Rebel Force #1.

Target.

by Alex Wheeler.

CHAPTER ONE.

The Emperor closed his eyes and let the rage consume him.

An energy bolt of anger crackled across his body, turning his blood black with venom.

A red mist clouded the darkness behind his lids. The fog of hate would have shrouded the vision of a lesser man. But when the Emperor opened his eyes, the blood-tinged world was sharper than ever.

Clarity. Understanding. Power Power.

This was what the rage could do for him. was what the rage could do for him. This This was what pathetic Jedi had never understood, as they rejected their anger, letting cowardice block their path to the dark side. was what pathetic Jedi had never understood, as they rejected their anger, letting cowardice block their path to the dark side. This This was why they had been eliminated, and why the Emperor reigned supreme, his power unquestioned. His iron rule una.s.sailable. was why they had been eliminated, and why the Emperor reigned supreme, his power unquestioned. His iron rule una.s.sailable.

Until now.

" My Lord, the Death Star has been My Lord, the Death Star has been... destroyed destroyed."

The Emperor played with his memory of the moment, polishing it in his mind like a precious gem. Remembering: Darth Vader's voice as he delivered the news. Vader's anger, so forceful the Emperor could feel it from halfway across the galaxy. And with the anger, terror, for Vader knew how terribly he had disappointed his Master.

Vader knew it was not the first time.

The Emperor curled his fingers into a gnarled fist. The Death Star, his most powerful weapon, perhaps the greatest achievement of his reign, the key to destroying the tedious Rebel Alliance once and for all... destroyed destroyed. Even now, the detestable Rebels were no doubt celebrating their victory.

It was a meaningless victory, of course, and only a fool would think differently. But then, only a fool would join the ridiculous battle against the Empire.

Only a fool challenges the inevitable.

The Rebel Alliance was nothing but a nuisance, a millfly to be swatted away.

But even a meaningless victory was unacceptable. The Rebels would be punished. The Emperor smiled-the Rebels would be crushed crushed. And soon. His impatience swelled. Fury boiled his blood at the thought of waiting any longer. The rage called for release, and the Emperor knew that with a thought he could destroy his opulent office. He could crack the building's foundation, rain rubble on the heads of those unlucky beings trapped within. He could, with the full power of his anger, unleash a fireball of death.

But he chose to wait. He chose control.

It was another thing the Jedi had never understood. A lesson that even Darth Vader, such a quick study in the school of darkness, had yet to learn. The rage was only a beginning.

Control, that was the key. Patience. The ability to channel the flood, bend it to your will. Anger was the fuel that powered the dark side of the Force. But success depended on mastery mastery of the anger. Vader spent his anger without thought; the Emperor h.o.a.rded his, as a Hutt h.o.a.rded his treasure. of the anger. Vader spent his anger without thought; the Emperor h.o.a.rded his, as a Hutt h.o.a.rded his treasure.

The destruction of the Death Star had been a setback, but every defeat masked an opportunity. And this was an opportunity the Emperor fully intended to seize.

In fact, he already had a plan.

The Emperor activated his comm console, opening a line of communication to the lieutenant who sat quavering just outside the door, waiting on his command.

"Send them in."

Ten of the most powerful men and women in the galaxy faced the Emperor, fear rolling off of them in waves. These were beings who could destroy ships-or cities-with a single word. Their hearts knew no mercy; their lives were founded on cruelties great and small; their names struck terror in their enemies. And yet they trembled before him, made small and weak by their own fear.

The most elite members of his Royal Guard flanked the group, their expressions hidden by their featureless scarlet masks. The Emperor had taken great pains to ensure that his throne room was an awesome and intimidating sight, from the towering walls to the gleaming dais. Behind his shadowed throne, a wall of permaplas windows looked into the heart of the Coruscant night. But his servants ignored the trappings of power. All attention was fixed on the Emperor.

"The Death Star has been destroyed," he informed them, carefully noting their reactions.

Captain Thrawn betrayed no emotion. Complete control Complete control, the Emperor thought with approval. This one will go far. This one will go far. Crix Madine, leader of the elite Storm Commandos, frowned, conflicted emotions swirling deep beneath his surface. The fool thought he could hide his doubts from the Emperor. This foolishness would prove useful, thus the Emperor allowed it. For now. Crix Madine, leader of the elite Storm Commandos, frowned, conflicted emotions swirling deep beneath his surface. The fool thought he could hide his doubts from the Emperor. This foolishness would prove useful, thus the Emperor allowed it. For now.

Commander Grev T'Ran looked somber at the news. But before the expression dropped across his face, the Emperor had sensed something else. The beginnings of a smile. Such a small thing-a tensed muscle, a nearly imperceptible flinch-but it was enough. The Emperor had had his suspicions about T'Ran. Now they were confirmed.

He raised a finger, catching the attention of the Royal Guard. Then nodded. T'Ran's face paled as one of the guards peeled away from the line. His crimson robes swept the floor as he padded silently toward the traitor. The other officers looked away, their faces grim.

