Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [45]
“You’re making good progress,” Tarkin said, looking out the port.
Lemelisk cracked his knuckles. “Awe inspiring, isn’t it?” He had seen the plans so often, knew the details so intimately—but the actual construction still took his breath away, making him feel that all his years of exile in Maw Installation had paid off. The small Death Star prototype had been amazing as well, but that was merely a proof-of-concept model. It functioned, but it wasn’t the real thing.
“I will send my report to the Emperor,” Tarkin said. “Keep up the good work, Engineer Lemelisk.”
The Lambda shuttle proceeded through the gridwork of the Death Star and out the other side, then began a slow orbit of the external construction. The focusing eye for the superlaser gaped at them like a large meteorite crater. In the piloting chair Ackbar remained silent. The alien didn’t seem terribly thrilled at the magnificence of this new weapon.
Lemelisk smiled as the shuttle turned around and returned to the base. Everything was going so well. He felt better than he had in years, watching his dreams come to life.
Lemelisk presented the modified design to Durga the Hutt, while General Sulamar brusquely inspected every step of the process, looking over the engineer’s shoulder. Lemelisk spoke as the general pressed in, squinting and scowling. He longed for an opportunity to “accidentally” jab the general in the stomach with his elbow.
“As you know, the original design consisted of a giant sphere,” Lemelisk said, “whose primary purpose was to house the superlaser. All the framework, the decks, the external shell also made it into a garrison for one of the Empire’s largest troop deployments.”
On his floating pallet, Durga reached over to scoop a dripping handful of some blue gelatinous substance from a bowl and slurped it up with his wide muscular lips and tongue. “Mmm hmm,” he said, “we know all that.”
Lemelisk said, “But you don’t need all that wasted space. You don’t require living space for a million crew members. You don’t need TIE fighter hangars, support squadrons, dozens of docking ports—you just want the weapon itself.”
Lemelisk’s stomach growled. He wished he had eaten, though at least he had remembered to shave this time. He brushed the stubble on his chin … or was that yesterday? He blinked, then cleared his throat. On the holo projector, he called up his modified plans and pointed to the new shape.
“As you can see, I have scaled down the outer hull but increased power at the same time. In the original Death Star design, the superlaser formed the axis of the sphere. All the energy of the reactor core was devoted to powering each blast.
“Here, I have taken the superlaser itself”—the image projected the stalk of focusing lenses and high-energy multipliers—“and encased it in a cylindrical shell. Your new weapon will be the superlaser alone, surrounded by an armored hull, with appropriate navigational capabilities and a small outer ring of living quarters. Even with such reduced amenities, this vessel could hold hundreds of Hutts with their personal entourages.”
“But where is the focusing eye for the laser?” Sulamar said, clasping his hands behind his back and leaning forward. Lemelisk saw an opportunity to nudge backward with his sharp elbow, but the general stepped sideways to look from a different perspective.
Lemelisk sighed and answered, “Note the end of the cylinder. I have moved the focusing eye so that the beam can come out the end directly, a straight shot through the long superlaser that allows us to achieve greater energy conversion. We can provide more power to our punch.”
The plans sharpened to actual simulation of the completed weapon, a black armored cylinder rotating in space. As the animation began, the new weapon fired, and a brilliant beam shot from one end of the tube.
General Sulamar nodded. “That looks like one of those old Jedi weapons—the lightsaber,” he said.
Lemelisk smiled,