[Last Of The Jedi] - 07 (8 page)

The Jedi leaped over the remaining stormtroopers and landed by her side. She had a quick impression of chromium eyes, pale skin, and a melancholy face.

He jerked his chin toward the window in the hallway, where Clive and Astri had taken shelter in a doorway.

She read his intent without words. It was time to get out of there.

They raced down the hallway together, still deflecting fire from the remaining stormtroopers. Solace signaled to Clive and Astri, who leaped out the window, using their liquid cables. Solace and the Jedi followed. They landed on the roof next door and raced across it, dodging vents and debris.

The Jedi took the lead. It was obvious that he had planned an escape route. He led them to an empty lift tube shaft that had a small door on the roof. Using their liquid cables, Astri and Clive rappelled down the shaft. Solace and the Jedi jumped.

The tall Jedi led them into a service level of the building, where laundry and storage were held. They ran down a twisting maze of hallways that were like tunnels. He pried off a grid in the wall and hurried them inside. Crawling, they followed the pipe until he pointed above. Solace pushed the grid out. They climbed out into an unfamiliar alley.

Stained with rust and mud, the four regarded one another. The Jedi said nothing. Solace didn’t recognize him. She saw now that his hair was white and cut close to his skull. Despite his large frame, he held himself gracefully.

“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” Solace asked.

“Ry-Gaul,” he said. His voice was low and softer than she’d expected.

“My name as a Jedi was Fy-Tor Ana,” Solace said.

“Now I am Solace.”

“Are there others?” Ry-Gaul asked. “I have been alone.”

“Not many,” Solace said. “I was contacted by Ferus Olin. He’s trying to gather any Jedi who are left. He was —”

“— Siri Tachi’s apprentice.” Ry-Gaul’s face underwent a change. The severe lines smoothed out. It was close to a smile, but not quite. “Ferus,” he said, “I was on several missions with him. With my Padawan, Tru Veld.”

Solace nodded. She had never kept track of the Padawans. She had chosen not to take an apprentice. But Ferus had mentioned Tru Veld. He’d been a friend. Ferus had found his lightsaber at the Temple.

“Do you know something about him?” Ry-Gaul asked, his tone suddenly urgent.

“I know he is dead,” she said. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t like her to tell someone she was sorry about something she had nothing to do with. But something about this large man of few words made her be a little more polite than she usually was.

Ry-Gaul bowed his head. “It is what I expected. Yet it is hard to hear it.”

Solace bent her head close to him. “Out of all the beings in the universe, I think I am one of the few who can say I know how you feel.”

Ferus didn’t know if it would work. But he eliminated doubt from his mind. If he wondered if it would work, it wouldn’t.

He turned to the stormtroopers. “You can leave me here. I can find my way alone.”

The stormtrooper turned to the others. “We can leave him here. He can find his way alone.” Was it really that simple? Simple, it is. Belief, it is.

To reach the point where it was simple — that was hard.

Ferus didn’t push his luck. He walked quickly away, down the path, then doubled back to cross the garrison from the rear, where its perimeter was closest to the street. He quickly crossed to a busy boulevard. He expected to be stopped at any moment. Instead he was able to lose himself in the crowd.

He wasn’t followed; he was sure of that. He walked down the familiar streets. Despite the fact that he was worried and frazzled and worn out, he felt something in him lift. Just to be walking these streets, without an escort. Just to be himself, no matter how short a time.

Before they had both left for the Clone Wars, he and Roan had talked about what they would do if they were separated, if Bellassa were overrun, if… There were so many ifs in those days, Ferus thought. But not nearly as many as now. So they had staked out several areas in and around Ussa for a meeting, then assigned each place a code. They also chose several places in the city and several methods to alert each other. Ferus hadn’t forgotten any of it.

Roan had indicated to him to proceed to their third secret meeting place, in the Cloud Lake District, near their old office. It was a large, bustling cafe. Ferus entered, carefully keeping his hood over his face so that he wouldn’t be recognized. He knew this cafe well. Roan had no doubt chosen it because it was always crowded, and it had three entrances and exits.

Roan was waiting.

