Lord Vader gets a cat.
This is polgarawolf's fault. But at least I managed to work in the challenge words for scifi_five. This isn't specificially canon or One Path, and it's pretty ridiculous, but it's a good ridiculous, so SW fans who need a laugh will all enjoy.
Title: "Cracking the Armor...or Possibly Just Cracking
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: Someone had snuck a cat aboard the Executor...
Rating: PG
Length: Around 600 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Charaters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: Written for scifi_five. Okay, since I've gotten several requests for ANH-period sequels to this fic, I'm just ammending my notes to say that in this bizzarre little reality, we're assuming that Executor was commissioned earlier.
Cracking the Armor…or Possibly Just Cracking
Someone had snuck a cat aboard the Executor. Whoever that intrepid officer was, Lord Vader assumed that he had either been killed or transferred, because the animal had now taken to following him around the ship. He did his best to ignore it, since he believed that killing an orange ball of fluff less than half the size of one of his hands would be beneath his dignity.
It didn't particularly annoy him, unless it happened to decide to attack the bottom of his cloak, and even then, he had to admit to a certain grudging admiration for the little beast's audacity. In comparison to the cat, Vader was a towering giant, and yet it seemed to have no fear of him. It also possessed a remarkable ability to avoid being stepped on, squashed, or swatted, and was quite adept at avoiding the occasional Force-propelled object should it happen to be in the room when the Sith Lord's considerable temper required that things be hurled about at high velocities.
That all changed, however, the day that Vader emerged from the glaring white sphere of his hyperbaric chamber to find the cat in his private quarters. It knew quite well that it was supposed to wait in the hallway. Glaring darkly, he stalked up to it and planted his metal fists on his hips.
"CAT!" he boomed. "What are you doing in this room?"
The villainous creature craned its fluffy neck and purred up at him, then began to thread itself in figure eights around his ankles, rubbing its head against his legs as it moved. An exasperated sigh escaped Vader's mouth grille. He shook his head, clomping rather more heavily than he had to toward the door.
"I am not going to pick you up," he informed it coldly.
It didn't seem to mind. As soon as he stepped into the hallway, it slipped behind him and backed off, apparently deciding to cooperate and trail from a distance that would allow him to comfortably ignore its presence. He gave a nod of satisfaction and stomped his way to the turbolift, where he stood grumbling to himself about insufferable demonic citizens of a green-eyed feline hell.
Then, he felt a sudden tug on the back of his cloak and sighed again. He turned his head, expecting to find the cat wrestling with the hem of the garment. What he found, however, was a determined kitten clawing its way up his back as if he were a black tree-trunk. For once in his life, Vader found himself almost grateful for unnecessary weight and thickness of the cloak, which protected him from the assault of the needle-like little claws.
The cat reached his shoulder, perched precariously for a second or two, gave a worried mew, and then found its balance. Vader reached down to grasp a handful of cloak, lifting it with a long, weary sigh as he noted the small tufts of orange hair now covering the black material. He let it drop again as the turbolift arrived.
"You--" he started to say, breaking off as the cat rubbed its head against the side of his helmet.
The turbolift door opened, and the two black-clad officers inside abruptly halted whatever discussion they'd been having. Both blinked, staring at the sight of Vader, who glared back at them with silent menace until he was certain that any hint of snicker had been quelled. The cat meowed a cheerful greeting, and Vader swept into the car, where he stood listening to the rasp of his breather as they began to move again.
Insufferable, Vader told it silently. And I am not giving you a name.
Title: "Another Disturbing Crack."
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "My cat finds your lack of faith disturbing..."
Rating: PG
Length: Around 600 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Charaters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: Okay, since I've gotten several requests for ANH-period sequels to this fic, I'm just ammending my notes to say that in this bizzarre little reality, we're assuming that Executor was commissioned earlier.
Another Disturbing Crack
Vader quickly discovered that the kitten had a remarkable propensity for taking up space. For such a small being, it could occupy a frightening portion of a counter, control panel or table. It had no regard whatsoever for anything that might have belonged where it wanted to be, and held the Imperial goings on that it was interrupting in such disdain that the Dark Lord, once again, was forced to admire its attitude.
This was never more apparent than when the cat followed Vader onto the Emperor's newly constructed Death Star. Fortunately, it did have the sense not to climb onto his shoulder. Governor Tarkin stared at it long and hard when he first noticed its presence behind the Sith Lord, but since Vader said or did nothing to acknowledge it, and the crew of his flagship had learned to do the same, Tarkin apparently assumed that he was seeing things.
At least, that was, until they walked into the conference room where Admiral Motti and Commander Tagge were engaged in a round of bickering about the Rebel Alliance. Neither man actually noticed the cat at first, since the entire room quickly became focused on Tarkin's news.
"The Rebellion will continue to gain a support in the Imperial Senate as long as…" Tagge trailed off, startled by Vader and Tarkin's sudden entrance.
"The Imperial Senate will no longer be of any concern to us. I've just received word that the Emperor has dissolved the council permanently. The last remnants of the Old Republic have been swept away," Tarkin related.
"That's impossible! How will the Emperor maintain control without the bureaucracy?" demanded Tagge as the Grand Moff took his seat at the head of the table. Vader loomed silently at his side, doing nothing to indicate that he saw the cat clawing its way up the side of Tarkin's chair.
"The regional governors now have direct control over their territories. Fear--" Tarkin broke off with a cough as the cat pounced into his lap and then sprang onto the table. His eyes bulged, and he turned to Vader, who still stolidly ignored the cat's presence.
The rest of the room began to murmur in surprise, but since Vader took no notice of the feline intruder, none were quite sure what the appropriate reaction should be. They looked nervously from Tarkin to the fearsome Dark Lord and back again, waiting for some cue. Finally, as the kitten stretched itself out on the table, managing to occupy at least three times the space that it logically should have, Tarkin began again.
