He was a lieutenant, transferred over from the ISD Demolition, only two years out of the Academy. Even so, he stood proudly at attention, his posture bearing not one trace of the fear he must be feeling and every bit of the Academy training that had been drummed into him every day of his life for four years.

Admirable. Quite. It was good to know that the Academy still produced officers of the finest caliber, despite the war that had been raging for almost thirty years.

To Admiral Piett, lately in command of the Super Star Destroyer Executor and Admiral of the Imperial Fleet, it seemed almost a lifetime.

He resisted the urge to sigh, instead looked the young lieutenant square in the face, again noting the courage there. "Dismissed, lieutenant," he said quietly.

The lieutenant snapped a perfect hand salute and spun on his heel in a left-face towards the turbolift. Piett watched him go, remembering with a slight ache when it had been he who marched towards the turbolift with such vigor and precision, as if the entire galaxy were at his feet. Assigned aboard the flagship of the Emperor's right hand, a chance to see the galaxy - who wouldn't have felt it the chance of a lifetime?

Now, standing on the crew pit walkway, watching the turbolift doors shut behind the young man, Piett simply felt old.

He suppressed a small smile at this unexpected turn of sentimentality, then entered the starboard crew pit, where Captain Tralut and General Veers were standing, arguing softly about something.

"It's as I said," said Tralut as Piett approached. His finger traced a line on the comm-scan screen before him. The young ensign sitting at the console looked like he was about to curl up in a ball under his chair at the presence of such high ranking officers in his proximity. Piett wondered if his arrival would make the ensign do just that.

"I told you," Veers hissed softly between his teeth. "There were no accomplices. None. End of story."

"General, I've heard this story before, and-"

"Captain, I think you're out of your-"

"Gentlemen?" Piett stepped up to them, keeping his voice and expression pleasant. Captain Tralut snapped his mouth shut.

"-mind!" Veers said.

Tralut rolled his eyes and inwardly, Piett smiled. Tralut and Veers had known each other since they were at the Academy and disagreements between them rarely ever escalated out of hand. Still, all disagreements between the captain of the Imperial Navy's flagship and the commander of the Imperial Army were worth investigating. Piett cast his inquisitive glance on each of them.

"Well?"

Veers made a noise of disgust, waved his hand. "Sir, if you must know." He sounded angrily amused, if such an emotion existed. Then again, Tralut had always amused Veers.

The general pointed at the comm-scan screen, to the line Tragut had just traced with a finger. "Sir, Tralut believes that the Rebel spy we captured weeks earlier may have had accomplices leaving from this vector. He suggests we send scouts out on their trail."

Piett regarded the general. "Well, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with that."

No amusement in the general's face now. "Sir, with all due respect, I believe there is no point in such an act."

"Why?"

"The prisoner had no accomplices. He told me himself." His voice was strained.

Silence for a second. Tralut opened his mouth, but Piett waved it shut.

"I see. And you believe this...Rebel?"

"Yes, sir." The general's face was cold, his voice even colder.

Piett frowned, regarded both his senior officers for a moment. Veers watching him with pained eyes under the perfectly styled hair and ironed cap, handsome face looking younger than his years, circles under his eyes. The general had seemed troubled about something these few weeks, and it had not gone away with time. Tralut was the same height as Veers, but his hair was blond, close-cropped to his head and he had the build of a wrestler.

"Captain Tralut, your take on the matter?"

He saw Tralut swallow; evidently the captain had not realized how seriously Veers was taking the issue. "Sir...I meant no disrespect towards the general...I was merely saying I have seen this sort of thing happen before, and the accomplices almost always have some sort of important information that we do not want to fall into Rebel hands."

"Are you saying there are sorts of information that we do want to fall into Rebel hands?"

Tralut looked confused. "Uh, no sir."

"It was a joke, Captain."

"Oh. Very funny, sir."

Piett smiled. "I wouldn't worry about spies, Captain. If the general believes it safe, so do I. I trust General Veers' judgment."

"We're due back at Coruscant within twenty-four hours," Veers said softly.

He nodded. "I must leave you then, gentlemen. I have a few matters to take care of. Captain, prepare for the jump."

"Yes, sir." Tralut clicked his heels together and retreated up the stairs.

"General?"

Veers was standing with one hand on the console, face hard.

"General Veers."

"Sir." His voice was barely audible.