Ferus kept moving, but his eyes blurred and it was hard to see. The cafe was full, and it was a swirl of color and motion, of sound that hit his ears in a continuous roar. He felt overwhelmed by the sensation. It was home, and there was Roan, waiting. For one impossible moment it was as though nothing had changed.

It was not the way a Jedi was supposed to see or hear. It was not the way a Jedi was supposed to feel. A Jedi shouldn’t want to go back. A Jedi should accept where he was. He was conscious of Dona at a nearby table. That helped to steady him. He was able to survey the room, look for exits and strategies should they be discovered. Only then did he look back and feel pleasure at seeing Roan again.

He sat at the table. “It was so strange to see you sitting here.”

Roan knew exactly what he meant. “Like nothing had changed.”

“When everything has.”

Roan’s sad eyes were the same clear green-gray. He was growing healthier by the day. The torture procedures he’d undergone at the Imperial prison had not changed him as Ferus had feared they would.

“Trever?” Ferus asked.

“Is fine. He’s here, on Bellassa.”

Ferus nodded. The relief he felt made his legs feel weak.

“He came to the base in a new ship, thinking we’d all welcome him with open arms. Well, we welcomed him.”

Ferus smiled. “At least he came back.” “That’s what he said.”

Roan allowed a moment to pass, a moment of shared silence. His hands rested on the table, one hand cupped inside the other in a way that only Roan had.

“Why did you call for me?” Ferus asked. He didn’t know how much time they had, but it wasn’t much.

“The Eleven are concerned with your role on Bellassa,” Roan said. “Sentiment in Ussa is running against you. I realize that for you that’s a secondary consideration. But it is a blow to the resistance movement. And we’ve had many of those lately. Are you learning anything we can use?”

“Not yet,” Ferus admitted. “I’m kept on a very short leash. But I did get a quick peek at Vader’s code cylinder files. There’s something on it called Twilight that I want to look into. A large-scale operation. And then there’s the question of the factory retooling here in Ussa. What’s really going on with that?”

“Are the two related?”

“Could be, but I don’t think so. Twilight has all the earmarks of a snare operation, like Order 66. The plans here involve something big, some kind of technology that the Empire is developing that’s so secret only a few at the top know about it.”

“Who? Vader?”

“Vader, for one. Moff Tarkin, too.”

“Tarkin. He’s a nasty piece of work. Seems to have his fingers in plenty of pies.” Roan thought for a moment. “Can you get us in to where they keep records?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to do some investigating first.”

“They’d have to keep some sort of files at the factory itself. At the beginning of an operation, things can be messy — systems aren’t in place, the chain of command isn’t quite set. We’d have to get in, probably at night, and snoop around.”

Ferus nodded. “If we find out what it is, I’m ready to quit. I’m done.”

“Tired of Vader’s company already?”

He grimaced. “If we can expose what they’re doing here, suspicion will fall on me. They won’t trust me with anything after that. And if I can walk away and go underground here in Bellassa …”

“It will embarrass them.” Roan nodded. “I think you’ve put in enough time.”

“It’s just that… Twilight. Whatever that is. I need to find out.”

“There are other ways. You don’t have to be in Vader’s pocket. They might never give you the clearance to find anything significant anyway.”

“That’s what I thought. But… if I stop working for the Empire, I can’t stay on Bellassa. I’ll need to go back to the base for a time. Then head out and look for more Jedi.”

“I know,” Roan said. “I’m glad you brought that up. I’ve finally seen your secret base, and can I tell you this? You need help.”

Ferus let the implications sink in. He knew what it meant. Roan was offering to come with him.

“You always said your job was here, on Bellassa.”

“My job is to help you,” Roan said. “If that means helping with your crackpot plan to find the Jedi, I’ll do it. We’re part of the same struggle now. I’m replaceable here on Bellassa. There are those who can take my place. You need help there. I agree with this Flame person when it comes to one thing: We have to look at galactic resistance. It’s the only way. We can’t do it only on one planet. Sooner or later, what you’re doing will link up with what’s being done elsewhere.”

“I hope so,” Ferus said. “I’m just glad you’re coming.”

“I’m coming. But first let’s do what we can here. Contact me when you come up with a way to get in. I’ll assemble a team.”