"Fear will keep the local systems in line. Fear of this battle station!"
"And--and what of the Rebellion?" asked Tagge, his gaze flicking nervously between Tarkin and the cat. "If the Rebels have obtained a complete technical readout of this station, it is possible…"
The cat rolled to its feet again, meandering toward him, and he broke off fearfully, still wondering what his reaction should be. He gulped, staring, as the cat wound its way around the sealed silver and black cup beside him, then gradually halted and stood up on its hind legs. It wrapped its front paws around the cup, intent on discovering what was inside despite the cover.
"It is possible, however unlikely, that they might find a weakness and exploit it!" Tagge finished.
"Any attack made by the Rebels against this station would be a useless gesture, no matter what technical data they've obtained," insisted Motti, though his bitter confidence was shaken as the kitten swiveled its furry head to give him an annoyed glare. "This--this--station is now the ultimate power in the universe. I suggest we use it!"
Vader reached down calmly to disentangle the cat from the cup it was attacking before it actually managed to spill anything. It protested momentarily, then settled contentedly in the crook of his arm, its tiny paws draped comfortably over his gloved wrist.
"Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed. The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force," he warned.
"Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways, Lord Vader," scoffed Motti, "Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes, or given you clairvoyance enough to find the rebel's hidden fortress. Now you've taken to playing with kitten--"
The statement was cut off as the slimy-looking Admiral began to feel the pressure of Vader's Force-choke. He reached for his throat and the cat hissed menacingly. Still looking at Motti, Vader absently stroked it's head with two fingers.
"My cat finds your lack of faith disturbing."
Title: "Completely Cracked (And the Cat Came Back)"
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "I didn't know you were such a cat person."
Rating: PG
Length: Around 1000 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Charaters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: Okay, since I've gotten several requests for ANH-period sequels to this fic, I'm just ammending my notes to say that in this bizzarre little reality, we're assuming that Executor was commissioned earlier.
Completely Cracked (And the Cat Came Back)
Vader didn't realize how problematic that the cat's attachment to him was going to be until the Millennium Falcon entered the Alderaan system. Or, more specifically, until its crew boarded the Death Star and he realized that Obi-Wan Kenobi was among them. While awaiting his former Master, he spent several minutes in the hallway attempting to convince the cat that it could not come with him. First, it refused to get off his shoulder. Then, when he physically picked it up and set it on the floor, it immediately ran behind him and began attempting its cloak-climbing routine. It was virtually impossible for Vader to reach around far enough to be able to remove the cat from his back, and so Kenobi found him turning a series of increasingly clumsy half-circles in a vain attempt to catch hold of the animal before it reached his shoulder.
The Jedi approached warily, lightsaber in hand, but the sight that met his eyes was so surreal that he, much like Tarkin, could only stare with wide eyes. Vader was forced to stop, then pivoted again to face his former mentor. The cat, of course, was then free to make its way to his shoulder, where it perched quite happily, rubbing its head against Vader's helmet. It mewed cheerfully at Obi-Wan, seeming to hold none of the dislike for him that it had shown for Admiral Motti.
Vader sighed.
Taking his lightsaber from his belt, he ignited the weapon and said, "I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan."
"Have you?" the Jedi raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," Vader intoned, attempting to infuse his tone with some semblance of threat. "When I left you, I was but the learner. Now I am the master."
"Really," remarked Obi-Wan dubiously. "It appears to me that your friend there is the Master."
"Appearances can be deceptive," grumbled Vader.
"Oh, yes, I'm sure," Obi-Wan retorted as the cat rubbed Vader's helmet again.
Vader glared darkly at the Jedi. Then he picked the cat up off his shoulder and muttered, "Just a moment."
"Whenever you're ready," Obi-Wan shrugged.
Vader whirled around, stomping to the end of the hallway without another word. Once he reached the next set of blast doors, he stepped through and strode a few more feet. Then he set the cat on the floor, planted his fists on his hips and glared at it.
"Stay," he ordered sternly.
Then he spun around again and stalked back to the waiting Jedi. Obi-Wan leaned casually against the wall, lightsaber still in hand but dangling at his side as if it had become and afterthought. Vader raised his own weapon again, determined to wipe the smug look off of the Jedi's grizzled face.
"You should not have come back," he sneered.
Obi-Wan coughed lightly and didn't move. He pushed himself off of the wall and gestured toward the floor with his free hand. "I believe we have a problem."
Vader looked down at the floor, following the direction of the Jedi's finger. "Cat! I told you to stay!"
"You have it quite well trained. Really, Anakin, I never knew you were such a cat person," remarked Obi-Wan.
"That name--" Vader began, but the words were cut off by a sudden rush of activity across the hangar. Both he and Obi-Wan turned toward the Falcon and saw the stormtroopers on duty now watching them with puzzled interest, and a small group, on the other end of the hangar making a run for the ship.
One of them, a sandy-haired boy who was for some reason wearing a stormtrooper's utility belt suddenly halted, having caught sight of Kenobi, Vader and the cat. After a second of stunned staring, he finally managed to find his voice.
"Ben…?"
"Run, Luke! I'll be right with you," ordered Obi-Wan.
Vader bent quickly, trying to scoop up the cat with one hand while still holding his lightsaber with the other. The cat, however, had other ideas and was trying to squirm away. "You will not escape so easily!"
"Are you talking to me or the cat?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Both of you!" Vader fired back.
"Luke, come on!" shouted the princess.
The stormtroopers, now alerted to the rebels' presence, had turned and begun firing at them. The princess and her companions returned fire, backing toward the ship in an attempt to open a path for the old man. Kenobi himself gave Vader a last look and shook his head in disbelief.
