Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [121]
He was certainly glad the Emperor had been killed in the destruction of the second Death Star. Otherwise Lemelisk would really have been in trouble!
Now, on the Darksaber’s control deck, while Durga reeled in shock at the news of the captured saboteur, General Sulamar saw an opportunity. He became even more overbearing, swelling his chest so that the medals jangled. As if trying to outdo Durga’s obvious annoyance, Sulamar glared accusingly at Lemelisk.
“How could this happen?” Sulamar sniffed, as though Lemelisk had caused the problem by failing to plan for terrorists and sabotage in his original holographic blueprints. “In all my years serving the Empire, with thousands and thousands of people under my command, we performed the dirtiest, most difficult deeds. But I never had such a disastrous act of sabotage occur. Not while I was in charge.”
Lemelisk averted his gaze and muttered under his breath. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
* * *
Durga’s guards were angry and brutal. They beat Crix Madine every time he faltered, which made him stumble again … which allowed them to beat him again.…
He was bruised and bloodied by the time they shoved him into the turbolift on the way to the command deck. He felt none of the pain, focusing his thoughts, still in angry shock over Trandia’s death … but he accepted his capture and the consequences. This possibility had always been a shadow over every mission he led.
Madine kneaded his hands together, though they were bound behind his back. He was satisfied and confident—he had triggered the transmitter implanted in his palm. Even now the high-powered, specific-frequency message would be beaming across space, summoning assistance. The coded signal would be transmitted instantly through a security channel in the Galactic Holonet directly to Ackbar’s fleet.
It was just a matter of time … if only Madine could hold on.
The Gamorrean guards shoved him forward just as the turbolift doors opened, and he blinked in the command deck’s flood of light. His vision swam in and out of focus. He wondered if he had received a concussion from one of the vicious backhands the guards had dealt him.
Madine moved with a numb resignation. He had lost his team: Korenn dead in the asteroid belt, Trandia blowing herself up to save him and damage the Hutt battle station. In his youth Crix Madine had served the Empire faithfully for years. After defecting to the Rebellion, he had always suspected that this day would come, that he would continue to volunteer for more and more difficult covert operations—as if he wanted to be caught. Somehow he had known he would be captured and brought in chains to the enemy.
The guards dragged him into the presence of Durga the Hutt. Madine tried to sneer, but his face produced little more than a grimace and a wince of pain. Blood from a cut near his eye dribbled down his cheek into his beard.
The bloated Hutt lounged on his repulsor platform, the discolored blotch on his face like dye that someone had thrown across it. Madine swiveled his throbbing head and noticed a swaggering man in an Imperial general’s uniform. The general marched across the metal deck, striding toward him in polished black boots.
Madine looked up at the close-set eyes, the boyish face, the weak chin—and from the depths of his past a geyser of recollection erupted. He reacted with astonishment, drawing himself up as he stumbled against the guards holding him. Madine saw a flash of horrified recognition also wash across the face of the general.
At the moment their eyes met, they yelled in unison, “You!”
KHOMM
CHAPTER 43
Through hyperspace, the escape to Khomm lasted only an hour. Dorsk 81 shot their stolen shuttle toward his homeworld, frantic to deliver his warning to the cloned aliens and the New Republic. He was dismayed to see that traffic control accepted him as yet another incoming ship, not at all alarmed by an unscheduled Imperial