"I know who you are," she spat, "Governor Tarkin. I should have expected to find you holding Vader’s leash. I thought I recognized your unique stench when I was first brought on board." "Charming to the last," Tarkin declared in a fashion which suggested he was anything but charmed. "You don’t know how hard I found it to sign the order for your termination." His expression changed to one of mock sorrow. "Of course, had you cooperated in our investigation, things might be otherwise. Lord Vader has informed me that your resistance to our traditional methods of inquiry—" "Torture, you mean," she countered a trifle shakily.
"Let us not bandy semantics," Tarkin smiled.
"I’m surprised you had the courage to take the responsibility for issuing the order on yourself." Tarkin sighed reluctantly. "I am a dedicated man, and the pleasures I reserved for myself are few. One of them is that before your execution I should like you to be my guest at a small ceremony. It will certify this battle station’s operational status while at the same time ushering in a new era of Imperial technical supremacy. This station is the final link in the new-forged Imperial chain which will bind the million systems of the galactic Empire together once and for all. Your petty Alliance will no longer be of any concern to us. After today’s demonstration no one will dare to opposite Imperial decree, not even the Senate." Organa looked at him with contempt. "Force will not keep the Empire together.
