Free Trapped by Alex Wheeler Page B

grip very slightly.
    â€œThe Fallows, beyond the city, along the water. The blue house, you can’t miss it,” he gasped. “Please. Please don’t kill me.”
    It would take minimal effort to squeeze just a bit tighter, to cut off the man’s air entirely. That way he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about the strange man who’d come around asking questions; he wouldn’t be able to warn the brother. It made sense. That was the rule: When in doubt, kill.
    But he didn’t do it. Something strange stilled his hand. Mercy?
    The thought repulsed him. Enraged, he slammed a fist into the grave tender’s head, hard enough to guarantee he wouldn’t be warning anyone anytime soon. The grave tender crumpled to the ground. And X-7 set off in search of his past.

    He scaled the exterior of the house and perched on a ledge beside a large picture window. The ledge was only a few centimeters wide, but he was in no danger of losing his balance. The fogged transparisteel offered an imperfect view of the living room. But he could make out the figure puttering around inside. He could have just knocked on the door. But he was no fool. If this was a trap, he wasn’t about to walk straight into it. Recon first, then action.
    The man kept his face away from the window.
    Turn around, X-7 ordered him silently. Show me who you are.
    As if in reaction to the silent command, the man turned. X-7 stiffened in surprise. He’d seen that face before. Not in a half-remembered flash of childhood. Less than a month before, on an arid moon, accepting a mission to kill Luke Skywalker. The man was a mercenary pilot, one of the best, by the name of Lune—
    Divinian! he suddenly remembered. As in Astri Divinian. It wasn’t like him to forget those kinds of details. That was the sort of mistake that could get you killed. The sort of mistake that would lead you straight into a trap.
    Because the odds against that man being his brother? Astronomical. There was a much more likely possibility.
    X-7 gritted his teeth, furious that he’d allowed himself to be misled. This Divinian obviously had some kind of ax to grind. Perhaps he was still angry to have lost out on his payment when the Kamino mission went sour. Whatever the reason, he’d decided to come after X-7. To play with his mind, his emotions.
    Bad mistake.
    Recon was over, X-7 decided. Time for action.
    He hurled himself through the window. Lune Divinian flung his hands over his face, shielding himself from the hail of transparisteel. And all traces of mercy wiped away, X-7 lunged for his throat.

T he thunder of stormtrooper boots was growing louder, closer. Han dragged Leia around the corner, but the corridor dead-ended a few meters away. No cover, no escape. They pressed themselves against the wall, held their breath, and hoped.
    A phalanx of stormtroopers stomped down the hall-way, feet rising and falling in unison. As they swept past, Han whispered into the comlink, cupping his hands around it to block the noise. “A little more warning next time?”
    â€œIt’s all clear now,” Luke’s voice assured him. “You have a straight shot to the records room. Two guards at the door, and you’re in. Easy.”
    â€œSure, easy for you, ” Han muttered. “You’re not the one in here making friends with the boys in white.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œNothing, kid. In and out. We’ll get those blueprints to you faster than a neek.” Han glowered at the comlink. Bad enough he was infiltrating an Imperial administrative center with only the kid’s help to guide him through. Even worse that Leia had insisted on coming, too. Which meant that if there was trouble—make that when there was trouble—he couldn’t just save his own neck. He’d have to save hers, too. It was his responsibility.
    Except none of this is my responsibility, he thought irritably. So what am I doing