Guilty Pleasure

Note: I got the idea for this one when working on Chapter 13 of "Wish" yesterday, so here it is.


Luke Skywalker loved working on Executor.

He loved that he could be on the Empire's glorious flagship and that he could spend time with his father every day. But he had a secret, a big embarrassing secret and he hoped no one, especially his father, would ever find out about it. If they ever found out, he would die from shame.

He had discovered his secret hobby by accident. All of the best discoveries were made by accident, right?

And once he had found out, he couldn't stop. It was just too much fun.

But Luke found his secret was affecting his work. His performance on the bridge was suffering and his father had been peering at him suspiciously with that expressionless breath mask of his. And that made the Jedi feel even worst. He knew he should really stop doing it, but he couldn't. And if his father were to ask him what was wrong, what could he possibly say?

Soon he may fall asleep at his post and then what?

His hobby took up many hours of the night when he should be sleeping but he just couldn't stop. So what if he felt tired and worn out during the day?

The next night came and Luke impatiently waited until his glowing alarm clock struck the magic hour of two AM. Almost everyone was fast asleep by then and he could sneak out to do his hobby. Silently Luke crept out of bed, putting his stockened feet on the floor of his room.

Next he crept out into the hallway. The ship was as silent as could be, the long corridor deserted. The floor gleamed with a nice layer of wax thanks to the waxing droids that had passed through.

Luke eyed the shiny floor, grinning. He took a few running steps and then slid forward on his socks, his socks easily sliding on the highly waxed floor. Reaching out with the Force, he used it to make himself slide even faster. His hair was pushed off his forehead and he resisted the whoop that he wanted to shout. It was like racing through those canyons back home but loads more fun for some reason, maybe because no one knew about it. Growing up on a moisture farm he had never seen a waxed floor in his life.

The Jedi easily sped around the corner at a crazy speed. By all right he should have hit the wall face first but the Force had allowed him to make the turn easily.

And then he collided into something solid and was knocked down onto his butt.

Luke lay there for a moment, dazed. He looked up and gulped in fear. "Father?"

"I suspected as much, Son." Darth Vader said as he shook a fist at his troublesome son. "I did the same when I was a young padawan. I spent hours sliding about on the shiny floor of the Jedi Temple. I think there was more wax on the bottom of my socks than on the floors. Master Obi-Wan could never figure out why our wash machine kept dying from wax buildup inside."

"But…" Luke stuttered, shocked that his father had not only caught him but had been guilty of the same exact crime. "How did you know?"

"You have dark circles under your eyes, Luke."

"I thought I hid those with make-up!" Luke exclaimed wide-eyed.

"Your sister has a lot lighter skin tone than you do, Luke." Vader pointed out. "And several wash machines on Executor have died from massive wax build up since you started working here."

"Oh…" Luke felt utterly stupid. He slowly climbed to his feet, his face as red as a ripe tomato. It was such a stupid, childish thing to do. Drat wash machines! Why did they have to squawk on him for? He was having fun for the first time in his life!

"Luke, promise me you'll stop this nonsense. You need to get sleep at night or else you'll get sick."

"I promise!" Luke said as he sort of meant it. Maybe he could slide the halls only on weekends? Maybe his father would never know? But those wash machines…

Luke kept his promise for a week. And he found a great new place to wash his socks, too. He found some secret wash machines down on the other deck in this huge room of gleaming cabinets and weird devices. They looked a tad different, with a strange metal rack on the bottom of the machine but it washed his socks just fine. Vader would never know. Nobody would.

And while he was there he stole tasty snacks, too.

A month later, Darth Vader sat in his private room with his helmet and mask off so he could eat. He noticed that the dishes, bowls and cups had an odd texture to them. He peered at the plate closely and realized it was covered in a thick layer of wax.


The End