"Come by and see me, will you? At your convenience. You don't need to report in."

The general nodded, not looking at Piett.

Strange. Very strange.

Well, he had been ordered. And Veers wasn't the kind of man to disobey an order, no matter the circumstances.

Piett took the turbolift to the officer's floor, sat down at his desk and turned on the computer but didn't touch the keys. The red light blinked - unread messages from the holocomm. His fingers were stiff. He was feeling his years, he supposed, an aching bone here, a creaking joint there, not being able to stay up as many hours into the night as he used to. It used to bother him when he was captain under Ozzel. His body slowing down when he wasn't ready for it to, when he hadn't finished what he wanted to do, dreams he had dreamt as a boy still unfulfilled.

But now what was left for him? As commander of the Imperial fleet, he had risen as high as he could go, as far as he cared to go. He had no intention of ruling the galaxy, nor any desire to. His life was the Imperial Navy - it was his child, his sweetheart, his student - had been for nearly thirty years.

And yet, when he looked back on it, through the battles and promotions and scheming to get ahead, it seemed rather distant now. Like a cheap holograph taken too long ago, whose colors were already starting to fade.

He leaned back heavily in his chair. The door chimed. He frowned.

"Come."

In the room's soft light, General Veers' face was shadowed, but Piett could see the stiffness with which he carried himself. He waved him forward.

"Please, General, have a seat. Would you care for some wine?"

Veers shook his head and sat stiffly on the edge of the chair Piett had offered. The circles under his eyes and the redness around the irises were visible now.

"You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

A short silence. "It's nothing, sir. A headache."

"A month-long headache, General? Surely you have been to see the medic by now."

Veers said nothing. He sat at attention, back straight, hands on knees, eyes focused on the wall behind Piett's head.

Piett leaned forward. "Caleb."

The use of his familiar name focused Veers' eyes on him. Briefly.

"Caleb, I'm not here to interrogate you. I called you in because I am your commanding officer and there are certain things I need to know. Such as why Captain Tralut's decision bothered you so. And why you haven't been sleeping - am I right? You haven't been sleeping."

"No, sir." Veers said. He did not look at Piett.

"Well?" Piett hardened his voice. "I'm waiting, General." Silence. "I'm ordering you to tell me what is going on."

Veers' eyes shot to Piett's face. "You can't do that, "he whispered accusingly.

Piett simply stared back. Veers dropped his eyes. For a long moment, he said nothing. The red light blinking at the corner of Piett's eyes started to blind him. He ignored it.

Finally, Veers stirred. "Admiral," he said softly. "Have you ever...been in love?"

The question knocked Piett off guard. He frowned sharply. "What?"

"Do you know?" Veers asked softly. His eyes were distant. Piett found his voice was suddenly gone. "I'd known her all my life. Her name was Dara. Most beautiful woman in the galaxy."

Piett felt the general's voice pull him back across the years, to a bright room of laughter and music. A soft hand, a green dress, a pair of dark eyes.

Dance with me.

"Gods, I loved her. Never asked her to marry me though. I almost did. I don't know what stopped me. Lost touch with her after I entered the Academy...thought she would have written me, sent me holos, but never a word."

Her voice, her red hair. Long and beautiful, in the small park where he had danced with her under the light of the moon.

His parents didn't approve. Neither did hers. He was an Academy cadet about to receive a Naval commission, she the daughter of a trader. It wasn't appropriate, they said.

Dance with me.

Veers said, "You remember that spy we caught, Admiral."

Piett nodded.

"I knew him...we were in school together. He married Dara...after I left her...lost her in an accident a couple of years before. He...I didn't even get to tell her goodbye. I thought I could always...I thought..."

His voice trailed off.

Footsteps, running. Blaster in his own hand pointed at her breast, her chin up, defiant, staring down at him with those eyes.

I tried to tell you, tried to tell you so many times, and you wouldn't listen.

In the name of the Emperor and Imperial law, you are under arrest.

I tried, I tried to tell you.

Just shoot me. Shoot me, then. Shoot!

Veers leaned back, slumped in his chair. "When Captain Tralut said, suggested, that...there might be others, Rebels, I couldn't. I just...I don't know. Everything that had made sense before, until a few weeks ago, it's suddenly as if..."

Dance with me.

"I'm not defending the Rebellion," Veers said quietly. "I'm not planning to defect. I'm as loyal to the Empire as the Emperor himself. But...I just need some time. To sort things out. You know?"