"Noooo!" T'Ran drew his blaster. "You can't-"

The guard's force pike jabbed into T'Ran's neck, silencing him forever. His body shuddered once, then dropped to the ground. The silent red figure waited on the Emperor's command, but the Emperor shook his head. They could take out the garbage later. For now, let the traitor stay where he was. It would serve as a helpful reminder.

"How did it happen, sir?" one of the officers asked. "The Death Star was invincible."

"So we were led to believe," the Emperor agreed.

He peered closely at the man who had spoken. His face was blank, his features composed into a perfect mask of calm loyalty. But there was something beneath the surface. Not betrayal, no. But something something...the Emperor reached out with the dark side of the Force, probing the man's depths.

"The Rebels found a weakness weakness," the Emperor said, searching for a reaction that would reveal the truth. "Wisely, they exploited it."

Quickly, he ran through what he knew of the man: Rezi Soresh, of the planet Dreizan, a loyal, if plodding commander, his brilliance blunted by blind obedience. Just as the Emperor preferred it. Cold, ambitious, cautious-not the kind of man to speak up first, or at all, when silence would serve him better. And in the Emperor's presence, silence always served better.

"Were there any...survivors?" Soresh asked. There was a disturbance in the Force as something flared within him, something sharp and bright.

Hope.

Ah, yes. It made sense now. Rezi Soresh, husband to Ilaani Soresh, father to Kimali Soresh-or was. Two years before, fresh out of the Academy, Kimali had fallen in with a group of Rebel sympathizers. When the group came under suspicion, his mother had helped him evade arrest. She had procured him the text docs he would need to run away and take on a new ident.i.ty-and then she revealed the truth to Soresh, giving him the chance to say a final farewell to his son.

Soresh had turned them both in. His reward: a promotion to Commander. His family's reward: a life sentence in the Gree Baaker Labor Camp. Several prisoner work squads had been a.s.signed to the Death Star, the Emperor now remembered. Among them, the prisoners from Gree Baaker.

The Emperor smiled. " No No survivors." survivors."

Soresh's face remained blank as his hope died. The Emperor suspected that Soresh himself was ignorant of the emotions that roiled beneath his surface. Likely, he thought he had left his family-and his guilt-far behind. The Emperor knew better.

"Only Lord Vader escaped," he added, enjoying the disappointment that filled the room. He knew of the jealousies directed at his most favored subordinate. No one could hope to understand the bond that existed between a Sith Master and his dark apprentice.

Darth Vader had failed him before, and would surely fail again, but he remained the Emperor's only option.

True, if there were another-a being with Vader's power and potential, a Jedi with a susceptible mind and a healthy body healthy body who could rule by his Master's side-Vader would become disposable. But the Jedi were gone forever. He had seen to that. who could rule by his Master's side-Vader would become disposable. But the Jedi were gone forever. He had seen to that.

"Lord Vader is making his way back to Coruscant," the Emperor said. "And when he returns, we will make arrangements to eradicate the Rebel threat once and for all."

"But sir, why wait?" Captain Thrawn asked. "We know the location of the Rebel base.

Surely we can-"

"We can can do many things," the Emperor said coolly, enjoying the way even Thrawn cowered before his glare. "We do many things," the Emperor said coolly, enjoying the way even Thrawn cowered before his glare. "We will will bide our time. I will not risk generating sympathy for the Rebellion-when it is crushed, it must be crushed bide our time. I will not risk generating sympathy for the Rebellion-when it is crushed, it must be crushed completely completely. This does not, however, mean we will do nothing." He pointed a spindly finger at the line of officers. "You will identify the top Rebel leaders. You will use this knowledge to destroy them, thus ensuring that the Alliance begins to crumble from within. And you will discover the name of the pilot responsible for destroying the Death Star." The Emperor savored the rage that burned within him at the thought of it. "The pilot will will die-and whoever makes this possible will find himself richly rewarded." die-and whoever makes this possible will find himself richly rewarded."

Again, he probed the emotions of his officers. Beneath their fear, and their hatred, he sensed loyalty. An eagerness to act. They wanted to please him. But Soresh wanted more than that. He wanted to kill: a bloodl.u.s.t for the man who had slaughtered his family.

Good, the Emperor thought. Loyalty was useful. Vengeance more so.

The officers filed out, followed by the Red Guard, leaving the Emperor alone with his thoughts. Things were proceeding as they should, he realized now. As they must must.

He would never doubt the power of the dark side of the Force to show him the way forward. The destruction of the Death Star was surely necessary, as it would guide him to this new path.

Darkness was gathering, and the Emperor sensed that this pilot was at the heart of it.

The dark side of the Force had brought him to light. The Emperor had only to find him- and the Emperor would would find him. He knew that with an iron certainty. The pilot would be found. An ordered galaxy would follow. find him. He knew that with an iron certainty. The pilot would be found. An ordered galaxy would follow.

It was his destiny.

CHAPTER TWO.

Luke Skywalker tightened his grip on the lightsaber. Frozen in place, he held his breath, listening.

It was too dark to see, but he could sense it out there somewhere, watching him.

Playing with him. And at any moment- with him. And at any moment- PING!.

