Star Wars: The Last of the Jedi, Volume 5 (9 page)

Keets and Curran sat in the Senate retaining room, where those who violated security were kept. They were relieved they hadn’t immediately been shipped off to an Imperial
detention center.

Zackery sat at a table, watching a broadcast of a gladiator droid contest on his datascreen, ignoring the prisoners. Keets considered whether to overpower him, but he knew there was additional
security behind the closed door. They were waiting for something, and he had a feeling he knew what it was.

The doors hissed open, and Sano Sauro appeared. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, he was dressed and groomed impeccably.

Zackery sprang to his feet. “Here they are, sir. We caught them red-handed in your office.”

“Leave us.”

“But they could be dangerous.…”

“I hardly think so.” Sauro plucked a piece of lint off his black sleeve. “Go.”

Zackery left hurriedly, tucking his datapad under his arm.

Sauro seated himself at the table and folded his hands. “Who are you working for?” he asked.

“No one,” Curran said.

“Don’t waste my time. Either you tell me or I hand you over to Imperial interrogators. From what I understand, you,” Sauro said, turning to Keets, “were a third-rate
journalist, and you,” he continued, turning to Curran, “were a low-level Senate aide until the Empire was established, after which it was determined that you both had violated the laws
of the Empire, and warrants were issued for your arrests.”

“Third-rate?” Keets reared back. “You can torture me all you want, but there’s no need to call me
third-rate
.”

Sauro’s gaze was dark and neutral. “I have enemies,” he said. “I accept that as an inevitable part of power. It is necessary for me to know who they are. Now, you will
either tell me or you will be forced to talk by an Imperial interrogator.
Who hired you?
”

“Bog Divinian,” Curran said. He didn’t think it was possible to surprise Sano Sauro, but he saw the flicker in his gaze.

“You’re lying,” the Senator challenged.

Curran didn’t answer. It was enough to have planted the suspicion in Sauro’s mind. Better to keep Bog and Sauro off balance and not trusting each other.

“I don’t have time for lies,” Sauro said, rising smoothly, “so I—”

The door hissed open behind him. Sauro didn’t turn, but they saw his anger at being interrupted.

“I didn’t summon you.”

Zackery took a hesitant step into the room. “Urgent communication for you, sir. The
True Justice
has been hijacked.”

“You fool, tell me outside!” Sauro’s face was white.

Keets kept his face impassive, but he could have cheered at the look of fury on Sauro’s face. The guy was panicking, that was for sure.

And he had no doubt that Solace and Oryon and Trever had done the impossible: They had freed Roan and Dona.

“Do not tell anyone this news,” Sauro hissed at Zackery. “It must not reach the Emperor.” He turned back and looked at Keets and Curran with hatred. “I’ll
deal with them later,” he said. Then he hurried out the door.

Darth Vader was used to being called to Palpatine’s office at any hour, so he was not surprised at the summons that called him there in the predawn hours. He didn’t
need much sleep now. If not for the demands of what was left of his body, he wouldn’t sleep at all. Sleep brought dreams.

He found his Master standing at the window overlooking the lights of Coruscant. It was where he plotted his strategy. They had done so much, but power gained must still be consolidated. How
thrilling it would be at last to hold the galaxy firm in a fist, to know that because of his efforts it would run smoothly, without the petty systemwide wars that had plagued it in the past,
without the inefficiency of many voices clamoring for different things.

“Things are not going well on Samaria,” the Emperor said without preliminaries. “I haven’t troubled you about it because it seemed a minor problem. Yet Samaria is
necessary for us, a strategic link to the rest of the Core.”

“I am not surprised, my Master,” Vader said. “I did not understand why Divinian was put in charge.”

“There are reasons to keep him occupied,” Palpatine said.

“Sano Sauro.”

“That is one reason. Sauro is useful. He is trying hard to please me. He sent me a secret memo about the Academy.”

Vader waited. Sauro was not a problem, not yet. He knew well that Sauro would plot against him. Sauro was more annoying than threatening.

“He has an idea,” the Emperor said. “It’s about Force-sensitive children.”

Vader grew alert.

“We have eliminated the traitorous Jedi, but not the Force-sensitive. Sauro claims he is the only one in the galaxy who has the ability to discover a Force connection in children.”
Palpatine gave a mocking smile. “Can you imagine the arrogance? He had a protégé, long ago—a fallen Jedi named Xanatos.”

“He was once the apprentice of Qui-Gon Jinn. He turned to the dark side.”

“I knew of him, but he was not my apprentice. Sauro said that Xanatos told him many secrets of the Jedi. He knows about midi-chlorians.”

Vader was keeping his anger in check. “He inflates his importance.”

“No doubt. But he thinks this will please me. He doesn’t know that he is dealing with a Sith. It’s quite amusing to listen to him.”

“What does he want?”

“To bring Force-sensitive children to the Academy,” Palpatine responded. “He believes that the Force can be used to train pilots. Reflexes, instincts. He thinks in ten years we
could develop an invincible fleet.”

“He doesn’t understand the Force,” Vader said. “You can’t train children to develop the Force as
pilots
.” He spit out the last word in disdain.

“This, from a former Podracer?”

Vader didn’t move. He knew his Master brought up his childhood from time to time to test him, to prod the place that was most painful.

