Tales of the Bounty Hunters by Kevin J. Anderson Page A

relentless and efficient mind residing within an extraordinarily powerful new body, a completely different configuration. IG-88, whose prior experience had been entirely within his massive humanoid shape, was not quite as mobile … yet. But he experienced new input through a million additional sensors, automated extensions of himself that were connected to the Death Star’s computer core.
    He could feel the power like a chained supernova burning at the heart of his central reactor furnace. The sensation was marvelous. He took great satisfaction in seeing just how easily all of his plans were reaching fruition. Soon, his droid revolution could proceed.
    As the days passed—time meant nothing to him any more, since he could slow it down or speed it up at will—IG-88 pondered the galactic political situation. He observed the petty struggles, bemused at the insignificant battles of these tiny biological people. Their Empire, their Rebellion … their very species would be merely a footnote to a small history file in long-term storage once IG-88’s revolution was achieved—and that time was arriving with the speed of an approaching meteor as these biologicals scurried about to complete the Death Star construction—which would signal their own doom.
    He found that amusing as well.
    Through his myriad sensor eyes IG-88 continued to watch: In the interior decks of the Death Star the construction activities proceeded at such a rapid pace that all safety doublechecks and restraints had been eliminated to improve speed. In the frenzy of activity, progress continued, although many of the teams didn’t know what their counterparts were doing.
    In one large storage bay for spare components, therepulsorlifts failed on a heavy cargo crane. A thick-walled containment box weighing dozens of metric tons fell from its grip, smashing down on one of IG-88’s droid stormtroopers who had the bad luck of standing within its shadow. The heavy box crushed down on the white-armored legs of the stormtrooper. The walls of the cargo box split, dumping gears and components that bounced and plinked on the metal floor decks.
    The droid stormtrooper’s first major mistake was that he did not cry out in pain as even the best-trained biological stormtrooper would have done. When the crew managed to get the crane’s repulsorlifts functioning again, yanking the enormous box off the floor as it dropped loose parts, other workers rushed forward to help the fallen stormtrooper.
    The damaged droid used his armored arms to lever himself up to a sitting position and to scramble backward, but he could not hide the sparking, sizzling servomotors and micropistons exposed from the split plasteel greaves.
    “Hey! He’s a droid!” one of the crew bosses shouted, his face turning pale and pasty. “Look, that stormtrooper’s a droid.”
    Luckily, the self-destruct sequence activated as it was programmed to. The droid stormtrooper obliterated all evidence and conveniently removed every one of the witnesses in a single explosion.…
    IG-88 looked out through the eyes of security cameras in Moff Jerjerrod’s private office. As Jerjerrod stared down at the report on the datapad in disbelief, he looked as if he was torn between wanting to scream at someone or simply to burst into tears.
    The harried Moff swallowed, and his voice sounded watery. “How could a cargo crane just mysteriously explode? How could one accident take out an entire handling crew?” He drew in a deep breath, swallowing. His lieutenant stood stiffly, as if assuming his rigid attentionto military protocol would earn him forgiveness for bringing such terrible news.
    Jerjerrod looked at his Death Star schedule and pointed to the timeline with shaking fingers as he bemoaned yet another loss, another setback.…
    When Emperor Palpatine finally arrived at the new Death Star, cloaked in black and walking like a human spider, he was accompanied by a ridiculous array of red-armored Imperial guards,