Luke sprang backward. The shot screamed past, singeing his cheek. He backed up against a tree, then lashed out with the lightsaber. The blue blade whirled up and around in a smooth, glowing arc. But it sliced through empty air.

PING! PING!.

His heart thudding, Luke whipped the lightsaber from side to side, struggling to block the blasts. He was always an instant too late. He took a deep breath and warned himself not to panic.

Use the Force, Luke. He imagined he could hear old Ben Ken.o.bi advising him, but of course it was only his imagination. Ben was dead. Still, Luke tried to feel the Force. Ben had said it was all around him, that he need only reach for it and it would be there. He imagined he could hear old Ben Ken.o.bi advising him, but of course it was only his imagination. Ben was dead. Still, Luke tried to feel the Force. Ben had said it was all around him, that he need only reach for it and it would be there.

Luke reached.

Nothing.

But then: a crackling sound, off to his right. Like a twig being crushed. And something else, a small click. Like a weapon being c.o.c.ked. Luke lunged to his right, slashing down with the lightsaber in a single, fluid motion. More shots streaked past, and Luke spun around, sweeping the glowing saber from one side to the other, deflecting the spray.

Grinning, Luke raised the lightsaber over his head, ready to deflect the next barrage of fire. But instead of slicing through air, the weapon struck something solid. There was a slow, loud crack. Luke tensed, then-realizing what was about to happen-leaped out of the way.

Too late-again.

The blow came to the back of his head. Luke dropped the lightsaber and went down, slamming hard into the overgrown jungle weeds. A heavy weight landed on top of him, pinning him down. His fingers sc.r.a.ped the ground, searching for the fallen saber, but came up with nothing but dirt.

A soft click, as his a.s.sailant readied his weapon.

"Nooo!" Luke screamed. "Don't-"

Direct hit.

"Ow!" Luke complained. It may have been just a sting burst, but a direct hit to the shoulder still hurt hurt. He whipped off his blindfold and glared at R2-D2, who came rolling out from behind the tree, looking as pleased with himself as an astromech droid could look. "Artoo, that's not fair!" Luke gestured at the tree branch pinning him flat on his back. "I couldn't block the shot like this, could I? You should have waited for me to get up!"

R2-D2 released a trill of beeps and whistles.

Luke sighed. He'd spent enough time around the droid to guess what he was trying to say. "I know, I know. In a real fight, the enemy wouldn't wait for me to be ready." Not to mention that in a real fight, the enemy would be shooting a blaster, rather than sting bursts-and Luke would be dead.

Now that Luke could see again, he spotted his lightsaber lying in a puddle of mud. He stretched out an arm for it, but the weapon was just beyond his reach.

Bring me the lightsaber, he commanded the Force, searching inside himself for the power to move objects with his mind. Lightsaber. Lightsaber. But the lightsaber stayed where it was. But the lightsaber stayed where it was.

And Luke stayed where he was. Trapped.

"Come on, Artoo," he finally said. "Help me out here."

R2-D2 beeped again, but didn't move.

Luke sighed. The astromech droid may be his most loyal companion, but he was a little sensitive. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said you weren't playing fair," he apologized.

"You were just doing what I told you to do. You did a good job."

The droid beeped happily and rolled toward Luke, nudging the lightsaber into his outstretched hand. Soon Luke had sliced away enough of the heavy bough to climb out from under it. He stood up and dusted himself off.

All around him, the lush green jungle rustled and chirped, alive with the calls of woolamanders and whisper birds, gackle bats, klikniks, and the many other species native to Yavin 4. Luke couldn't help feeling like they were all laughing at him.

Better them than Han, he thought, switching off his lightsaber and sliding it back into the holster hanging at his waist. They'd been at the Rebel Base for almost two weeks now-which meant two weeks of fruitless lightsaber practice. And two weeks of being laughed at by Han Solo, who was convinced the lightsaber wasn't good for anything but slicing sweesonberry bread.

Luke knew Han meant well-and that he was probably right about the lightsaber, at least when Luke was the one wielding it. Still, Luke had decided it might be better to practice in the jungle, with no one to watch him but R2-D2 and the towering Ma.s.sa.s.si trees. He'd need a lot more practice if he was ever going to be a Jedi Master like Ben Ken.o.bi.

Obi-Wan Ken.o.bi, Luke corrected himself. It was still hard to believe that the strange old hermit was actually the last of the great Jedi Knights-and a friend to Luke's father.

I will will find a way to follow in my father's footsteps find a way to follow in my father's footsteps, Luke promised himself, resting a hand on his lightsaber. It's my destiny. It's my destiny.

But at times like this, that seemed impossible. He felt he would never learn to wield his lightsaber with Ben's grace and skill. And even that wasn't enough for Ben And even that wasn't enough for Ben... not in the not in the end. end.

Luke shook his head, trying to clear it of the images. Ben's lightsaber slashing through the air, sizzling with energy as it clashed against the red beam of Darth Vader's weapon.

Ben struggling to match Vader blow for blow-struggling and failing. Ben raising his arms in surrender, meeting Luke's eyes one last time...Vader's lightsaber slicing through Ben like he was as insubstantial as air...Ben's robes falling to the ground, his body vanished...Ben gone.