• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

X-7 shakes his head.

The man on the screen shakes his head.

X-7 opens his mouth to speak:

The man on the screen opens his mouth to speak.

X-7 understands.

The Commander sees it in his eyes, presses a button, and the mirrored screen drops back into the desk. X-7 realizes this was the final test.

He has passed.

He is ready.

Since X-7's last trip to Coruscant, the Commander had switched offices. He was now located midway up a towering spire in the planet's wealthiest quadrant. But this office was identical to the other, lacking in any personal effects. The spare space contained only a desk, a single shelf, and a wall-sized viewscreen.

"Welcome," the Commander said, gesturing for X-7 to take a seat.

There had been a time when the Commander had been the only being he knew. His face had filled X-7's world. Now, many missions later, after traveling the galaxy and encountering beings of all kinds, X-7 understood that the Commander was unusually thin and weak. His watery eyes, his pinched features, his stooped shoulders—they were not the mark of an intimidating man.

X-7 saw all this objectively, as he saw everything objectively. He saw the being before him as others saw him. Rezi Soresh, he thought, testing the name in his mind, trying to fit it to the man.

But it was no use. The man before him would always be the Commander, the center of his universe. Pleasing the Commander was all he needed in life; disappointing the Commander was death. He understood now that this was not natural. This was not the way other beings lived. Other beings had desires of their own, names, identities, histories.

X-7 had no name, only a designation, like a droid. Other men had free will, while X-7 had only Soresh.

He knew this to be true, and he knew that Soresh had done this to him. But knowing the truth changed nothing.

X-7 had free will as well—and, like all other beings, he willed himself to be happy.

Happiness was obeying Soresh.

The Commander passed a datapad across the desk. "A valuable piece of Imperial property has been destroyed by the Rebel scourge. Your target is the pilot who fired the fatal blow. You will infiltrate the Rebel Alliance, gain proof of his identity, and report back. The datapad contains everything we've got on the Alliance. Operations, security protocols, personnel data—everything."

X-7 nodded.

"You will arrange to be in a position to kill him, on my command," the Commander continued. "You will cast the blame on someone else, so that you can remain at the heart of the Alliance. Everything they know, you will know. And everything you know, I will know."

"For how long?" X-7 asked.

The Commander smiled. "Until the pilot is dead and the Rebel threat has been eliminated."

X-7 rose, tucking the datapad securely into his utility pouch. "It will be done."

CHAPTER FIVE

The situation is more dire than even you know, Princess," General Dodonna said, his expression sorrowful.

When the general requested a walk through the lush temple grounds, Leia had expected nothing more than an evening of polite conversation. But the general obviously had more serious concerns on his mind—concerns that he preferred to keep between the two of them.

"A substantial portion of the Rebellion's funds were located on Alderaan," the general said.

Leia flinched at the name of her home planet. Just hearing the word sent a shockwave through her. Beautiful, peaceful Alderaan, blasted into a billion pieces of space rubble.

Every being on the planet ground to dust. Millions of lives lost in a heartbeat.

In her heartbeat, as she stood on the bridge of the Death Star, helpless to stop it.

There was nothing she could have done, she knew that.

And yet she still hated herself for it. For doing nothing—while her planet, her past, her own father, were lost forever.

She forced the memories back inside herself, not wanting to reveal her weakness to General Dodonna.

"The funds, along with several key financial access codes, were lost with the destruction of the planet," the general continued. "We find ourselves in dire straits.