by Jude Watson
“I don’t know what happened to the others,” she said. “I wasn’t there. But…the word on the street is that everyone is dead. They didn’t capture anyone. They searched every dwelling and then blew up the whole alley. No one could have survived.”
“What do we do now?” Trever asked, trying to swallow his grief and shock, although he knew he wouldn’t be able to. It sat like a rock inside his stomach and choked his every breath.
Ry-Gaul sat down heavily in a chair next to Flame. “We go on.”
Bail still refused to believe that anyone living at the palace could be a spy, but after upgrading his system for the holo-communication with Obi-Wan, he picked up a bug. Someone had invaded his system and placed a monitor on it.
“Luckily it doesn’t appear that my code has been broken…yet,” Bail said. “But the record of who I contact can be just as damaging. I wiped our communication with Obi-Wan, of course, but everything that came before has no doubt been reported.”
“The only other people who knew that Antilles would go through TerraAsta were Queen Breha and Deara,” Ferus said. He hesitated. “Deara…”
“Don’t.” Bail’s voice was curt. “She is closest to us. Breha’s sister. Her loyalty is unquestioned.”
“You said Memily was a new employee,” Ferus said.
“She is the daughter of one of my most trusted friends.”
“Senator Organa, someone has to be the spy.”
Bail sighed and said nothing.
“We have to set a trap,” Ferus said. “It’s the only way. Someone here at the palace is passing along information to Dartan Ziemba. Look, I know that you’ve been fighting a losing battle to keep an Imperial Governor off your planet.”
“I’ve lost that battle. He arrives tomorrow.” Bail shook his head. “Deara tells me that there are some who want me to offer armed resistance. Buy weapons. That would violate everything we stand for.”
“I saw Deara at the market at dawn yesterday,” Ferus said. “Does she go often?”
Bail crossed and looked out the window. His thoughts seemed far away. He waved a hand. “Lately, yes. She brings back fresh muffins for the children.”
Why? Ferus wondered. When Memily was such a good baker?
Ferus thought again of meeting Deara at the market. He had been distracted. Searching for the spy, and thinking about his own use of anger, how he had tapped into the dark side of the Force and what that meant.
He hadn’t thought it through.
“I have to go,” he told Bail.
“Now? What about setting the trap?”
“If I’m right, I’ll come back with a plan,” Ferus promised.
Ferus walked through the market. He saw Dartan Ziemba down the first lane of stalls. Dartan sold children’s toys. Ferus kept out of sight, watching him. Business wasn’t too good.
He kept walking, up and down, watching and looking, pretending to study goods, occasionally buying a thing or two to avoid suspicion. It was a pleasant day and the market was crowded.
When he had discovered what he’d come for, he hurried back to the palace, slashing the airspeeder through the space lanes. There was no time to lose.
He burst into Bail’s office. “You must write a secret memo saying that Alderaan will meet the Governor with armed resistance!”
“Why would I do that? Alderaan has no weapons.”
“I’m afraid that you do. Dartan Ziemba was the conduit. Mostly likely someone from the Empire—I suspect Darth Vader—arranged for a shipment of weapons to arrive at the spaceport. Ziemba was to arrange to hide them and then move them to another location at the right time.”
“Where?”
“The open-air market.”
“I’m not getting this,” Bail said. “Why would Vader want to arm Alderaan?”
“He doesn’t. He wants to send the Imperial Governor here and expose the weapons so he has a reason to place your planet under his control.”
Bail nodded. “Of course. That is exactly the way he thinks.”
“But if you send that message—that you will meet the Governor with armed resistance—it will go to the Emperor himself. They will be delighted that you’ve fallen in with their plans without even knowing it. You’ve been told that your people want you to fight—”
Bail looked ashen. “By Deara.”
“And so they will arrive here with weapons and ships, and they will find…nothing. Because we’re going to get those weapons out. You’re going to detain Ziemba for questioning and then let him go. Meanwhile, the market will be cleaned of weapons. Then when the Empire arrives they’ll meet no resistance. They’ll look like fools. The people of Alderaan will be the heroes. And the spy will be discredited. His information will be suspect. Not only his information on you, but his information on Leia.”
“That’s diabolical,” Bail said. “I like it. As long as my people don’t get hurt.”
“The Empire will bring Star Destroyers to scare you,” Ferus said. “But they won’t attack.”
Bail stood. “Then I have work to do.”
Hydra closed the holofile. She looked at Ferus.
“You intend to submit this?”
“I do,” Ferus said.
“You have reached the conclusion that the report of a Force-sensitive child is without foundation?”
“I have.”
“Well, I have not reached that conclusion.”
“We’ve conducted dozens of interviews. Combed through official records. Examined the site. Done surveillance. It’s clear to me that whatever happened wasn’t noteworthy. Not an example of the Force, but a coincidence so unremarkable that…nobody remarked on it.”
“There is a reason nobody is talking to us.”
“Sure,” Ferus said. “They hate us.”
Hydra batted her hand at his words as if they were a cloud of tiny flies. “That is immaterial. They’re hiding something.”
