The flagship slices silently through the void of hyperspace, quickly approaching its final destination as the vessel reverts to realspace. I find with my advancing years that space travel agrees with me less and less. Travel in general has become a general nuisance, a wearisome experience that I have started to dread.
It was my desire to reign from the Palace and rarely travel after my ascent to the Throne, but Pestage insists that I must occasionally travel on these "good will tours" to reaffirm to the masses that as their ruler I actually care about the people I rule. And what better way to do that than by traveling the galaxy, shaking hands with the unwashed masses, touring cities, factories and farms all the while asking stupid questions and smiling for the camera droids, fooling these vermin into believing that, yes, the Emperor actually does care about your meaningless lives.
My time is incredibly valuable, and it is not to be frittered away chatting with nameless fools in the name of good publicity. However, my final destination on this journey will hopefully make this trip worth it. There will be no camera droids or HolonetNews reporters here. There won't be any "good will" here either. I am here on business, business that cannot be trusted to be conducted over the Holonet. My finest agents and technicians claim that my communications system is foolproof, incapable of being hacked or bugged. But as the years go on and the New Order gains strength I find myself less and less capable of trusting my underlings to accomplish the tasks I give them.
The commlink on the desk in my palatial suite chimes. "Your Majesty," the captain intones respectfully. "I wish to report that the flagship and the Honor Guard have dropped out of hyperspace into the Horuz system as you commanded."
"Very well," I responded. "Prepare my shuttle for departure, and inform Grand Moff Tarkin that I will be arriving shortly. And captain, have the Grand Moff forgo the full welcoming committee this time. I would like this meeting to be off the record." Over the last two weeks I have traveled to over two dozen worlds, and each planet insisted on having a welcoming committee, larger and more ostentatious than the last. Hundreds of fighters in tight formation flying overhead, thousands of troops standing at attention, flowers, confetti, the works. I appreciate the adoration in small bursts, but it grows repetitive after the 13th time.
"Very well My Lord." The captain answers.
The shuttle quickly departs from the main hangar. The ride is smooth and uneventful, just as I prefer it. As we make our final approach I find my way up to the cockpit, hovering behind and above the pilot silently like a shadow, observing the looming behemoth that hangs above the prison world of Despayre.
The Death Star.
From across the galaxy newly enslaved beings of all species have flooded the work yards here, in orbit of Despayre, toiling away to complete this, the greatest jewel in the Empire's proverbial crown.
It is a truly awe inspiring sight to behold. It will take at least another decade to complete, but when it is truly finished this grand device shall make every warship in the galaxy obsolete. This weapon that I am having built shall become an extension of my will, the personification of fear.
If of course everything goes according to plan. There are a thousand and one potential problems that might go wrong. For instance, due to my status as Emperor my fleet was allowed to drop out of hyperspace dangerously close to the superstructure of the Death Star. Normally any and all vessels entering into the Horuz system are required to reenter realspace at the very edge of the system. This is to prevent any potential rebel vessels from trying to fly into the Death Star and damaging it. Tarkin had to learn of this the hard way when a freighter slammed into the western hemisphere, undoing 8 months of work. Naturally my fleet is above suspicion and was thus allowed to bypass the quarantine zone around the construction yards.
Other attempts at sabotage are intermittent but they are nevertheless a growing concern. Perhaps I should send Lord Vader to properly motivate the slaves. We shall see.
The shuttle lands gracefully in the largest hangar on the station. Awaiting me on bended knee is Grand Moff Tarkin.
He is another potential problem.
Tarkin hungers for greater power. This has always been evident to me from the earliest days of our acquaintance. Men like him do not acquire their positions by not being power hungry after all. Tarkin believes that his thoughts are well guarded, and to those blind to the Force that may be true. His face is an immovable and unreadable structure etched in granite, betraying nothing. But to those blessed with the Force, Tarkin is an open book.
There are those mundanes who in the past had the capacity to shield their thoughts from Force Sensitives. Tarkin is an intelligent man, but he is not one of these beings. The Force does not factor into his world view. He is aware of it on an intellectual level, and he has seen it properly utilized on many occasions to know that it is fact and not mere theory. But he does not understand it, and in Tarkin's mind all that defies explanation and understanding is to be ignored.
But Tarkin covets greater power. He wants the throne. I do not hold this against him. I know for a fact that most of my advisers, from Lord Vader to the members of the Imperial Ruling Council desire the throne for themselves. It is only natural after all for men who have climbed life's ladder so high to not be satisfied with that which there stations have rewarded them. What matters to me as far as the highest echelons of the government and military are concerned is not the thought, but the deed.
Of course Tarkin entertains dreams of becoming Emperor. But he would never in his life actually try. And if he did I would quickly find out. As far as my Inner Circle is concerned thoughts do not matter. What matters is what they set out to accomplish. And even if he does get out of line I have many eventualities prepared to ensure that Tarkin's ambitions are kept in check. It is most beneficial to be prepared for any and all eventualities. Some might call that paranoid, but it is not paranoia if they are really out to get you.
