themed fluffy bathrobe.

“Hello, children, I see you were making things nice in bed, but the news could not wait,” Piett said cheerfully.

“What is so urgent in the middle of the night cycle?” Dedra glared at him.

“First things first. I managed to be with my boyfriend and gave him the sex of his life all things considered…” Piett waved his hands ethusiastically only being cut off by Dedra.

“No sex description! It is bad enough knowing that you even have a sex! Your boyfriend must need regular releases from an asylum just to be able to date you,” she snapped, clearly not in the mood for Captain Piett’s antics.

“Captain, I presume this call isn’t just about you finally getting laid,” Syril interjected.

“That too, along your transfer as my ISB liaison aboard of Executor,” Piett smiled at their horrified faces.

“You are joking…right?” Dedra suddenly looked very much awake.

“Firmus come to bed..” a deep baritone voice called from somewhere off-screen.

“I must go now. Start packing your things you are heading into space, children,” Piett said before abruptly ending the call.

Dedra and Syril were staring at each other in stunned silence for nearly a minute.

“Was that…?” Syril asked even if he knew the answer.

“His boyfriend. He was not lying…this time.” Dedra replied, rubbing her temples.

“I hope he was lying about us being transferred to the SSD,” Syril muttered, already imagining the nightmare.

“With him… take a guess?” Dedra said dryly, and Syril let out a desperate moan.