"Well, old friend, I'm afraid our time's up," he said before he darted through the doors and sliced through a couple of stormtroopers on his way toward the ship.
"Shoot the door, kid! The door!" bellowed another voice.
Vader, finally having managed to get the kitten in hand, started for the doorway. Before he reached it though, the blast doors slid closed, leaving him with a lightsaber in one hand and a cat in the other. He looked from the weapon to the purring feline and heaved a sigh, letting his weapon hand fall to his side.
"Well done," he told the kitten ruefully. "You have now completely ruined my credibility."
Title: "Cracking the Death Star"
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: Vader supposed that he should have realized the cat would find a way into his TIE fighter..
Rating: PG
Length: Around 500 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Charaters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: Someone suggested this one...can't remember who. Hairball fic is next. *facepalm*
Cracking The Death Star
Vader supposed he should have realized that the cat would find a way aboard his TIE fighter. He had already learned that telling it to stay was a futile gesture. Trying to convince it that it couldn't follow him into a space battle was just as likely to be pointless. However, when the Rebel pilots began their X-Wing assault, he had firmly removed the animal from its perch on his shoulder and left it behind a locked bulkhead-- or so he thought.
Not only was the kitten capable of occupying far more space than a being of its small size should have been able to, it was also possessed of an uncanny ability to squeeze into crevices which the laws of physics seemed to dictate would be far too small. Its favorite location was the miniscule space between the Sith Lord's desk and the wall, where it could stare and meow at him until he attempted to reach down there for it. Whenever he did so, he had the unmistakable feeling that the animal was laughing at him, since his efforts to grab it inevitably failed.
He experienced a similar sensation when, in the middle of the dogfight with what remained of the Rebel attack squadrons, he heard the curiously cheerful little mew and the cat's fluffy head popped up from underneath his seat.
"Cat!" he shouted, trying vainly to swat it while it climbed up his leg and, in some strange and impossible feat of feline gymnastics, managed to land on the fighter's control panel.
Of course, this occurred just as he head the lead fighter's position locked and was preparing to fire. The shot went wide, impacting the side of the Death Star, while Vader again attempted to swat the cat while keeping one hand on the control yoke.
The cat seemed not to mind at all and was busily prancing over the controls and rubbing against the Sith Lord's gloved hand. With the kitten nudging the back of his knuckles, he accidentally triggered the blaster several times, but naturally none of the shots struck the Rebel leader.
"The Force is strong with this one," he muttered absently. "Cat, will you get out of my way!"
He took another swat at it, again missing, though this time he managed to come close to flicking its ear with his pinky finger. It blinked back at him in annoyance, then began to rub its head against the screen of his targeting computer.
"MOVE!"
Finally, it scurried out of the way, but before Vader could capitalize on his momentary triumph and put an end to the Rebel pilot in front of him, one of his wingmen was suddenly vaporized by overhead blaster fire. Stunned, Vader craned his neck in an attempt to locate the new enemy. The cat, meanwhile, recovered from its temporary fit of sanity and leapt into his lap.
"What!?!"
Another shot struck, this time knocking Vader's craft into a spin. The cat shrieked and dug into his leg with his its claws, scraping frantically against the alloy as it tried to keep itself from falling.
"Stop that!" Vader yelled, desperately trying to right the ship. "Cat! I am not a scratching post!"
It paid no attention, and for several very long seconds, he could do nothing but fight with the TIE while the cat attempted to claw him to death. Then, just as he was about to pull out of the spin, a massive shockwave shook the small craft.
The Death Star, he realized. Somehow, the Rebels had managed to destroy the Emperor's battle station. To make matters worse, the blasted cat was trying to claw its way behind him and hide under the security of his cloak. He sighed, immediately knowing that he would have no such refuge from Palpatine.
"I don't know how, and I don't know why. But I know that this is your fault."
Title: "Cracking Imperial Center, or: Cat Goes to Coruscant
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "Get--off--the counter!
Rating: PG
Length: Around 700 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Characters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: To forestall questions, during the Imperial Era, Palpy randomly started calling Coruscant "Imperial Center." Most citizen still referred to it as Coruscant. Hence the title.
Cracking Imperial Center, or: Cat Goes to Coruscant
Vader quickly discovered that cat hair, much like the cat itself, had the disturbing ability to get into places which were physically impossible for it to be. Chief among them was his pressure-sealed helmet, out of which he spent more than an hour picking tiny particles of orange hair while ensconced within the groundside hyperbaric chamber in his personal apartment on Imperial Center. His mechanical fingers were far too large and lacked the manual dexterity for the task at hand, so he missed many of them, but at least he would no longer have tiny hairs tickling his nostrils while he attempted to maintain an air of stark, awe-inspiring menace and brooding displeasure with those around him. Once he finished, he emerged from the pressure-chamber to find that the kitten had made itself quite at home in the exact center of his bed-- which was well enough, since he rarely ever slept, and if the animal had to occupy some space in the dwelling, he supposed that he would rather it appropriated a place which he would be quite content never to use again. Sweeping out of the bedroom, he made his way quickly into the living room, where he was not surprised to find a holomessage awaiting him.
The Emperor had already received word of his precious battle-station's destruction by the Rebel Alliance. He was considerably displeased with this unexpected circumstance, and in fact, he intended to hold Vader personally responsible. He expected a full report in his throne room in one hour. Vader sighed, glancing slowly down at his orange-hair-covered armor.
"Of course you do," he muttered.
The message had been left ten minutes ago. Left with no alternative, he pressed a button on the holotransmitter and contacted the Executor. Then he spent another fifteen minutes prowling the apartment until a frightened young officer appeared at the door bearing a small, hand-held vacuum. The Dark Lord snatched it without a word and stabbed the button beside the door, sealing it in the man's face.
