by Alex Wheeler
It was over.
Luke couldn't believe everything had gone so smoothly. By all reports, Commander Rezi Soresh was some kind of strategic genius—but apparently his skills were overrated. Because there was Soresh, lying on the ground dead, his plans destroyed in under five minutes.
He landed his X-wing beside Leia's. She was grinning.
"I can't believe that actually worked," she said, climbing out of the starfighter.
"What was that about my genius plan?" Han joined them, looking incredibly proud of himself. "I didn't quite hear you."
Leia ignored him. "Let's just worry about the hostages," she said, "so we can all go back to normal."
"I'll get Artoo," Luke suggested. "I bet he'll be able to figure out how to turn off the electricity and release them."
He flipped opened his comlink to summon the droid.
"I don't need some tin can to tell me how to flip a switch," Han said, heading for the prisoners' pens. "I'll just—ahh!"
The earth exploded beneath his feet. He flew backward, landing with a hard thud. Luke and Leia ran toward him, as the explosions continued. The ground beneath the prisoners' pens lurched and buckled, as if wracked by a series of massive groundquakes. Or underground mines, Luke realized with horror. Chaos erupted, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Hostages screamed as they were thrown through the air by explosion after explosion. The electrified field failed, and prisoners fled across the red dust, terrified and bloody. Surrounded by wounded, desperate survivors, Luke lost sight of his friends. All he could see were the faces of frightened strangers, begging for his help.
One of them, a slim man with a pale, narrow face, limped toward Luke. Blood trickled from a wound in his forehead and flowed freely from a gash in his right leg. "Please," he whispered. "Help us."
"I will," Luke promised, hoping he could follow through.
The man threw his arms around Luke in gratitude.
"It's going to be okay," Luke said quietly.
"It will now," the man said. "Now that you're here. Luke."
Alarm shot through Luke. He reached automatically for his lightsaber. But his hand had barely closed over the hilt when a force pike suddenly materialized in the man's hand. It slashed through the air, landing hard on Luke's back. A concentrated nerve impulse shot through his body. As Luke's limbs went completely numb, his legs gave out beneath him. The man lowered him gently to the ground.
"Soresh…" Luke croaked as his throat closed up, choking off his words.
"A pleasure to meet you," Soresh said.
Luke tried to stand. He tried to reach for his lightsaber. He tried to call out, to warn his friends, to do anything. But all he could do was lie still as screams ripped the air. Darkness crept up on the corners of his vision, blotting everything out. Luke battled to stay conscious, but the force pike had overwhelmed his nervous system. The last thing he saw was Soresh's ghoulish smile.
And then the darkness won.
CHAPTER FIVE
Luke opened his eyes. He found himself lying in a dark cell. Stun cuffs wrapped around each wrist were attached to the wall by thick chains. He was trapped.
Every muscle in his body screamed in pain, and when he tried to rise on his knees, his legs wobbled beneath him. The blow from the force pike had left him too weak to stand, nearly too weak to move. He knew the effects would wear off…but then what? Once he got his strength back, he was still chained to a wall. And even if he could escape his bonds, thick durasteel bars stood between him and freedom.
Luke reached for his lightsaber—its blade could slice through durasteel like it was bantha butter. But the lightsaber was gone.
He sagged back to the ground, hope fading away. A true Jedi never let his lightsaber out of his sight. But Luke had never felt less like a Jedi in his life. He had failed. Failed at rescuing the prisoners, failed at warning his friends, failed at saving himself. He should never have tried to trick Soresh. Who knew how many hostages had died because of his pride?
"Well, well, well," a familiar voice said. "So this is the famous Luke Skywalker, the man who destroyed the Death Star, who bested my best assassin. I have to admit, I thought you'd be taller."
Luke used all the strength he had to drag himself off the ground and meet Soresh eye to eye. The chains were just long enough to allow him to stand. But they kept him pinned to the wall, preventing him from crossing the cell and wrapping his hands around Soresh's throat.
