[Last Of The Jedi] - 07 (6 page)

“I saw Ferus on the HoloNet last night,” Dona said. “He is acting the part of the traitor very well. Too well.”

“Do you think he’s gone over to the Empire. Roan asked. He didn’t think he could bear it if Dona thought that.

“No of course not. But I’m worried that whatever good he thinks he will do will be canceled out by the bad. He was a symbol of hope to the people of Ussa. He escaped from two Imperial prisons. He got away. Now it appears that he’s bowed down to power. It looks like he’s given up, so why shouldn’t they?”

“Come on, let’s walk.” Roan stood. It wasn’t safe to linger too long anywhere now. “You may be right. And if I know Ferus, he’s thinking the same thing. There has to be a reason that he’s remaining.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I wish I could talk to him.”

“The people of Ussa are ready to give in,” Dona said. “Even in our short time here, I’ve heard the rumblings. If the Empire takes over the factories and builds more, there will be plenty of new jobs. People want to feed their families.”

“That’s what they’re counting on.”

“Yes, well, you can’t eat integrity. Only bread.”

They were silent as they walked, taking a round-about route now, alert for Imperial spies. When Roan was certain they weren’t being followed, he went to a nondescript house on a narrow street. As he and Dona walked up to the entry, the door opened. They slipped inside.

“Roan!” Amie Antin stepped forward and embraced him. “We didn’t know what happened to you _ when you contacted us, we were so happy.” She turned to embrace Dona, who looked a bit startled at the gesture. She didn’t know Amie that well.

Amie dabbed at her dark eyes. “Silly, I know. It’s just that … we’ve had our losses lately. Terris and Naima.”

Roan felt the sadness grip him. “What happened?” “They were blasted by an Imperial ship. We think Darth Vader was aboard.” She bit her lip. “And Ferus was, too.”

There was an awkward pause. Roan knew how much it must have agonized Ferus to be aboard a ship that fired on those he’d fought beside and trusted. He hoped Ferus hadn’t known that the ships had been piloted by friends.

“Amie? Bring them inside,” a voice called.

Roan strode in. Wil sat on a low couch, his foot resting on a stool. It was strange to see strong, muscled Wil sitting down. He was usually full of energy.

“What happened?”

“Just some blasterfire.” Wil waved a hand. “Amie says I’ll live.”

Roan looked at Amie for confirmation, and she nodded, telling him that Wil would be all right. Roan picked up a tenderness between them. He sensed something had changed. At last Wil had probably told Amie how he felt about her.

“I was down by the garrison,” Wil explained. “Under cover, of course. We like to monitor the comings and goings. Pick up a surprising amount of information that way. I was challenged by a sentry, and I decided to run for it.”

“I guess you didn’t run fast enough,” Roan said, taking a seat next to Wil. “Dona wants to join us. Officially, I mean.”

“We’re happy to hear it,” Wil said. “You’II be a valuable addition to the Eleven, Dona.” He grimaced. “Such as we are.”

“She’ll need new ID docs,” Roan said. “I will, too. I can fabricate them. What shape is the equipment in? I know you had to move headquarters.”

“We’re set up here for ID fabrication,” Wil said. “But we’re talking about moving again. We’ve reached the point where we think it’s best to move every few weeks. We’ve scattered the group, and we all keep moving. The only trouble is … ” Wil hesitated. “A few months ago, we had no problem getting Ussans to volunteer their help. Even if they weren’t part of the Eleven, they loaned us equipment. Apartments. Garages to store things. Safe houses. But that help has slowed to a trickle.”

“They’re growing tired of sacrifice,” Amie said. “And who can blame them? Our successes have boiled down to simply surviving. There seems no end in sight. The Empire just keeps consolidating. Growing stronger. .More organized.”

“We can’t give up,” Roan said .

“Of course not,” Wil agreed. “We need to have a success. Something big. Something that will give them hope. But we’re running out of options. Our funds are very low. We need credits for bribes, for equipment.”

“We might be able to help you there,” Roan said, with a glance at Dona. “Do you remember Trever Flume?”

“Of course,” Amie said. “We just saw him a few weeks ago.”