The thoughts and goals of those lower on life's hierarchy are a different matter, but more on that later I think. I mustn't keep the Governor waiting.
"Rise Grand Moff. Walk with me."
"I trust that your journey was pleasant Sire." Governor Tarkin said.
"Space travel agrees with me less and less as the years progress Grand Moff. A consequence of age."
"You have many years left Your Highness. With modern medicine you could live to be 130 easily. You look as energetic as ever." He continues.
It is a good level of flattery. Not overdone, yet not understated. The trip to Tarkin's residence passes in relative silence, allowing me to collect my thoughts for the coming meeting. We cannot meet in the Death Star's planned throne room as that sector of the station has not yet been constructed. It would not be prudent to conduct this meeting in Tarkin's office either. Protocol and the chain of command must be observed after all.
Upon further reflection I find that it is an unusual anomaly, protocol. We could not meet in the Grand Moff's office, as protocol dictates that the man who sits behind the desk is the superior and the one in front is the inferior. And I could not sit behind Tarkin's desk because it would be out of place, not to mention mildly awkward. And so, ruling out the office and the planned but as of yet non-existent throne room we elect to assemble in Tarkin's parlor, where the Governor no doubt entertains his few guests in his off hours.
This location is slightly improper as well, being so informal and whatnot, but necessity at times dictates that certain un-written rules be bent. The Governor pours for me a flute of wine from his native Eriadu. Evidently this is some of Tarkin's best. I expect nothing less. For a several minutes silence dominates the room. The Grand Moff observes me over the rim of his wine, his face as impassive as ever, analyzing. I can see his brain hard at work, attempting to divine the reason for my unannounced arrival.
But Tarkin is patient, and so the silence continues. Finally, after an acceptable amount of time has passed I speak.
"I am sure you have been wondering Grand Moff as to the reason behind my unexpected visit."
"The thought has crossed my mind Sire." Tarkin said.
"Then let us get to the crux of the issue. I am concerned with potential disloyalty."
"Your Majesty?" Tarkin asked, the smallest bit of concern slipping through his usually unemotional mask.
"You needn't worry about yourself Governor; I have nothing but the highest faith in your abilities. It is of others that I wish to speak of."
"I admit that I do not fully understand your reasoning Your Majesty. Have we not crushed the Separatists holdouts?"
"We have." I answered.
"And have we not purged the Imperial Military of the undesirable filth that made us weak?"
By undesirable filth Tarkin was of course referring to the aliens, females, and those others who had verbally made clear their distaste for the New Order that had been swept from the service.
"Naturally."
"Then I fail to see a problem Sire."
I shake my head. Tarkin has become obsessed with this station and its construction. As a result he fails to see the big picture that I myself see.
"The Empire is much like any garden Grand Moff. You must care for it constantly, or else the weeds will encroach upon the flowers of your success and strangle the life out of them. Even now those weeds that we had once thought ourselves rid of have taken root. We have enemies both without and within and we must purge. As the Empire grows stronger I find it increasingly necessary for there to be amongst the rank and file complete uniformity, not only of speech and action, but of thought as well."
I pause to take a sip of wine, savoring the taste as the liquid soothes my parched throat. Tarkin is observing me, trying to discover for himself where this line of thought will lead.
"Amongst the highest leadership of the Empire there is room for differences in opinion, but amongst those who serve us there can be no deviation. There must be complete, uncompromising orthodoxy of opinion and deed."
"If I may Your Highness why do you place such great emphasis on thought?"
"There is an old saying that I am rather fond of Governor Tarkin. "Watch your thoughts, for they become words. Watch your words for they become actions. Watch your actions for they become habits. Watch your habits for they become your character. And watch your character for it becomes your DESTINY. What we think, we become." Those who serve directly under me such as yourself or Lord Vader may allow themselves to think as they please, for these potentially subversive thoughts that they may think are counterbalanced by the knowledge of what I am capable of and the penalty of defiance. However those farther down the chain of command possess a less firm grasp of this reality. Make no mistake Grand Moff, there are those who wear the uniform of the Empire, but they are not Imperials.
They do not believe in the principles of the New Order, and they would gladly see harm done both to the Empire and to my person. This clique of dishonorable beings must be annihilated, but they are crafty, they would have to be to have survived the purges that swept the Navy clean at the end of the Clone Wars."
"If I may be so bold Your Majesty, who are these traitors?" Tarkin asked.
"I do not know. As I said before these beings are cunning. They know that to survive they must keep their true selves hidden. They may praise the Empire in public but when no one is looking they plot behind my back. I have no doubt that in time many of them shall cross over to the side of the growing rebellion."
"You are sure of this?" Tarkin asked.
"I have foreseen it." I answer confidently.
"You have foreseen it. I see." Tarkin responded, a hint of skepticism in his voice. Tarkin may have known that the Force existed, and he may have known of the physical powers that it granted a select few, but there were some things, such as visions and premonitions which were harder for him to believe in due to their unseen nature.
"I have foreseen it." I repeat, a hint of anger coming into my voice. I tire of Tarkin's skepticism at times. Is it not enough for him merely to obey me?
