Providence
They sat in the briefing room, a black circular table that was symbolic of the power of the station they nested in. In the center of the table, sat a mounted holoprojector used for communications. The table could also act as a battlefield analyzer during combat. The Death Star would certainly see enough of it.
Several regional governors-turned-Moffs, but in the northern pole of the table sat the head of them all: Grand Moff Tarkin. The tall and lanky man with sharp facial features that resembled some form of a predator, sat there, watching the other Moffs squabble over the growing power of the Rebel Alliance. Two, in particular, are discussing the threat the Rebels pose over the Death Star.
"The Rebel Alliance is too well-equipped. If they were to mount an offensive against this station, we'd be vulnerable," one said. His hair was short and covered most of his forehead.
"Maybe to your starfleet, but not mine!" countered the other—a slimy, backstabbing Moff.
Tarkin continued to watch the exchange, amused between the two. After a few more moments of them arguing, he finally intervened. "The Rebellion will be dealt with swiftly," he said, commanding their immediate obedience. "The Emperor has informed me that he has dissolved the Senate. The remnants of the Old Republic have been swept away."
"But who will have control?" The worried Moff asked.
"The regional governors shall now be in direct control of their territory. And fear shall keep them in control. Fear of this battlestation and fear of the Empire."
"But what of the Rebel Alliance? They are just too well equipped. What if they get their hands on the plans of the Death Star?"
Tarkin suppressed a sigh. As much as this worrisome tart had been trying his patience, the Moff nevertheless raised a good point. Before he could reply, another voice—one more daunting and echoed of dark power, spoke.
"Leave that to me," Vader spoke as he entered the room.
"This battlestation is the most powerful symbol in the Galaxy. Nothing will stop us," the slimy Moff said, his thin lips forming a sneer.
"Don't be too proud of this technological terror that has been constructed. The ability to blow up a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force," Vader quipped.
"Oh don't scare us with your sorcerer's ways Lord Vader. Your devotion to that ancient religion is nothing more than--," he began to gasp as he found he had no air in his lungs. An invisible vise-like grip had constricted his windpipe. He began to choke as he hands desperately reached for his throat, eager to remove this invisible grip.
"I find your lack of faith disturbing," Vader teased as he watched in delight at the immediate panic and suffering the Moff was going through. He enjoyed it quite a bit. His forefinger and thumb were conspicuously close. Close enough to prove that Vader did bring up a point about the Force.
After a few more moments, confident that the man had learned a lesson, Tarkin raised his voice and commanded, "that's enough."
Vader relinquished his grip and moved to stand next to the Grand Moff: an equal.
After a few more moments of watching the other Moffs shuffling out at the exits, he turned to Vader and asked, "has the Princess been cooperating?"
"She has been…resilient. But soon I shall have the truth from her and the whereabouts of the Rebellion."
"Perhaps I can be of some assistance," he answered, smiling maliciously as a plan unfolded in his mind. "There are many forms of persuasion, Lord Vader; many forms."
Two white, faceless, yet fearsome stormtroopers shoved her into the observation deck.
She saw two figures: the black armoured Darth Vader and the tall, lanky Grand Moff Tarkin. "Grand Moff Tarkin," she stated flatly, "I thought I recognized your scent when I came on board. I suspected that you'd have Lord Vader on a leash."
He smiled, playing along with her. "Ah Princess, you have been looking as exuberant as always. I hope that we can have an exchange of information and move along."
"What information? When the Senate hears that you've been holding me for no reason--,"
"The Senate, no longer runs things, Princess. So I ask you now, where is the location of the secret Rebel base?"
She stood tall and defiant, not answering him.
Tarkin had expected as much. He keyed something on a console and spoke into it. "Target Alderaan," he commanded.
"What!" She screamed in fear. "No! Alderaan is a peaceful planet, we have nothing to fight about. We're pacifists--," she was interrupted by Tarkin turning around and glaring at her.
"Would you prefer another target? A military target? Then name the system."
She said nothing. Torn between choosing either her home planet of billions or the fate of countless billions.
He moved towards her, his anger growing, forcing her to back away and to bump into none other than Darth Vader. "I grow tired of asking you this. Name the system."
She looked at the peaceful blue and green orb. She sighed and lowered her head. "Dantooine. The base is on Dantooine."
"You see Lord Vader? I told you she'd be persuaded to see otherwise." He smiled smugly and turned around to press a key on the same console. "You may fire when ready," he stated flatly.
"What!" She screamed in hysteria.
"You're far too trusting," Tarkin replied as he took some measure of pride at commanding the power of this fearsome battlestation.
He heard the systems powering on as the station shuddered gently, preparing to emit a large emerald beam that didn't appear. The weapon didn't fire. "What?" He managed as he uncrossed his arms and his face took on an expression of disbelief and utter shock.
"It would appear that the station still needs work," Vader replied, undoubtedly grinning under his mask.
"Take her away!" Tarkin commanded to the stormtroopers who quickly followed orders. "How could this happen? Insolence!" Tarkin screamed out profanities as Vader stood there, watching the Grand Moff vent his anger, eager to find out what had happened to the weapon systems.
"I shall inform you of the engineers' reports when they come in," Vader replied as he turned away to leave. So, it would appear it was either subterfuge or the weapons systems needs to be reworked. We shall return to the location, he thought to himself as he traversed down the corridors that flashed red with klaxons indicating battle alert.
He felt the shudder of the Death Star as the vessel undoubtedly made its way into hyperspace.
It had indeed been a day for the Force to prevail. Vader could only smile and no one else would seem to take notice.