It was time to put the plan into action. He activated the comm system, and opened a channel to Darth Vader's private line. Only a few people in the galaxy knew how to reach the Dark Lord directly. But Soresh had always known more than people suspected.

Darth Vader's inky black hood appeared on the screen. His heavy, rhythmic breathing seemed so close, Soresh could almost imagine the puff of hot air against his ear. He nearly shuddered, but forced himself to remain steady. Vader couldn't hurt him now.

"You cannot evade me for long," Vader said. The deep, rumbling vibration of his voice rippled through Soresh. He remembered the rumors he had heard, that Vader could suck the life out of someone with a mere thought, even through a viewscreen. Even from halfway across the galaxy.

Silly stories, Soresh reminded himself. Show no fear. Show no fear.

"I don't plan to for much longer," he said. "After all, I have something you want. And if you follow my instructions to the letter, I might let you have it."

"All I want is your corpse," Vader said. "And soon, I shall have it."

The transmission cut out.

Soresh smiled. Perfect. The comm operated on an encrypted channel, but Vader would easily trace its source to the Sixela system. Which meant that he would be right in the neighborhood when Soresh was finally ready for him.

Fear and rumor were powerful weapons, and Vader used them well. But they were nothing against real real weapons, and Soresh had one of the most powerful ones in the galaxy under his control. He suspected that even Vader didn't know about Maw Installation, the secret research base devoted to creating superweapons. Grand Moff Tarkin had established and supervised it. Its secrets had died with him. But Soresh knew, because Soresh had made it his business to know everything. Including the existence and location of Maw Installation-and which of its scientists could be easily blackmailed. weapons, and Soresh had one of the most powerful ones in the galaxy under his control. He suspected that even Vader didn't know about Maw Installation, the secret research base devoted to creating superweapons. Grand Moff Tarkin had established and supervised it. Its secrets had died with him. But Soresh knew, because Soresh had made it his business to know everything. Including the existence and location of Maw Installation-and which of its scientists could be easily blackmailed.

As an Imperial Commander he had been in charge of following the flow of credits, making sure all contracts were paid in full, all docs were in order. It was a job few respected. A job for a weak man, they'd thought. They didn't understand that Soresh's job was information information. And the only thing more powerful than information was the weapon being built at Maw Installation.

The weapon whose prototype was just on the other side of the wall. Soresh couldn't unleash the weapon on the Rebel base itself-not until he was sure it would work. But it had been so simple to lure the Rebel fleet to him him. Now the weapon sat in its launch bay, waiting for its moment. It was an instrument of total destruction.

Just like me, Soresh thought. Come find me, Vader. Come and meet your destiny. Come find me, Vader. Come and meet your destiny.

And your doom.

It was not possible. Not possible that Han was dead. That Chewbacca was dead. Leia was dead. That Luke would never see any of them again.

It was not possible.

But he believed it was true.

Soresh had taught him that anything was possible here. Anything except escape- anything except hope.

I'm a Jedi, Luke told himself. I have the power of the Force. I have the power of the Force.

But what good was that? Even if he knew how to use his powers, he didn't know what he would do with them. Ben had shown him how to levitate small objects, how to deflect laserblasts with his eyes closed. But surely even Ben didn't have the power to escape from a place like this. Even Ben couldn't save his friends, if his friends were already dead.

Ben would tell me to be strong, Luke thought.

"Stay strong," he whispered, as if hearing the words out loud would make them easier to follow. But his voice was weak, and it only reminded him that he, too, was weak. If only Obi-Wan were here to tell him. To guide guide him, to show him how to save himself. If only he could imagine Ben's voice a.s.suring him that he would survive this, then maybe he would believe it. him, to show him how to save himself. If only he could imagine Ben's voice a.s.suring him that he would survive this, then maybe he would believe it.

Luke closed his eyes, trying to summon the memory of his old friend. Ben had spoken to him before in times of crisis, a.s.suring him of his strength. Reminding him of his destiny.

But it was no use.

His mind was too clouded by grief, by fear, by exhaustion. There was too much noise in the cell and in his head. Ben was gone, like Han and Leia were gone, like everyone was gone. The only voice that could help him was his own.

"You need me."