“They are afraid of us,” Ferus said. “With good reason. So they aren’t going to give us any information. But let’s not confuse that with actually having something to say. I say we close the file. I’m your superior,” Ferus reminded her.
She hesitated. “Technically that is true.”
“Is it true, or not true?” Ferus asked the question brusquely. If he pushed her, Hydra would push back. Her contempt for him would guarantee that.
Because he had to discredit her as well as Dartan Ziemba.
On the way, he’d tried to reach Keets at Thugger’s Alley. He wanted Keets to pull in some favors with the renegade journalists who were starting up the Shadow Net, the alternative to the Empire-controlled news. The lack of response from Keets or anyone at the hideout on Thugger’s Alley was worrisome.
“It is true.” Her mouth set angrily. “And it is also true that in cases where Inquisitors do not agree, the junior member of the team may write a dissenting report.”
“Certainly. If you feel you have a solid foundation, despite investigating for four days and coming up empty-handed, then feel free to clutter the Imperial archives with another memo.” Ferus shrugged. “Have fun. But I suggest we move onto the next names on the list and really get something done. It’s time to leave Alderaan.”
Hydra’s usually expressionless eyes burned with fury. “I’ll file my report immediately.”
Good, Ferus thought.
“Soon Alderaan will know how fruitless it is to resist,” she said. “They’ll recognize that we’re in charge. Investigations like this will then go smoothly. The Imperial Governor will see to that.”
He wanted to smile at her smugness. Instead he nodded gravely. “Yes,” he said. “I wish for that too.”
Breha and Bail waited in their sitting room for Deara. Bail looked at his wife’s lovely face. He could see the pain there. He had broken her heart.
Her beloved sister was a spy.
He had written the message and put a false “send” on it. He had set the new security control. He had seen with his own eyes on the mon
itor that Deara had sneaked into his office, copied his message, and sent it off.
He placed his hand over his wife’s. The burden of ruling was on Breha every moment of her life. She had loved Bail through many separations where she would remain at the palace and he would be at the Senate on Coruscant. She had encouraged his political career. She had worried about him during the Clone Wars. And even while she ruled her world and watched out for its citizens, she had drawn her family close, had extended a hand to all her family, her friends, down to the last citizen of Alderaan, she was there to fight for them and help them and represent them. Now this.
Deara entered, her face surrounded by thick coils of lustrous dark hair. She had her usual warm smile. “It’s a lovely day. How about having lunch in the garden?”
“Deara, we need to speak with you,” Breha said.
Breha’s tone made Deara stop short. “Is something wrong?”
“Something is very wrong. There is a spy in the house.”
Deara swallowed. “I see.”
“You are that spy.”
Bail admired how Breha kept her focus. She didn’t let one bit of her anguish show.
They didn’t know what Deara would do. They had expected her to deny it. But there was no defiance. No argument. Deara merely crumpled. She sank onto the floor, her face in her hands.
No one said anything for long moments. Breha kept her gaze on her sister. “He came to me when I was visiting Coruscant.” Deara’s voice was muffled.
“Vader?”
Slowly, she nodded. “He threatened me. He was terrifying. Then he said he just wanted…to know when Bail was here, and when he was planning to leave. At first. Then he wanted…more.”
“You gave them information about my private communications,” Bail said.
She nodded tearfully. “Just who you wrote to, who had sent you messages. Not what was in them.”
“Only because you could not break the code.”
“No!” she protested, vigorously shaking her head. “I would never have told them that much. I thought the information I gave would be harmless….”
“You told them that Raymus Antilles would be returning through the TerraAsta spaceport,” Bail said. “He could have been arrested.”
“They had no reason to arrest him,” Deara said. “They wanted to discover if he was carrying a message. I knew your code was unbreakable—”
“These are merely excuses for the inexcusable!” Bail thundered, suddenly losing his temper.
Breha shot Bail a look to keep his voice down. They would do this with their dignity intact. “You told us there were those who wanted to use weapons against the Empire,” she said. “Was that true?”
Deara shook her head and said through her tears, “I was told to say it. I knew you would discount it! It seemed such a small thing….” She cried harder.
“What about Leia?” Breha asked. “You filed a report about her. Was that a small thing?”
“It wasn’t me! I would never inform on Leia,” Deara insisted. “I would never endanger the children.”
“Deara, don’t you see that you already have?” Breha asked her. “By becoming a spy, you brought danger to this house.”
Deara shook her head tearfully. “My dear sister, there is already danger in this house. Bail’s opposition to the Emperor has placed you there, not me.”
Breha looked at Bail. She knew those words had gone to his heart. It was his greatest fear, that his work in the Senate would one day threaten his family.
“How dare you say that! My husband’s courage fills my heart with pride. He does not bring danger to this house. He brings honor to it. You are the one who brought dishonor and danger here.”
Bail took Breha’s hand and kissed it. She turned to him with tears in her eyes. “Dangerous days,” she said softly. “But we will never, ever lose our resolve.”
A cowed Deara put her hands over her face again. “I’m so sorry.”
“You are weak,” Breha said. “But you are my sister. You must leave the palace forever.”
Deara nodded, her face hidden by her hands.
“We have arranged secret passage for you, and a safehouse on Ankori-7,” Bail said.
