• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

The Twi’lek pilot launched them from the expeditionary vessel, away from the Darksaber site, and out of the asteroid field before Lemelisk managed to strap his crash webbing into place. He craned his neck and tried to look out the rear viewports toward the dwindling construction lights.

Lemelisk hated to leave, especially at a time like this. He never knew what was liable to happen if he was not there to supervise personally.…

Darth Vader had come aboard the first Death Star while it was still under construction. “I’m here to supervise personally,” he said, his deep voice echoing through his impenetrable black mask. His breath, drawn through pumps on his chest, sounded like a hissing serpent.

Lemelisk stared in awe at the Emperor’s greatest warrior, the black-caped Dark Lord of the Sith, who already had the blood of billions on his gloved hands, and still had a long career ahead of him.

Grand Moff Tarkin had insisted that a small section of the Death Star’s living quarters be completed posthaste so he could move his offices aboard the battle station. He had set up a large armed reception for Vader’s arrival, with an honor guard of stormtroopers, waves of warriors ready to die at the Emperor’s command.

Lemelisk had forgotten to shave, and was afraid his personal appearance might be less than adequate as Vader towered over him. The Dark Lord stared through impenetrable eye goggles and hissed through the respirator. “I am here to … motivate your workers,” he said, looking from Tarkin to Lemelisk.

Lemelisk rubbed his pudgy hands together, smearing grease stains into the cracks on his knuckles. He wiped his hands on his thighs. “Good, Lord Vader! They need some motivation. The Wookiee work crews are strong and competent, but they take every opportunity to stall progress.” Tarkin looked at Lemelisk, astonished, and the engineer wondered if he had said something he shouldn’t have.

“Then perhaps the construction foremen need to exercise a tighter grip,” Vader said. “Or perhaps I need to demonstrate the limits of discipline.”

Lemelisk found Vader terrifying. Yes, a pep talk from the Emperor’s right-hand man would make even the most recalcitrant Wookiees work harder and faster.

But Vader did not have a pep talk in mind. Looming over terminals, he scanned through the computer records and work activity reports and selected the Imperial crew bosses who supervised the construction teams with the poorest performance.

Grand Moff Tarkin summoned all supervisors to sit around a big table in the largest briefing room in the completed portion of the Death Star.

“I am most displeased with your progress,” Vader said after he had singled out the two least effective construction foremen. As the others watched, trembling with terror around the table, Vader raised his black leather glove. No one could read any expression through his skull-like plasteel helmet.

The two unfortunate foremen gasped and choked, clawing as if an invisible, iron-hard fist had wrapped itself around their windpipes. They kicked and thrashed, spasming, choking. Drool ran from their mouths—then there came a crunching sound, and the spittle ran a thick red. Their eyes nearly popped out of their sockets like spoiled fruit.

Then Vader lowered his arm, and the two dead bosses crumpled across the table. Vader looked at the sweating construction foremen who remained at the table. “I expect the rest of you to do better from now on,” he said.

Vader ordered Tarkin’s stormtroopers to take the pair of dead bodies out to the space construction site, where they wired the vacuum-frozen corpses to crossbeams on the outer shell of the half-finished Death Star.

Lemelisk was surprised and appalled at Vader’s tactics, but he changed his mind when he noticed that the crews did redouble their efforts. Tarkin was also very pleased. His own future seemed bright indeed.

* * *

Now, Lemelisk didn’t know how he had gotten into such a mess. He rode in a surly silence with the other pilots of the smugglers’ ship approaching Nar Shaddaa. Space traffic around the Smugglers’ Moon