A Destiny Rewritten

chapter iv: the princess.

Darth Vader's head is still whirling from his confrontation with Padmé, and though he wants to take time to meditate on the Dark Side, he has important business to attend to. The Devastator docked in the Death Star hours ago, and Vader is to attend a meeting with other high-ranking officials in the Empire. Padmé has been moved by his personal guards to a new room by his quarters, and Leia Organa to the Detention Center.

He and Grand Moff Tarkin enter the conference room to discuss the situation with the Rebellion. If any of them step out of line, Vader already knows he won't be able to stop himself from snapping their neck. There is still an unstoppable, untamable rage blazing within him, kindled by the resurgence of hatred for Obi-Wan and the lies he filled Padmé's head with. Lies that she still believes, lies that the Rebel Alliance and Bail Organa have now enforced.

He glares at each and every one of the men sitting in the conference room; they better be on their best behavior, or they will surely face Vader's wrath.

"...will continue to gain support in the Imperial Senate as long as--" Commander Tagge respectfully stops speaking when he sees that Lord Vader and Tarkin are now present. His head, along with everyone else's, turns to the two high-ranking men.

"The Imperial Senate will no longer be of any concern to us, Tarkin says to Tagge, crossing the room to stand at his chair. Vader follows, but he keeps himself a few feet away from everyone else. "I've just received word that the Emperor has dissolved the council permanently. The last remnants of the Old Republic have been swept away."

Padmé would hate the sound of that, but Vader relished it. The Old Republic was corrupt and inefficient--it deserved to burn. Someday, he would make Padmé see that.

Tarkin and Tagge begin to bicker over the bureaucracy and politics, which bores Vader so intensely that he tunes out. He has always hated politics, and politicians, for that matter--save for Padmé. But when Tagge mentions the Death Star plans, Vader's attention is focused back in on the conversation.

"If the Rebels have obtained a complete technical readout of this station, it is possible, however unlikely, that they might find a weakness and exploit it."

"The plans you refer to will soon be back in our hands," Darth Vader growls sternly. He crosses his arms, his gaze trained coldly on Tagge. He wants to strangle someone--and perhaps Tagge will be so unlucky if he keeps pushing it.

Admiral Motti, in his arrogance, begins to argue about how much more powerful the Death Star is than any weakness the Rebels may find in the plans. Vader turns his anger on the admiral rather than on Tagge; he uncrosses his arms and clenches his fists threateningly. But Admiral Motti seems to transfixed on what he is saying to notice.

"This battle station is now the ultimate power in the universe. I suggest we use it!" he says.

Vader cuts in, and though his voice is flattened by his mask, his tone is teeming with anger. "Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed," he growls. "The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force."

Despite Vader's anger, he may not have been so strongly inclined to squeeze the life out of Admiral Motti if did not respond so arrogantly--but alas, Motti's pride gets the better of him. "Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways, Lord Vader. Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes, or given you clairvoyance enough--"

And that's enough for Vader--any grip he had on his temper is now lost, and Vader releases his rage full-blast on Admiral Motti. He raises his hand and reaches out with his senses and feelings to morph the Force around Motti's throat. The man begins to gasp for air, frantically grabbing at the collar of his uniform, as if that would save him.