Then he stalked into the kitchen, where he had planned to lay out his cloak on the wide counter-space beside the food-prep station. As he entered the room, he found the now familiar orange ball of fluff looking back at him from the counter. It purred happily at the sight of him, either oblivious to or completely unconcerned with his foul mood.
"Get off the counter!" he ordered.
It blinked.
"Get-- off-- the counter!" he repeated.
It stood up, stretched, and for a single instant, Vader actually wondered if it might be about to do as he wished. Then it simply curled up in a tighter ball, now with its back to him, and pretended not to have understood a word he said.
"Insufferable animal. I don't have time for this!" he declared.
He laid out his cloak on the kitchen table, then began to slowly and painstakingly vacuum hair off of the black material. He doubted that it would ever return to the pristine and terrifying state of utter perfection which had characterized it before the green-eyed feline demon had decided that a Sith Lord's cloak was the appropriate garment to wander about under, but after peering at it closely for several minutes, he didn't see anything that could be distinctly recognized as cat hair. Satisfied, he vacuumed as much hair as he could off the rest of his armor, then donned the cloak and hurried from the apartment, so concerned with not being late for his audience with Palpatine that he never thought to wonder why the cat was no longer on his kitchen counter or where the creature might have gone.
He realized his mistake a short time later, when he walked into the vast, dimly lit chamber which the Emperor used for private audiences. At the far end of the room, Palpatine himself waited in a massive, high-backed throne, which was situated atop a circular dias approachable only by ascending a long flight of stairs. At the bottom of those stairs, safely outside the angry Emperor's field of vision perched a tiny, green-eyed, orange kitten. Vader glared darkly at it, but he could make no gesture or verbal command without alerting Palpatine to the animal's presence.
I don't believe it, Vader said to himself. Then he paused. Wait. Nevermind. Yes, I do.
Title: "Prune-Face Cracks, or: Cat Versus Palpatine"
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "Where would I have found a cat, my Master?"
Rating: PG
Length: Around 700 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Characters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: Totally for polgarawolf.
Prune-Face Cracks, or: Cat Versus Palpatine
The cat didn't react to Vader's look, and the Dark Lord could only walk slowly up to the steps and drop onto one knee. As he did so, he used one hand to flare the bottom of his cloak, hoping that the motion would attract the cat's attention. The cat, however, displayed no interest in the cloak, which at any other moment would have been its favorite place to hide. It calmly shifted positions on the step and began to wash itself, its manner entirely disdainful of the exchange going on in the room around it.
"You are late, Lord Vader," Palpatine began.
"Yes, my Master," Vader replied, folding his hands calmly around his knee. "I have no excuse.
"I see. And do you perhaps have an excuse for the untimely fate of my Death Star?" asked the Emperor.
Yes, Vader thought with a silent sigh. The kitten sitting on the step over there is the culprit. I still don't know how and I don't know why. But it is. Aloud, he replied only, "No, my Master."
"Well," the Emperor replied, his yellow eyes settling on his apprentice for a long, painful moment, in which he allowed Vader to contemplate several dozen possibilities for punishment which had not yet occurred to him. Then, slowly and deliberately, he rose from his throne. Hands still enfolded in the sleeves of his black robe, he started down the steps, seeming to float down them as part of the shadows in the room rather than to actually walk. About halfway down the steps, he came to a sudden halt and tipped his head back, drawing in a sharp breath. Vader looked up hurriedly, then brought his gaze back to the cat, which was still blithely bathing itself without regard for either of them.
"Ah-choo!"
Vader stared in disbelief.
Startled by the sneeze, the cat sprang off the step and bolted for the shelter of Vader's cloak. The animal just made it under the hem of the garment when Palpatine looked back at Vader. The Emperor sniffled. Vader continued staring but did not otherwise react.
"Lord Vader," Palpatine began again. "Is there a cat in this room?"
"Cat, my Master?" Vader asked with an air of confusion.
"You know that I am allergic to cats, Vader," said the Emperor.
In fact, Vader had not known. The subject of allergies had never come up between them, nor had they ever had any reason to discuss house pets. However, the revelation of the Emperor's allergy left Vader, for the first time in a very, very long time, on the verge of laughter.
"Yes, my Master," he said solemnly.
"And--achoo! Achoo!"
Each sneeze became more violent, until the hood of Palpatine's cloak fell back to expose his bald, disfigured head. Terrified either by the noise or the Emperor's hideous appearance, the cat hissed menacingly. Fortunately, between Palpatine's sneezing and the racket made by Vader's breather, the sound was barely audible even to Vader. He doubted that his Master would be able to hear it.
"You would not have--ah-CHOO!--brought a cat into my throne room, would you, Lord Vader?"
"Where would I have found a cat, my Master?" Vader asked innocently.
"I don't--achoo!--know," replied Palpatine. "But there is some reason that I am--ah-choo!-- sneezing!"
"I don't even like cats," Vader said honestly. "Perhaps you are catching a cold."
"A cold?!" repeated Palpatine.
"It happens to the best of us, my Master," Vader said.
Palpatine glared down at him, but before he could make a response, another fit of sneezing struck. This time, he came very close to stumbling down the stairs. When he recovered, he gave Vader another long look.
"Vader. I am going to lie down. I will deal with you later," he announced. Then he moved swiftly down the steps and out of the throne room, sneezing loudly every step of the way. Even after the door slid closed behind him, Vader could hear the echoes of those sneezes slowly growing more and more distant.
When they had finally faded away, he lifted up the edge of his cloak. The kitten craned its neck to peer up at him. He looked back thoughtfully for a while, then sighed. "You expect a bowl of milk for this, don't you?"
