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Dominar Rygel XVI guided his throne sled into orbit around the captured charrid.  

“They say the middle setting is unbearable.”  He pushed the ractor knife’s control slide all the way
to the top.  The charrid glared at him.  

He had learned about torture the hard way.  Cycles ago, aboard the Zelbinion, he had sworn
himself a pledge that he would never inflict that type of humiliation and agony on any other.  

“Millions,” Rygel hissed.  “You killed millions of my people.”  The rage that consumed him was like
nothing he had ever experienced.

The charrid’s screams were music to his ears.

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