"I meant no offense Sire, but wouldn't going on a proverbial witch hunt only cause damage to the Military? Would it not weaken us by depriving us of troops and resources best committed to more profitable enterprises?"
"Are you implying that I am wasting your time?" I ask coldly.
The temperature in the room drops by at least ten degrees. Tarkin sits ramrod straight as if struck by lightning.
"No Sire, of course not, what I meant to say…that is…what I am attempting to convey is that it would take a great deal of time and resources to root out these traitors. If they are indeed as cunning as you tell me then it would take years at the least to root them all out. I would not know where to even begin."
An acceptable (if not entirely graceful) way of extricating himself from a potentially life ending slip up. It seems that the nickname Slick Willy Tarkin was well earned.
"It would certainly be a difficult task." I say. "It would take Lord Vader years to root out the traitors, and it is highly likely that the Dark Lord would use this mission as a blank check to eliminate those he personally does not like. The Imperial Security Bureau is similarly unsuitable for the task, as most of their field operatives for the most part lack the finesse to root out those who are truly guilty. No, for this task something more subtle is required. Something more cloak and dagger in nature."
"What do you have in mind Your Majesty." Tarkin obediently asks.
"Perhaps a false flag operation. Yes, these traitors would be receptive to something like that."
"What would this operation entail Sire?"
"There are rumors about you Governor, not that I believe any of them." I say, interrupting Tarkin before he has the opportunity to profess the falseness of these rumors, whatever they might be.
"There are rumors that you yourself seek greater power within the Empire. Some even whisper that you covet the throne. We will capitalize on these rumors. You will enlist Imperial Intelligence to root out those most likely to harbor treasonous thoughts and have them rally to your "cause". You will then organize an armada composed of these traitors and unify them under your banner."
"Would it not be the height of folly to actually unify these traitors?" Tarkin asked.
"Allow me to finish Governor." I answer curtly. "This is what you must do. Once you have brought these traitors together you will claim that their purpose is to fight and die for you in order to protect the Death Star against anyone who would oppose you, even if that person was myself. You shall offer them power and potential glory in exchange for their service. You shall send them to your research base in the Maw Cluster, ostensibly so that they might hide themselves from the prying eyes of the Empire and prepare for the coming coup. But when they reach the Maw they shall find themselves in the middle of a trap. The traitors will find themselves in a practically unnavigable patch of space that they are unfamiliar with surrounded by Imperial loyalists that shall then destroy them. Millions of traitors will be expunged in one fell swoop."
"What of the families of these traitors? Surely they would notice if their loved ones in the armed services all suddenly perished under mysterious circumstances." Tarkin reasoned.
"In order to complete the illusion you will have to tell these traitors that this is a long term mission. They would have to spend years in the Maw without contact with the greater galaxy. Therefore you shall permit them to bring their families with them if they so desire it. That way many more traitors shall be brought into the snare."
"I beg your pardon Sire. The last thing I wish to do is offend you, but isn't this rather complicated plot…well…slightly paranoid."
"Is that what they call me out here in Oversector Outer Grand Moff? Paranoid."
"Would it not be easier to simply heighten our vigilance? We have no way of knowing for sure if each and every one of these suspects is a traitor. Would it not be a waste of time and energy to kill them all, even when it is likely that most would never risk opposing you openly?"
"How blessed am I to have a subordinate who sees fit to lecture me." I respond darkly.
"As I said before, I do not mean to offend, but surely there are easier alternatives."
"Perhaps there are, but the easy way is rarely the right way. You claim that this plan is complicated. That is true. It is complicated because those with lesser mental faculties will never be able to deduce the truth. I am attempting to strengthen the Empire Governor. My grip over the galaxy grows stronger with every passing day, but in places like the Outer Rim Territories my hold is still unacceptably infirm.
There are those who shake their heads in disbelief when I speak of the pathetic rebellion. It is true that there is no organized galaxy wide resistance like the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Not yet. But rebellion does exist. On the planetary level and on the sectorial level resistance to the Empire grows. If one needs proof of this one needs only look at the sabotage that has confounded you and this station since construction began nine years ago. All it takes is one spark to send the entire structure of society into chaos and I will not let that happen."
"Very well then. I shall put your proposed plan into effect immediately. For future reference Your Majesty, what should we call this project?"
I take a moment to consider this question. "Perhaps something theatrical." I answer. "If we are to pull off this false treason properly it must be something…self-glorifying."
I allow myself a smile that I know sends chills down Tarkin's back. I do enjoy watching them squirm under my gaze.
"Tell me Grand Moff, how does Tarkin's Fist sound to you?"
This chapter is dedicated to Ashla Ti and to my favorite fanfiction series, the Tarkin's Fist Saga. This chapter could be interpreted as a missing scene that kicks the plot of that story into gear, but I think that this chapter could be read without knowing about that story. That being said, if you want to read a truly epic piece of fanfiction that is actually better than most published Star Wars books than Tarkin's Fist is for you. If you like my work at all then you will find that Ashla's writing is a thousand times better. As always reviews are welcome.
