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Luke flung his arm out, activating the lightsaber as it swung toward the stormtrooper.

The comlink dropped from his hand. His counterpart swiveled a blaster toward Luke. But Luke was already diving for the floor. He somersaulted toward the first stormtrooper, slashing with a smoother, upward jab, just as Div had taught him. It sliced through the white plastoid armor, and the stormtrooper dropped.

Luke leapt immediately back to his feet and jumped away from the other trooper's blasts. He struggled to get close enough to land a blow, but the laserfire kept him on the defensive.

Remember what Div taught you, he thought.

Luke spun and leapt into the air, slashing the beam with a diagonal thrust. The stormtrooper stumbled backward, firing blindly. Luke intercepted the beam, angling the blade to deflect the bolt back at the stormtrooper. It slammed into his chest, knocking him to the ground. He clutched once at his scorched armor and then was still.

Luke removed the stormtrooper's glove and pressed the trooper's hand to the palm-recognition security interface. The door slid open, revealing a massive chamber at least fifty meters wide and three stories high. Laser cannons, heavy turbolasers, and concussion missiles were stockpiled everywhere. As the Rebels had guessed, this was the perfect spot.

Luke dragged the stormtroopers' bodies into the room and shut the door again. Then he fumbled with the toolbox, pulling out the detonators.

The Imperial comlink crackled to life. "Report, TBR-312. What is the situation?"

"No situation," Luke said quickly into the comlink. "Everything is under control."

It wouldn't hold them off for long. He began planting the detonators, carefully choosing the largest of the weapons stockpiles. He worked quickly, setting the timer for fifteen minutes rather than the planned thirty. It would give him less time to escape—but better to be caught in the blast than give the Imperials enough time to discover and defuse the charges.

Maybe it was inevitable that the Imperials would catch him. But by the time they did, it would be too late.

X-7 stalked his prey like a manka cat. Stealthy and silent as a shadow, he trailed Luke Skywalker, waiting for his moment.

Div was dead. Up in the hills, the Rebel forces were, even now, being slaughtered like a herd of banthas. And now just a single loose end remained—one mission that belonged to him alone. Skywalker was the first target who had avoided his attack. That had been the beginning of all this. The failure to kill Skywalker had put X-7 on a collision path with his disgusting human emotions, his disgusting human past. And since Skywalker had been the beginning, he would also be the end.

X-7 hadn't tipped the Empire off to the Rebels' entire plan. He'd given them the coordinates of the hidden Rebels. But he'd led them away from Skywalker. This kill was his.

As slow and clumsy as he was, the Rebel had managed to make his way into the arsenal. The giant chamber stored hundreds of weapons: mines, ion cannons, turbolasers—everything the Empire could ever need to subdue a planet. If any of the Rebels had had brains in their heads, they would have realized that stealing the weapons would be far more efficient than destroying them. But of course, the Rebels never thought; they just acted. It was why they were doomed to lose. Luke was determined to destroy the garrison and the weapons it housed—and he'd chosen exactly the right spot. Even a small explosion would touch off an inferno. It would be enough firepower to take down the entire building. Perfect for Skywalker's purposes.

It would also be enough noise—massive load-lifter droids restocking the weaponry—

to cover X-7's footsteps as he crept along the catwalk far overhead.

Perfect for X-7's purposes.

X-7 readied his laser rifle. Took aim. No one to save you this time, he thought, watching Luke's tiny figure through the scope. This time, you die.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

X-7's finger twitched toward the trigger. Div launched himself at X-7, knocking him off balance. They tumbled to the ground.