Star Wars - Darth Plagueis

One of the crew members, the now one-armed Dresselian, was still alive but comatose.
    In the ship’s undermount cockpit the droid stood motionless at thecontrol console. Beyond the transparisteel viewport myriad stars hung in space.
    “Sir, we are approaching the coordinates supplied by your comlink,” the droid said without turning from the view.
    Plagueis settled into the pilot’s chair, which barely accommodated his long body. “How do you come to be aboard the Woebegone , droid?”
    “Formerly I served the needs of a medical facility on Obroa-skai.”
    “In what capacity?”
    “Research, in addition to performing a wide range of surgeries on beings of diverse species.”
    Plagueis regarded the droid. “Thus, your many appendages.”
    “Yes, sir. But the ones I wear currently were retrofitted when I became the property of Captain Lah, so that I might better serve the needs of the Woebegone. ”
    “And how did you become the captain’s property?”
    “I believe, sir, that I was awarded to Captain Lah in place of payments due for the receipt of certain merchandise. It is also my belief that the exchange was meant to be temporary—”
    “But Captain Lah decided to keep you.”
    “Yes, sir. She decided to keep me. I’m sorry to say that I am at a loss to explain her reasons, and I never presumed to ask.”
    Plagueis nodded. “That’s a good quality in a droid.”
    “I understand how it could be, sir.”
    “Tell me, droid, what is the possible consequence of low theloxin levels in a Pau’an?”
    OneOne-FourDee didn’t hesitate. “One possible consequence would be an elevation of the oxidation rate, leading to the growth of an exophthalmic goiter, which in turn would affect the production of roaamin from the anterior lobes of the lutiaary gland.”
    “And?”
    “One result might be giantism, well beyond the Pau’an norm.”
    “If so?”
    “The connecting ganglia making up the autonomic nervous system and controlling glandular secretion might induce an acceleration of the circular sphincter muscles of the digestive tract, resulting in xerophthalmia.”
    “So you are a diagnostician, as well.”
    “In a minor capacity, sir.”
    Beyond the viewport, growing larger against the backdrop of a behemoth ringed planet, a space station turned in fixed orbit near a heavily cratered moon. A hodgepodge of interconnected domed modules, the station featured two long, boxy arms to which ships of varying size were tethered. Plagueis called data to the display screen of his comlink and placed it in view of 11-4D.
    “Transmit this code over the comm.”
    The droid performed the task and waited at the comm while the cockpit enunciators crackled to life.
    “Unidentified freighter, Deep Space Demo and Removal is in reception of your request. Give us a moment to authenticate your transmission.”
    “Holding fast while you authenticate,” Plagueis said.
    “Freighter, you are cleared for docking,” the voice returned a moment later.
    “My ship,” Plagueis said, leaning forward to take hold of the yoke.
    As a precaution, the station directed them to a berth at the distal end of the larger of the two arms.
    “You will accompany me into the landing bay,” Plagueis told the droid when he had shut the ship down. “Raise the boarding ramp behind us and activate the anti-intrusion system. No one is to board the Woebegone unless I say otherwise.”
    “I understand, sir.”
    Waiting in the gloomy landing bay were a female Nikto and a russet-colored young male Dug, backed by a motley contingent of armed beings. Lowering the cowl of his robe as he approached, Plagueis saw the Nikto stiffen and signal those behind her to leave the area immediately.
    “Magister Damask,” she began in Basic, “I had no foreknowledge—”
    Plagueis cut her off. “This isn’t a social call.”
    “Of course, Magister. Regardless, do you wish me to apprise Boss Cabra of your visit?”
    “Is he on station?”
    “No, sir. But he can be reached by comm.”
    “That won’t be necessary,” Plagueis said. “I’ll contact him myself.”
    “As you wish, Magister. What services can the station provide?”
    Plagueis gestured in an offhanded way to the berthed freighter. “This ship is to be sealed and slagged.”
    “Without salvaging anything?” the Dug said.
    Plagueis looked at him. “I said sealed and slagged. Do you need to hear it a third time?”
    The Dug bared his teeth. “Do you know who you’re talking to,