Star Wars_ The New Rebellion - Kristine Kathryn Rusch [66]
He was good at this. Telti had brought forth his creative powers. If only Kueller had allowed Brakiss to work the factory without using his Force abilities. Kueller had promised that Brakiss would have nothing more to do with Almania. But Kueller’s promises never held, especially with Brakiss. Kueller felt that Force-experienced warriors were rare, and he aimed to use each one in his power. The most talented one he had was Brakiss.
So Brakiss got to lure Skywalker into Kueller’s trap.
Brakiss sat. The chair molded to his shape and braced him. On the screens before him, he watched ten Luke Skywalkers shout hello into an empty room. Empty except for the overstock droid hands. Even the mighty Skywalker had looked surprised at that.
He hadn’t changed. And he should have. It had been years. Brakiss had heard that Skywalker had almost died on board the Eye of Palpatine. Yet he looked the same. His scarred face still had a boyishness, his body was lean and powerful, and he had the same assurance he had always had.
The assurance he had had when he forced Brakiss to face the darkness.
Brakiss swallowed. Even thinking of that moment, alone, with only himself and the evils Skywalker had thrown at him, sent trembling explosive shivers through him. If Brakiss thought about it too much, he felt as if his brain would shatter. Brakiss had run from that test, run as fast as he could, and when he returned to his mother, he found her living in the shadow of the Empire. He had had to report, and he had, on the condition that they let him go.
His information had been valuable enough, and his mind damaged enough, that they had let him go. He had run until Kueller found him, and Kueller had put him together again.
For a price.
Skywalker.
Brakiss leaned forward and flicked the communicator. Kueller answered immediately, forming a small holo image on Brakiss’s holopad. This Kueller looked tiny enough for Brakiss to crush with his fist. Even so, the power radiating from the small image made Brakiss slide his chair back.
“He’s here,” Brakiss said.
Kueller’s death mask smiled. “Good. Send him to me.”
Brakiss licked his lips. “I was thinking … I thought … maybe I should kill him. I owe him. He—”
Kueller waved a hand. His skeletal grin grew. “By all means. Kill him.”
A chill ran down Brakiss’s back. His victory was too easy. “But I thought you said you would have to kill him.”
Kueller shrugged. “I doubt you can kill him, but if you do, my response is simple. I will have to kill you.”
Kueller spoke with such confidence and calm that Brakiss backed away even farther. “I thought we were working together,” Brakiss said.
“We are,” Kueller said. “But the person who kills the great Jedi Luke Skywalker becomes the strongest in the galaxy. If you kill Skywalker, you take that honor, and leave me no choice but to take that honor from you.”
“But the Emperor wanted Vader to kill Skywalker.”
“The Emperor has been dead a long time, Brakiss.” Kueller’s smile had faded. “It would do you good to remember that.”
Brakiss nodded.
“And remember, Brakiss,” Kueller said. “I will know if Skywalker dies.”
Kueller’s image winked out. The air around the pad glowed for a moment, then the strength of Kueller’s presence faded as well. Brakiss put his fist over the vanished image and pounded the pad. Pain shot through his palm. He was no match for Kueller yet. But someday he would be.
It would only be a matter of time.
He cupped his fist against his chest and stared at the screens. Skywalker had stopped yelling. He was looking toward the dome and frowning, his lips parted slightly, his eyes glazed like those of a man sensing only with the Force.
Had he felt Kueller’s presence?
Nonsense.