Title: "Cracking the Armor...or Possibly Just Cracking
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: Someone had snuck a cat aboard the Executor...
Rating: PG
Length: Around 600 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Charaters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: Written for scifi_five. Okay, since I've gotten several requests for ANH-period sequels to this fic, I'm just ammending my notes to say that in this bizzarre little reality, we're assuming that Executor was commissioned earlier.
Cracking the Armor…or Possibly Just Cracking
Someone had snuck a cat aboard the Executor. Whoever that intrepid officer was, Lord Vader assumed that he had either been killed or transferred, because the animal had now taken to following him around the ship. He did his best to ignore it, since he believed that killing an orange ball of fluff less than half the size of one of his hands would be beneath his dignity.
It didn't particularly annoy him, unless it happened to decide to attack the bottom of his cloak, and even then, he had to admit to a certain grudging admiration for the little beast's audacity. In comparison to the cat, Vader was a towering giant, and yet it seemed to have no fear of him. It also possessed a remarkable ability to avoid being stepped on, squashed, or swatted, and was quite adept at avoiding the occasional Force-propelled object should it happen to be in the room when the Sith Lord's considerable temper required that things be hurled about at high velocities.
That all changed, however, the day that Vader emerged from the glaring white sphere of his hyperbaric chamber to find the cat in his private quarters. It knew quite well that it was supposed to wait in the hallway. Glaring darkly, he stalked up to it and planted his metal fists on his hips.
"CAT!" he boomed. "What are you doing in this room?"
The villainous creature craned its fluffy neck and purred up at him, then began to thread itself in figure eights around his ankles, rubbing its head against his legs as it moved. An exasperated sigh escaped Vader's mouth grille. He shook his head, clomping rather more heavily than he had to toward the door.
"I am not going to pick you up," he informed it coldly.
It didn't seem to mind. As soon as he stepped into the hallway, it slipped behind him and backed off, apparently deciding to cooperate and trail from a distance that would allow him to comfortably ignore its presence. He gave a nod of satisfaction and stomped his way to the turbolift, where he stood grumbling to himself about insufferable demonic citizens of a green-eyed feline hell.
Then, he felt a sudden tug on the back of his cloak and sighed again. He turned his head, expecting to find the cat wrestling with the hem of the garment. What he found, however, was a determined kitten clawing its way up his back as if he were a black tree-trunk. For once in his life, Vader found himself almost grateful for unnecessary weight and thickness of the cloak, which protected him from the assault of the needle-like little claws.
The cat reached his shoulder, perched precariously for a second or two, gave a worried mew, and then found its balance. Vader reached down to grasp a handful of cloak, lifting it with a long, weary sigh as he noted the small tufts of orange hair now covering the black material. He let it drop again as the turbolift arrived.
"You--" he started to say, breaking off as the cat rubbed its head against the side of his helmet.
The turbolift door opened, and the two black-clad officers inside abruptly halted whatever discussion they'd been having. Both blinked, staring at the sight of Vader, who glared back at them with silent menace until he was certain that any hint of snicker had been quelled. The cat meowed a cheerful greeting, and Vader swept into the car, where he stood listening to the rasp of his breather as they began to move again.
Insufferable, Vader told it silently. And I am not giving you a name.
Title: "Another Disturbing Crack."
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "My cat finds your lack of faith disturbing..."
Rating: PG
Length: Around 600 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Charaters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: Okay, since I've gotten several requests for ANH-period sequels to this fic, I'm just ammending my notes to say that in this bizzarre little reality, we're assuming that Executor was commissioned earlier.
Another Disturbing Crack
Vader quickly discovered that the kitten had a remarkable propensity for taking up space. For such a small being, it could occupy a frightening portion of a counter, control panel or table. It had no regard whatsoever for anything that might have belonged where it wanted to be, and held the Imperial goings on that it was interrupting in such disdain that the Dark Lord, once again, was forced to admire its attitude.
This was never more apparent than when the cat followed Vader onto the Emperor's newly constructed Death Star. Fortunately, it did have the sense not to climb onto his shoulder. Governor Tarkin stared at it long and hard when he first noticed its presence behind the Sith Lord, but since Vader said or did nothing to acknowledge it, and the crew of his flagship had learned to do the same, Tarkin apparently assumed that he was seeing things.
At least, that was, until they walked into the conference room where Admiral Motti and Commander Tagge were engaged in a round of bickering about the Rebel Alliance. Neither man actually noticed the cat at first, since the entire room quickly became focused on Tarkin's news.
"The Rebellion will continue to gain a support in the Imperial Senate as long as…" Tagge trailed off, startled by Vader and Tarkin's sudden entrance.
"The Imperial Senate will no longer be of any concern to us. I've just received word that the Emperor has dissolved the council permanently. The last remnants of the Old Republic have been swept away," Tarkin related.
"That's impossible! How will the Emperor maintain control without the bureaucracy?" demanded Tagge as the Grand Moff took his seat at the head of the table. Vader loomed silently at his side, doing nothing to indicate that he saw the cat clawing its way up the side of Tarkin's chair.
"The regional governors now have direct control over their territories. Fear--" Tarkin broke off with a cough as the cat pounced into his lap and then sprang onto the table. His eyes bulged, and he turned to Vader, who still stolidly ignored the cat's presence.
The rest of the room began to murmur in surprise, but since Vader took no notice of the feline intruder, none were quite sure what the appropriate reaction should be. They looked nervously from Tarkin to the fearsome Dark Lord and back again, waiting for some cue. Finally, as the kitten stretched itself out on the table, managing to occupy at least three times the space that it logically should have, Tarkin began again.
