A Certain Point of View

Chapter 13: One Swift Stroke

"There are other ways," Motti said, though Tarkin disregarded him.

"Perhaps," he said. "Obliterating the Rebels with this station is a straightforward solution. You and Lord Vader have that in common. But if we cannot find the base, there are yet other small victories we might yet win."

"There are other ways to get her talking," Motti said. Tarkin ignored him; it was unlikely he could think of anything the Dark Lord had not tried.

"Perhaps," said Tarkin again. "But in any case, she must not die. She is royalty, after all—a princess and ambassador from one of the most ancient and respected noble families in the Empire. She is young, well-spoken, possessed of extraordinary leadership qualities, and I have no doubt now that she is the future of the Rebellion, if we allow the Rebellion to have a future."

"She has a future only if we allow it," said Motti, but Tarkin shook his head.

"If we terminate her now, she becomes a martyr," said Tarkin. "A saint for the cause. The little girl who escaped the fleet, who made a fool of Darth Vader as she delivered Imperial secrets directly under his nose. No, I think not."

"What would you have us do?"

Tarkin tapped his screen with delight. "Here is where Lord Vader's tactics end and mine begin," he said. "The interrogation has proven ineffective, but it was far from fruitless. You forget that an IT-O Interrogator is built on a medical droid's chassis. In Vader's hands it is an effective torture device; but it is first and foremost a medical tool."

"The interrogation brought us nothing," Motti said, frustrated.

"Correct," said Tarkin. "And even that is something. Vader's interrogations have never before been successfully resisted, did you know that? His track record was perfect until today. Those 'sorcerer's ways' you see fit to mock have never failed us before. And that, in itself, tells us something very useful indeed."

Motti raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

Tarkin tapped the monitor excitedly. "You are not old enough to remember how the Jedi recruited for their ancient cult—seizing children from their beds in the night, tearing infants from the arms of their mothers who showed even the slightest inclination toward their mystic practice. It all stopped during the Purge, when the Emperor wiped them out and destroyed nearly all of the Jedi records. The children born that year were not monitored by the Jedi, nor by the Emperor. I thought I might find something in her scan to indicate such an unfortunate."

"And did you?"

Tarkin shook his head. "In truth, I don't know what to look for, which makes hunches very hard to prove. But In the analysis, I've discovered something even more remarkable."

"Tell me."

Tarkin smiled. "I've compared her scans to the medical records of her family—and it seems that Princess Organa is neither a true princess, nor a true Organa."

"So who is she?" asked Motti.

"It doesn't matter," said Tarkin. "Perhaps one of these Force Children, born during the Purge—she's the right age for it, precisely. I can only presume that when word of the Jedi's atrocities spread, some fawning parents parted with their little girl before they could find her. It explains her unusual resistance to Lord Vader's methods, and it further gives us political ammunition on a homeworld whose monarchy is still at least nominally hereditary."

"Wait," said Motti. "You think she's a Jedi?"

"There are no Jedi," said Tarkin. "Their ancient house is sundered and their religion crushed; Lord Vader has seen to that. But a princess who stands as the symbol of hope for her people needs no lightsaber to be dangerous. She needs only the wealth of her birthright, the prominence of a trusted family name, and the unbroken virtue of an innocent martyr. But if she is not the trueborn daughter of Breha and Bail Organa, her influence will fade, a succession crisis will no doubt follow, those we install as the true heirs can be persuaded to shed their embarrassing pacifism, and in the months and years to come we shall utterly destroy Alderaan's usefulness to the Rebellion as a stable, untarnished jewel of its recruitment agenda. In the resulting civil war, we shall back a monarch loyal to the Empire and be done with its sympathizers once and for all."

"It all seems pointlessly complex to me," said Motti. "I'm a military man. I'm no politician."

"Neither is Lord Vader," the Grand Moff gloated. "In that, too, you are alike. But I have long specialized in turning failures into triumphs. Let her resist Vader's mind probing as she pleases, for now. We will find the Rebel base soon enough. There is much we can do with her in the meantime, whether Vader breaks her or not."

"What will you do?" Motti asked.

Tarkin smiled "Lord Vader, I have heard, remains the Emperor's prized wolf for hunting down the Jedi and all who show an affinity for their unnatural sorceries. He travels, I am told, with one of the last archival records of the old Force-sensitive bloodlines. I will petition the Emperor for access to those files, then seek out a positive match. When I can prove that the supposed golden daughter of Alderaan is the claimless bastard child of some sorcerous cultist bloodline, it will fracture the faith of the people, erode Alderaan's prominence, and put an end to its treacherous royal family."

"Then I'm definitely no politician," Motti admitted. "We're sailing through uncontested core space aboard the greatest superweapon ever built. If it were up to me, I'd take this weapon straight to Alderaan and destroy it. To hell with the mind games and machinations, Governor. None of this 'single ignition' posturing. Just fully charge the weapon and show the Rebellion what true power really is."

Tarkin smiled—dismissively, at first. But he knitted his fingers, then furrowed his brow, then cocked his head. His thin smile faded briefly, then returned in force.

"What?" Motti asked.

Taking care to scrub his data terminal, Tarkin stood and moved toward the door.

"Go on," said Motti. "Go on and laugh. Tell me why it won't work. But that's what I'd do, just the same."

"You are a wiser man than I gave you credit for," said Tarkin. " Get some rest. You'll want to be awake in a few standard hours."

He struck the comm switch as he walked past his own seat at the table—he had been using Yularen's terminal for his research, to remove all suspicion that he was circumventing Vader's nominal control of the prisoner.

The comm speaker crackled. "Sir?"

"Send a message to Lord Vader," he said. "Tell him I await his presence in the command room when he is done with the prisoner. And calculate a course for Alderaan."

"Yes, sir."

"And contact Imperial Center. I require top access to all Core records at the Emperor's convenience."

Motti had no interest in waiting around for Vader's return, but paused in the doorway.

"What are you planning?" he asked.

"An elegant solution," said Tarkin. "I think you shall be quite pleased."