“Trever has been the main contact to a resistance worker named Flame. We don’t know her real name. She’s from Acherin. She has an enormous fortune at her disposal. Her idea is to fund as many resistance groups as she can, then link them into one central operation. She’s going planet to planet to contact the resistance on each one. She’s calling the operation by the code name Moonstrike.”

“It’s an idea,” Wil said, considering it. “It could expose us too much. But then again there’s strength in numbers. We’ve often wished we could coordinate with other planets. Share information.”

“It’s worth a meeting,” Amie said. “Would Flame come here?”

“She’s already on Bellassa, waiting for our signal,” Roan said. “She would be willing to fund an operation for the Eleven.”

“Let’s have a meeting, then,” Wil said, with a glance at Amie.

“What about Ferus?” Roan asked.

Amie looked down at her lap. Wil studied his wounded foot.

“Be honest,” Roan said.

“We support whatever he’s doing,” Wil said. “It’s not that.”

“But does he have to be so visible?” Amie burst out. “He’s all over the HoloNet.”

“They planned it that way, I’m sure,” Roan said. “Ferus is stuck. He has to keep his position.”

“But why?” Amie asked. “Has he brought back any information we can use?”

Roan shook his head. He couldn’t explain to Amie and Wil that Ferus had a larger goal now. Ferus was looking for Jedi. He was lending his support and expertise to the resistance when he could, but it wasn’t his first priority. As a double agent, he was in a perfect position to eventually access any records the Empire would have on suspected Jedi activity. Roan knew well that Ferus couldn’t give that up. Not yet.

“At this point, we’re wondering if the danger he’s putting himself in is worth it,” Wil said. “I don’t believe that he’s on the side of the Empire, but many Bellassans do. The evidence is in front of their faces.”

“It had better be worth it,” Amie said.

“I’m sure it will be,” Roan said. “I’m sure Ferus is painfully aware of the image he’s projecting.” Roan thought a moment. “In any case, we should make contact with him while he’s here. This factory business - what’s really going on? It’s never really what they say it is.”

“And it’s rarely to our benefit,” Wil added.

“I’ll contact him,” Roan said.

“But how? He’s surrounded by the Empire. He’s practically attached to Darth Vader’s hip,” Amie said with a grimace.

“I have a way,” Roan promised.

Attachment. Ferus wasn’t supposed to have any. If he wanted to be a true Jedi, that is.

But what did that mean, attachment? Even as a Padawan it had puzzled him. He had been attached to Siri, his Master. She’d been a mentor, a big sister, a presence in his life that had protected him and, in her own way, cherished him.

What does that mean, to not be attached? He’d asked her the question on a long run to the Outer Rim. Siri had been in one of her favorite positions, on the cockpit floor. She used to like to stretch out there with the hum of the engines under her back, her booted feet crossed on the copilot seat.

It seems so hard, Master. To have so many beings who are important to me but not to be attached to them. I don’t understand what is meant by “no attachment.”

Siri didn’t sit up, but he saw her boot swing back and forth, back and forth, as she considered the question. Thinking back now, Ferus wondered at the expression on her face. There had been a play of emotion that made her look soft, then sad, and then that emotion just… went away, and what was left was simply contemplation, a Master trying to arrive at the right answer for a question that had no answer.

It’s not so hard to explain, Siri had answered finally. To love without wanting to possess or influence. To cherish without keeping. To have without holding.

Ferus remembered nodding. He had thought he’d gotten it. As usual, he had wanted to please her. I understand, Master. Siri had looked at him then and smiled. No, you don’t. It’s not something to understand. It’s something to strive for.

But here he was on Bellassa, and everything here reminded him of attachment. Attachment to a homeworld, attachment to Roan, attachment to friends. He kept bumping into memories wherever he looked.

He saw that the Jedi were right. It was interfering with his Force connection. It was interfering with his concentration. All he wanted to do was slip away and find Roan, relax into the camaraderie of the Eleven.

After what had happened with the Empire, Obi-Wan had told him that because so much had changed, perhaps the rules of the Jedi would change — if there were any Jedi alive to change them. Perhaps attachment would be valued. They were up against a system that valued nothing, least of all attachment. So maybe they needed to hold what they could.