"Fear will keep the local systems in line. Fear of this battle station!"
"And--and what of the Rebellion?" asked Tagge, his gaze flicking nervously between Tarkin and the cat. "If the Rebels have obtained a complete technical readout of this station, it is possible…"
The cat rolled to its feet again, meandering toward him, and he broke off fearfully, still wondering what his reaction should be. He gulped, staring, as the cat wound its way around the sealed silver and black cup beside him, then gradually halted and stood up on its hind legs. It wrapped its front paws around the cup, intent on discovering what was inside despite the cover.
"It is possible, however unlikely, that they might find a weakness and exploit it!" Tagge finished.
"Any attack made by the Rebels against this station would be a useless gesture, no matter what technical data they've obtained," insisted Motti, though his bitter confidence was shaken as the kitten swiveled its furry head to give him an annoyed glare. "This--this--station is now the ultimate power in the universe. I suggest we use it!"
Vader reached down calmly to disentangle the cat from the cup it was attacking before it actually managed to spill anything. It protested momentarily, then settled contentedly in the crook of his arm, its tiny paws draped comfortably over his gloved wrist.
"Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed. The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force," he warned.
"Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways, Lord Vader," scoffed Motti, "Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes, or given you clairvoyance enough to find the rebel's hidden fortress. Now you've taken to playing with kitten--"
The statement was cut off as the slimy-looking Admiral began to feel the pressure of Vader's Force-choke. He reached for his throat and the cat hissed menacingly. Still looking at Motti, Vader absently stroked it's head with two fingers.
"My cat finds your lack of faith disturbing."
Title: "Completely Cracked (And the Cat Came Back)"
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "I didn't know you were such a cat person."
Rating: PG
Length: Around 1000 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Charaters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: Okay, since I've gotten several requests for ANH-period sequels to this fic, I'm just ammending my notes to say that in this bizzarre little reality, we're assuming that Executor was commissioned earlier.
Completely Cracked (And the Cat Came Back)
Vader didn't realize how problematic that the cat's attachment to him was going to be until the Millennium Falcon entered the Alderaan system. Or, more specifically, until its crew boarded the Death Star and he realized that Obi-Wan Kenobi was among them. While awaiting his former Master, he spent several minutes in the hallway attempting to convince the cat that it could not come with him. First, it refused to get off his shoulder. Then, when he physically picked it up and set it on the floor, it immediately ran behind him and began attempting its cloak-climbing routine. It was virtually impossible for Vader to reach around far enough to be able to remove the cat from his back, and so Kenobi found him turning a series of increasingly clumsy half-circles in a vain attempt to catch hold of the animal before it reached his shoulder.
The Jedi approached warily, lightsaber in hand, but the sight that met his eyes was so surreal that he, much like Tarkin, could only stare with wide eyes. Vader was forced to stop, then pivoted again to face his former mentor. The cat, of course, was then free to make its way to his shoulder, where it perched quite happily, rubbing its head against Vader's helmet. It mewed cheerfully at Obi-Wan, seeming to hold none of the dislike for him that it had shown for Admiral Motti.
Vader sighed.
Taking his lightsaber from his belt, he ignited the weapon and said, "I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan."
"Have you?" the Jedi raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," Vader intoned, attempting to infuse his tone with some semblance of threat. "When I left you, I was but the learner. Now I am the master."
"Really," remarked Obi-Wan dubiously. "It appears to me that your friend there is the Master."
"Appearances can be deceptive," grumbled Vader.
"Oh, yes, I'm sure," Obi-Wan retorted as the cat rubbed Vader's helmet again.
Vader glared darkly at the Jedi. Then he picked the cat up off his shoulder and muttered, "Just a moment."
"Whenever you're ready," Obi-Wan shrugged.
Vader whirled around, stomping to the end of the hallway without another word. Once he reached the next set of blast doors, he stepped through and strode a few more feet. Then he set the cat on the floor, planted his fists on his hips and glared at it.
"Stay," he ordered sternly.
Then he spun around again and stalked back to the waiting Jedi. Obi-Wan leaned casually against the wall, lightsaber still in hand but dangling at his side as if it had become and afterthought. Vader raised his own weapon again, determined to wipe the smug look off of the Jedi's grizzled face.
"You should not have come back," he sneered.
Obi-Wan coughed lightly and didn't move. He pushed himself off of the wall and gestured toward the floor with his free hand. "I believe we have a problem."
Vader looked down at the floor, following the direction of the Jedi's finger. "Cat! I told you to stay!"
"You have it quite well trained. Really, Anakin, I never knew you were such a cat person," remarked Obi-Wan.
"That name--" Vader began, but the words were cut off by a sudden rush of activity across the hangar. Both he and Obi-Wan turned toward the Falcon and saw the stormtroopers on duty now watching them with puzzled interest, and a small group, on the other end of the hangar making a run for the ship.
One of them, a sandy-haired boy who was for some reason wearing a stormtrooper's utility belt suddenly halted, having caught sight of Kenobi, Vader and the cat. After a second of stunned staring, he finally managed to find his voice.
"Ben…?"
"Run, Luke! I'll be right with you," ordered Obi-Wan.
Vader bent quickly, trying to scoop up the cat with one hand while still holding his lightsaber with the other. The cat, however, had other ideas and was trying to squirm away. "You will not escape so easily!"
"Are you talking to me or the cat?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Both of you!" Vader fired back.
"Luke, come on!" shouted the princess.
The stormtroopers, now alerted to the rebels' presence, had turned and begun firing at them. The princess and her companions returned fire, backing toward the ship in an attempt to open a path for the old man. Kenobi himself gave Vader a last look and shook his head in disbelief.
"Well, old friend, I'm afraid our time's up," he said before he darted through the doors and sliced through a couple of stormtroopers on his way toward the ship.
