Trapped (12 page)

S
oresh cut off the transmission. So it was over. The garrison was destroyed. X-7 was dead. The ambush was a failure, and the entire city was in upheaval. And Soresh, as the highest-ranking officer on the planet, would be the one held responsible. “No,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “No, no, no.
No.
” He smashed a fist down on the desk, scattering piles of flimsiplast everywhere. This was
not
the way it was supposed to go. He was a loyal servant of the Empire. The
most
loyal. Hadn't he sacrificed everything for the cause? Years of his life. His family. Even his own son.

After such devotion and such sacrifice, all for the greater glory of the Empire, surely Palpatine would understand.

Everyone made mistakes.

Still, it couldn't hurt to put as much distance between himself and this disaster as possible. He slipped his private datapad into his pocket and hurried to the door. But when it swung open, a stormtrooper was blocking his path. “I'll need you to prepare the ship,” he said. “I'm leaving immediately.”

The stormtrooper raised his blaster. “I'm sorry, sir, but that's not possible.”

“Not possible? What do you mean? Is something wrong with the ship? I'll take another. Surely this planet must have a ship!” Soresh realized he was starting to sound hysterical, and forced himself to take a deep breath. “Let me by,” he said in a more commanding voice. “That's an order.”

“You're to stay here until he arrives,” the stormtrooper said in that flat, toneless voice they all used.

“Until who arrives?” Soresh asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

“Lord Vader.”

No.

He assumed a military posture, shoulders back, chest out, head held high. “Listen to me. I don't know who you are, but
I
am Commander Rezi Soresh, Imperial sub-overseer of strategic and tactical operations, with dominion over the Inner Rim and all planets contained within. You take orders from me, not Lord Vader. And I'm ordering you to let me pass.”

The stormtrooper didn't move. Soresh fumed. It was pointless to reason with these stormtroopers. Hiding behind that implacable mask, they had no need to be human. Sometimes, when he stared into that white plastoid armor, it was hard to believe that there even was a real person beneath it. And who knew what lay behind the mask? It could be a man, could be a woman, could be a cold-blooded monster.

Like Vader. No one knew what was behind that black faceplate, but Soresh was certain that whatever it was contained no shred of humanity. Or mercy.

He stepped back into the office and slammed the door, then locked it. He was running out of time.

Soresh had never considered himself the kind of man who would make a fatal mistake. But he
was
the kind of man who planned for every eventuality, even the unlikeliest ones. Which meant he never went anywhere without a backup plan.

Darth Vader spoke for the Emperor. For Soresh to disobey a direct order would mean violating his sacred oath. By fleeing, he would become an enemy of everything he believed in.

But staying meant certain death. And if he survived, he could atone. He could show the Emperor how loyal he was. How valuable. He could find some way to prove he deserved to live.

If
he survived.

Soresh pressed the button that swung back the bookshelf and revealed the hidden turbolift. The secret Rebel escape route was the reason he had selected the office for his temporary quarters. Those Belazuran Rebels had apparently been very crafty when it came to surviving.
Not crafty enough,
Soresh thought, and their loss was his gain. The lift was still operational, which meant Vader didn't know about it. Soresh himself knew only because he had done his research and studied the blueprints, as he studied the blueprints of every building he planned to spend significant time in.

And he never arrived on a planet without making sure that he had an alternate way to depart. In this case, it was an old CloakShape fighter stashed in a secure location.

Like all the bullies Soresh had faced over the years, Vader was stronger than him. Bolder. More powerful in every way. Guaranteed to triumph in any face-to-face confrontation. But, like all the other bullies, Vader had overlooked one very important fact.

Soresh was smarter.

It was all the advantage he would need.

“Mug of lum for your thoughts, kid?” Han asked, joining Luke at the galley's small table. He slid a foaming glass toward Luke, but Luke waved it away. Han shook his head, then gulped it down himself, draining the glass in two swallows. “You look like you could use some distraction.”

“I could use some
privacy
,” Luke muttered, but he wasn't about to get that any time soon. The
Millennium Falcon
was full to capacity, and more. Five humans, two droids, and a Wookiee were proving to be more than even the
Falcon
could handle. At least as far as Luke was concerned. But maybe that was just because he was stuck sharing his bunk with Div and Ferus. Div's permanent glower made it clear that he would rather be somewhere—anywhere else. And Ferus...well, Luke trusted him, even liked him, but there was something uncomfortably intense about the man's stare. It was like he could see right through to the center of Luke—and was judging whether Luke was worthy.

Worthy of what, Luke didn't know.

“Smile, kid,” Han recommended. “The good guys won, the bad guys are two meters under. Not bad for a day's work, eh?”

“Not bad,” Luke agreed, but his heart wasn't in it.

X-7 was dead. The man who'd betrayed him, who'd tried to kill him again and again was gone. And a major Imperial base was gone with him. Han was right, it was time to celebrate. Not to stare moodily into space, as he'd been doing for the last several hours.

“So what is it?” Han asked. He leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the table. Luke wondered how it would feel to be Han, to float through life without a care in the world. No ties, no responsibilities, no burdens—no fear.

Luke couldn't imagine.

He shrugged. “I'm just wondering what's next.”

