Star Wars_ Rebel Force 01_ Target - Alex Wheeler [12]
He knew what she liked and what she hated. What she respected. Whom she respected.
And that was the person he would become.
* * *
Yavin 4 loomed in the viewscreen, the jungle moon awash in swirls of blue and green.
The comm console lit up with an incoming transmission. "You are entering restricted territory," the scratchy voice warned.
"Request clearance for landing."
The reply came as expected. "Landing code required."
X-7 recited the code he'd been given by the Commander, and armed his laser cannons.
He'd been assured that the Rebel codes were only a few months old, and that the spy who'd delivered them could be trusted. Still, he believed in being prepared.
"Permission granted. You may land when ready."
X-7 smiled. Not because he was happy, but because expressing the emotion he couldn't feel was good practice. Soon he would be one of them.
"Nice and slow," the man said, cocking his blaster as X-7 stepped through the hatch of the Preybird. "And let's keep your hands where I can see them."
So they hadn't been fooled by the landing code after all. Smart, X-7 thought in approval. Allowing him to land and let his guard down before revealing themselves as a threat. This way, if he turned out to be an enemy, they could destroy him without destroying his ship.
Of course, their strategy assumed that he was more dangerous behind the firing controls of a laser cannon than he was on the ground.
It was a poor assumption.
The Yavin 4 hangar deck was a hub of bustling activity. X-wing fighters set off for missions while others limped onto the tarmac, bruised and battered. Maintenance droids and deck officers raced from ship to ship, scavenging parts from one to fix another, refitting and refueling with efficient haste. X-7 could see with a glance that there were fewer ships than needed, fewer parts, fewer pilots, fewer everything.
It was nearly laughable, the idea that an operation like this could stand up to the Empire. Some might have called it brave. X-7 knew better.
"Careful with that, friend," he told the Rebel guard, nodding at the blaster. "I'd hate for you to accidentally blow a hole through me." He kept his tone casual.
"Wouldn't be anything accidental about it," the guard growled. "Now how about you tell me where you got that landing code."
"From Lieutenant Jez Planchet," X-7 said. "He recruited me about six months ago.
Gave me orders to bring you a message—and then report for duty. I'm ready to serve the Rebel Alliance, wherever I'm needed." He was prepared for this. He was prepared for anything.
The guard narrowed his eyes and flicked a finger across his datapad. "So you ran into Planchet on Kashyyyk, eh?"
X-7 forced a thin smile. "Lieutenant Planchet's been deep undercover on Malastare for the last year. Sir." How amusing that they thought they could trick him. It was like playing a game with a child—carefully manipulating the playing field to give him the illusion that he was among equals.
The guard gave a terse nod. "And you have some kind of proof that you are who you say you are?"
"Actually, I haven't said who I am, yet," X-7 pointed out. Any respect he might have had was quickly fading. This was no way to run an interrogation. They hadn't even confiscated his weapons: He could kill half the men in this hangar without breaking a sweat. "S'ree Bonard. Pleased to meet you." He held out a datapad. "Here are my ID docs, and the data Planchet had me smuggle out. They're plans for some kind of new Imperial ship. Lieutenant Planchet wanted them to go straight to Dodonna."
In fact, all Lieutenant Planchet had wanted was a release from the torture he'd endured in his Imperial prison cell. He had indeed spent several months undercover on Malastare, completely cut off from his Rebel allies.
Which meant when the Empire arrived at his door, he had no one to call for help.
And when the Empire's expert interrogators began their work, he had no hope of rescue.
According to the Commander,