Soldier for the Empire by William C. Dietz Read Free Book Online Page A

was halfway to the quad when someone hollered his name and grabbed his arm.
    The voice had a nasal quality. It had followed him nearly every day of the last four years. It belonged to Nathan Donar III, eldest son to Governor Donar II, and a real pain in the posterior. Beady brown eyes regarded Kyle from above a long thin nose. They were filled with false bonhomie. "Rimmer! How's the noggin? Good to see you up and around!"
    Kyle pulled his arm free, waved an acknowledgment, and continued on his way. Faces blurred as more congratulations came his way. It seemed as if everyone had heard the story. There were various versions but all of them had common elements: The Cadet Leader had encountered unexpectedly heavy opposition, and, rather than turn back as any normal person would do, had fought his way through the corridors of a major Rebel installation, killing no less than four hundred and thirty-six insurrectionists and disabling an important communications installation. All of which Kyle knew to be a greatly exaggerated account of what actually happened. And the last part of the story he only knew secondhand.
    It seemed that two Rebel ships had arrived shortly after he'd been knocked unconscious, loaded the surviving staff, and lifted off. The first vessel made it, but the second fell victim to reinforcements summoned by R1, and was completely destroyed. A force of heavily armed commandos had swept through the Rebel base and found Kyle and the six remaining members of his original force. All were wounded and crouched behind a hastily built barricade. To Kyle, this seemed a clear indication of his failure. No one would listen to his objections, however, least of all the great General Mohc, who had appeared at Kyle's bedside two days ago and commended the cadet for his bravery.
    Later that evening, over dinner with Jerec, Mohc mentioned the young cadet's exploits. Jerec, his empty eye sockets hidden behind a band of black, looked up from his half-cooked meat. He couldn't see what the meal looked like but could smell the residue of blood. "I knew the boy's father. His life was wasted. Perhaps the boy will be different. I'd like to meet him."
    Mohc nodded, remembered that his guest was blind, and replied out loud. "It shall be as you say."
    Jerec, who saw more than Mohc could imagine, smiled and dabbed at his lips. The meal was delicious.
    Kyle, who had no knowledge that such deliberations had taken place, left the stairs. The large open area in front of him was referred to as "the quad" on the interactive maps issued to visitors, but the cadets called it "the grinder." How many hours - how many days had he spent marching back and forth across these acres of fused stone? He wasn't sure. The main thing he remembered was the mindbending fatigue that stemmed from endless physical training, long hours of study, and intentional sleep deprivation. All that was behind him now, with graduation only hours away.
    The thought brought guilt, but he pushed it away. No one else cared about the truth. Why should he?
    Kyle took the most direct route across the grinder, a path that took him through the shadow cast by a heroic statue of Emperor Palpatine.
    A column of underclassmen double timed through the space in front of Kyle and their leader snapped a salute in the senior's direction. He returned it, and in doing so, felt inexplicably happy. Somehow, against all odds, he had survived the mission and the commission would be his. His father would be proud, he would find a way to make up for his past mistakes, and everything would be fine. The thought put a spring in his step and Kyle quick marched toward the dorms.
    Behind the cadet, so high up that the movement was lost from the ground, a pair of electromechanical eyes blinked open and added one more image to the hundreds available on the video mosaic that filled an entire wall of the Commandant's underground office. The cadets were a mischievous lot. It was a good idea to keep an eye on