The shot tore into the wall behind Soresh’s head.

Soresh sighed. “This is Sittana marble and it certainly looks better without holes in it,” he said. “But I suppose I should thank you for not putting one in my head.”

“What are you doing here?” X-7 asked harshly.

“Oh, your Rebel reconnaissance didn’t reveal that I was in the neighborhood?” Soresh asked with false shock. X-7 kept his face blank. So Soresh knew about the Rebel plans — which meant they were doomed. “I’m supervising the new munitions shipments — and more to the point, I’m supervising you. You think I can afford to have an agent running wild through the galaxy? In this condition? That should be obvious. No, the question you should be asking is why are you here?” He formed a temple with his fingers and propped his chin on his fingertips. “I didn’t train you to be the kind of man who could be surprised.”

He pressed something on his desk, and the door to the turbolift disappeared into the wall. A bookshelf took its place. X-7 cursed himself for letting his one guaranteed means of exit disappear.

“Old Rebel hideaway,” Soresh said, gesturing at the hidden turbolift, obviously pleased with himself. “Of course, there aren’t any of them left to hide. We took care of that.”

X-7 did his best to ignore Soresh. Automatically, he surveyed his surroundings, eyes alighting on any possible means of escape. The office, clearly a temporary one, was mostly bare, although the Commander had stupidly left his files and datapad sitting out on the desk. Perhaps he’d forgotten that he’d equipped X-7 with a photographic memory. Once the information passed in front of his face, it was in his mind forever. The desk also contained the controls for the hidden turbolift. Once the Commander was out of commission — which would be easy enough to see to — the lift would be accessible.

And if all else failed, there was always the window.

Soresh waved a hand lazily at the transparisteel. “Go,” he said. “If that’s what you really want. I didn’t think you were the kind of man who would enjoy living a lie, but be my guest.”

“There are only two things I want,” X-7 retorted. “My life — and your death.” He watched his commander carefully, searching for some sign of anxiety or concern. But the man remained perfectly calm. Confident. What does he know that I don’t? X-7 thought, suddenly wary. Maybe he should leave sooner rather than later.

But if he left, the Commander would always be waiting to reassert control, to turn X-7 back into a slave. It would be much more expedient to kill him now.

Think like a human, X-7 reminded himself. Let yourself feel.

Fine, then. Not just expedient. It would be satisfying — it would be just — to watch the Commander die.

Soresh burst into laughter. “Want? You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“You know nothing about me,” X-7 said. “Not anymore.”

“I know everything about you.” Soresh’s voice was like a dragonsnake, slithering into X-7’s ears, into his brain. Laced with venom. “Certainly more than you know about yourself.”

“And I know about you,” X-7 spat out. “Your precious program, your volunteers. We were prisoners. You told me I’d enlisted, that all I wanted was to serve the Empire. I was a Rebel. You killed me, the real me — you made me a murderer and turned me against my own.”

“Whining doesn’t become you,” the Commander said. But his voice had tightened, nearly imperceptibly. His eyelids fluttered. X-7 knew the signs. He’d hit a nerve. “Nor does stupidity. You actually believe their lies?”

“I can see when a man is telling the truth,” X-7 said coolly. “You taught me well.”

“Fine.” The Commander stood. “You weren’t a volunteer. None of you were. But you’re not this, this pathetic Trever Flume they’re trying to turn you into, either. It’s a trap. Don’t be such a fool that you walk right into it.”

X-7 scanned the Commander’s face for evidence that this, too, was a lie. But he could find none.

It doesn’t mean anything, he thought. The Commander was a practiced manipulator.

And X-7 wasn’t exactly objective when it came to listening to his lies.

“I don’t believe you,” he said steadily. He wouldn’t let Soresh sense his inner hesitation. Perhaps he was becoming more human, more Trever, but enough of him was still X-7. His thoughts, his doubts remained his own.

“Believe me; don’t believe me. That’s irrelevant. Haven’t you figured it out yet?” The Commander twisted his face into a gruesome smile. “It doesn’t matter who you were. Trever Flume, or some other fool, whoever it was, that man is dead. There’s no going backward, no hiding in the past. No becoming ordinary again. Why would you ever want such a thing? You’re better than that. Stronger, faster, smarter. Harder. Better because I made you that way. You think you can make yourself soft again? Make yourself stupid? Please. You’re a weapon, razor sharp. Be grateful.”

“To you?” X-7 whispered harshly, and drew out a slim vibroblade. The blaster would be quicker, surer. But he wanted satisfaction.

“You can thank me later,” Soresh said breezily. “Or kill me now, if that’s what you really want. If you hate your creator so very much. Kill me.”

It was all the invitation X-7 needed. He raised the blade. Stepped forward.

Tried to step forward. But it was like his shoes were nailed to the floor.

“Problem?” The Commander smiled. “Let me help you out.” He took a step toward X-7. Then another, and another, until they were standing face to face.

Now, X-7 thought. But his limbs were frozen. And his mind was screaming in pain.

He hadn’t had any trouble holding the blade to the Commander’s throat before. But that had been different. Then he had only intended to scare Soresh. Now, with murder running through his veins, he couldn’t move. Could barely breathe.

“Feeling out of sorts?” Soresh said smugly. “Limbs a little heavy? Chest a little constricted?”

X-7 tried to speak, but found he couldn’t even do that.

The more desperately he wanted to kill the Commander, the more rigid and useless his limbs became. It was becoming an effort to stand. The vibroblade was heavy and awkward in his numb fingers. Distantly, he felt it drop to the floor.

And the pain …

X-7 had suffered pain before. He had been bred for pain. But this was different. It had no source; it came from within.

“You can’t hurt me,” the Commander said, “because I’m your master, whether you choose to forget that or not. Your mind will never forget. Your programming will never forget.” He clapped a hand on X-7’s shoulder. X-7 spat in his face. The Commander didn’t even bother to wipe it off. “Let this be a lesson to you,” he said, saliva dripping down his cheek. “Humans have free will. But you have only my will. You’re not a person anymore. You’re a tool. You’re a program. You are, and will always be, mine.”

X-7 finally understood.

Take me home. The words formed themselves in his brain, almost without his intention. But he knew that if he were to try to form them, his mouth would comply. He would be able to move. His rebellious body would fall into line again, ready to serve the Commander. It would be easy. He opened his mouth.

And the window exploded.