He didn’t want to let them go. He didn’t want to let any of it go. Any of the attachment in his heart.

He would have to find a way to make it all fit. His connection to the Force, and his connection to the Living Force. Not the abstract, but the particular. A particular face that brought him joy. A familiar walk he searched for among the throngs in Ussa. He could find strength in that, not weakness.

He hadn’t known how to be close to someone when he left the Temple. He had learned. Roan had shown him how. Roan had grown up in an extended family that was full of arguments and laughter and family lunches that went on through dinner and into the midnight hour. They had accepted Ferus without question, and they had become his family, too.

And now he was betraying them. They were seeing him on the HoloNet. They were wondering how he could have betrayed them in such a way.

He hadn’t been alone since he’d arrived. Vader had made sure of that. He’d been dragged to meeting after meeting, shown off like a trained animal. Constantly managed, constantly escorted, so that he was unable to talk to a Bellassan directly.

He could get away. He just wasn’t sure if he should. Let them do their work, let them present him as a traitor to the Bellassans. Until he knew for sure what he was doing and where he was going, he would continue to feel the agony of this and do nothing except wait — and hope he would discover more about Twilight and more about what the Empire was actually doing on Bellassa. Because he knew something for sure: Something was up. Which wasn’t very much to know, but he had hopes.

The meeting was with engineers and scientists from many planets around the galaxy, all volunteering their time to retool Ussan factories and get their economy going again.

Or at least that was the spin. Ferus waited in an adjoining room. He was never in the meetings where the real words were said. They trotted him out for the benefit of journalists and native Bellassans. He was present for the meeting in which platitudes were exchanged and promises made that had nothing to do with the real issues.

He was in a factory. The factories in Ussa were models of cleanliness and order. They were confined to one district, and mixed both advanced technology and good design. Ussans were proud of their textiles and ceramics, which were coveted around the galaxy. The factories weren’t large, but there were many of them, and they usually employed a sizable population in Ussa.

They’d been closed for six months.

Ferus looked out the window at a garden that was set up with tables and chairs for the workers to eat outdoors in good weather. Bellassa was blessed with flowering bushes that bloomed throughout the year. To his surprise the garden showed evidence of care. The path borders were sharp, the bushes trimmed and thriving. But the factory had been closed.

“I keep it up.”

Ferus turned at the sound of the voice. A man of middle years, with silver hair, looked out the window at the garden; “It was never my job. I was in charge of security. Then I became the caretaker when it closed. But I couldn’t stand to see the weeds choking it. It was always a pretty spot. So I made sure it stayed that way, hoping the factory would reopen soon.”

“It looks like it will,” Ferus said.

“Say, aren’t you supposed to be in that meeting there?”

Ferus realized that the man hadn’t recognized him. Since Ferus wore the clothes of an outlander, the man assumed that he was one of the scientists,

“Yes, but they locked the door,” Ferus said.

The man held up a key card. “I can open it, so you can sneak in the back.” He winked. “No sense riling up the Empire. Not these days.”

“I appreciate it,” Ferus said. Maybe he could learn something, finally, if he entered before he was supposed to.

He followed the man down the hallway and they stopped in front of the unmarked door. The man swiped his key card and the door slid open noiselessly. Ferus slipped inside. He was behind a group of Imperial security officers, all of them high-ranking. They did not turn. Darth Vader was present, requiring their attention. The gray-faced Moff Tarkin was speaking.

“… will have the technical resources of the Empire to assist you,” he was saying. “If you need assistants or additional computers or resource materials, you can requisition them. On Bellassa the focus will be on new technologies for power conduits and modular components for artificial atmospheres on an unprecedented scale. You will divide into focus groups and attack problems with new solutions. We expect innovation and we demand results. You have the honor of working on a project that will benefit the security and stability of the entire galaxy.”

One of the scientists spoke up, a serious-looking woman in a dark burgundy tunic. “But what is the project?”

“That is on a need-to-know basis,” Tarkin said. “How can we work on this if we don’t know the big picture?” someone else asked.

Ferus felt the power of Vader’s anger ripple across the room.