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Opening the mesh door, Doole thrust his entire head into the cage. The insects fluttered around his eyes, his ears, his cheeks. Doole’s sharp tongue shot out again and again, spearing the insects and slurping them into his mouth. He snapped up three more, then paused to swallow. Their squirming legs tickled the inside of his mouth. Giving a sigh of pleasure, Doole lapped up another pair. One insect flew directly into his open mouth, and Doole swallowed it whole.

Someone knocked on his door and marched in before he could respond. Wearing the insect cage over his head, Doole turned around to see Skynxnex, his gangly arms and legs jittering. “I have a report, Moruth.”

Doole extricated his head from the insect cage, then sealed the opening. Three bugs managed to escape and flew to the wide picture window, flinging themselves against the transparisteel. Doole decided to catch them later. “Yes? What is it?”

“We have finished overhauling the Millennium Falcon. All identifying marks are removed, replaced with fake serial numbers. We made a few other modifications in addition to the regular repairs it needed. With your permission I’ll have it flown up to the garrison moon where it can be incorporated into our space navy. Light freighters aren’t the best warships, but with a good pilot they can still cause plenty of damage—and the Falcon is closer to a fighter than a freighter.”

Doole nodded. “Good, good. What about our work on the energy shield generators? I want them functional as soon as possible, just in case the New Republic comes after us.”

“Our engineers on the moonbase think they can reroute the circuits so we won’t need all the parts we’re missing. Kessel will be impregnable before long.”

Doole’s single eye lit up with eagerness. “Have Han Solo and his Wookiee gone into the mines yet?”

Skynxnex tapped his fingertips together. “I’ve reserved an armored personnel transport and will make the delivery personally within the hour.” He fingered his double-blaster. “If they try anything, I want to be the one to deal with it.”

Doole smiled. “I look forward to them rotting in the dark.” He waved his splayed hands. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Moving with his jerky walk, Skynxnex left the warden’s chambers.

Doole smiled at the thought of his revenge on Solo, but uneasiness tugged at him. The New Republic seemed far away and insignificant, but from his scan of Han’s mind, he knew the magnitude of firepower that could be directed against him. Not since Doole had taken over the prison facilities from Kessel’s upstart slave lords had he felt such impending doom.

Under the old system it had been so much simpler. By blackmailing or paying off prison guards, Doole had managed to set himself up as a kingpin of spice smuggling right under the Empire’s nose. He sold maps and access codes for Kessel’s energy shield, fostering smalltime spice operations on other parts of the planet. Hapless entrepreneurs would work their new mines, then sell the product in secret to Doole. Once the spice veins began to play out, Doole (acting as a loyal prison official) would “discover” the illicit operation and report it to his Imperial contact. When Imperial troops raided those illegal mines, Doole’s handpicked guards made certain that anyone who could point a finger at Doole never survived capture. The other helpless lackeys would be put to work in the primary mines. It was a win-win situation for Doole.

During the prison revolt Doole targeted his primary rivals and made the toughest guards go after the worst smugglers until they slaughtered each other. This left Moruth Doole in charge, with Skynxnex as his right-hand man.

Doole had captured the warden, sending him to work in the spice mines until he was broken. Then, for the entertainment value, Doole had planted spice grubs in his body. As the grubs chewed up his insides, the warden had gone through marvelously theatrical convulsions, in the middle of which Doole encased him in carbonite, using freezing equipment that had once been used to prepare violent and dangerous prisoners for transport.