"Where am I?" Luke said, trying not to sound afraid. "Where are my friends?"
Soresh clucked his tongue. "I suspect you'd rather not know their fate."
"What did you do to them?" Luke shouted. A wave of anguish swept over him. He had to escape. If Leia and Han were in trouble, he had to do something. If anything happened to them, just because they'd insisted on sticking by his side…
"I'm the one you want," Luke said. "You made that clear. Let them go, and do whatever you want to me."
"I can do whatever I want to you anyway," Soresh said coolly. "So I see no reason to bargain. And, as I say, your friends' fate is already sealed. As is yours."
Luke struggled against the cuffs, lunging toward Soresh, but the chains held fast.
"Just be patient," Soresh advised. "We'll begin soon, and then all will become clear to you." He turned his back on Luke, and began walking away into murky darkness.
"Begin what?" Luke shouted.
No answer came. He would have to do this on his own.
Somehow.
Concentrate, Luke thought. He had done this before, and he knew he could do it again. But summoning the Force meant clearing his mind, turning within, focusing, and that was nearly impossible. He was too desperate, too worried about Leia, Han, Chewbacca, and all the prisoners. He knew that he had to stop trying so hard—that accessing the Force meant letting go. But the harder he tried to stop trying, the more useless it was.
Forget everything else, he thought, trying to pretend that Ben was there beside him, urging him on. Just focus on the stun cuffs.
He gazed intently at the cuffs, taking in their shimmering black surface and the smooth curve of the durasteel. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the cool pressure around his wrists. He imagined he could see inside the cuffs, to the molecules strung together, chaining him in his prison. The Force flowed through those cuffs, as it flowed through everything. And if he could connect with the Force, maybe he could encourage those molecules to expand. Just a little, just enough to slip his arms free. Help me out, he begged the stun cuffs, feeling slightly ridiculous. Let me go.
Luke didn't know how long he sat motionless, concentrating on the cuffs, trying to break their bonds. It felt like hours; it could have been minutes. And then it happened. Like a switch had flipped, deep within him, he knew: If he tried to pull his hands out of the cuffs, they would give.
"Please," he whispered. Then wrapped his right hand around the cuff on his left wrist, and pulled.
The cuff slipped down his wrist, over his hand, and got caught on his knuckles. He tugged harder, wincing as his bones crunched together. His hand was slippery with sweat, but he refused to give up. Just a little wider, he thought, trying to feel the Force flowing through the cuff, through his wrist, helping him to freedom. He gave one final, mighty tug—and the cuff slipped off. The other slid over his right hand effortlessly. He was free!
Free, that is, if you ignored the thick durasteel bars trapping him in the cell.
Luke sighed with relief, rubbing his sore wrists. His hope was returning. If he could use the Force to expand the stun cuffs, then couldn't he do the same thing to the durasteel bars? If he could widen them by only a few inches, he could slip right through.
He wrapped his hands around the bars—and screamed.
An electric shock sizzled through his body. He flew backward, slamming hard into the floor. His head clanged against the durasteel. He nearly blacked out with the impact. Waves of pain crashed over him, but Luke struggled to stay afloat—and aw
ake. His mind was muddy, confused, and everything was blurry. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. Trying to think.
The bars must have been electrified, he thought.
That explained what he was doing on the floor.
But it didn't explain why he couldn't get up. It wasn't like the impact of the force pike. His limbs weren't paralyzed. They were just extremely heavy, like a giant weight pinned him to the ground. It took all the effort he could muster just to keep breathing. And he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to manage that.
Luke had never felt so frustrated. What good was the Force at a time like this? Jedi were supposed to be all powerful—but it was becoming more and more obvious to him that he was no Jedi. Perhaps Obi-Wan Kenobi would know what to do. But Ben was dead. All the Jedi were dead. Which meant it didn't matter how much power Luke had—without anyone to show him how to use it, he was weak. And completely powerless.
Footsteps approached the cell, and he heard the sound of slow applause. It took all the strength he had just to turn his head. Soresh grinned down at him.
