Star Wars_ Rebel Force 05_ Trapped - Alex Wheeler [42]
And then a glowing blade slashed down. X-7 threw himself out of the way just in time.
Ferus struck again.
"I know what you are," X-7 gasped, springing to his feet and moving out of the way of the beam. "I've always known. You don't scare me, Jedi."
Ferus advanced, lightsaber raised. "I should."
Furious at his weakness, Div could do nothing but watch the fierce battle play out. Far below them, Luke had already finished setting the thermal detonators. Escape while you still can, Div urged him silently. But even if Div had shouted it, Luke never would have heard him over the thunder of the machinery.
Ferus slashed at X-7 with the blue blade. X-7 jumped-sidestepped out of the way, and suddenly, the assassin produced a lightwhip, crackling with deadly laser energy. He flicked it at Ferus, who leapt over the snakelike rope and somersaulted along the catwalk.
"Not bad, old man," X-7 said. "But not good enough." Swinging the whip in a deadly arc with one hand, he wielded a blaster with the other. The weapon sent a wide spray of laserfire at Ferus, who was trapped against the railing with no cover. He slipped between the bursts of laserfire with nearly impossible speed and agility, then nimbly hopped onto the railing and balanced on the five-centimeter-wide durasteel.
X-7 released an icy chuckle and struck out with the whip, trying to knock Ferus off his perch. But Ferus used the height to his advantage, his lightsaber bearing down on X-7's arm. X-7 stifled a cry of pain and dropped the blaster. A bloody stain spread across his shirt. He went into a frenzy, hacking and slashing with his good arm. The whip whistled through the air. It caught Ferus on the leg, only a light blow, but enough to knock him off balance. He toppled backward—and disappeared from sight.
Div gasped.
X-7 laughed again. It was a hard, inhuman noise, like grinding gears. He leaned over the railing. Div didn't want to imagine what X-7 saw below. Ferus's broken body, smashed on the duracrete.
"Where are you, old man?" X-7 sounded surprised.
He turned around—just in time to see Ferus spring over the opposite edge of the catwalk, his lightsaber pointed straight at X-7's heart.
His aim was true.
X-7 dropped to the ground, his eyes glassy, his body limp. Blood pooled beneath him.
He gasped, as if he couldn't draw enough air. But then his rasping grew louder. He was trying to speak. It was just two syllables, soft but clear.
"Div. Please."
Div looked at Ferus, who offered no guidance. So against his better judgment, Div approached the fallen assassin. He knelt by X-7's side. "What is it?"
He hated the man for what he'd done—to the Rebels, to Luke, to himself. But more, he hated what the man represented. To the end, he'd been a tool of the Empire. A ruthless killer who served other ruthless killers. A symbol of the darkness that shadowed Div's life.
It shouldn't have mattered that for a few days, he'd been something else.
"Brother," X-7 gasped.
Div shook his head.
"My brother. Tell me. You are." With a mighty effort, X-7 slid his body up along the wall, until he was in a half-sitting position. Before he could speak again, his body was racked by a spasm of coughing. He leaned over, spit out a mouthful of phlegm and blood.
"I need to know," he said in a clearer voice. His chest heaved. "Before I die. Need to know who I was. If I was someone. That I…" X-7 trailed off, his eyes fluttering shut. For a moment, Div thought that was it. The end. But then the eyes opened again, wide and rimmed with red. "I mattered to someone. Need to know."
Trever mattered, Div thought fiercely. He's been dead for ten years, while you lived.
You lived and you killed.
The man deserved to die alone, broken, without comfort. How dare he ask Div for anything? How dare