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A New Hope
It is a period of civil war. Guerrilla spaceships striking from a hidden base have won a narrow victory against our loyal Imperial forces, inflicting heavy losses in terms of casualties and, worse, the galactic peace. During the battle insurgent spies managed to steal secret plans to our ultimate weapon and the brainchild of Tarkin’s dream, the DEATH STAR, an armoured space station with enough firepower to destroy an entire planet.
The whole thing has given me a massive headache.
Moff Nur has been killed, a wound in my life for which I shall never forgive the traitorous Rebel Alliance. Nur has been my closest confidant outside of my master for years, and I will feel his loss keenly. Our long conversations have always helped me clarify matters, though he was no mentor — rather, a friend. Nur never told me what to think. He showed me how to find the answers myself.
I wish I could seek his counsel now.
The last time we spoke, right before the battle, he made a suggestion I admit I considered absurd. “You should try keeping a journal,” he said.
“A journal?” I echoed. “Do you mean I should write a book?” I know, of course, that Moff Nur has been editing the manuscript of my master Darth Sidious the Emperor Palpatine, whose highly anticipated treatise on the subject of the subjugation of civilizations and the creation of powerful monsters promises to be a bestseller.
“No, no,” smiled Nur. “I mean like a diary.”
“Like a teenage girl?”
“Well, not entirely unlike a teenage girl, I suppose. The purpose is to help you analyze yourself by exporting your thoughts and impressions into a form you can review. Not only can it provide valuable insight as an artifact, but I find the actual process of recounting my reflections cathartic in itself.”
“You do this?”
“I do. I promise you, my friend, it helps.”
And so I have decided to make good on the Moff’s advice, now that he is dead and the confidence of the terrorists swells. I have begun this journal. I do not know how long the experiment will last, but I admit that in the absence of Nur himself I do find it calming to imagine I am speaking to his spirit as I dictate this recording.
Alright, now I feel really stupid. Perhaps this experiment will be short lived. I am a busy man. Being a preternaturally powerful dark overlord at the right hand of a descent-crushing Emperor entails a certain set of demanding responsibilities. The galaxy won’t tyrannize itself, after all.
I’m back. Commodore Ozzel just rushed to my chambers to triumphantly announce in his simpering way that a series of terrorist transmissions has been intercepted originating from the very starship that even now ostensibly ferries Ambassador Leia Organa on a consular mission to her homeworld of Alderaan.
Long have I suspected her ties to the Rebel Alliance! This time we have her. I have commanded this StarDestroyer to break off from the fleet and pursue the Tantive IV across hyperspace, and to disable her at the earliest opportunity.
With Organa’s capture we will have a new hope for protecting Tarkin’s plan, and restoring order to the galaxy…