"Not bad," Soresh said. "Just not good enough. But we'll fix that."
Luke opened his mouth and tried to speak, but the crushing pressure on his lungs was too much. He managed little more than a pathetic gasp.
"Surely you can understand that before we got started, I had to see how much control you had over the Force," Soresh said, as if Luke had spoken. "Oh, you're surprised I know about your little Jedi secret? You have no secrets from me. You'll learn that soon enough."
Luke gasped again. His chest barely rose with each shallow breath. The lack of oxygen was making him dizzy.
"Oh, let me help you," Soresh said, He reached toward the wall, fiddling with something Luke couldn't see. Abruptly, the pressure released. Luke drew in a deep, grateful breath. "Perhaps I should have warned you," Soresh added. "There's an electromagnet beneath the floor, and you've been injected with a ferromagnetic solution. All I need to do is activate the magnet and…well, you see what happens. So now you understand there's no need to waste your energy trying to escape."
"What am I doing here?" Luke asked, when his lungs had recovered enough for speech. "What do you want?"
"You took away one of my most valuable possessions," Soresh said. "I believe you knew him as Tobin Elad."
"X-7," Luke said. "Your assassin."
"My former assassin," Soresh said. "He's not much use to me as a corpse."
"I didn't kill him," Luke said.
"Maybe you didn't strike the final blow, but he's dead because of you. And now you're going to pay for your crime." Soresh stepped away from the cell for a moment and returned with a narrow tray of food. He slipped it through the bars. "I suggest you eat it all," he said. "You'll need your strength."
Luke's stomach turned at the sight of the nerf steak. "Why bother," he spit out, refusing to let Soresh see his fear. "If you're just going to kill me anyway, why waste your food?"
Soresh laughed. It was a hard, twisted sound, like a wounded fynock. "You've misunderstood me, Luke. I'm not going to kill you—I'm going to make you great."
"What are you talking about?" Luke asked. He had confronted many evil men over the last few months. He had learned to be brave in the face of darkness. But there was something different in Soresh's gaze, something beyond evil. They were the eyes of a man trapped in a nightmare. And now Luke was trapped there with him.
"You killed X-7," Soresh said, a crazed smile fixed on his skeletal face, "So now you're going to replace him."
CHAPTER SIX
"Who are you?" Leia shouted, as the men tossed her into a cell. They wore identical black uniforms. Although the guards were different heights, colors, builds—different in every way—there was a strange sameness about them. But Leia couldn't figure out why. "Why are you doing this? Do you know who I am?"
"Do you know who I am?" Han said loudly, speaking over her. He shot her a pointed look, and Leia had to admit he was right. If they didn't know who she was, it was probably better they stay ignorant.
"I'm the guy who's gonna blast all those holes through you," Han answered his own question. Though, given the fact that they'd stripped him of his weapons, it was an empty threat.
Chewbacca had taken down six or seven of them before they captured him, but even the Wookiee couldn't fight forever. He was shoved into the bare cell with his two friends.
The men, whoever they were, never looked their prisoners in the eye. They never spoke, not even to one another. Leia had managed to knee one in the gut, but he hadn't grunted in pain. He had barely even flinched, and the blank expression on his face never changed. It was like they were droids. It was like they were empty.
"Don't you dare leave us in here," Leia ordered, as they slammed and locked the cell gate.
One of the men finally did look up and, perhaps accidentally, caught Leia's eye. She shivered. There was something…wrong about his gaze. Something empty.
And then the man was gone.
Leia tried to shake off the horror. "This is all your fault," she muttered. When in doubt, arguing with Han always seemed like the best course of action. You could usually count on him to be wrong. But mostly, she just wanted some noise to fill up the silence in the cell. And to drown out her thoughts. There was an idea bubbling up in her, an idea she couldn't tolerate. Fighting with Han was the perfect way to ignore it.
"My fault?" Han echoed. "My fault?"
