[Last Of The Jedi] - 07 (11 page)

Stormtroopers suddenly filled the hallway, their blaster rifles held in attack mode. Ferus felt the grip of the Force ease, and he crashed to the floor.

“Take him. And her. And take that one away.” Vader’s order was crisp.

“And the weapon, sir?”

Vader turned and looked down at the lightsaber hilt still in Ferus’s hand. “He can keep it. As a reminder of his failure.”

He turned and walked down the hall and disappeared.

The stormtroopers dragged Roan away like a sack of grain.

Ferus felt them lift him, force him to walk alongside Amie. Prison again. Execution, most certainly. He didn’t care.

Trever hadn’t strictly told the truth in the meeting with the Eleven. He wasn’t that good at obeying orders. He’d never been able to stay put just because someone asked him to. Even Ferus couldn’t make him do that.

So he watched from around the corner and saw it all. He saw the shock of Vader’s action. He saw Roan crash to his knees. He saw Ferus charge, and he waited for Ferus to die.

He couldn’t stop shaking.

He thought he’d seen everything. He thought he could handle anything. But he felt as though his mind had broken after seeing this night.

She found him in the laboratory, a tall, slender woman in a dark-red tunic that reached to her knees. When she opened the door, a shaft of light hit his face. He turned away but didn’t move. He couldn’t imagine running anymore.

She knelt in front of him. “Well, hello.”

He put his face against his knees.

“Security is all over the building,” she murmured. “I heard there was a breakin. Some prisoners taken. I’ll help you.”

He looked up.

“I’m just as much a prisoner as you are,” she said. “But I’ll try to get you out.”

“I’m supposed to go to the hangar,” he said. “Before dawn.”

“I can do that. I have clearance. Can you walk?”

Of course he could walk. But when he stood, his legs were shaking. Her hand was cool as she curled her fingers around his. She squeezed his hand lightly.

It was that touch that brought him back. He had felt so alone. He had needed to connect to something, even if it was just a touch from a stranger.

She nodded reassuringly at him, and she rolled a cart toward him with a large canister on it. “Can you fit?”

He climbed in. He drew up his knees and tightened himself into a ball. The durasteel walls of the canister were cold. She slid the top on, leaving a crevice for him to breathe.

“Here we go.”

She started the repulsorlift motor, and Trever felt the hum come up through the bottom of the canister. He felt himself move, felt every turn of the hallway.

Then something changed — the light, the noise — and he knew he was in the hangar.

“Leaving this for disposal,” the woman said. “Class D, toxic, so not to be opened.”

“Affirmative.” The clipped, mechanical-sounding voice of a stormtrooper.

And then the lid was slid back. He looked up into lovely dark eyes.

“This will be loaded onto a gravsled and taken back to the battalion. It’s done by droids, so wait until they’re busy negotiating air traffic. Just be sure and get off before it goes to the garrison. Good luck, whoever you are.”

“Wait.” He put his hand up to stop the canister lid from sliding back. “You’ve planned this already. This was your escape route.”

She bit her lip. “Yes.”

“But once I do it, you won’t be able to take it.”

She met his gaze for a long moment. He saw that she was giving up something that kept her going, gave her a reason to hope. If things became too bad, she would always be able to escape. Now she had no hope.

“Just go,” she said, and closed the lid.

He rested his cheek against the cool metal. He felt no fear. He was ready for whatever came. He was so tired of running.

Soon he was lifted and smashed down again. He felt the lurch of the gravsled as it moved.

He waited until he heard the sounds of heavy air traffic, pedestrians, the city of Ussa coming to life. Even without being able to see, he was able to track their progress through the city just by listening for familiar sounds. He waited until he was certain they were in the center of the city, the most populous district of Bluestone, and then he eased open the lid. The droids were simple service droids, but they had blasters built into their trunks. Now they were busy monitoring air traffic and controlling the gravsled. He wiggled out of the canister. A passing airspeeder pilot noted him, but this was Bellassa, where every citizen kept his or her mouth shut, so he looked away.

Crouching behind the canister, Trever waited for the next traffic stop. Then he leaped off the gravsled. It was about eight meters to the ground, and he hit hard, feeling the shock in his knees. But he rolled and stood up quickly.

