Tarkin

Tarkin smiled. “Someone once said that politics is little more than the systematic organization of hostilities.

Never try to live decently, boy—not unless you’re willing to open your life to tragedy and sadness. Live like a beast, and no event, no matter how harrowing, will ever be able to move you.

Triumphing over nature means better lives for sentients, but dominance is sustained only by bringing order to chaos and establishing law where none exists.

For all that sentients have achieved with weapons and machines, life remains an ongoing battle for survival, with the strong or the smart at the top of the heap, and the rest kept in check by firepower and laws.

Excuse me for asking, sir, but are we expecting trouble?" "Always, Captain," Tarkin said, without levity.

You see how easy it is to go from having everything to having nothing?

If we aren't willing to do whatever is required," he said finally, "then we risk losing what we have been mandated to protect.

Five standard years have passed since Darth Sidious proclaimed himself galactic Emperor. The brutal Clone Wars are a memory, and the Emperor’s apprentice, Darth Vader, has succeeded in hunting down most of the Jedi who survived dreaded Order 66.

Death or renown, ladies and gentlemen.

The factor that contributed most to the demise of the Republic was not, in fact, the war, but rampant self-interest. Endemic to the political process our ancestors engineered, the insidious pursuit of self-enrichment grew only more pervasive through the long centuries, and in the end left the body politic feckless and corrupt. Consider the self-interest of the Core Worlds, unwavering in their exploitation of the Outer Systems for resources; the Outer Systems themselves, undermined by their permissive disregard of smuggling and slavery; those ambitious members of the Senate who sought only status and opportunity.

Vader might very well be Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, whom Tarkin had fought beside during the Clone Wars, and for whom he had developed a grudging appreciation.

How Plagueis would have mocked him for allowing himself to become personally involved in such a seemingly trivial matter; but then his Master had never foreseen that his onetime apprentice would become Emperor.

It was that genuflecting obedience, the steadfast devotion to execute whatever task the Emperor assigned, that had given rise to so many rumors about Vader: that he was a counterpart to the Confederacy’s General Grievous the Emperor had been holding in reserve; that he was an augmented human or near-human who had been trained or had trained himself in the ancient dark arts of the Sith; that he was nothing more than a monster fashioned in some clandestine laboratory. Many believed that the Emperor’s willingness to grant so much authority to such a being heralded the shape of things to come, for it was beyond dispute that Vader was the Empire’s first terror weapon.

Tarkin had long nursed suspicions about who Vader was beneath the black face mask and helmet, as well as how he had come to be, but he knew better than to give open voice to his thoughts.

His strategy of flying boldly into the face of adversity was studied and taught, and during the Clone Wars would come to be known as “the Tarkin Rush,

His father placed his elbows on the table and leaned toward him. “We need to know if you are simply ordinary or larger than life.” To the best of his ability, he mulled over the notion of being larger than life. “Did you have to go there when you were young?” His father nodded. “Were you afraid?” His father sat back into his tall, brocaded armchair, as if in recall. “In the beginning I was. Until I learned to overcome fear.

you’re willing to open your life to tragedy and sadness. Live like a beast, and no event, no matter how harrowing, will ever be able to move you.

Never try to live decently, boy—not unless

They never missed an opportunity to remind their son that life was inequitable, and that only those with an appetite for personal glory could succeed. One needed to be willing to crush underfoot anything or anyone. Discipline and order were the keys, and law was the only unanswerable response to chaos.

Jova’s voice whispered in his ear: Only glory can follow a man to the grave.

Artists. If the Emperor has his way, you’ll be the first ones targeted for eradication.

The Carrion. There it was again: that strange word he had heard so often growing up. But just then he asked: “What is the Carrion?” His father seemed pleased that his son had finally wondered aloud. “A place that teaches you the meaning of survival.” In the quiet comfort of the family dining room, rich with the heady odors of exotic spices and long-simmered meats, the statement had no meaning. “Will I be afraid?” he said, again because he sensed he was meant to ask. “If you know what’s good for you.” “Could I die there?” he said, almost in self-amusement. “In ways too numerous to count.” “Would you miss me if I did die?” he asked them both. His mother was the first to say, “Of course we would.” “Then why do I have to go there? Have I done something wrong?” His father placed his elbows on the table and leaned toward him. “We need to know if you are simply ordinary or larger than life.” To the best of his ability, he mulled over the notion of being larger than life. “Did you have to go there when you were young?” His father nodded. “Were you afraid?” His father sat back into his tall, brocaded armchair, as if in recall. “In the beginning I was. Until I learned to overcome fear.

Excuse me for asking, sir, but are we expecting trouble?” “Always, Captain,” Tarkin said, without levity.

Wilhuff had had ample time to grow accustomed to the sight, scent, and taste of blood, but he had never seen so much human blood spilled in one place.

No matter what, it was unlikely that he would ever have crossed paths with the Emperor—when he was still known as Palpatine. It was while Tarkin was attending the Sullust Sector Spacefarers Academy that they met—or rather that Palpatine had sought him out.

Tarkin was surprised when Mas Amedda charged the car to descend. “I would have expected the Emperor to reside closer to the top,” Tarkin said. “He does,” the vizier allowed. “But we’re not proceeding directly to the Emperor. We’re going to meet first with Lord Vader.

Thank you, Sheev,” Tarkin said, with obvious sincerity, and using Palpatine’s given name. “I will do what’s best for my homeworld, and for the Republic—in any manner you deem fit.” Palpatine’s words about Naboo and Eriadu turned out to be prophetic.

Seated in the copilot’s chair, Tarkin watched Vader expectantly as the Predator emerged from hyperspace. “Full ahead,” the Dark Lord said. Tarkin was glad to oblige, though he saw nothing through the viewports but star-strewn space and nothing on the sensor screens but background noise.