The contract took effect, and Hoggoth's snore sounded overhead. Su Ming released Aphra and let her put the two droids back together.
She could handle it. Her specialty was ancient droids and weapons, and she was a decent programmer to boot.
The droids in Star Wars were fascinating. They had emotions, as though a soul lived inside the processor that housed their Personality Matrix. He could find a way to take a few home as souvenirs for Adjutant and Brainiac 21.
"But I didn't even get to read the contract," Aphra said quietly.
"What's there to read? If you follow my orders from here on out, it's just an agreement between friends." Su Ming handed Zero Three's head back to her, lit a cigarette, then stuck another between the unconscious Wookiee's lips and lit that too.
"...And if I do something you don't like?" The doctor edged away from the mad doctor and hurried to repair her droids.
"Then it's an order form for the Kick the Bucket Package." Cigarette between his lips, Su Ming walked over to inspect the wrecked mechanical worm. "Your body dies, and your soul suffers forever in Infinite Hell. You never see your friends or family again. You slowly go mad in eternal darkness, until even oblivion is more than you can hope for."
"Gulp!"
Aphra swallowed. Now she really was afraid. This man who called himself Deathstroke was a devil straight out of myth, talking about tormenting souls as casually as if he were explaining a recipe.
Users of the Force believed all living things generated the Force, while lifeless things did not. The very idea of souls sounded like some bizarre, antiscientific cult doctrine.
Worse, Deathstroke seemed to know her well. Every threat he had made was something she feared.
"Quit dawdling. Put