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service?”
    Maul squeezed the head so tightly, it began to fold in on itself.
    “You can begin by making certain that every droid on Naboo responds to me as its chief commander, Viceroy. Or I will reduce this fine army of yours to a mountain of scrap.” Maul paced the polished stone floor of the Theed Palace throne room in brooding silence, his lightsaber affixed to the black leather cummerbund that cinched his robes. Draped in shimmersilk, Nute Gunray and his green-skinned diplomatic attaché, Rune Haako, stood alongside each other before a tall, arch-topped window, wringing their thick-fingered hands. A silver protocol droid attended them, and a mechno-chair awaited the viceroy’s pleasure.
    “Several members of the Queen’s Security Forces managed to elude our battle droids,” Gunray was saying in wheedling Basic. “They rescued a group of Naboo captives, and caused us some concern on an orbital station and at one of our plasma transshipment sites on the surface.
    Fortunately for us—and unfortunately for them—the Naboo fell in with a visiting Hutt who happens to be in our employ. He betrayed their plans and location.”
    “They’re dead or imprisoned?” Maul stopped to ask.
    “The captain is dead. Some of the others are still at large.” Maul resumed his angry pacing. He was familiar with both Neimoidians from holotransmissions conducted between them and Darth Sidious during the past year. They had dealt with Sidious from across cold space, but now, confronted with a flesh-and-blood Sith Lord, it was all they could do to keep from trembling in awe. A musky, low-tide odor wafted from Haako, who affected purple robes and a horned bonnet.
    “And the Gungans?” Maul said.
    The pair traded baffled looks. “What of them, Lord Maul?” Haako asked.

    “You’ve located their underwater cities and taken the necessary steps?”
    “We’re … in the process,” Gunray said. A three-tined tiara crowned his mottled blue face.
    “How many have you captured?”
    The nictitating membrane of Gunray’s red eyes spasmed. “How many?”
    “Hundreds? Thousands?”
    The viceroy improvised. “On the order of hundreds, I should think.” Maul was revolted by the fact that he was in some measure responsible for Gunray’s lofty position, having executed missions that had elevated Gunray from a mere functionary to a being of galactic import. But Darth Sidious maintained that the Neimoidians were necessary to the Sith’s Grand Plan, and part of that plan called for Naboo to be secured, in preparation for the planet being annexed by the shipping cartel. With Queen Amidala on Coruscant, Naboo’s surrender was not yet official, but Maul was certain that his Master would find a way to bring it about.
    “Where are the Gungan captives?” Maul said.
    Again the Neimoidians glanced at each other. They knew that Maul had already killed their treacherous confederate, Hath Monchar, and grasped that he would kill again if provoked.
    Gunray spoke first. “The corpses were dumped into the sea—”
    “—atomized,” Haako said at the same time.
    Maul showed each of them a withering glance. “Which is it—dumped or atomized?”
    “Atomized, then dumped into the sea,” Gunray said, proud of himself.
    Maul continued to glower at him. “You discarded atomized bodies.” The air went out of Gunray for a moment; then he said: “The Gungans need not concern us.” Maul folded his arms across his chest and bared his filed teeth. “Why is that, Viceroy?”
    “The amphibians would not risk engaging our overwhelming force.” Maul snorted. “The Gungans have a standing army thousands strong and strategic plasma weaponry.”
    Gunray looked at Haako, who said, “We didn’t know—”
    “Now you do.”
    Maul watched the slimy duo shake in their robes. These were invaders? These were the leaders of an army? So easily cowed, so easily deceived, and covetous to the point that they had allowed themselves to be manipulated into