Star Wars_ Tales From the Mos Eisley Cantina - Kevin J. Anderson [138]
“I say they’ve helped me,” Evazan went on, walking down a row of his “patients.” “Mostly by showing where my research had reached a dead end”—he cast the senator a ghastly smile—“if you’ll pardon the expression.”
“You experimented on them?” the senator said in horror.
Evazan waved the idea away. “Of course not. I meant to help them through my creative techniques. I intended to give them greater health and longer life. In theory, at least.”
He touched the cylinder holding the eviscerated form of a rodentlike Ranat. “I’ve devoted my whole life to helping others. They’ve called me a madman, a criminal, for my pains. But no one’s understood. I was only using my skills to re-form life in various ways, trying to create something better.” He sighed and looked back to the Aqualish. “But it wasn’t enough.”
The senator looked up and down the long ranks of the doctor’s victims. “Not enough?”
“Physical alteration wasn’t enough.”
The doctor moved on to the next cylinder. Within was a particularly hideous specimen. It was a creature that had been constructed of parts scavenged from dozens of different beings, stitched and stapled together to form a patchwork monstrosity.
“As you see, even cutting and splicing together the best of the galaxy’s body parts couldn’t achieve the effect I wanted.” He lifted a hand to touch the scarred right side of his skull. “No, it was the mind that was the key. That’s why my research took a new direction. Come over here.”
He led the way along the cylinder rows and into a large area in the middle of the room. Here a complex assemblage of electronic equipment towered to the ceiling in a rather precarious way. Its various systems, rigged together with tangled festoons of wire, crackled and sizzled uneasily even with the minimal power input now running through them.
The key feature of this haphazard but high-tech pile was two platforms set with operating tables. Straps clearly meant to restrain subjects added to their sinister look. Above each an odd, sievelike device dangled by a dozen wires from a pivoting boom. More wires connected these to the central machine.
“This is my transfer instrument,” Evazan said proudly. “The main components were modified from advanced Imperial transmogrification units originally intended to alter droid programming. Ponda and I managed to ‘liberate’ this equipment from an Imperial research facility. But I’ve adapted it to use on living beings.”
The senator had been staring with mixed awe and skepticism at the dubious-appearing mass. Now he looked at Evazan in disbelief. “Living beings?”
“Living brains also store their gained knowledge electronically, much like a recording. That record can be altered, erased … or moved. The means to do it is now sitting before you.”
“To what end?”
“To have something no one has ever had before,” said the doctor grandly. “I’m finally on the brink of creating a practical form of immortality!”
The senator’s disbelieving look grew more pronounced. “You are joking, Doctor.”
“No joke at all,” said the other. He moved closer, speaking with sober intensity. “Just think of it! Not even the greatest of the Jedi Masters with all their powers over matter have achieved a real immortality. They may be able to prolong life to some extent, but they still decay and die eventually. My method will transfer the higher levels of a being’s intelligence into a fresh, new body whenever needed, just by the flick of a switch. Think how valuable that would be to the Empire. Their greatest rulers, their finest military minds could live on forever, gathering even more knowledge with each lifetime.”
“I suppose that is something the Empire would pay almost anything for,” said the Aqualish, but with grave misgivings in his tone. “If the thing works.”
“It’ll work,” Evazan said confidently, “and I’ll soon be able to prove it.” He grinned in sardonic delight. “Ironic, isn’t it, that Evazan, the one