She lifted her face, surprised. “I am free to go?”
“Yes,” Breha said. “You are free to go.”
“You let her go?” Ferus asked, incredulous. “You had an opportunity. She could have fed them more information! You could have used her.”
“She is family,” Breha said.
“At the very least, she deserved prison,” Ferus said.
“She is family,” Breha repeated softly.
“You could be putting yourself in danger,” Ferus said. “They could track her down. They could still use her.”
“If I make a mistake, I’d rather do it on the side of forgiveness,” Bail said.
To this, Ferus had no answer. The Holocron burned inside his tunic and he knew what the voice would say.
It is foolish not to destroy your enemies. Foolish and cowardly.
But Ferus looked with his heart at Bail and Breha, and thought they were among the bravest people he’d ever known.
There was too much heartbreak in the galaxy now. Too many families broken, too many friends torn apart.
What would it be like to never feel heartbreak again? What if you could conquer grief, tamp it down, and never feel the searing heat of it again?
You can.
Ferus felt the heat of the Holocron next to his chest. Suddenly his breath was short. Perspiration broke out all over his body.
All of that, and more, can be yours as easily as saying one word.
Yes.
Bail and Ferus waited at the spaceport. It was what they had expected, but it was still a terrifying sight to see the inner atmosphere thick with Imperial craft. The Governor’s star cruiser was flanked with Imperial fighters.
“I hate this,” Bail said, his teeth set.
“Are the reporters in place?” Ferus asked.
Bail nodded. “The Shadow Net will have a simultaneous broadcast of the arrival,” he said. “The news will be all over the Core.”
“They’ll take their time landing for maximum effect,” Ferus said. Then he slipped away; it would not benefit either of them for him and Bail to be seen together.
The first ship to land was a transport ship. The storm-troopers poured out, their weapons held high. They lined up in long rows, sunlight glinting on the white plastoid.
All traffic had been halted for the arrival. The Alderaanians at the spaceport were crowded behind the bristling weapons of the stormtroopers.
The Imperial Governor’s star cruiser landed.
The ramp descended. Another squad of stormtroopers came trotting down, their weapons extended as if expecting to meet a battle.
They were followed by a small man in a purple cape—the Imperial Governor. Next to him was Emperor Palaptine. A shudder went through the crowd. From a distance, Ferus could see Bail stiffen. They hadn’t expected to see Palpatine himself.
“People of Alderaan,” the Governor called out, his voice loud, reaching every person at the spaceport. “We come in peace. We are here to protect you. Word has reached our ears that you are prepared to fight. We do not wish a confrontation. The Empire is about peace.”
Bail stepped forward. “The galaxy knows that Alderaan is peaceful. We have no weapons.”
The Emperor signaled to his elite Red Guards. “We shall see.”
The procession moved to the open-air market below. Customers and vendors ran as the stormtroopers methodically overturned stalls and bins full of items. Fruit was trampled underfoot. The ground was soon stained red from berries.
The stormtroopers uncovered the durasteel bins.
“Open them,” the Governor commanded.
The stormtroopers opened every bin in the market. They were filled with tools. Handmade clothes. Fabric. Kitchen items. The stuff of everyday living, nothing more.
The
vendors had worked all night to get the weapons out. Raymus Antilles had loaded them aboard his cruiser secretly and took off. Once again, there were no weapons on Alderaan.
The Imperial Governor stood by the Emperor’s side, surrounded by hundreds of troops. The market was wrecked. The people stood, watching. Not afraid, Ferus saw. Smiling.
It was the sight of the Emperor surrounded by ruined fruit, by squads of stormtroopers facing off against a threat that consisted of children and ordinary citizens out with their shopping baskets. It was the sight of the Imperial Governor, so slight and small, with his ornate purple cape and bodyguards with raised rifles around him. On Alderaan, the sight did not make sense.
A slow rumble began in the crowd. It started with barely concealed smiles, then erupted into titters and laughter.
The Imperial Governor looked up at the Emperor nervously. The stormtroopers looked for an order.
“Disperse!” the Governor rasped. “Back to the transports!”
Ferus smiled. So did the Emperor.
He felt the wind stir his cheek. Darth Vader was suddenly beside him.
“I see this amuses you,” he said.
“All of this effort for one little Governor,” Ferus said. “Why the show of force? There’s no resistance on Alderaan.”
“Resistance is everywhere,” Vader said. “It is up to us to decide when and where to crush it. You gave these people a hollow victory.”
“I had nothing to do with it.”
“So you say. Their defeat will come. This humiliation will not be forgotten. The Empire chooses its time. Yesterday on Coruscant we became tired of observing a resistance cell right under our noses. So we crushed it.”
“Good for you,” Ferus said, but his anxiety ticked inside him.
“Thugger’s Alley, in the Orange District,” Vader continued. “You might have known the one in charge—he had been friendly with the Jedi. Dexter Jettster, his name was.”
“Was?”
“His hideout was destroyed. Everyone inside was killed.”
Shock and grief tore through him. But now was not the time. It was time to hit Vader back. “When I mentioned Mustafar to you the other day, I fear I upset you.”