“Of course you are right,” Palpatine said. “But I am going to let him have his little idea—for now.”

Vader knew better than to disagree with his Master, but he had to make his objection. This news troubled him. He did not want other Force-connected beings to be gathered together. Order 66 had
eliminated the Jedi. He thought they were gone forever.

“It is a waste of time,” his electronically-enhanced voice said.

His Master turned to him then, and once again Vader saw the extent of his power. Palpatine knew him down to the bone.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, you can find your own way to stop it,” Palpatine said. “You and Sauro are headed for a showdown. It is up to you to choose when it will take
place. I will not interfere.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I have just received word that the
True Justice
has been stolen. Sauro thinks I am unaware of this.”

“This is another example of his poor planning,” Vader said. “A ship can be more vulnerable than trying prisoners in a court.”

Palpatine waved a hand. “It was an interesting idea to try. But this is why I have called you here. Sauro is overextended. He has to find that ship and cover his tracks. He cannot afford
to take care of Bog Divinian.”

Vader guessed what was coming. “So I must?”

“You must control the situation. Samaria must be ours.”

“It will be done, Master.”

Vader turned and walked out, his cape sweeping behind him.

Palpatine heard the doors hiss shut.

He had worried his apprentice. Darth Vader did not want Sauro to gather any Force-sensitives. Especially children. It would serve as reminders of things he thought he needed to forget.

He didn’t need to forget them.

He needed to glory in what he had done.

He needed to scorn what he had lost.

Sauro would not be successful in his quest. He was not as clever as he thought. Only a Sith or a Jedi could find a Force-sensitive. Perhaps Sauro could stumble across one or two and point to his
success. It did not matter.

What mattered was Ferus Olin.

The Emperor laughed. All Masters tested their apprentices from time to time.

This would test Darth Vader most of all.

Quintus—or whoever was posing as the deceased Quintus—was behind the door. The question was how to get in.

“Why don’t we just knock?” Clive asked in a whisper.

“They’ll have an exit plan,” Ferus said, disagreeing. “Can’t you break in?”

“I’m insulted. I’m not a thief! Do you really think I can break a security door?”

“Just do it.”

“All right.” Clive reached into the pocket of his tunic. He withdrew a small fusioncutter, a coin, and a sharpened piece of plastoid. He bent over the security keypad with the items.
Within seconds, the door clicked open.

They entered silently. They were in a short hallway. A door to a fresher was off to their right.

Ferus waited, listening, searching for evidence of the Living Force.

“No one is here,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“I know.” He walked inside the apartment. It was sparsely furnished. He carefully looked around, then crossed to the small kitchen and opened cabinets.

“Hungry?”

“No one is living here. But someone is trying to make it look that way.”

“So it’s a dead end.”

Ferus crossed back to the living area. He looked out the window to the skeletal unfinished tower next door. “I know where to look,” he said.

The turbolift shafts had not been completed. There was only an exterior lift for the workers to access the roof. Ferus and Clive took the stairs. The workforce was on the roof
today. They could hear the noise of turbohammers dimly echoing through the building.

Ferus followed the trail as though he was tracking someone through the woods. He saw the imprint of work boots in the dust from the construction, but he was looking for something
unique—the footprints of a child.

He found them on a landing on the twenty-second floor. He lost them on the thirtieth and found them again on the thirty-sixth. At last he stopped on the sixty-second floor.

There were only four apartments per floor. One had no door and was still being worked on. They were now on the highest partially completed floor. Ferus listened at the door of the remaining
three apartments. “This one,” he said. “Open it.”

Again Clive worked his magic and the door slid open silently. They took a few cautious steps into the empty hall.

They heard something, a murmur of a female voice.

They moved closer.

“…And that doesn’t mean you don’t keep up with your lessons.”

A boy’s voice. “But I don’t have any teachers.”

“I’m your teacher now. Do it or you’ll turn into a horned hairy urchin toad.”

The boy giggled.

Ferus and Clive exchanged a look. It sounded like a typical exchange between a mother and a child. Could this be the home of the daring saboteur? Ferus risked a quick look around the corner.

The room was bright with light and furnished with only a table and bright cushions on the floor. On the floor sat a young boy of about eight years, with dark hair. He was bent over a datapad.
Cross-legged next to him was a woman with close-cropped dark hair. She was dressed in a flight suit.

She looked up, and there was no fear in her gaze when she saw Ferus. Her hand drifted to her side.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said softly.

Her hand stopped. He saw the glint of a blaster, concealed in the pocket of her flight suit.

Something about her face was familiar. What was it? He knew her. He had a sudden memory of a woman with tumbling dark curls.

“You’re Astri Divinian,” he said. “Bog’s wife.”

She rose smoothly. “I’m Astri Oddo. Bog is no longer my husband. This is my son, Lune. Who are you—and how did you get in?”

“We met once, years ago. Very briefly. At the Galactic Games on Euceron. I was with the Jedi team that supervised the games. Ferus Olin.”

He saw her response in her quickened breathing. “A Jedi? That’s impossible. They were all…wiped out.”

“I left the Jedi Order years ago.”

He watched as she moved to block Lune. She did it casually, as though she were edging closer to study him. Astri had been a great friend of the Jedi. Why would she consider him a threat? He felt
something.…