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Aboard the Death Star (8)
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(Inside the briefing room, Imperial officers sit around a table while Motti and Tagge argue about the Rebellion and the threat they may pose to the Death Star. Vader and Tarkin enter, and Tarkin begins to explain about the Emperor dissolving the Senate. Tarkin and Tagge then discuss the use of the Death Star as a deterrent, and Tagge worries about the Rebels finding a weakness.) MOTTI: Any attack made by the Rebellion against this station would be a useless gesture, no matter what technical data they've obtained. This station is now the ultimate power in the universe. I suggest we use it. VADER: (to Motti) Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed. The ability to destroy a planet is insignifigant next to the power of the Force. ANAKIN: Ooh, "technological terror". I like that. V: You don't think it's too much? A: No, no. It's nice and alliterative. One might even call it snappy. V: Snappy? Really? Because I was originally thinking about going with "engine of destruction" or--oh, wait. Is this idiot still talking? MOTTI: Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways, Lord Vader... A: Uh-oh... MOTTI: Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not allowed you to conjure up the stolen data tapes. A: Ohhh, boy. MOTTI: Or given you clairvoyance enough to locate the Rebel's hidden fortr-- (Vader walks over and begins to pinch his fingers together; Motti clutches at his throat, gasping for breath.) A: Now, take it easy, D. Remember those anger management courses you were taking. Well, *before* you snapped the instructor in half. V: Hey, that was my favorite part of that class. A: Just let it slide. Look at him. He's not even worth the trouble--just a puffed-up soldier with amazingly bad hair. V: Right. And I'm helping him with that problem. A: By choking the life out of him. Interesting technique. V: No, see, I have this theory that the oxygen deprivation actually helps stimulate the hair follicles. A: Uhhhhh-huh. Which will really help him when he's *dead*. V: Well, sure he'll be dead--but he'll have fantastic hair. A: Ah. I've gotta say, I'm having trouble with your grasp of science, here. VADER: I find your lack of faith disturbing. A: Dude, did you just say that out loud? Were you talking to me or him? V: Um...him? A: You sure? TARKIN: Enough of this. Vader, release him. VADER: As you wish. (Vader releases his grip, and Motti slumps down on the table, gasping.) A: Stimulated hair follicles, huh? V: Yep. Give it a few weeks, and he'll be sporting some wicked dreadlocks. He'll thank me for this. A: Dreadlocks. Right. V: Yeah. Or at least a sassy set of bangs. A: Sometimes you worry me, man...
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