He lost himself in the surging crowd. The sounds of the city were familiar and comforted him. He made his way to the safe house. As he drew near, his steps dragged. He didn’t want to break the news. He didn’t want to say it out loud.

Wil opened the door. He grabbed Trever by the elbows and pulled him inside. “What happened? Where’s Amie?”

“Captured.”

Wil sagged against the wall. “I’ve been up all night…waiting. Roan?”

“Ferus was captured, too. Vader was there.”

Slowly, Wil straightened. “Roan.”

“Dead.” Trever felt his mouth twist out of shape.

He heard a moan, and Dona entered, her hands against her mouth.

Wil, who was always so strong, shocked Trever by simply lowering himself to the hallway floor. He put his head in his hands.

Wil had always been so brusque and remote. He was a legendary figure in Ussa, one of the founding members of the Eleven. Trever had never known that he could be overcome like this. It added to his own fear, and he started to shake again.

Dona put her strong hand on his shoulder. “Come on.”

He followed her into the house. She pushed him down on a sleep couch and covered him with two blankets. “You need to get warm.”

Trever realized how cold he was.

She disappeared and came back with a mug of scalding tea. “Drink this.”

“I can’t.”

Wil appeared. He crossed the room and crouched down next to him. “It happens sometimes after a battle. The shaking. You’ll be all right.”

Trever hid his face from Wil.

“It’s happened to me,” Wil said. “More than once. So don’t be ashamed.”

Wil disappeared again. Trever drank the tea, not tasting it, just feeling the warmth spread out through his bones.

It seemed to take a long while before Wil reappeared.

“It’s on the HoloNet now. They’re bragging about it.” Wil looked as though he’d aged ten years in the past half hour.

“I saw Roan die,” Trever said. “Vader acted so fast. No one expected it. Roan didn’t even have a blaster in his hand —” He saw anguish mirrored in Wil’s eyes.

Roan had tossed him bakery rolls for breakfast and advice when he needed it. He’d let him sleep in the office when it was cold and looked the other way if Trever lifted a few credits on his way out the door. And then, when Trever was no longer a petty thief but a fellow resistance fighter, he had never made him feel less than anybody else. He had accepted him. Together with Ferus, he was the closest to family that Trever had known since his own family had died, every last one of them. Mother. Father. Brother. Roan.

He reached into his tunic to the pocket that lay against his skin. He pulled out the chip and handed it to Wil. “There’s something on it. Something they were able to discover.”

Wil took it. “At least we have this.”

Trever looked up. He could feel something clenched inside him, something unfamiliar, and he realized it was fear that had dug in, that might never leave. “Wil,” he whispered, “for the first time … I think we might lose.”

Wil’s hand tightened on him. “We won’t lose. But I have to get you off-planet.” Trever straightened. “No!”

“I contacted Flame. You’re both going to Coruscant.”

“I want to help here!”

“You can’t, Trever. It’s only a matter of time before they start looking for you, too. They’ve traced the vehicle that you and Amie and Roan took to the factory, and they know you were part of the group. There was a hidden security cam at a checkpoint. Flame has volunteered to get you off-planet, and Dexter Jettster has agreed to allow both of you to enter his safe house on Coruscant. You have friends there who are waiting for you.”

Trever looked from Wil to Dona. What they weren’t saying, but what he knew, was that if he insisted on remaining, he would endanger all of them. He had to find the courage not to stay but to leave.

He rarely thought about whether he was brave. He had bounced from one situation to another and held himself together more out of stubbornness than anything else. Courage didn’t live in him, the way it had lived in Roan. Trever knew now that he had never been brave before, only ignorant. Despite the battles he’d seen, the things he’d witnessed, he’d never truly realized what he was up against until last night.

He couldn’t find his courage. He just had to accept his fear. And keep on going.

He nodded his agreement. In his heart he said his first good-bye to Roan. He knew that letting go of Roan would be done by centimeters, a small bit at a time.

But he did not say good-bye to Ferus. He would see him again. If he let go of that hope, he would let go of too much.

During the flight to Coruscant, Flame let him be, allowing a comfortable silence that gave him room to sleep and try to eat and gather himself for whatever came next. Dex had arranged a landing site for her, and she concealed the ship in a hangar that held many battered, and no doubt unregistered, vehicles.

“Coruscant is finding ways to get around the Empire,” Trever said, looking around.