Piett nodded. "I know," he said. His voice was barely audible. "Believe me, I know."

For a moment the two men looked at each other, not speaking, then Veers stirred.

"On the other hand, we are about to enter the jump to Coruscant. Captain Tralut says he will notify you as soon as we have entered the system."

Piett nodded. "Very well."

Veers pushed his chair back. "I had better be going. I need to get some work done...as do you, Admiral."

"Yes," Piett said.

"And, Admiral?"

Piett looked up at Veers' shadow by the door.

"Thank you."

After he was gone, Piett did not move. The red light by the holocomm blinked, regularly, monotonously, blinked furiously and a harsh beeping noise arose somewhere to his left. He dragged his left hand from the covers, smashed his thumb on the button, yelped.

"Lieutenant, there's a level five emergency at the security tower. Can you make it up here?"

The words jolted him awake.

"Yes, sir."

He threw on his uniform as fast as he could, took the fire stairs two at a time down to his speeder. When he arrived at the security tower it was swarming with Imperial forces. Spotlights were trained on the giant structure and droids whirred about between the milling groups of troops. Piett saw General Essaras standing, gesturing, and walked quickly over, saluted.

"General - what's going on?"

"Ah, Lieutenant. Glad you're here." His face grew hard. "Seems a bunch of Rebels deactivated the security system and got in somehow. After some highly classified information we're holding in that building. We've got four details hunting the building now, but we're short a leader for one group. None of the rest of them are trained for intelligence work. You were the closest Imperial officer in the proximity I could get a hold of, and I heard you were."

Piett blinked. "Yes, sir. I had combat experience and ground detail work on Gamma Phi."

"Good." The general nodded. "Your team's waiting." He gestured to a group dressed in the Coruscant security black by the blocked off building. They were holding tracking devices and high powered blaster rifles. "The Rebels are inside, we know. We have the whole building, tunnels, and roof covered. There's no way they can escape."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Oh, and Lieutenant?"

Piett turned. The general's eyes were hard.

"If you find them, shoot them. Immediate execution by Lord Vader's orders. Shoot them all."

Shoot them all.

Piett shook his head. The computer screen before him was bright, too bright. He turned it off, looking into the dark corners of his office.

That had been what, twenty years ago? Twenty-five? Just out of the Academy a year or so, home on leave. He'd seen her the night before, danced with her at the park where they had gone on their first date. She had seemed distant, preoccupied, but he told himself it was just his absence. It had been more than half a year, after all. He had almost proposed to her then. Almost.

He sighed, running his fingers absently along the ridges of the admiral rank bars on the front of his jacket. The metal edges were cold and dank, the duracrete walls smelling of disuse. They moved silently, swiftly through the underground tunnels of the security tower, through which the Rebels most likely were fleeing. There were many of these tunnels for Imperial use in time of war. Ironic how they were now hunting their own enemies through them.

The tracking device in his hand hummed and the red blip of its tracing blinked faster. He turned to the man next to him for confirmation. The guard looked at it, nodded.

"Lieutenant, I think we have a lead here."

Piett held his blaster effortlessly, motioned them on. They walked on into darkness for what seemed like hours, infrared goggles leading them onwards. Footsteps, ahead of them in the blackness.

Piett motioned for them to stop, reached out behind him and pushed a button. Instantly the tunnel was awash with light, and in the glaring brightness Piett could see the four black-clad figures that were their targets.

"Freeze!" someone behind him said.

The Rebels turned to run.

Someone fired.

In a split moment it was chaos. The tunnel was a blast of laser fire. A scream as one of Piett's men went down. He fired, hitting a Rebel in the leg as the small group fled. He waved his men on. Two of the Rebels were down, dead, Piett supposed. Two still trying to run for the exit. A shot, and the one on the right dropped without a sound.

The remaining one stopped and turned slowly to face them. One of the men plucked the blaster out of the gloved grasp.

In the eerie silence Piett walked forward, his boots clicking against the stone, and stopped in front of the Rebel. The soldier was masked, goggles covering the eyes and dressed in a black bodysuit. Piett moved his gun hand up, placed his blaster against the other's chest. Above the heart.

"In the name of the Emperor and Imperial law, you are under arrest."

He motioned one of his men over. The soldier moved in easily, stood beside Veers, taking the Rebel by the shoulders.

