I was expecting to be tortured. Strangely, I wasn't. They tossed me in a run-of-the-mill Imperial cell and left me alone.
The guards didn't even beat me up. Not a single 'accidental' kick. They didn't push me into walls, down stairwells, or onto bullets. They just carefully escorted me to my cell, pushed me, and left.
It was almost disappointing.
Davin Porsek-Thrawn walked to his personal quarters. He keyed his security code, the one based on an insanely complex mathematical algorithm that changed every ten seconds, went through the door, and tossed his rank cylinders onto a steel table.
He poured himself a drink and sat in a chair, contemplating the holophoto of his father that gazed eternally at the tri-d.
"I've captured your killer. I will make him suffer, but now the puzzle I find before me is finding the proper method. Push him too far, and he'll expire. I must be very careful. Electrocution in bacta has its adherents, but it seems such a waste. Whatever method I choose must not rely on the abilities of others. I cannot trust anyone to do this, it must be either myself or a machine."
He rose from his chair and walked to a cabinet. The cabinet displayed weapons used by various galactic cultures. The cabinet itself was vacuum-rated - it had previously been stored on the Admonitor. He keyed a code, this one much simpler, a mere three digits, and examined the devices stored within.
He rejected the edged weapons out of hand. One slight miscut and all his work would be ruined. Eventually he decided on a serpentine-looking device. He took it out and smiled.
He pushed a small button, and the device activated, the `barrel' of the pistol jutting up a few extra inches like a cobra rising to strike.
A primitive version of the more common stun pistol, it released intense energy that caused severe pain in the target, causing loss of consciousness through agony rather than the more elegant deadening effect of the normal stunbolt.
"Zat'n'ktel. You had wonderful taste, father."