“It’s inevitable,” Flame said. “Even a powerful government can’t patrol every centimeter of space.” She turned to him. “We find the places they can’t get to, and we hide there.”

Trever thought of the asteroid base. A tiny wisp of hope, as ghostly as smoke, twined through him. He climbed out of the starship and trailed behind Flame as she strode toward the turbolift.

They descended to the Orange District. Trever remembered the way. He never forgot a route. He led the way now, through the twisting amber-toned streets, to the alley full of switchbacks and dead ends that led to Dex’s safe house.

They walked into chaos. Astri stood, straining to get around Oryon, who was blocking the door with his large frame. Keets sat on the steps, his head in his hands. Curran, his shoulder bandaged, leaned against the wall. And Dex in a repulsorlift chair, floated nearby, his four hands gesticulating, one pair clasped, the other waving.

“Astri, we can help you if you let us,” Dex was saying. “We need a plan.”

“I can do it myself. We’re wasting time!” Astri stamped her boot. “With every second you’re holding me back, they’re taking him away! He could be off-planet at any moment, he could be anywhere!”

“What happened to Lune?” Trever asked, stricken. No one answered him.

“We know where he is.” Curran’s voice was soft. “That’s what we’re trying to tell you.”

“Where is he?” Astri wheeled to confront him.

“We need a plan,” Oryon repeated. “You can’t go there and —”

“Where is he?” Astri screamed.

“He’s been taken to the Imperial Naval Academy,” Dex said. “He’s been enrolled.”

“Bog,” Astri said bitterly. “I knew he was behind this; I just didn’t think he could have the wits to pull it off.”

“He didn’t need wits, he needed resources,” Clive said. “He has that now. Sano Sauro is in charge of the academy. It’s a demotion for him, but Bog and Sauro are allies from way back, as you know.”

“You can’t go running there by yourself,” Dex said. “There’s high security all around it. Even parents can’t get in if they don’t have clearance. And you won’t have clearance.”

“So what’s your great plan?” Astri asked, a challenge in her voice. Her chin lifted, and her eyes flashed her defiance. Trever could see she didn’t trust anyone to go after Lune but herself.

The others exchanged glances. “Well, we don’t have one yet,” Oryon admitted. “We just discovered where he was a few minutes ago.”

“Astri, my lovely, you’ve got to trust us,” Clive said. “Such as we are. Look around. We have plenty of skills here. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get him back. All of us.”

Keets’s voice was hoarse. “It’s a promise. I’ll die trying, but I’ll get him back to you.”

“I don’t need promises. I need to go. I have to go get him.” Astri’s eyes filled with tears. “You think he’s so strong, and he is. But he’s still a boy. He can still be afraid. I have to try, I’ll say I’m his mother, I’ll demand —”

“That’s just what Bog wants you to do,” Oryon said firmly. “If you show up, you’ll be arrested in the time it takes you to walk up the ramp.”

Astri’s body suddenly collapsed in on itself, and she folded herself in two, crouching near the floor, her forehead against her clenched hands.

Everyone began to talk at once, about the academy’s location, probable security, where to procure a getaway vehicle, if the delivery services would be vulnerable to infiltration.

Trever stepped forward. “I have a plan,” he said. Everyone stopped talking. Everyone looked at him. “I’ll enlist,” he said.

Again and again Ferus relived the moment when the lightsaber went through Roan’s body. Again and again he felt the shock of it. Again and again he wondered if he could have moved, if he could have foreseen it, if he hadn’t been so stupid, so slow, so convinced that Darth Vader would follow procedure, instead of striking out at a man who held no weapon against him.

He was in a cell, alone. He lay on the hard ferrocrete floor, his cheek against it. He knew why Vader had let him keep his lightsaber. It was a taunt. Vader knew it would torture Ferus to feel its familiar weight on his belt, to put his fingers on its handle, and know that his training had meant nothing. His lightsaber was useless. Vader was right.

Somewhere above him was sky and space and countless stars, and he was just a particle in the galaxy, and he was alone. Roan was gone. Their friendship had been full of separations, but they had always found each other again. They had trusted each other and watched each other’s backs, and in one moment of criminally stupid miscalculation he had underestimated his opponent, and because of that, Roan was dead. Because of him.