They stood. They couldn’t risk staying any longer. Ferus again felt the loneliness wrap around his heart. There were so many things he wanted to talk to Roan about, and couldn’t. Not just about logistics, but feelings. One thing about war — there was never enough time.

A quick grasp of each other’s upper arms in their old greeting, a look into each other’s eyes, and Ferus turned on his heel and was gone.

Keets collapsed on a bench, breathing hard. “I didn’t… sign on … to the resistance … to be”—He leaned his head back and let out an explosive puff of air — “a nanny!”

“He’s a handful,” Curran said, with a fond look at Lune.

They sat in a small park on the uppermost level of Coruscant, near the Senate District. Lune had begged to be allowed to play, and the Orange District was hardly suitable. Astri had given reluctant permission. She’d wanted Lune to get some sun, despite her worries. He’d been on an asteroid for weeks without light.

Keets and Curran had decided on a neighborhood popular with families so they could lose themselves in the crowds. “Can’t we get a droid for this job?” Keets wondered. “Some Class Three Nanny with a nice disposition?”

“Dex asked us to do it,” Curran said. “Besides, a droid won’t keep an eye out for stormtroopers.”

“That kid could probably program it, too,” Keets said. “That kid could probably do anything he set his mind to.”

They watched as Lune joined in a game some boys and girls had improvised on one of the playground installations, a large plastoid power slide that sent off puffs of air to speed descent. The group had lined up on the various chutes and were racing to see who could get down fastest. The laughter traveled over to Keets and Curran.

“C’mon,” Curran said. “This has got to make even you smile.”

“I don’t go gooey over kids,” Keets said. “I may no longer be a galactically famous journalist, I may have to scrounge and shrink from every glowlamp, and I may be living with a former pusher of bantha stew, but I haven’t sunk that low.”

“You’re a very cynical human,” Curran said serenely.

Keets put an arm over the bench and looked over at a towering statue of Emperor Palpatine. “Galactic City used to be a fairly nice place.”

“You mean Imperial City,” Curran corrected.

“I’ll never call it that,” Keets replied. “Emperor Palpa-creep can rename it, but I don’t have to listen to him. Hey, what’s that kid up to now?” Keets asked, looking over at Lune.

The boy had opened the control panel of the power slide and was making an adjustment.

“Should we …” Keets said.

Curran shook his head, grinning. “I say we just watch.”

Lune scrambled back up the ramp to the very top of the slide. He positioned himself in front of the jets. The sensor picked up his presence, and a blast of air sent him straight up into the air. Instead of landing, Lune hung there.

Keets’s jaw dropped. Curran half rose.

Lune did a somersault in the air. He looked down at the other kids with their upturned faces and stuck out his tongue.

“Curran …” Keets said warningly.

“He’s okay,” Curran said. He had relaxed back into his seat.

“That’s not what I mean.” Keets nudged him and pointed.

A squad of stormtroopers on patrol was crossing the street.

“What should we do?” Curran asked. His furry face, normally the color of a roasted nut, paled.

“If we run toward him, we’ll just attract their attention,” Keets said. “They won’t notice. Nobody notices kids.”

Lune landed on the bottom of the slide, then leaped up again.

The other kids screamed at him with glee, clapping their hands.

The head stormtrooper looked up.

“Uh-oh,” Keets breathed.

Lune jumped down on the slide, caught another blast of air, and used it and the Force to leap even higher. He landed on top of a neighboring terrace, then used the momentum to leap back again and land in front of the cheering children.

Keets could see only the helmets of the stormtroopers move as they tracked Lune.

“Let’s get him,” Keets said.

They walked over to Lune. Keets spoke softly. “Time to go, kiddo.”

“No!” the other kids all shouted. “Show us how you did that!”

“Sorry!” Curran tried to extricate himself from the crowd of kids.

The squad of stormtroopers started to head over.

Keets dug into his pocket and extricated the bag of sweets he’d bought from a vendor. He threw them into the air. “Have fun!”

The kids scattered, chasing the candy. Keets urged Lune forward. Curran flanked him, and they quickly hustled him out of the playground. They turned down the first street they came to, then the next, and the next, until they were lost in the crowd and they knew they hadn’t been followed.