TK-421, Why Aren't You at Your Post? - Episode 3

“I apologize for keeping you waiting,” said Tarkin, in his prissy Eriaduan accent. “We’ve been conducting an interrogation that went a little longer than expected.  On the bright side,” he said cheerfully, “we’ve just demonstrated the full power of this battle station.  We blew up Alderaan.”

“Terrific,” I said, hoping it didn’t come out as sarcastically as I meant it.  See, that’s just the kind of thing I’m talking about: you blow up people’s planets enough, eventually, they’re going to get mad.  Besides, Alderaan was the only place on this side of the star system where you could find a decent bantha burger.

Tarkin’s eyes narrowed to dewback-thin slits, as they swept over Jawa.  “Great Plagueis, how did that thing get on board?” he asked.  For reasons that I don’t like to bring up, jawas aren’t the most popular with other species.

“He’s with me,” I said. “My assistant.”

“Very well,” conceded Tarkin, with lingering distaste. “Just make sure he keeps his hands to himself.”

“He will,” I promised.

Vader came in just then.  “Inspector Dagnar,” he said, “we meet again.” 

“Greetings, Lord Vader,” I said, putting out my hand, but the guy wouldn’t even shake it.  He’s rude like that, it’s one of the things I don’t like about him.  I put my hand on the conference table, casual-like, as if that was why I had put it out in the first place.  “Bug-eyed jerk,” I thought (even though, strictly speaking, I’m not really one to be talking about bug eyes).

Lord Vader immediately took his place at the head of the long conference table.  Tarkin sat on his left and indicated that I take the seat on his right.   He made Jawa sit on the far end, three chairs away, which made me kind of envy him because the stench was making me nauseated.  A protocol droid (one of those special E-3PO units only the Empire can get their hands on) came in with a tray of four juri juices.  The droid put one in front of each of us, including Lord Vader, and I watched the whole time because I was curious to see how he would drink it, but he never did.  It was kind of weird to think about; I guess I had always just thought he ate batteries or something.

“I suppose you’re wondering why we called you out,” said Tarkin.

“As a matter of fact I am,” I said.  They had told me nothing about this case, which I can’t stand.  I had taken it on anyway, even though the pay was lousy, because, let’s face it, people don’t say no to the Empire. “So what is it, an assassination or something?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that, I assure you.  Actually, it’s not even a murder.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.  This deal was getting worse all the time.

Tarkin gave the E-3PO droid a pointed glance and a meaningful cough, and, taking the hint, the droid stumped stiff-leggedly out with his tray.  Tarkin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and touching the tips of his yellow, wrinkled fingers together.

“The truth is, it’s all rather embarrassing,” he said, “and I’m sure you’ll understand that what you are about to hear must not leave this room under any circumstances.”

“Sure,” I said.  I was bored already.  Like I cared about their stupid state secret … I had a life.