Star Wars_ Rebel Force 06_ Uprising - Alex Wheeler [19]
"The serum and the machinery work together," Soresh said, sounding proud. "I designed them myself. They act on the memory centers of your brain. Think of it as a million thermo missiles launched into your bloodstream. Except instead of heat, they're seeking memories. Seek and destroy, that's their mission. Every painful moment of your past, every person who's ever betrayed you, ever abandoned you, all gone. Everything that's made you who you are. One by one, we're going to purge you of such unpleasant attachments. We're going to wash the slate clean and leave you pure and fresh. As empty and trouble-free as the day you were born. Won't that be nice?"
Luke was having trouble keeping track of the words.
They skidded past him, just out of reach, turning to nonsense syllables. He knew Soresh was saying something important, something that should terrify him. But the voice seemed so distant. Everything seemed distant. Luke felt like he was floating away.
He was on Tatooine, drawing spaceships in the sand, dreaming of the stars.
He was waking up on a barren cliffside, looking into the face of a crazy hermit he barely knew. Learning the secret truth of his past. "I was once a Jedi Knight," the old man said. "The same as your father."
* * *
He was surrounded by strange sights and sounds in a Mos Eisley cantina, trying not to get himself killed. Trying to buy passage to the Alderaan system from a smooth-talking spacer who called himself Han Solo.
He was on the bridge of the Millennium Falcon, searching for a planet that was no longer there.
He was bursting into an Imperial prison cell. A woman—a princess—lay asleep on a bare metal slab. She wore a long, white gown and was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
He was watching a red lightsaber slice through Ben's empty cloak.
He was at the controls of his X-wing, stars twinkling in his viewscreen, the Death Star looming. He was one with the ship, one with the Force. He was squeezing his fingers around the trigger, knowing with absolute certainty that his aim was true.
He was in the dark.
"Hold on, Luke. Please."
It was Leia's voice. But not Leia's face. There were no faces in the black depths of his mind, the only place he could hide from Soresh's memory missiles. The darkness left behind as, one by one, everything and everyone was stripped away.
There won't be anything left of me, Luke thought, clinging to his memories, to himself It was like grasping a cloud—nothing to hold on to but empty air.
"Use the Force, Luke," Ben's voice said, echoing in the emptiness.
Use it for what? Luke cried from the depths of his mind.
"Trust the Force. Trust your feelings. Trust yourself."
And then the voices of his friends faded away, drowned out by a new voice. Soresh's voice, deep and commanding. "You are nothing," it said. "You belong to me. Your Master."
The voice filled the darkness, until it consumed everything; it was Luke's entire world.
"You are nothing," it repeated, again and again.
"You belong to me."
It would be so easy to stop fighting, to let go of the memories and the pain. To believe the voice—to let it replace his own.
Hold on, Luke told himself desperately. For Leia. For Ben.
For me.
* * *
The treatment was hard on mind and body. Some took days to recover. Some never did.
Luke lay unconscious for several hours, and Soresh stayed by his side, waiting. He had waited months for this moment. But now every additional minute was torture. He was so close to his goal, he could taste it. And, finally, the Rebel stirred. His eyes flickered open, and he bolted upright on the cot, alarmed.
The guards at the door raised their blasters, but Soresh stilled them with a look. He placed a hand on Luke's shoulder. "Easy," he said. "Lie down. You're safe. Your body's had quite a shock. Take your time."
Luke obeyed without question.
It was a good sign.
Soresh watched the monitors carefully, tracking Luke's heart rate, his breathing, his brain waves. Soon they'd all stabilized within normal parameters. It was time to begin. "Sit up,"