Part 1 (1/2)

Rebel Force #6.

Uprising.

by Alex Wheeler.

CHAPTER ONE.

The moon was dead.

A film of red dust lay over the cratered land. Nothing disturbed the still, acrid air.

There was no sound; there was no movement. There was only scorched, flat ground stretching to the bare horizon. If life had flourished here once, that time was long over.

Erased, all traces of creature or creation wiped out.

Gone.

And so there was no one to see the bright star that skimmed across the horizon, nearly invisible in the light of the rising sun.

There was no one to understand that the star was a s.h.i.+p, circling the moon. Its first visitor in millennia.

Certainly there was no one to recognize the ion trail as that of a rusty old CloakShape fighter.

Unseen, the CloakShape orbited the moon, spiraling closer and closer to the thin atmosphere.

And inside, Commander Rezi Soresh-former Imperial Commander, current fugitive-stared blindly into s.p.a.ce, and waited to die.

Twenty-seven days, sixteen hours, and four minutes.

That was how long he'd been waiting. Ever since Darth Vader had convinced the Emperor he was a traitor, Rezi Soresh had been on the run.

He snorted. On the run. On the run. What a joke. What a joke. On the crawl On the crawl was more like it. Hobbling from one star system to the next. Creeping through the shadows. Desperately scrounging for food, for shelter, for s.h.i.+ps. One month before, he had been one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. Then he'd been blamed for the disaster on Belazura-even though it hadn't been was more like it. Hobbling from one star system to the next. Creeping through the shadows. Desperately scrounging for food, for shelter, for s.h.i.+ps. One month before, he had been one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. Then he'd been blamed for the disaster on Belazura-even though it hadn't been his his mistake that got the Imperial garrison destroyed. The ambush of the Rebels mistake that got the Imperial garrison destroyed. The ambush of the Rebels should should have worked. have worked. Would Would have worked, if it hadn't been for the Jedi sc.u.m. And even so, it wasn't his fault. Darth Vader had twisted the facts, convinced the Emperor that Soresh was incompetent, maybe even a traitor. All because Vader was jealous of Soresh's power. have worked, if it hadn't been for the Jedi sc.u.m. And even so, it wasn't his fault. Darth Vader had twisted the facts, convinced the Emperor that Soresh was incompetent, maybe even a traitor. All because Vader was jealous of Soresh's power.

If Soresh hadn't had a backup escape plan, he would be dead.

But life wasn't worth much anymore. Thanks to the Rebel vermin and the vengeful Dark Lord, Soresh was nothing. Less than nothing.

He was prey.

There were those who believed that the galaxy was teeming with life. Fools. The galaxy was a vast and empty wasteland, small outposts of civilization sprinkled through trillions of kilometers of void. Rezi Soresh was no fool-he knew how to use the emptiness. He knew how to hide.

But Vader was no fool, either, and Soresh had never expected to survive this long.

Gradually, as he drifted aimlessly through the wilds of the Outer Rim, something had changed in him. Something had awoken, something he'd never expected to have again: Hope.

Perhaps he was as smart as he'd thought. Perhaps Vader wasn't as powerful as he'd feared. Perhaps he had a chance to save himself, and reclaim his rightful position at the Emperor's side. To get revenge on his enemies.

He had stumbled upon this moon by chance-but perhaps it was destiny.

Soresh dropped alt.i.tude and skimmed over the arid land, surveying his new home. It would take time to build a new base of power. It would take resources. But he had ample amounts of both. There were still sources he could risk trusting, secrets he could use to manipulate, to blackmail, to obtain what he needed. As one of the Emperor's most valued advisors, he'd been trusted with a large discretionary fund. Over the years, Soresh had siphoned the money into more than a hundred accounts. He had cultivated a cadre of underlings who would be loyal only to him. He had collected black market information, and knew more about his enemies than they knew about themselves. For one standard month, he had lived as a dead man, afraid to risk any contact with his old life. But living in fear, drifting through nowhere, endlessly waitin waitin g-it was no better than death. And it was no longer tolerable. g-it was no better than death. And it was no longer tolerable.

As always, he would be patient, and he would be careful. Soresh knew how his enemies saw him. They thought he was a narrow man, cowardly, paranoid, more comfortable with a datapad than a blaster.

They were right. But they failed to understand that these were not weaknesses; they were his greatest strengths. In the end, they would allow him to rise from the nearly dead.

They would allow him to strike back. He would take them all down, all his enemies, all the ones responsible for stranding him here in this brutal no-man's-land.

He didn't have a plan, not yet. But he knew where his revenge would begin. He would start with the one who had started it all, the man who had been the beginning of Soresh's end.

Luke Skywalker.

CHAPTER TWO.

”Did you say something?” Luke whispered.

”What part of quiet quiet don't you understand?” Han Solo hissed. don't you understand?” Han Solo hissed.

”I thought I heard my name,” Luke said.

”Well, maybe you should think think a little more quietly,” Han snarled. a little more quietly,” Han snarled.

Chewbacca growled at them.

Luke shut his mouth. When a Wookiee carrying a giant bowcaster shushes you, you take his advice. Especially when he's the only thing standing between you and a roomful of soldiers with blasters.

Luke sighed. Back on Yavin 4, this had sounded like such an easy mission. Go to the Royal Palace of Nyemari, grab the d.u.c.h.ess's access codes for the Nyemari Imperial Military Installation, get out. He didn't understand how it had all gone so wrong so fast.

Much less how he and Han had ended up crammed into a shoe closet, with only a thin curtain of Drama.s.sian s.h.i.+mmersilk separating them from the d.u.c.h.ess's guards. A thin curtain and, of course, Chewbacca, who was posing as a guard himself. Apparently, to most Nyemarians, all Wookiees looked alike.

As usual, Han had been determined to blast his way out of trouble, but Luke and Leia had convinced him to wait. Their orders were to infiltrate sight unseen. And Leia had insisted they follow orders. Of course, that was before Leia set off to explore the west wing of the palace while Han and Luke took the north and south. She should have rendezvoused with them an hour before, but there was no sign of her. Luke tried not to worry. Leia could take care of herself. Still...

”Do you think we should go find her?” Luke whispered.

Han smiled crookedly. ”If I know the princess-”

There was a deafening crash and explosion of plaster as a sleek black airspeeder barreled straight through the wall. The room erupted in chaos as guards fled from the oncoming speeder. Laserfire from its forward cannons peppered the room, blasting holes in antique wallpaper, the clari-crystalline vases, and several dozen shoe boxes.

”-she'll find us,” Han finished, as he burst out of the shoe closet, blaster blazing.

”What are you waiting for?” Leia cried, urging them into the speeder. White plaster dust coated her braided brown hair.

Luke, Han, and Chewbacca piled in. A phalanx of guards poured into the room.

Laserbolts screamed through the air.