"You, Lieutenant! Over here, now." Just as I am about to yell back that I really do have something I need to be doing, I turn to see who's calling me. It was just as well that I did.

As I turn, I meet the steely gaze of Grand Moff Tarkin, who beckons me over to where he stands in front of a bank of display screens. I bow slightly to him. "With all due respect, sir, I must get to my fighter immediately."

"You fly a TIE, don't you, Lieutenant?" Tarkin's voice is quite cultured, rather nice to listen to. I still haven't the slightest idea why he's talking to me.

"Yes, sir." I'm nervous now. I can't have someone noticing I'm not responding quickly to the call to battle stations; right now, my ass is supposed to be in my TIE.

"I have a special assignment for you. I shan't send you out in that death bucket. You're too beautiful to be wasted that way. The Emperor buys those things like flimsi and throws them away just as easily." His angular features soften themselves into a smile, and, though attractive, the expression looks peculiar on bhim.

And I know he's right about the TIEs. I've been lucky so far, but TIEs really are death buckets; they're shieldless, and they tend to break apart like toys when hit.

Tarkin runs a hand up my back, and I am startled by his touch. It feels quite gentle through my flight suit, and I am again surprised. "Come with me, beautiful Lieutenant, and you can watch the show from the best seat in the house." With his hand still on my back, he steers me toward a large transparisteel viewport. "I helped plan this grand battle station, you know," he says.

I stifle a giggle as I realize that he sounds like he's trying to impress me; I wonder if he's got etchings to show me in his quarters after this is all over. I look out the viewport, and the battle truly is glorious--laser bolts and ion blasts flashing red and blue among the stars . . . quite an impressive display. I glance to my left and notice that Tarkin is enjoying it quite a lot as well.

As I glance, he turns toward , grabbing me around the waist, pulling me quite close to him. "It's beautiful, isn't it, Lieutenant?" His voice is strained, and his breath sounds shallow. He is really, *really* excited by battle.

'Things are getting wilder and wilder,' I think, taking stock of the situation. 'I'm not in my TIE, I'm *watching* the battle like it's a holoprogram, and Grand Moff Tarkin's hardon is poking me in the leg. What a day.'

I am also struck by the beauty of the battle and the expression of utter bliss on Tarkin's aristocratic features. I feel a smile curve my lips. 'I could get to like this,' I think. 'If I was the Grand Moff's girl, I wouldn't ever have to step into that death bucket again.'

And then, he kisses me rather roughly, but I don't mind, because my adrenaline level is almost surely as high as his. The kiss continues for quite some time, and by the time he pulls away from me to grab the zipper on my flight suit, I'm extremely aroused myself, and the first thing I do is snatch the dorky little uniform cap off his head and toss it aside.

Once I am de-flight-suit-ed, Tarkin fills his hands with my breasts as I go to work on the buttons of his uniform jacket. When I grow impatient, I simply rip through the last couple buttons, then shove his pants down. When we are both naked before the large viewport, he kisses me again, and I thrill to the feeling of his skin on mine, along the entire length of my body.

The Grand Moff fastens his mouth on my neck, where I know I'll have a purple mark the next day, but I don't care. I don't care about tomorrow as I wrap my hand around his hot, hard cock and stroke up and down. I don't care about tomorrow as he pinches my nipples to exquisite pain.

I care even less about tomorrow as Tarkin bends me back over the railing in front of the viewport and drives his hardness deep into me, thrusting urgently into me, and I see the battle still, only upside down now.

I feel myself about to come, just as he cries out. Just as there is a searing white heat and a catastrophic bang. Just as my last thought is that there will be, quite literally, no tomorrow for either of us.

Just as the Death Star meets its end.