The New Elite dropped out of hyperspace near a bright-green nebula that cast the ship’s bridge in a sickly, swamplike hue. Kassav hated the color. He was from Sriluur out in Hutt Space, a dry world where the only time you saw something green was when it was covered with mold. Green was unnatural, a bad shade, a bad omen.

Lot of those going around.

The ship’s bridge was silent—no music. Kassav didn’t feel like it. He stared down at what remained of his hand as the medical droid attended to it, sealing off the slashed-open flesh, patching it up as best it could. His options seemed to be to retain a claw with a few fingers still attached, or just lop off what was left and go for a prosthetic. Either way, his blaster hand was never going to be the same. He’d have to learn to shoot with his left.

Marchion Ro, Kassav thought. Marchion blasted Ro.

“Did the Eye tell you when those Republic ships would show up?” Wet Bub said. “We’re bringing plenty of firepower—should be able to knock down anything they bring. Get rid of that flight recorder thing Marchion Ro told us about…and then it’s back to business!”

The Gungan grinned, his huge, idiotic teeth glowing like cave mushrooms in the weird light from the nebula.

“I’m sick of all this waiting around,” Bub went on. “We’re the Nihil. We need to ride the storm!”

Kassav looked up from the wreckage of his favorite hand, scowling at his lieutenant. “Listen, you stupid cloaca. You’re gonna wait as long as I tell you to. And then you’ll do exactly what I tell you to.”

Wet Bub held up his hands, his two perfectly fine hands, like he was rubbing it in, and backed away. “Right, boss,” he said.

Bub looked like a corpse. A moldy, three-weeks-dead corpse. Kassav glanced around the bridge, at the rest of his crew. Everyone did. That blasted nebula.

Outside the bridge viewport, he saw the rest of his Tempest dropping in, as ordered. About a hundred ships, mostly small—Strikeships and Cloudships—with a scattering of larger vessels. Assault craft, modified freighters, that kind of thing.

His people, all loyal to him and him alone. They were all Nihil, sure, but these crews didn’t take orders from Pan Eyta or Lourna Dee…and definitely not Marchion Ro.