"It's not quite that simple." said Obi-wan. "You have to be born with it. Although, after seeing how you've protected yourself, maybe you might have the gift." Obi-wan got up from his seat and stood before her, looking her in the eyes. "In the Old Republic, we trained Jedi when they were kids, so that they wouldn't have any attachments. Is that something you are willing to give up now as an adult?"
For a moment, Obi-wan struggles, almost falling over. Adam wakes up, cold sweat on his face. Both Master and Apprentice shared a look of horror. "Something terrible has happened..." Adam managed to say.
Senator Bail Organa struggled again with the cuffs placed on him. "Stop that!" said one of the Stormtroopers escorting him as he clubbed him with his rifle. The clean, sterile halls of the Death Star were giving the former senator a migraine with how clean they were. He didn't remember how exactly he got here, but he it didn't take a genius to figure it out.
The last thing he remembered was Darth Vader and a company of troopers entering the senate building. They said that the Emperor himself had dissolved the Senate, and that Bail Organa was under arrest. He guessed they must have injected him with something that put him to sleep, and the effects were still wearing off.
The soldiers led him to a massive viewing room, with the blue void of hyperspace before them. Standing next to one wall was Darth Vader, but in the room's center was a man that Bail recognized but had never actually met until today. Wilhuf Tarkin, Grand Moff and Governor of the Outer Rim. The graying man was the picture of military discipline and tidiness, with his crisp uniform freshly pressed and cleaned.
"Bail Organa of Alderaan." Tarkin's voice was smooth and carrying a posh, superior tone. Bail was reminded of a cruel teacher reprimanding a child. "I trust you find our facility comfortable."
Bail said nothing. No matter what sort of flowery language one used, an interrogation was still an interrogation. Tarkin simply shrugged. "No room for pleasantries, I see. Unfortunate, but I understand." Tarkin said as he went over to the viewing screen.
"In ordinary situations, we would begin by torturing you and making you a little more pliable. But I have decided that we would try something different." Almost on queue, the Death Star dropped out of hyperspace and halted before a blue and green planet. Alderaan itself.
The oxygen is Bail's lungs left his body all at once, and he forgot himself. "You can't do this!" he said, nearly rushing Tarkin. Vader himself stepped in front of him, and Bail stopped in his tracks. "You would be committing genocide!"
Tarkin's mask of politeness and calm started to crack. "You know what we want, Bail. Where is the Rebel base?" he said with a tone that demanded an answer.
Bail's mind raced. He thought of his wife. His home. His colleges. The nearly two billion people living there. They would all be gone in an instant, unless he answered. To Bail, there was no decision to make. "They're in the Yavin system." he said, almost at a whisper.
All at once, the cruelty faded and Tarkin was the perfect gentleman again. "Very good, Bail." he said before reaching to his comlink. "Commander, prepare the weapon. Full power."
And in a few moments, Bail's home was destroyed in a cloud of fire and plasma. He tried to attack Tarkin with his bare hands, but Vader casually threw him back against a bulkhead. Fading into unconsciousness, the last thought in his mind was how he failed his daughter and his home.
Vader reached for his saber to finish Bail off, but Tarkin raised his hand. "Put him in a cell. He may still be useful to us."