him enough credits, contacts, and help to start a new life. But those
practical things had not helped with the bewilderment he felt.
It was Roan who had saved him. Roan who had shown him what it meant to
have a home. When Ferus had come up with the idea for the business, Roan
had sold everything he had to finance it. They had become partners as well
as friends.
He and Roan had made an agreement as soon as they had pledged to fight
the Empire: If one of them was able to escape, he would not return for the
other. They had pledged this using the Bellassan method of grasping each
other's shoulders and looking into each other's eyes.
Ferus had pledged his honor, and yet he knew he would break that
pledge in a heartbeat as soon as he was able. Every day he was stronger.
Every day he was one day closer to leaving.
He heard the creak of the door behind him. Instinctively his hand went
to his belt. It had been years since he'd left the Jedi, and he could not
remove the habit of reaching for a lightsaber that was no longer there.
"What are you doing? You can't stand by the window!" Dona moved
forward quickly. She waved one thick, broad hand over a sensor and the
armor-weave curtains snapped shut. "I told you, the Imperials are sending
seeker droids everywhere. They will send them even here, eventually, or
sooner than that." Dona tossed her waist-length gray braid behind her
shoulder and moved around the room, smoothing a thermal blanket, moving a
water pitcher from here to there, adjusting the tilt of a data screen. She
was always moving, usually talking, and driving him crazy.
He was fond of her, though. He owed his life to her. He had made his
way here, wounded, half out of his head with pain and exhaustion, and she
had taken him in without question. She had hidden him and cared for him and
would die for him, if she had to.
She had been his first client. He and Roan had started the business,
and they had barely opened their doors when she'd walked in the door. She'd
collected evidence against her employer for three months, as soon as she'd
found out he was cutting corners on a vaccine for children that could be
tainted. She was ready to take it to the authorities, but she knew she
would not only be fired but could possibly be a target of assassination.
Ferus and Roan had thought she'd been exaggerating, but they'd taken her
on. She had been right. The government of her homeworld had been involved
in the coverup as well as the corporation. They tried to discredit her,
then they tried to arrest her, and finally, they tried to kill her. Roan
and Ferus had spirited her away, found her a new identity, and she had
testified against them in a galactic court. She had brought down a
government as well as a corporation, and she still had enemies.
Dona was so resourceful that Ferus did not take credit for saving her
life. She had taken the mountain cabin they'd found her and transformed it
into a fortress. She had planted booby traps and devised her own
surveillance techniques. He told her that she would have defeated them
without the help of Olin/Lands. But he could not talk her out of her belief
that he and Roan had saved her.
He heard the buzz of her conversation as static, then tuned back in.
"... the trouble with the galaxy now, you can't trust anyone. At least
before, you knew who you could trust and who you couldn't, at least most of
the time. I should be the last one to say this, of course. I don't trust
anybody. But now I really don't. So don't stand in front of the window,
that's all I ask. Now, would you be wanting anything? I just made a pot of
- "
Not more soup, Ferus thought. "No, thanks, Dona," he interrupted
quickly, "I - " Ferus reached out to turn on what he thought was a switch
for a glow lamp, and suddenly, the floor opened up. He slid down a chute
and spilled out onto a stone floor, bumping his head in the process.
He looked up into the gloom. Dona looked down into the passage,
squinting at him while he rubbed his head.
"Soup?" she asked.
Roan, I can't wait to tell you about this. Stay alive. Stay alive, so
we can laugh again, Ferus begged in his head as he nodded.
CHAPTER NINE
Obi-Wan walked through the narrow streets of the area around Moonstone
Lake, the most distant lake on the outskirts of town. Compared to the rest
of Ussa, this was a grimy district. The streets were narrow and twined
around one another in baffling patterns. The houses huddled together, and
the pedestrians walked quickly, their eyes down. Obi-Wan was alert for
movement from the shadowy alleys. He had gotten a crash course in how the
black market operated from Wil and Rilla.
He kept his left hand free and held a disposable cup with steaming tea
in it. He did not drink it, but held it. There were many tea stands in
Ussa, and it was easily obtainable. All one had to do, Wil and Rilla.
assured him, was walk the streets of the Moonstone District holding a cup
in the left hand. Sooner or later, he would be approached. It was a system
that. everyone knew, and so far, the Empire had not been able to crack it.
The black market flourished in Ussa, something that infuriated the Imperial
forces, Obi-Wan had been told.