"Shoot the door, kid! The door!" bellowed another voice.
Vader, finally having managed to get the kitten in hand, started for the doorway. Before he reached it though, the blast doors slid closed, leaving him with a lightsaber in one hand and a cat in the other. He looked from the weapon to the purring feline and heaved a sigh, letting his weapon hand fall to his side.
"Well done," he told the kitten ruefully. "You have now completely ruined my credibility."
Title: "Cracking the Death Star"
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: Vader supposed that he should have realized the cat would find a way into his TIE fighter..
Rating: PG
Length: Around 500 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Charaters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: Someone suggested this one...can't remember who. Hairball fic is next. *facepalm*
Cracking The Death Star
Vader supposed he should have realized that the cat would find a way aboard his TIE fighter. He had already learned that telling it to stay was a futile gesture. Trying to convince it that it couldn't follow him into a space battle was just as likely to be pointless. However, when the Rebel pilots began their X-Wing assault, he had firmly removed the animal from its perch on his shoulder and left it behind a locked bulkhead-- or so he thought.
Not only was the kitten capable of occupying far more space than a being of its small size should have been able to, it was also possessed of an uncanny ability to squeeze into crevices which the laws of physics seemed to dictate would be far too small. Its favorite location was the miniscule space between the Sith Lord's desk and the wall, where it could stare and meow at him until he attempted to reach down there for it. Whenever he did so, he had the unmistakable feeling that the animal was laughing at him, since his efforts to grab it inevitably failed.
He experienced a similar sensation when, in the middle of the dogfight with what remained of the Rebel attack squadrons, he heard the curiously cheerful little mew and the cat's fluffy head popped up from underneath his seat.
"Cat!" he shouted, trying vainly to swat it while it climbed up his leg and, in some strange and impossible feat of feline gymnastics, managed to land on the fighter's control panel.
Of course, this occurred just as he head the lead fighter's position locked and was preparing to fire. The shot went wide, impacting the side of the Death Star, while Vader again attempted to swat the cat while keeping one hand on the control yoke.
The cat seemed not to mind at all and was busily prancing over the controls and rubbing against the Sith Lord's gloved hand. With the kitten nudging the back of his knuckles, he accidentally triggered the blaster several times, but naturally none of the shots struck the Rebel leader.
"The Force is strong with this one," he muttered absently. "Cat, will you get out of my way!"
He took another swat at it, again missing, though this time he managed to come close to flicking its ear with his pinky finger. It blinked back at him in annoyance, then began to rub its head against the screen of his targeting computer.
"MOVE!"
Finally, it scurried out of the way, but before Vader could capitalize on his momentary triumph and put an end to the Rebel pilot in front of him, one of his wingmen was suddenly vaporized by overhead blaster fire. Stunned, Vader craned his neck in an attempt to locate the new enemy. The cat, meanwhile, recovered from its temporary fit of sanity and leapt into his lap.
"What!?!"
Another shot struck, this time knocking Vader's craft into a spin. The cat shrieked and dug into his leg with his its claws, scraping frantically against the alloy as it tried to keep itself from falling.
"Stop that!" Vader yelled, desperately trying to right the ship. "Cat! I am not a scratching post!"
It paid no attention, and for several very long seconds, he could do nothing but fight with the TIE while the cat attempted to claw him to death. Then, just as he was about to pull out of the spin, a massive shockwave shook the small craft.
The Death Star, he realized. Somehow, the Rebels had managed to destroy the Emperor's battle station. To make matters worse, the blasted cat was trying to claw its way behind him and hide under the security of his cloak. He sighed, immediately knowing that he would have no such refuge from Palpatine.
"I don't know how, and I don't know why. But I know that this is your fault."
Title: "Cracking Imperial Center, or: Cat Goes to Coruscant
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "Get--off--the counter!
Rating: PG
Length: Around 700 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Characters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: To forestall questions, during the Imperial Era, Palpy randomly started calling Coruscant "Imperial Center." Most citizen still referred to it as Coruscant. Hence the title.
Cracking Imperial Center, or: Cat Goes to Coruscant
Vader quickly discovered that cat hair, much like the cat itself, had the disturbing ability to get into places which were physically impossible for it to be. Chief among them was his pressure-sealed helmet, out of which he spent more than an hour picking tiny particles of orange hair while ensconced within the groundside hyperbaric chamber in his personal apartment on Imperial Center. His mechanical fingers were far too large and lacked the manual dexterity for the task at hand, so he missed many of them, but at least he would no longer have tiny hairs tickling his nostrils while he attempted to maintain an air of stark, awe-inspiring menace and brooding displeasure with those around him. Once he finished, he emerged from the pressure-chamber to find that the kitten had made itself quite at home in the exact center of his bed-- which was well enough, since he rarely ever slept, and if the animal had to occupy some space in the dwelling, he supposed that he would rather it appropriated a place which he would be quite content never to use again. Sweeping out of the bedroom, he made his way quickly into the living room, where he was not surprised to find a holomessage awaiting him.
The Emperor had already received word of his precious battle-station's destruction by the Rebel Alliance. He was considerably displeased with this unexpected circumstance, and in fact, he intended to hold Vader personally responsible. He expected a full report in his throne room in one hour. Vader sighed, glancing slowly down at his orange-hair-covered armor.
"Of course you do," he muttered.
The message had been left ten minutes ago. Left with no alternative, he pressed a button on the holotransmitter and contacted the Executor. Then he spent another fifteen minutes prowling the apartment until a frightened young officer appeared at the door bearing a small, hand-held vacuum. The Dark Lord snatched it without a word and stabbed the button beside the door, sealing it in the man's face.
