Lunch Surprise

I will say this for being a tyrannical dark overlord: you get great service at restaurants.

The Centerpoint Station Grill is located in the south-west quadrant of Coruscant's Corelllian quarter, overlooking the Selonia tramway platform. My transport arrived early due to unusually light traffic. The restaurant staff encouraged my aides and I to sit down in a private room, but I preferred to await the general's party in the open air of the square, criss-crossed by the fleeting shadows of the lines of buzzing traffic above.

It is not the sort of thing people think about, but I do not get many opportunities to see any living world at the level of the street. I see worlds from balconies, from shuttles, through the reinforced windows of Imperial garrisons...

Sometimes it just feels good to get a little warm sun on my helmet.

The restaurant staff attempted to service us in the square, proffering exotic waters, wine and the best flavoured wafers from Jablim. They bowed low, and I spoke to their scalps. "Nothing right now," I said. The pedestrians cut a wide swath around us, making sure their feet did not touch my long shadow.

After a quarter of an hour I demanded, "What is the meaning of this delay?" and my aides scrambled to stuff communicators into their ears to make inquiries.

"Lord Vader, General Krelcon's office is not responding to our hails," they informed me.

"Curious," I said. And then the Centerpoint Station Grill exploded.

When the smoke cleared I saw that my aides had been reduced to a mewling, bleeding puddle at my feet. I stepped over them and waded into the debris. Chunks of masonry and flaming tapestry rained down on every side. A legion of stormtroopers rushed in around me, pawing at the bodies with their rifles. Their commanding officer jogged up beside me. "Lord Vader, are you unharmed?"

"Do not concern yourself, Commander. I want to know who was behind this."

"My patrol picked up the ignition signal, my lord. We believe it may have been a rebel code, though it was parasited on an Imperial transmission."

"Bring me General Krelcon: I want him alive," I ordered. The commander nodded without question and retired from the smoky ruin, covering his mouth and nose with the top of his tunic.

I surveyed the carnage around me with disdain. Freedom fighters, indeed!

And Me, With A Pain In All The Diodes Down My Left Side

Getting some "me time." Mood: melancholy.

We have arrived at Coruscant, and I have retired to the Imperial Palace. I stand at my balcony and meditate on the sky, mad whorls of cloud pierced by endless lines of speeders. The constance of their hum is insectile, and reminds me of the sand crickets back home.

From below, the towers reach up like fingers, trying to touch the glowing underbellies of the clouds.

There is no world like Coruscant.

Tomorrow I will be summoned to my master's chambers to report to him our progress. I am uncertain whether I should bother to relate the lead from Fett at Ord Mantell until the chase provides more fruit. My loathing for the cowardly deserter and rag-tag terrorist Han Solo may be clouding my judgement. I must meditate on the matter longer.

On a more banal note something has gone wrong with my left leg. For the time being I have avoided limping by overriding the control circuitry with the power of the force, but this is needlessly draining. I have called for a repair droid, but it has been over an hour and there is still no sign.

Later, I will find the man responsible for dispatching the repair droids and crush his trachea with my mind. I also have tentative lunch plans with General Krelcon and his people, possibly in the Corellian quarter.

New Probe Droids

Quiet day. Jumping the fleet toward the core.

The Executor and the rest of the Imperial armada have been recalled to Coruscant, in order that we may be equipped with the latest development in hunter-scanner probe droid technology from the factories of Geonosis. I am reluctant to accept this hiatus in our quest to uncover the hidden base of the Rebel Alliance, as I just received word that one of my bounty hunters has sighted the deserter and renegade Han Solo in the Ord Mantell system.

Despite this reluctance, I must obey my master.

My hatred for Solo is unique, and my feelings stem not only from our encounter in battle during the recent terrorist attack on the Death Star, but also my suspicion that it was he who orchestrated the escape of Princess Leia Organa and subsequent delivery of the stolen plans to the rebels at Yavin.

Of course, my son was with him. On the Death Star, and at Yavin. Though Fett did not say so, I wonder whether my son was with him at Ord Mantell, too.

Solo!

I will have my vengeance.