"You see," Wil had said, "they can have our government and our press
and our factories. But they cannot have our loyalty. Their spies do not
work here."
Rilla had nodded. "It is why they hate Ferus so much. No one will
betray him, not for all the credits on Bellassa. It gives other planets
hope."
It didn't take long for Obi-Wan to make contact. A young woman, her
hair tucked under a dark cap, drifted close to him. "What are you looking
for?"
"Clothing," he said.
She sighed in disappointment. "I have tech items... some functioning
datapads, cloud car parts.."
"Not today, sorry."
"Then turn left into the next alley and whistle."
Obi-Wan followed her directions. The alley was dark, even though night
had not fallen. He whistled softly.
After a moment, there was a rustling sound. A gravsled hummed forward,
clothing tumbled in it in an array of colors and fabrics. It looked as if
it had already been pawed through. Behind the controls was Trever. When he
caught sight of Obi-Wan, the boy shook his head.
"Oh, no. Not you."
"Nice to see you again, too," Obi-Wan said. "I thought we had an
agreement that you'd wait for me."
"I get itchy around stormtroopers. I'm funny that way."
"You owe me credits. And my cloak - I hope you haven't sold it. I paid
you to wait."
Trever shifted his feet. "Look, I don't have the credits okay? I spent
them already. You can take some clothing. I still think you'd look sharp in
Ramordian silk. I think I've still got your cloak in here..." Trever began
to dig through the garments. He came up with Obi-Wan's cloak and tossed it
to him. "There. Now we're square, all right?"
"Not yet. I want an Imperial uniform."
"You told me to take them back to Marian
a, remember?"
"But you didn't. They could be valuable. You would have kept those for
yourself."
Trever groaned. "I knew today was a no-moon day. Come on."
Obi-Wan followed the gravsled over the paving stones of the alley.
Trever pushed through a battered metal door and motioned Obi-Wan through.
Trever left the gravsled in a small foyer crowded with other battered
repulsorlift vehicles, most of them stuffed with objects in various states
of deterioration.
There was nowhere to go except through another battered door. Obi-Wan
reached out to push it open, but Trever said, "Wait." He stepped forward
and waved his hand over a battered, grimy sensor that Obi-Wan had assumed
was broken.
In the old days, he would know better than to assume. Was he losing
his Jedi awareness? Obi-Wan corrected himself. He had to have the same
focus he always had. He could not let the days of isolation, the weeks and
months of grief, dull his abilities.
The door clicked, and Trever pushed it open. Inside was one large
room, taking up the entire first floor of the warehouse. It was crammed
with contraband. Obi-Wan stopped, marveling. Household appliances, droids,
computer parts, speeder parts, clothing, office equipment, and even one
intact cloud car. The material was divided into separate piles. Men and
women took items from various stacks and placed them on carts, or hid
smaller items under their cloaks, then headed outside again. Some appeared
to be shopping, followed closely by the sellers.
"How do they guard their own items?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Honor among thieves. Come on."
He led Obi-Wan to a far corner, A group of durasteel bins were neatly
arranged in rows. He went directly to one in the back. He pulled out an
Imperial uniform of a low-grade officer. But before handing it to Obi-Wan,
he hesitated. "Don't tell me what you're going to do with this. And this is
the last favor I do for you."
"Last favor. Promise." Obi-Wan took the uniform.
"And don't change into it here," Trever advised. "You'll start a
panic. Everyone will think you're here to arrest them." He hesitated for a
moment. "Is this about Ferus?"
"I thought you didn't want to know."
"Well, if you do find him, tell him..."
Obi-Wan waited. He saw the struggle on the boy's face. He did care
about Ferus.
"Tell him he stinks like a bantha," Trever said in a rush.
"I'll do that," Obi-Wan promised, and headed for the door.
CHAPTER TEN
Once, long ago, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had been walking through a
torrential rainstorm. The rain had seemed to hit Obi-Wan in relentless
sheets of water. He struggled with every step, while ahead of him his
Master's broad back had moved steadily on. Obi-Wan had flinched from the
onslaught, wiped the rain from his eyes so he could see, and slipped on the
slick stones of the path they were following. Qui-Gon never even flinched.
He had struggled on for kilometers, hoping his Master had not noticed
his difficulty. When at last they stopped to rest, Obi-Wan had leaned
against the wall of the cave they had found for shelter. Everything was
sodden - his cloak and hood, his pack, his boots. He felt he had been
carrying stones in his pockets.