Ferus smiled at the familiar voice. "How did you know?" He had been lying in his bunk, eyes closed, trying to sort through his dilemma. Now he sat up to face the flickering, translucent spirit of a fallen Jedi.

"When your heart and mind are open to the Force, they are open to me," Obi-Wan said.

Ferus still didn't understand how the Jedi Master was able to speak to him from beyond the grave. But he was grateful. Knowing Obi-Wan was out there, watching, made every challenge easier to bear.

"Luke is in trouble," Obi-Wan said. "And I fear for his sister, too."

Ferus stifled his irritation with the old man. Obi-Wan would never have admitted it, but for him, Leia always came second. An afterthought.

"I know," Ferus said. "They've been missing for nearly a week. I've begun to fear the worst."

"You can help them," Obi-Wan said. "You know the way."

"I know the way?" Ferus repeated. This wasn't exactly the help he'd been hoping for.

"You're the mysterious spirit who knows all-don't you you know the way? Tell me how to help them. Tell me know the way? Tell me how to help them. Tell me where where to find them!" to find them!"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "There is a disturbance in the Force surrounding Luke. His connection to it is growing weaker. I cannot help him. Only you can."

"I have no idea where they are," Ferus said. "If I knew, don't you think I'd be halfway there by now?"

"But you have your suspicions," Obi-Wan said. It wasn't a question.

Ferus hesitated. He had drawn the connections in his mind, but hadn't yet said them out loud. It was as General Dodonna said-he had no evidence, only his instincts. And his instincts had been wrong before, with dire consequences. "I fear the Rebels are walking into a trap," he said slowly. "And that Luke and Leia's disappearance has something to do with it. This deserted moon where the Rebels hope to ambush the Imperials..."

"You believe that to be where you'll find Luke and Leia," Obi-Wan finished for him.

Ferus nodded.

"And yet you sit here, doing nothing."

Obi-Wan had always known how to make him feel better-and how to make him feel the opposite.

"The things I've done in the past..." Ferus broke off. It pained him too much to think about the choices he'd made-choices that had led to the death of his best friend, Roan Lands. To the death of so many others. He had trusted his instincts; he had trusted the wrong people. They had paid the price for his mistakes.

"Sometimes not choosing is itself a choice," Obi-Wan added. "By not acting, you act."

"Tell me what to do," Ferus pleaded. He felt like a Padawan again, scrambling for crumbs at his Master's feet. And part of him wished for those old days, when the way ahead had seemed so certain. When every question had an answer.

Obi-Wan favored him with a familiar wry smile. "You know I can't do that. I can only tell you to believe-"

"-in the Force," Ferus cut in, irritated. "I know."

Obi-Wan's smile widened. "Actually, I was going to suggest you believe in yourself.

But then, I suppose in the end, it's all the same thing."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Luke sat perfectly still as Soresh strapped him into the chair. The durasteel was cold against his skin. Sharp-edged restraints wrapped around his ankles, his wrists, his waist, his neck, and his forehead, holding him in place. Slowly and carefully, Soresh attached a series of sensors to Luke's forehead. "Nothing to fear," he said. "This won't hurt at all."

Luke was far past fearing pain.

Soresh raised an injector. "This is just something to ease the process along and make everything go more smoothly. You want that, don't you?"

Luke stared blankly ahead. Soresh smiled as if he had responded. "Good." He injected the serum into Luke's neck.

There was a faint pinp.r.i.c.k of pain, and then nothing. A numbness spread through his body.

"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 s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps 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 pa.s.sage to the Alderaan system from a smooth-talking s.p.a.cer who called himself Han Solo.

He was on the bridge of the Millennium Falcon 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 s.h.i.+p, 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. 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 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," Soresh said.

Luke sat up.

"Who are you?" Soresh asked.

Luke opened his mouth-then hesitated. He looked confused. "I don't know."

"What is your purpose?" Soresh asked.

When the answer came, it was slow and halting, but it was correct. "To serve you."

"And who am I?"

"My Master." Luke's voice was blank, his eyes dull.

"Where do you come from?" Soresh asked.

"I don't know," Luke said. "Do you know?"

"You come from nowhere," Soresh prompted him. "You are no one."