The Moons of Iego: The Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker Website

FAN FICTION

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Executive Order

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You do not know how this young traitor can so easily manage to affect you, but she does.

It is your position to do these things. Imperial elites stand and rub their hands clean of the filth as you carry on, laying waste to anything that does not bow to the glory of the Empire. How easy it must be to look down their nose at the cruelty and barbarism of one such as you. They do nothing but relay the orders, there is certainly no blood on their hands. They have become brave with the creation of this new magnificent horror they have built. They no longer even hold their tongue when addressing you.

Looking down to the Imperial data pad before you, you try concentrating one more time on signing the executive order laid down by Tarkin for her execution. You will move the executive order to military control.

And yet again, you stop.

As if the wires and mechanical tendons in your arms refuse to obey the simple command sent down by your wave sensors.

How is it that one young girl can cause so much damage to the strength of the Empire?

You look down again at the face on the data pad. Brown eyes, up tilted nose, determined chin. You feel something stir inside and it is instantly clenched to strangulation by the darkness and your sense of duty.

She must be made an example. Millions of systems are now on the edge of a full scale rebellion, and you cannot sign one simple order of termination. Something you have done one hundred thousand times before.

There is something about her resolve that makes your nerves stand on end. Her bravado, even though it is sometimes false, touches something that you will not acknowledge. In truth, she has earned some measure of respect from you. If nothing else, she would die for what she believes in, and even though her ideals are misled, you cannot fault her for her determination. Ridiculously, the thought enters your mind that she reminds you of yourself, only younger and much more foolish. Much more trusting. You would go so far as to say naïve, even.

How can you fault her for being misled when you have felt the sting of betrayal and by those you let close to you for far longer than this girl could have been tainted by the Alliance? For all of your begrudging respect of the girl’s foolish father, he was as blind as she when it came to matters of judiciary and legislative matters. He led with his heart, and the galaxy is full of those who will take advantage of that particular weakness.

You know of one example in particular.

Now, with her planet destroyed and nothing left for which to live, surely she will be more dangerous if left alive.

How then, is it so hard to sign this damned order of execution?

It has proven impossible to break her will. She gave false information and raised the insipid Tarkin’s ire, even more than your own. Something you would have never thought feasible. He is usually the more manipulative and scheming between the two of you.

What exactly are you scheming? You ask yourself. At present there is nothing you could do with this prisoner. How could you possibly turn this to your advantage? You realize it is a foolish attempt to delay the inevitable and that your frustration with yourself is rising by the minute.

This is one political prisoner in a string of many. One political execution in a string of many. There is no conflict. She is dangerous to the cause of the Empire and must be eliminated. She was given a chance to be valuable and refused, she is useless now.

You scroll past the image of her face to her statistics.

Born nineteen standard years ago in the fall season on Coruscant to refugees from Jabiim. Adopted by Senator Bail Organa and his wife after their attempts at having children failed. Attended Legislative academics on Alderaan, with emphasis on work with the Refugee Relief Movement.

Refugee Relief Movement…

You stop for a moment and remember.

She would have been nineteen now...

Irritably, you attempt to pull yourself back to the present. There was someone else with the power to sway people to her thinking, simply by being charitable. This is a useful talent. You find that there is something solid and hard in your chest, this line of thinking always brings this feeling—that there is a stone that sinks to sit on your most banal of thoughts when you dredge them up irrationally. As if to remind you of your place in this galaxy.

You turn your thoughts back to the stubborn princess, determined this time to do what you set out to do: sign the order for her death and be done with it, when you are interrupted with the news that a ship has been brought in and the princess’ cell block breached.

With one last look at her face, you close out of the data pad, leaving the order unfulfilled. Perhaps she can be of some use to you after all.

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