He still remembered Qui-Gon looking out at the rain cascading from a
metallic sky. "You must own the rain, Obi-Wan. It must be part of you, an
extension of you. If you fight it, it will win. Acceptance is the key to
all difficulties."
He had been fourteen then. He had learned that lesson, and, like all
of Qui-Gon's lessons, it had extended to so many things. Heat, wind, cold -
he had learned how to accept them, not fight them.
Now he wore the uniform of an Imperial officer, and he owned it. His
face was newly shaven, his expression impassive. He strode through the
streets, and did not care that Bellassans shrank when they saw him, that
they retreated before him like a toxic wind. For the time he would wear it,
he would not shrink from the contact of it on his skin. He would not
betray, by a look or a gesture, that he hated every fiber of it, for it
represented everything he fought against.
The Imperial code cylinder got him into the front door of the garrison
without trouble. That meant the owner had not reported it stolen. Still, he
had to work fast. Obi-Wan strode down the hall. He knew the clones were
ruthless and unimaginative. The Imperial officers were either brutes or
opportunists, or both. They all carried themselves with the arrogant
assurance that absolute power gave. They had all been a part of Emperor
Palpatine's betrayal of the Jedi... but Obi-Wan had to block that out in
order to make it through. He could not let anger or sadness seize him. Not
now. Not ever.
No one stopped him or gave him a second look. The garrison was busy,
with troops filing down the hallways and officers walking briskly, trying
not to rush. The Empire had expanded its ranks, and he noted that many of
the beings were not clones but crafty opportunists recruited from every
corner of the galaxy. The stormtroopers were dressed in riot armor,
carrying stun batons and blast shields. Was something afoot? Obi-Wan wasn't
sure, but he wanted to be sure to get his information and get out before
something happened.
He followed signs in Aurebesh for INTELLIGENCE UNIT/SECURITY and found
an empty office. Obi-Wan quickly closed the door and, using the code
cylinder, accessed the computer database. He entered the name ROAN LANDS.
Surveillance files popped up. Obi-Wan had been lucky. The cylinder
must have belonged to a commander. He had high-level security clearance.
Intelligence breakthrough by paid operative indicates that Lands is a
founding member of the Eleven along with Ferus Olin... considered dangerous
to the goals of the Empire...
Paid operative? A spy? Obi-Wan searched, but could find no further
mention of the operative. Only a direction to the files of the Inquisitors.
When he tried to access them, he was denied. His officer didn't have that
high a clearance.
Subject left office, proceeded to Bluestone Lake district. Subject
lost after entering large market.
Subject left home, proceeded to Gree Park. Subject lost among hiking
trails.
"Good for you, Roan," Obi-Wan murmured. Roan Lands was obviously good
at shaking the surveillance he'd known was behind him.
The file was a long one. He flipped through the hologram quickly. It
ended with the arrest of Roan and Ferus. They had been surrounded by a full
platoon, in the middle of the city, and had given themselves up rather than
endanger the surrounding civilians. Obi-Wan could find no mention of
charges. But then, the Imperials did not concern themselves with what they
thought of as the petty rules of law.
Ah, the med record. Obi-Wan scrolled down to a section titled
PERSUASIAN TECHNIQUES. His heart fell.
Roan had been exposed to many neurotoxins. He had proven to be
extraordinarily strong. Obi-Wan committed the drugs to memory,
>
concentrating on those administered during Roan's last days in prison.
He could hear more footsteps in the hallways and could pick up the
buzz of energy outside. He sensed that he wouldn't have much time left, but
he owed it to the Eleven to find out as much as he could. As long as he
could get inside the database, he had to keep looking.
He exited from Roan's file and browsed through directives to officers,
most of them at the highest level of security clearance.
ARREST SWEEPS. Rotating neighborhoods To Be Determined. Any suspicious
characters to be picked up. Targets to include: journalists, writers,
artists, weapons experts, former army officers and soldiers...
The title of a directive caught Obi-Wan's eye.
SCENARIOS FOR BODY DISPOSAL POST ORDER THIRTY-SEVEN.
Obi-Wan felt a chill. He accessed the file.
It is imperative that bodies not be released to family members... All
HoloNet communication must shut down that morning and comm silence
maintained for the next month so COMPNOR can control information outflow...
. No accounts to be disseminated as they can prove detrimental to Imperial
control of surrounding systems.... Proof of body disposal documented for
Inquisitor Malorum to pass to LDV...
LDV... Lord Darth Vader?
Hundreds of bodies. They were planning for the disposal of hundreds of