Star Wars_ Episode VI_ Return of the Jedi - James Kahn [1]
Soundlessly the main bay of the ship opened. There was a brief ignition-flash, as an Imperial shuttle emerged from the darkness of the hold, into the darkness of space. It sped toward the half-completed Death Star with quiet purpose.
In the cockpit the shuttle captain and his copilot made final readings, monitored descent functions. It was a sequence they’d each performed a thousand times, yet there was an unusual tension in the air now. The captain flipped the transmitter switch, and spoke into his mouthpiece.
“Command Station, this is ST321. Code Clearance Blue. We’re starting our approach. Deactivate the security shield.”
Static filtered over the receiver; then the voice of the port controller: “The security deflector shield will be deactivated when we have confirmation of your code transmission. Stand by …”
Once more silence filled the cockpit. The shuttle captain bit the inside of his cheek, smiled nervously at his copilot, and muttered, “Quick as you can, please—this better not take long. He’s in no mood to wait …”
They refrained from glancing back into the passenger section of the shuttle, now under lights-out for landing. The unmistakable sound of the mechanical breathing coming from the chamber’s shadow filled the cabin with a terrible impatience.
In the control room of the Death Star below, operators moved along the bank of panels, monitoring all the space traffic in the area, authorizing flight patterns, accessing certain areas to certain vehicles. The shield operator suddenly checked his monitor with alarm; the view-screen depicted the battle station itself, the moon Endor, and a web of energy—the deflector shield—emanating from the green moon, encompassing the Death Star. Only now, the security web was beginning to separate, to retract and form a clear channel—a channel through which the dot that was the Imperial shuttle sailed, unimpeded, toward the massive space station.
The shield operator quickly called his control officer over to the view-screen, uncertain how to proceed.
“What is it?” the officer demanded.
“That shuttle has a class-one priority ranking.” He tried to replace the fear in his voice with disbelief.
The officer glanced at the view-screen for only a moment before realizing who was on the shuttle and spoke to himself: “Vader!”
He strode past the view port, where the shuttle could be seen already making its final approach, and headed toward the docking bay. He turned to the controller.
“Inform the commander that Lord Vader’s shuttle has arrived.”
The shuttle sat quietly, dwarfed by the cavernous reaches of the huge docking bay. Hundreds of troops stood assembled in formation, flanking the base of the shuttle ramp—white-armored Imperial stormtroopers, gray-suited officers, and the elite, red-robed Imperial Guard. They snapped to attention as Moff Jerjerrod entered.
Jerjerrod—tall, thin, arrogant—was the Death Star commander. He walked without hurry up the ranks of soldiers, to the ramp of the shuttle. Hurry was not in Jerjerrod, for hurry implied a wanting to be elsewhere, and he was a man who distinctively was exactly where he wanted to be. Great men never hurried (he was fond of saying); great men caused others to hurry.
Yet Jerjerrod was not blind to ambition; and a visit by such a one as this great Dark Lord could not be taken too lightly. He stood at the shuttle mouth, therefore, waiting—with respect, but not hurry.
Suddenly the exit hatch of the shuttle opened, pulling the troops in formation to even tauter attention. Only darkness glowed from the exit at first; then footsteps; then the characteristic electrical respirations, like the breathing of a machine; and finally Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, emerged from the void.
Vader strode down the ramp, looking over the assemblage. He stopped when he came to Jerjerrod. The commander bowed from the neck, and smiled.
“Lord Vader, this is an unexpected pleasure. We are honored by your