Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

The shuttle sat quietly, dwarfed by the cavernous reaches of the huge dockingbay. Hundreds of troops stood assembled in formation, flanking the base of theshuttle ramp—white armored Imperial stormtroopers, gray-suited officers, and elite,red-robed Imperial Guard. They snapped to attention as Moff Jerjerrod entered. Jerjerrod—tall, thin, arrogant—was the Death Star commander. He walkedwithout hurry up the ranks of soldiers, to the ramp of the shuttle. Hurry was not inJerjerrod, for hurry implied a wanting to be elsewhere, and he was a man whodistinctively was exactly where he wanted to be. Great men never hurried (he wasfond of saying); great men caused others to hurry. Yet Jerjerrod was not blind to ambition; and a visit by such a one as this greatDark Lord could not be taken too lightly. He stood at the shuttle mouth, therefore,waiting—with respect, but not hurry.