Then he stalked into the kitchen, where he had planned to lay out his cloak on the wide counter-space beside the food-prep station. As he entered the room, he found the now familiar orange ball of fluff looking back at him from the counter. It purred happily at the sight of him, either oblivious to or completely unconcerned with his foul mood.
"Get off the counter!" he ordered.
It blinked.
"Get-- off-- the counter!" he repeated.
It stood up, stretched, and for a single instant, Vader actually wondered if it might be about to do as he wished. Then it simply curled up in a tighter ball, now with its back to him, and pretended not to have understood a word he said.
"Insufferable animal. I don't have time for this!" he declared.
He laid out his cloak on the kitchen table, then began to slowly and painstakingly vacuum hair off of the black material. He doubted that it would ever return to the pristine and terrifying state of utter perfection which had characterized it before the green-eyed feline demon had decided that a Sith Lord's cloak was the appropriate garment to wander about under, but after peering at it closely for several minutes, he didn't see anything that could be distinctly recognized as cat hair. Satisfied, he vacuumed as much hair as he could off the rest of his armor, then donned the cloak and hurried from the apartment, so concerned with not being late for his audience with Palpatine that he never thought to wonder why the cat was no longer on his kitchen counter or where the creature might have gone.
He realized his mistake a short time later, when he walked into the vast, dimly lit chamber which the Emperor used for private audiences. At the far end of the room, Palpatine himself waited in a massive, high-backed throne, which was situated atop a circular dias approachable only by ascending a long flight of stairs. At the bottom of those stairs, safely outside the angry Emperor's field of vision perched a tiny, green-eyed, orange kitten. Vader glared darkly at it, but he could make no gesture or verbal command without alerting Palpatine to the animal's presence.
I don't believe it, Vader said to himself. Then he paused. Wait. Nevermind. Yes, I do.
Title: "Prune-Face Cracks, or: Cat Versus Palpatine"
Author: Lionchilde
Summary: "Where would I have found a cat, my Master?"
Rating: PG
Length: Around 700 words
Category:Humor
Pairings/Characters: Vader...and the cat.
A/N: Totally for polgarawolf.
Prune-Face Cracks, or: Cat Versus Palpatine
The cat didn't react to Vader's look, and the Dark Lord could only walk slowly up to the steps and drop onto one knee. As he did so, he used one hand to flare the bottom of his cloak, hoping that the motion would attract the cat's attention. The cat, however, displayed no interest in the cloak, which at any other moment would have been its favorite place to hide. It calmly shifted positions on the step and began to wash itself, its manner entirely disdainful of the exchange going on in the room around it.
"You are late, Lord Vader," Palpatine began.
"Yes, my Master," Vader replied, folding his hands calmly around his knee. "I have no excuse.
"I see. And do you perhaps have an excuse for the untimely fate of my Death Star?" asked the Emperor.
Yes, Vader thought with a silent sigh. The kitten sitting on the step over there is the culprit. I still don't know how and I don't know why. But it is. Aloud, he replied only, "No, my Master."
"Well," the Emperor replied, his yellow eyes settling on his apprentice for a long, painful moment, in which he allowed Vader to contemplate several dozen possibilities for punishment which had not yet occurred to him. Then, slowly and deliberately, he rose from his throne. Hands still enfolded in the sleeves of his black robe, he started down the steps, seeming to float down them as part of the shadows in the room rather than to actually walk. About halfway down the steps, he came to a sudden halt and tipped his head back, drawing in a sharp breath. Vader looked up hurriedly, then brought his gaze back to the cat, which was still blithely bathing itself without regard for either of them.
"Ah-choo!"
Vader stared in disbelief.
Startled by the sneeze, the cat sprang off the step and bolted for the shelter of Vader's cloak. The animal just made it under the hem of the garment when Palpatine looked back at Vader. The Emperor sniffled. Vader continued staring but did not otherwise react.
"Lord Vader," Palpatine began again. "Is there a cat in this room?"
"Cat, my Master?" Vader asked with an air of confusion.
"You know that I am allergic to cats, Vader," said the Emperor.
In fact, Vader had not known. The subject of allergies had never come up between them, nor had they ever had any reason to discuss house pets. However, the revelation of the Emperor's allergy left Vader, for the first time in a very, very long time, on the verge of laughter.
"Yes, my Master," he said solemnly.
"And--achoo! Achoo!"
Each sneeze became more violent, until the hood of Palpatine's cloak fell back to expose his bald, disfigured head. Terrified either by the noise or the Emperor's hideous appearance, the cat hissed menacingly. Fortunately, between Palpatine's sneezing and the racket made by Vader's breather, the sound was barely audible even to Vader. He doubted that his Master would be able to hear it.
"You would not have--ah-CHOO!--brought a cat into my throne room, would you, Lord Vader?"
"Where would I have found a cat, my Master?" Vader asked innocently.
"I don't--achoo!--know," replied Palpatine. "But there is some reason that I am--ah-choo!-- sneezing!"
"I don't even like cats," Vader said honestly. "Perhaps you are catching a cold."
"A cold?!" repeated Palpatine.
"It happens to the best of us, my Master," Vader said.
Palpatine glared down at him, but before he could make a response, another fit of sneezing struck. This time, he came very close to stumbling down the stairs. When he recovered, he gave Vader another long look.
"Vader. I am going to lie down. I will deal with you later," he announced. Then he moved swiftly down the steps and out of the throne room, sneezing loudly every step of the way. Even after the door slid closed behind him, Vader could hear the echoes of those sneezes slowly growing more and more distant.
When they had finally faded away, he lifted up the edge of his cloak. The kitten craned its neck to peer up at him. He looked back thoughtfully for a while, then sighed. "You expect a bowl of milk for this, don't you?"