"Where is the information you stole?"

The Rebel remained silent. Piett shoved the blaster hard into flesh.

"Answer, or prepare to be tortured. We will have that information you took."

Instead, the Rebel raised a gloved hand and removed the mask in a quick gesture.

The blaster trembled in his grasp and he almost dropped it. But he did not. Under her dark, bold gaze that seemed to hold him in with it sadness and defiance.

"I will not," she said.

One of the Imperials laughed. "Girl, we got more important things to do with our time."

Piett drew a shuddering breath. "Bloody hell."

Her eyes.

"Why?" he breathed.

She regarded him intently. "I tried to tell you. To tell you that we couldn't be, at least not what you wanted us to be. You and I. But you wouldn't listen. I tried to tell you so many times that it was for the best. And you wouldn't listen."

He shook his head, hand holding the blaster at her chest cold as ice. He could sense the confusion from his men. "No."

"You're not going to let me go," she said. "I know. But you won't get anything out of me by torture." She moved her head a fraction. He knew she could see her dead companions out of the corner of her eyes. "You've slaughtered my team, but you can't win."

He drew a shuddering breath. "I-"

One of the men looked up at him, expression grim. "Sir, the general said to shoot them. I'd just like to get the job over with. We can retrieve whatever information she has later."

He looked back at her, at her dawning expression, the fear in her eyes. Her eyes closed momentarily. He had to fight to breathe.

"So. Not even a trial. You lousy, lying Imperial-" She burst forward, surprising him, toppling him to the ground. Two of his men caught her as she tried to run, grappling her as she kicked and screamed, pinned her against the wall still struggling. He got to his feet shakily, feeling lightheaded. As if he were in a dream.

And then her struggling ceased. She stood calmly, chin up, defiant, her face calm.

"Shoot me then," she said.

He swallowed. The blaster trembled in his hand, pointed at the floor.

"If that's what you want..."

Her dark eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. They flowed over onto her cheeks, shimmering in the spotlight, but she held her head up proudly.

Her eyes...

Dance with me.

He reached out a hand, to touch her, but she shrunk back, shaking her head. The dark eyes pleaded with him. He started to raise the blaster, turned away.

"Get one of your men, then," she said. "If you can't do it. I will die with dignity for the Rebellion."

He shook his head slowly, not believing what he heard, brought the blaster barrel up between her breasts. Her face was white but her eyes held his. "I die for freedom."

Her eyes.

"Shoot!" She made to lunge forward again.

He didn't remember if he pressed the trigger. There was a noise, a bright explosion across his eyes. A spurt of something warm. She was sliding down the wall, a dark blot on the gray duracrete where the bolt had penetrated her flesh. Eyes wide open, staring still up at him, the expression of quiet defiance on her face.

A faint clatter as if from far away and he was on his knees beside her, tasting her blood in his mouth as he simply crumpled to the ground, mind blank, every muscle in his body turned to water.

Her eyes...

The blood quickly congealing in the crevices of the rough duracrete ground like a bright serpent. He felt it warm beneath his knees, seeping into the cloth of his uniform.

Nothing.

The world spun in slow motion and he watched her fall again, as if from a great height, the blast entering her, the eyes open wide as the blood came in dark crimson spurts, splattering onto his uniform, his face, his lips. And her falling, quietly, gracefully to the ground, eyes still open, red hair falling loose around her shoulders like a burial shroud of liquid blood.

Her eyes...

He realized he was trembling violently, gripping the edge of his desk.

"Admiral?" The comm squawked. "Admiral Piett?"

He slapped it. "Yes?"

"We have entered the Coruscant system, sir. Estimated time of arrival on planet is twenty-two hundred hours."

He slapped the comm off without bothering to reply, leaned back in his chair and let his mind drift. He could almost see her again in the darkened shadows, tall and slim, like a statue, even in death.

Admiral, have you ever been in love?

He couldn't have answered that question. Not for Veers.

Yes. And I killed her.

Slowly he got up, ignoring the blinking red light from the holocomm. She was only a memory now, only the memory of an old man, a tired old man who had spent too many years of his life in the company of metal and machines. Veers was right. He could not just leave the Navy, not now. Not the Navy he had served and protected and made his home and family, his life. But...

He just needed some time, that was all. To sort things out.

It was the least the Empire could offer to a man who had served for almost a lifetime.