Star Wars_ Rebel Force 01_ Target - Alex Wheeler [1]
Commander Grev T'Ran looked somber at the news. But before the expression dropped across his face, the Emperor had sensed something else. The beginnings of a smile. Such a small thing—a tensed muscle, a nearly imperceptible flinch—but it was enough. The Emperor had had his suspicions about T'Ran. Now they were confirmed.
He raised a finger, catching the attention of the Royal Guard. Then nodded. T'Ran's face paled as one of the guards peeled away from the line. His crimson robes swept the floor as he padded silently toward the traitor. The other officers looked away, their faces grim.
"Noooo!" T'Ran drew his blaster. "You can't—"
The guard's force pike jabbed into T'Ran's neck, silencing him forever. His body shuddered once, then dropped to the ground. The silent red figure waited on the Emperor's command, but the Emperor shook his head. They could take out the garbage later. For now, let the traitor stay where he was. It would serve as a helpful reminder.
"How did it happen, sir?" one of the officers asked. "The Death Star was invincible."
"So we were led to believe," the Emperor agreed.
He peered closely at the man who had spoken. His face was blank, his features composed into a perfect mask of calm loyalty. But there was something beneath the surface. Not betrayal, no. But something…the Emperor reached out with the dark side of the Force, probing the man's depths.
"The Rebels found a weakness," the Emperor said, searching for a reaction that would reveal the truth. "Wisely, they exploited it."
Quickly, he ran through what he knew of the man: Rezi Soresh, of the planet Dreizan, a loyal, if plodding commander, his brilliance blunted by blind obedience. Just as the Emperor preferred it. Cold, ambitious, cautious—not the kind of man to speak up first, or at all, when silence would serve him better. And in the Emperor's presence, silence always served better.
"Were there any…survivors?" Soresh asked. There was a disturbance in the Force as something flared within him, something sharp and bright.
Hope.
Ah, yes. It made sense now. Rezi Soresh, husband to Ilaani Soresh, father to Kimali Soresh—or was. Two years before, fresh out of the Academy, Kimali had fallen in with a group of Rebel sympathizers. When the group came under suspicion, his mother had helped him evade arrest. She had procured him the text docs he would need to run away and take on a new identity—and then she revealed the truth to Soresh, giving him the chance to say a final farewell to his son.
Soresh had turned them both in. His reward: a promotion to Commander. His family's reward: a life sentence in the Gree Baaker Labor Camp. Several prisoner work squads had been assigned to the Death Star, the Emperor now remembered. Among them, the prisoners from Gree Baaker.
The Emperor smiled. " No survivors."
Soresh's face remained blank as his hope died. The Emperor suspected that Soresh himself was ignorant of the emotions that roiled beneath his surface. Likely, he thought he had left his family—and his guilt—far behind. The Emperor knew better.
"Only Lord Vader escaped," he added, enjoying the disappointment that filled the room. He knew of the jealousies directed at his most favored subordinate. No one could hope to understand the bond that existed between a Sith Master and his dark apprentice.
Darth Vader had failed him before, and would surely fail again, but he remained the Emperor's only option.
True, if there were another—a being with Vader's power and potential, a Jedi with a susceptible mind and a healthy body who could rule by his Master's side—Vader would become disposable. But the Jedi were gone forever. He had seen to that.
"Lord Vader is making his way back to Coruscant," the Emperor said. "And when he