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On the control deck Durga’s other crew members sat strapped into their chairs, secured with lock restraints because Durga did not want them to leap from their booby-trapped seats if he grew displeased with them.

Lemelisk rubbed the scratchy stubble on his chin, as Durga peered into the map of the galaxy, which would soon be under his entire control.

Without warning, the alarms went off, whooping from the security stations. Klaxons echoed through the empty corridors of the Darksaber. Startled, many of the crew members on the command deck tried to flee, but the locked webbing held them in place.

Durga bellowed, “I demand to know the meaning of this racket.”

“That’s the security alarm, sir,” Bevel Lemelisk said. “I selected its sound to be particularly unpleasant and attention grabbing.”

Sulamar sneered. “You did your job well, engineer.”

Durga was not satisfied. “And why did this alarm go off?”

Lemelisk shrugged. “Because of a security breach, perhaps?” he suggested.

“You mean sabotage?” the Hutt said.

Before Lemelisk could answer, the echoing thump of a distant explosion vibrated through the walls. “I think that would be a safe bet, Lord Durga,” he said.

“Damage report, sir,” said one of the Devaronian crew members. “An explosion has occurred in the engine levels. A saboteur planted a bomb.”

“Extent of damage?” Lemelisk asked.

“Unknown at this time,” the Devaronian said.

Durga howled in outrage. “Sabotage! This will put us behind schedule. How did anyone penetrate our defenses?” His lanternlike Hutt eyes scoured across the members of his command crew. “I demand to know who is in charge of security!” He reared up on his levitating platform. “Who?”

Everyone on the bridge deck huddled down and cowered until one pasty-faced Twi’lek finally raised a clawed hand. The wormlike head-tails dangling from the back of his skull quivered with fear. “I … I am in charge, Lord Durga. We did not anticipate—”

Durga roared and reached for his small control pad, punching a fat greenish finger against one of the buttons. The Twi’lek let out a little yip of anticipatory terror—but instead a hapless Weequay at another station yowled and began to jitter as arcs of blue electrical fire curled up from the base of his booby-trapped seat. The discharge crisped his flesh, electrocuting him in an instant. The Weequay’s smoldering corpse slumped against his navigational station.

Durga frowned and glanced down at his control pad. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry, wrong button.” The smell of disintegrated flesh wafted through the bridge deck in greasy, sooty wisps from the collapsed body.

“Well, let that be a lesson to you, then,” Durga said, glowering at his intended victim.

The demon-faced Devaronian interrupted, consulting his communications panel. Everyone on the bridge deck trembled in fear. “I, uh, I have something more to report, sir,” he said. “Security has announced the capture of one terrorist. One other was killed.”

Durga growled, looking at the Weequay corpse slumped at its stations. “There will be more executions when we get to the bottom of this.”

Hearing this, Bevel Lemelisk shuddered and tried to remain inconspicuous. Simply hearing the word execution brought back to his mind the full horrors of the Emperor’s executions, the excruciating deaths Palpatine had inflicted upon Lemelisk each time he made an error.…

The deaths remained in Lemelisk’s mind, ever-present shadowy nightmares—seven executions in all. Once, Palpatine had launched him out an airlock; the pain had been excruciating, though the death was mercifully swift as the sudden drop of pressure and the freezing cold destroyed his internal organs.

He also remembered being slowly lowered into a vat of molten copper, watching his body burn away inch by inch. (Why molten copper? Lemelisk had wondered. Finally one day, more than a month later, he asked the Emperor. Palpatine’s answer had proved surprising in its utter mundanity. “It’s what the smelter used that day.”)

Lemelisk had also been trapped in a vault filled with thickening acid mist so that his lungs dissolved