“Next?” Han grinned. “Next we get ourselves back to Yavin 4 and breathe some nice, clean, Imperial-free air. We stop looking over our shoulders wondering when some crazy assassin's going to shoot you from behind a tree. And I wouldn't mind a nice big juicy nerf steak while we're at it.”

“I mean after that,” Luke explained. “X-7's not the end of it. There's never an end of it.” There never would be, not until the Empire had fallen. Life had become one battle after another, one death after another. He had told himself that something would change once X-7 was dead.

He was tired.

“You can't think about that kind of thing,” Han said. “Forget about what might happen, and—”

“Easy for you to say!” Luke exploded. “
Everything's
easy for you. But some of us actually care about the Rebellion, and about...other people,” he finished lamely, reluctant to name names. “We can't just dash off to some other part of the galaxy when things don't go our way.”

Han stood up, his face red. “Listen, kid, I don't know who you've been talking to, but nothing about my life is
easy
. And if you weren't such a—” He stopped himself and drew in a deep breath. “You know the difference between you and me, kid?”

Luke sighed. “I'm sure you're going to tell me.”

Han slapped Luke on the back. Hard. “Right you are.” He sat down again. “You think I've got nothing on my mind? I'll tell you what I've got: a bounty on my head worth more credits than you'll see in your entire life. Not to mention a very angry Hutt who probably wants me skinned alive and hung on his trophy wall. Trust me, kid, I got troubles. But the difference between you and me is that I know when to forget about them. You're right, something
always
happens next—and it's never something good. But it's going to happen whether you worry about it or not. So when you get a day like this, everything actually going right and no one trying to kill you? Better enjoy it while it lasts, that's what I say.”

“You may be right,” Luke admitted.

“Always am,” Han pointed out. “Don't see why now should be any different.”

Han had a point. So when Leia and Ferus joined them in the galley for food and drink, Luke joined into the festivities. When C-3PO and R2-D2 started bickering and Chewbacca threatened to rip their gears out if they didn't quiet down, Luke laughed along with everyone else. But his smile was strained.

Somewhere out there in the dark, something was waiting.

Waiting for me
, Luke thought, uneasy.

Coming for me.

When he turned back to the group, Ferus was watching him, as usual. Something about the older man's expression convinced him: Ferus felt it, too.

But Han was right, there was nothing to be done about it...now. Luke tried his best to shake off the dark cloud. Whatever came next, he would face it.
They
would face it, together. And in the meantime, he had his friends, he had his moment of triumph—and peace.

So maybe he would do exactly as Han said.

Enjoy it while it lasts.

Darth Vader swept down the hallway, his cape flowing behind him. Stormtroopers lined the corridor, shrinking away as he passed. The stench of fear oozed out of them, and Vader breathed it in greedily. Their terror made him stronger, gave power to the dark Force within him. Another day, he might have paused to toy with them. Strike one down and watch the rest scatter like fearful sand skitters. But this was not the time for games.

A man had dared to defy him; that man would be destroyed.

He threw open the doors of Soresh's chamber. But there was no one there but a young lieutenant, rifling through the sheets of flimsiplast strewn across the desk. “Where is he?” Vader said, anger percolating deep within.

The man trembled. “He...h-he...We don't know, my lord,” he stammered. “He was here, but now...”

“You were ordered to hold him for my arrival,” Vader said.

“We stationed guards, but...” The man shook his head. His face was drained of color. He was young, little more than a boy. This was probably his first assignment.

“But
he is gone
!” Vader roared, and let the anger overtake him. The boy's eyes bulged. His face flushed red. His hands crept to his neck. His mouth fell open, his tongue hanging out like that of a hungry massiff.

Vader boiled.
Defied,
by a coward like Rezi Soresh. Because of the sheer incompetence of those who served him. It was an
insult,
an
offense.
It could not be allowed. He let the dark side flow through him, let its shadow fill the room with its enormous power. He nurtured the anger, feeding it, feeling it swell within him.

The boy gasped. One last breath.

And then he dropped to the ground, eyes open, chest still.

The rage quieted. Vader was satisfied. For the moment.

But Soresh was still out there, willfully defying him, and perhaps still pursuing the Rebel Luke Skywalker, even though it had been expressly forbidden. Vader would find him, stop him.

But first Vader would punish him.

He spread his consciousness out into the corners of the room, letting it merge with the Force, exploring this pathetic world with its prying tendrils, searching for some hint to where Soresh might have gone. But it wasn't Soresh that he sensed. It was something else—something familiar. He had felt it several times these last few months, but always faintly. He hadn't been sure. But now he was.

The past tickled at the edges of his mind. He had felt this presence before, long ago. Then he had been weak, still afraid to face what he had become. Still imprisoned by the memories of Anakin Skywalker.

No more. The past held no danger for him, not anymore. Facing Obi-Wan Kenobi had been deeply satisfying, knowing he had extinguished his light forever. There was only one other man in the galaxy whose death would give him as much satisfaction. For years, Vader had assumed he was already dead. But now...

Behind his mask, Vader drew his lips back in a predatory smile.

It's been a long time, old friend,
he thought.
Too long.

See you soon.

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