Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [147]
“They actually built it,” Qwi whispered. “I hope we’re not too late.”
“So it was all true,” Wedge mumbled. “And the Hutts got this far without us detecting them.” He nodded grimly to the helmsman. “But they won’t get any further.” Trailed by their three Corellian Corvettes, the Yavaris and the Dodonna approached the enormous Darksaber.
Without ceremony, Durga’s guards dragged the dead body of Crix Madine off the Darksaber’s command deck.
Bevel Lemelisk watched the fallen Rebel saboteur with mixed feelings, pursing his lips and scowling with a thousand conflicting thoughts. The expression on Madine’s face—fixed there forever so that Lemelisk would never forget it—was one of secret triumph, as if Madine knew something that the Hutts and the Imperials would never understand. Lemelisk saw the body with a certain amount of envy as well, knowing that at least Madine would stay dead and not have to worry about being brought back again and again and again to be tormented.
Several Taurill scurried across the bridge, watching the entire execution ceremony with intense curiosity. Lemelisk shooed them away, and the multiarmed creatures scrambled to the inner decks where the rest of the hive mind now rested with the completion of their labor.
Sitting imperiously on his levitating platform, Durga the Hutt issued commands to the impostor Sulamar. “Power up our engines. You will pilot us out of here. Now. I’m anxious to get under way.”
Sulamar stammered, “But Lord Durga, I can’t—”
“I have confidence in your abilities, Sulamar.” He rubbed his green finger lightly over one of the booby-trap buttons. “Or would you prefer that I dispose of you and choose someone else?”
“No need for that, Lord Durga!” Sulamar said and focused his attention on the controls. “I appreciate your faith in my skills. I won’t let you down.”
“I’ll make sure of that,” Durga said. “My Darksaber is finished. I’ve had enough waiting around here. Let us begin our sweep across the galaxy and begin collecting our due.”
Upon hearing Durga’s words, Bevel Lemelisk snapped out of his reverie and gaped in disbelief. “You—you’re not actually going to use this weapon, are you?” he said. “It’s not yet tested.” He stumbled over his words. “Lord Durga … we need to verify all the subsystems and—”
Durga made a loud, impolite noise and dismissed Lemelisk’s comments. “Nonsense, chief engineer. Your job is nearly finished. Don’t try to prolong your usefulness. My Taurill workers followed your own plans exactly. What could go wrong?” He gestured to Sulamar. “Go, I told you. Move out.”
Lemelisk nervously twiddled his fingers and scanned the other crew members at their stations, all strapped to booby-trapped chairs. He didn’t speak his concerns out loud, but he had a bad feeling about the overall workmanship of the superweapon. Too often he had encountered gaffes such as the ancient and incompatible computer cores, the below-par materials. Too many miscommunications. Too many malfunctions.
Lemelisk knew the Hutts were obsessive about getting the best bargain for their money, but Durga had accepted the low bid far more frequently than quality control should have allowed; and the Hutts, being such fearsome crime lords, had somehow missed a basic commercial axiom—you get what you pay for, and nothing more.
Lemelisk gradually backed toward the turbolift door as the bridge crew busied themselves, preparing the superweapon for its maiden flight.
“Ah, excuse me, Lord Durga,” Lemelisk said. “I believe my place should be down by the superlaser, monitoring it to make sure everything functions properly.”
Durga, too intent on the excitement of finally getting into motion, dismissed Lemelisk distractedly. Lemelisk slipped into the turbolift, and his stomach lurched as the elevator platform dropped rapidly down. He patted his stomach, feeling a growl of hunger. He wondered if he might have time to grab something to eat … but decided