Star Wars - A Servant of the Empire - Unpublished Read Free Page A

trouble.
    “I’ll be in the ’fresher,” said Mace, getting to his feet.
    “Stay with him,” Panatic ordered Ivlik. The sergeant hurried after Mace.
    Panatic sighed in annoyance. This was no time for Mace to start getting nervous. But what could one expect from a criminal? He sipped his drink and looked at his chrono again. Still an hour before the auction.
    A heavy finger tapped him on the shoulder. Panatic turned to see three Gamorreans standing behind him with drawn blasters. Before he could move, they shot him.

    He woke up in an agony of pins and needles as the blaster stun wore off. A boot in the ribs helped him regain consciousness. Panatic found himself lying on the floor of an office; a clear domed ceiling gave a splendid view of the starry sky.
    Two men were standing over him. One was the Imperial official he’d seen in the cantina. The other was a Rodian in a flashy suit drawing back a chrome-plated boot for another kick.
    “No need for that, Yab,” said the official. “I think he’s waking up.” He smiled down at Panatic. “I do apologize for my colleague here. He’s a bit unsubtle. My name’s Varden Quil. And you, I believe, are Commander Ulan Panatic of the Imperial Navy.”
    Panatic struggled to his feet and straightened his uniform. The smelly poncho was gone, as were his blaster and comlink. “That’s correct. This man is a slaver and a murderer, and I am here to arrest him.”
    The official sighed. “Oh, dear. Evidently you haven’t been informed—Yab is a friend of Moff Tricus Phenge.”
    “The governor of Deratus sector?”
    “The same. My employer, in fact. The Moff and Yab here have an arrangement. In exchange for protection from bothersome people like you, Yab provides laborers to work the goldberry fields on the Moff’s estates, and the occasional specialty item. A perfect partnership.”
    “Raiding native settlements for slaves is illegal.”
    Quil laughed. “Oh, dear me. Really, Commander, you should be in a museum somewhere. Surely the Imperial Navy has better things to do than worry about the welfare of a few primitives? Besides, an intelligent officer such as yourself should know that the wishes of a Moff are more important than the letter of the law.”
    “Too much talk,” hissed Yab. “What are we going to do with him?”
    “A good question. Commander, I’d like your input on this. Should we kill you or let you go?”
    “What?”
    “You could cause my employer a great deal of inconvenience if you insist on arresting Yab. We can’t have that. So unless you agree to drop this whole business and go back to chasing Rebels. I’m afraid we’re going to have to kill you. Which will it be, Commander?”
    Panatic swallowed hard, then forced his face into a smile. “I’m willing to forget about the whole thing if you are.”
    Quil stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Goodness, Commander. I don’t think I’ve ever seen worse acting! It’s good to know your death won’t rob the galaxy of a great talent.”
    Panatic leapt forward to grapple with Yab, trying to grab the Rodian’s blaster. He had the advantage of surprise, but the slaver was an experienced brawler. The two of them slammed into the desk, rebounded, and crashed into a drink synthesizer. Quil darted for the door.
    Panatic snatched up a footstool and smashed it over Yab’s head. The Rodian staggered back for a moment, long enough for Panatic to get the blaster from his grip.
    “All right, hands up, both of you!” He backed away from Quil and Yab, covering them with the blaster. The two raised their hands slowly.
    “Now don’t do anything hasty, Commander,” said Quil. “We can still salvage the situation. You’re obviously an ambitious fellow— I’m sure l could arrange a promotion for you. Maybe a Star Destroyer Instead of a patrol cruiser?”
    “Shut up.” Panatic moved over to the desk. “Where’s my comlink?”
    “In the drawer,” said Yab. “The top one.”
    When