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Luke pounced on it like a starved profrogg.

"You're doing very well," Soresh said. "It might soon be time for Phase Two. Would you like that?"

Again, Luke didn't answer. He gnawed on the fruit. It was soft and overripe, with a sour undertaste. Even so, it was still the best muja fruit he'd ever eaten.

"I take no joy in your pain," Soresh said. "I'd be happy to let you out of here at any time. All you have to do is swear your allegiance to me. Then all the pain will end."

Luke wanted to make that happen.

Remember Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, he thought weakly. Remember Ben.

They had given their lives for him. So he could fight the Empire, not join it.

But he had no fight left in him.

"You're all alone here, Luke," Soresh said. "Your friends have abandoned you. There's no one left to save you…except for me. Join me and save yourself."

Your friends.

Luke drew in a deep, painful breath. Remember Han, he told himself.

Remember Leia.

"Never," he whispered. His voice was hoarse from screaming. He repeated it, louder, more sure. "Never."

Soresh shrugged. "So be it." He turned his back on the cell and began walking away.

Luke panicked—what if he never came back? What if this was the end of the little visits and treats that kept him alive? What if Soresh just left him to die?

But Soresh stopped, and turned back. "Oh, if you're worried about what your friends will think of you if you give in to me, don't. They're long gone."

"They would never leave me," Luke croaked.

"Perhaps you're right," Soresh agreed. "They say the dead stay with us forever." He peered around the empty cell as if hunting for ghosts. "Who knows, maybe they're here with us right now."

No. Luke refused to believe it. "You're lying."

"I had no use for them," Soresh said coldly. " You're the special one. You're the one I want. They were just nuisances. And so I disposed of them. Don't worry—someday, you'll thank me."

Soresh strode through the underground tunnels, eager to return to his office. While some equipment and personnel were housed on the surface of the moon, the bulk of his operation lay in the tunnels. He had discovered them in his early explorations of the moon, grateful to the civilization that carved them millennia before.

Luke's treatment was progressing even faster than Soresh had hoped. He was convinced that telling Luke his friends were dead would push the Rebel over the edge.

Soresh had honed this process over two decades. He knew exactly how to tear apart a man's brain and rebuild it to his liking. First you broke them down. Fear, sleeplessness, pain, starvation—they were all crucial ingredients, doled out in precise amounts. You stripped away everything the prisoner had, made them understand that they were completely alone, with no one left to save them.

No one but their master, Rezi Soresh.

Once they understood this, they were ready for the next phase.

Years ago, the process had been more complicated. Soresh had created men like X-7, who were completely obedient to Soresh but could still think for themselves. Clearly, that was a mistake. Even a little bit of independence could lead to disaster. So now Soresh had refined the process. Not that he'd had much choice—time was short, resources were few.

So he'd found some shortcuts. The soldiers he'd created didn't have X-7's strategic capabilities, and they wouldn't be much use on independent missions. But when it came to carrying out simple tasks and doing exactly what Soresh ordered them to do, they were perfect.

Of course there had been a few missteps along the way. A few mistakes he'd had to dispose of. But now he knew exactly what he was doing. The men guarding the base were completely under his control. The Rebel spy he'd brainwashed had passed along the fake Imperial transmission to his Rebel leaders, just as Soresh commanded. And now Luke was well on his way to becoming the most powerful servant Soresh could ever have.

With a Jedi under his control, no one would be able to stop him.