"Yes, your fault!" Leia said. She sat with her back against the wall of the bare cell. Han prowled the other side, searching for cracks in the wall. Chewbacca wrapped his giant paws around the durasteel bars, trying to pry them apart. But it was no use. The Wookiee roared in frustration. "See?" Leia said triumphantly. "Even Chewie thinks it's your fault."
"You going to listen to that furry oaf?"
Chewbacca growled, sounding insulted.
"Sorry, buddy," Han said quickly. "But Her Royalness here knows that if anything, this is her fault."
"My fault?" Leia repeated.
"You got it, sweetheart. If you hadn't landed so quickly—"
"If you hadn't shot our only leverage—"
"Oh, yeah? Well, if you hadn't…if you hadn't…"
"Where do you think they took Luke?" Leia asked quietly. She couldn't ignore it any longer.
"I don't know," Han said. "But you know the kid. He can take care of himself. Probably fought 'em off with some of that Jedi magic of his." He didn't sound convinced.
Leia didn't say anything.
"Hey, don't worry," Han said awkwardly. "We're all going to be fine."
She had to smile. It was always a little entertaining whenever Han tried to be sincere. He was so…bad at it.
"We've gotten out of tighter jams than this one," he reminded her. "About a thousand of them."
"I know," Leia said. "You're right."
But she couldn't stop seeing the look in those men's eyes, empty and soulless. And she couldn't ignore the truth any longer. She remembered where she'd seen a look like that before: X-7, the brainwashed assassin. He'd been brainwashed by Soresh, the Imperial who had trapped them here. And Leia was starting to think that Soresh had built himself a soulless, empty-minded army.
That was bad enough, but not as terrifying as the obvious question: How many more soldiers did he need?
"I simply was not built for this kind of situation!" C-3PO exclaimed, crouching stiffly behind a large red boulder.
R2-D2 beeped sadly.
"Yes," C-3PO agreed. "You'd think I would be used to it by now."
The protocol droid and his astromech counterpart had watched their friends being dragged away to some kind of underground fortress. Now they were alone on the surface of the moon. And they had no idea what to do next.
The astromech droid was rolling in slow circles, his neural circuitry whirring with furious thought. Suddenly he released a shrill whistle.
"Oh, we have to help them, do we?" C-3PO said, sounding irritated. "That's all well and
good. But how exactly do you expect us to do that?"
R2-D2 trilled a speedy response.
"Me? You want to know if I have an idea?" C-3PO said.
R2-D2 beeped a yes.
"My idea is that we go back to the ship and stay out of trouble, just like we were told," C-3PO said. "I'm sure Master Luke and the others are perfectly capable of saving themselves."
The astromech droid stopped in his tracks, and unleashed an angry burst of beeps and whistles.
When he finished, C-3PO leaned stiffly against the boulder, defeated. "Yes, I know Master Luke would do the same for us," he admitted. "But how are we supposed to help?"
R2-D2 extended his manipulator arm and began drawing an outline in the red sand, beeping with excitement.
"You have a plan?" C-3PO cut in. "Well, why didn't you just say that in the first place?"
The astromech droid beeped.
"Since when do you care about being polite?" the protocol droid exclaimed. He threw his arms in the air. "All right, let's hear it."
R2-D2 laid out his plan. C-3PO calculated a one in 2,341,900 chance of success.
They immediately got to work.
* * *
Ferus perched awkwardly on the narrow stool, waiting for General Dodonna to finish the mission briefing. Rows and rows of pilots sat stiffly at attention. They were all eager to hear about their new mission. Under any other circumstances, Ferus would be thrilled to join their ranks. It meant Dodonna finally trusted him and Div. Or at least, trusted them enough to let them join the Rebels for this mission. The general was sending nearly half the fleet. Normally, a mission briefing would be delivered shortly before the ships set out. But this time, General Dodonna was giving his fighters two weeks to prepare and train. Even if the intel was right, and there would only be two Star Destroyers guarding the secret Imperial meeting, Dodonna was taking no chances.