Dignity

The auburn-haired woman sat silently in her small grey cell, eyes staring straight towards the magnetically sealed door. Her exhausted breaths came as evenly as she could bear to make them, hitching every now and then as a slight spasm of pain rushed over her.

The torture hadn't always been physical. That had been reserved for each and every rebel that had been captured by the Empire while she had been forced to watch. Every question that was asked of her aides, captured pilots, even semi-civilians that had been manning bars and mess halls on their captured ships were directed towards her as well. It could end with a single answer, the dual interrogators had asked. Anyone that had any real knowledge had died before breaking, true to their training and their cause.

She had led the Rebellion as part of an ever-shrinking triumvirate for two years. Differences of opinion between herself and Garm Bel Iblis had led to his departure and the very battle station that had captured her had claimed the life of Bail Organa.

Somewhere it had all gone wrong, the last minute defensive strike against the Death Star had failed and their base on Yavin destroyed with the survivors of the first low-powered shot being captured shortly thereafter.

The door hissed open, a harsh rush of air entered the prison cell and blew the folds of her stained white robes lightly. The dark and demonic figure that stood in front of her had once frightened her as it did almost every other sane being in the galaxy. Now his raspy artificial breath and tusked helmet sent no feeling over her save for relief. It would all be over soon.

"Mon Mothma," Darth Vader said. His voice was a metallic bass that reverberated throughout the small room. "It's time."

She stood from her cot and straightened her robes as best she could. Mon Mothma closed her eyes and took as deep a breath as she dared with her bruised ribs. "Lead the way, Lord Vader."

The walk from the Imperial Palace's to the nearby Monument Plaza was long and she feared that her legs would give out from under her, sending her frail form sprawling onto the ground. The Imperials that watched her from the lens of the holocam droid that hovered in front of them would have loved that sight, she thought, the leader of the fallen and scattered Rebellion utterly humiliated. One last thing before her death that would make their cause the laughingstock of the galaxy and add to the futility of it all. She would not give them that pleasure.

Monument Plaza loomed large on the surface of Coruscant, the statues of the heroes of the Republic long ago replaced by effigies of Palpatine and other Imperial heroes. A holoimage of Grand Moff Tarkin was the latest addition to the crop, awaiting the sculpting of a physical testament to his recent victory. Mon Mothma watched as a flock of columbiform birds scattered away from the ground, one of them leaving a pile of droppings on the emitter.

The crowd was staunchly Imperial, immaculate in their finest dress uniforms while the general public's view of the proceedings would be broadcast live throughout the galaxy via the HoloNet on every single channel.

Palpatine stood proudly on a center dais, his grey and wrinkled skin peering out of his voluminous black robes. His sickly yellow eyes beamed down upon her and a cackle escaped his lips. Standing next to the Emperor, looking resolute in a grey jumpsuit, was Bail's daughter Leia. She looked down at Mon Mothma, a hint of pity in her eyes.

"Citizens of the Empire," Palpatine began. "Due to the efforts of Grand Moff Tarkin and Lord Vader, the leader of the terrorists that have brought war to the Empire has now been captured!" The assembled crowd applauded loudly and the faintest of curses and jeers caught Mon Mothma's ears.

Her blue eyes stared into the camera lens of the closest droid, staring into the virtual eyes of every one that was watching. The Rebels that had survived were watching, of that she had every confidence of. They would vanish as best they could, some fighting in small hit and run attacks as they had when the war had first started and some would wait until the time presented itself, if it ever did. Every single being that had raised the crimson phoenix banner of the Alliance Starbird knew that they did so at the risk of their own lives. Every one had been expendable. Even herself.

Darth Vader stepped along side of her, gauntleted hands resting upon his belt as Palpatine's speech continued, close to the onyx metal hilt of his lightsaber. That same blade had killed an untold amount of Jedi and had ended the life of her Senate colleague Fang Zar so many years ago. Those names would be good company to be in, she thought.

"Citizens of the Empire, see now what becomes of those that threaten peace!" Palpatine's closing remarks sent the audience into a wild applause. The loud ovation nearly masked the hissing as Darth Vader's lightsaber ignited. The hum of a hundred bees filled her ear as the audience died down.

"Do you have anything to say?" Darth Vader asked. It was a last minute plea for mercy that he was expecting, she thought, or a blubbering plea for her life that would rob her of any of the sparse dignity that she had left.

"Long live the Republic," she said. There was a flash of red light and then no more.