by Alex Wheeler
Was it all happening again? Was the Rebel Alliance just another doomed resistance? Were Luke and Leia marked for death, or worse?
No, Ferus thought, stepping into the Rebel briefing room, readying himself to face the Rebel leadership. It's different this time. It has to be. Two decades earlier, a preliminary version of the Death Star had destroyed the kernels of a resistance movement—and nearly everyone Ferus trusted and valued.
But this time, Luke had destroyed the Death Star.
The tables were turning. Ferus and Obi-Wan had waited a long time. But Ferus sensed that their wait was almost at an end. He knew well that what felt like instinct could easily be wishful thinking, desire overwhelming good sense. But nonetheless, he needed to believe that this time, they would win.
They would survive.
The Rebel leaders sat at a long table, watching him expectantly: General Rieekan, General Dodonna, Wedge Antilles. Luke, flanked by Leia and his friend Han. Ferus had watched carefully as Leia saw Luke, safe and sound, for the first time. He saw the tears of relief welling in her eyes, and noticed how quickly and surely she wiped them away. He saw that she was still reluctant to leave Luke's side, as if determined to keep him safe, no matter what it took.
They deserve to know, he thought. Orphaned children, alone in the galaxy. They deserve to know they are family.
But even without the truth, it was obvious they still had each other. Some part of them must have known the truth.
Div slouched against a wall in the back of the room. Ferus had requested his presence, and the Rebel leaders had agreed. Div had been slightly harder to convince. But in the end, he had stayed.
"I've spent the last two months tracking Darth Vader's actions," Ferus explained to the assembled group. It had been a difficult task. If he ventured too near, Vader would surely sense his presence and the game would be up. So he'd shadowed the Dark Lord from afar, searching desperately for some clue to his agenda—and some way to foil it. He'd arrived on the Star Destroyer in a TIE fighter equipped with an illegal hyperdrive—his escape route. Keeping the elaborate modifications secret meant keeping the TIE under his sole control. This was the only reason he'd made sure to be behind the controls when the fighters were scrambled. If he hadn't been there, Luke would have flown straight into the Empire's arms. Only luck had saved him. And they couldn't count on luck to do it again. "And among other things, I've learned that Vader has become very interested in an Imperial commander named Rezi Soresh."
"I've never heard of him," General Dodonna said.
"Not surprising," Ferus said. "Soresh keeps a low profile. He's a master bureaucrat—just shuffling flimsiplast to all appearances. But he's managed to amass a surprising amount of power, and he's ambitious for more. He has a new plan for currying favor with the Emperor: killing the pilot who destroyed the Death Star."
Every head in the room turned toward Luke.
"Soresh is the man who hired the assassin you know as X-7," Ferus continued.
In the back of the room, Div shifted his weight. It was his only reaction to the words. His face remained blank, his eyes facing forward. But Ferus could sense the shame rolling off him in waves. He told himself he wasn't working for the Empire, Ferus observed. He's been lying to himself for too long, and now it hurts to face the truth.
He would have borne that pain himself if he could have. But it was Div's burden—and it might be exactly what he needed.
"X-7 has dropped off the radar," Ferus continued. "Even Soresh has lost track of him. But Vader is on his tail. He has agents sweeping the galaxy for any record of his attempts on Luke's life, anyone he may have hired…"
Now the faces turned to look at Div. Ferus nodded. "Yes. Lune Divinian is Vader's last link to X-7. That Firespray's files contain all the information Vader's agent has been able to collect on X-7. He was on his way to deliver that—and Div—to Vader."
"I don't understand," Leia said. "Why does Vader care what this Soresh is up to? And why is he so determined to find X-7?"
"That's still unclear," Ferus said, although he was increasingly sure he knew exactly what Vader was up to. And it terrified him. According to Ferus's sources, Vader had learned that Luke was the one who'd destroyed the Death Star. He'd made it a priority to hunt down the Rebel pilot himself—and had made it clear to his men that Luke was not to be killed.
It sent a chill up Ferus's spine. Because if Vader was keeping Luke alive, it could mean he knew who Luke really was.
And had plans for him.
"What we do know is that X-7, Soresh, and Vader are all bound together—and I believe if we can find X-7 before they do, we might be able to use him."
"We can find him," Luke said confidently. "We just need the right bait. And obviously—"
"No!" Leia exclaimed. She turned to Luke. "It's too dangerous."
"I can handle it, Leia," Luke said, visibly annoyed.
"I'm not saying you can't handle it. I'm saying it's a foolish risk."
"It's a worthwhile risk. You'd want to do it."
Ferus cut in. "It's the wrong strategy," he explained. "We don't want to draw X-7 into an attack. We certainly don't want to kill him."
"Who's 'we'?" Han drawled. "Because trust me, I want to—"
"As I say, we want to use him," Ferus said, pressing on. "The records on the Firespray indicate that X-7 is trying to hunt down traces of his former identity, from before he was inducted into the Imperial assassin program. He remembers none of it, and he's been completely wiped from the system. But what if he were to find some clues to his past? And what if those clues gave him reason to despise the Empire as much as we do? What if instead of killing X-7, we could turn him to our side—against the Empire?"
General Rieekan shook his head. "Something like that would require extensive access to Imperial computer systems. I'm not sure we have the resources to spare."
Ferus smiled. Little did they know they were looking at one of the best slicers in the galaxy. Long ago, before Alderaan, before he'd turned himself into an invisible man, he'd been a galaxy-class slicer, specializing in creating false identities. "That won't be a problem," Ferus said. "But in my experience—"
"Your experience as a botanist and courtier?" Leia asked, raising her eyebrows.
"I wasn't always a botanist, Your Highness," he said. "I know about creating false pasts for men who need them. And I can tell you that just as the best lies always contain a kernel of truth, the best false identities are always based on real ones. Especially when time is short. What we need is an identity to appropriate, a man around X-7's age who died or disappeared a decade ago. Just at the moment when X-7 entered the Empire's program. Someone whose entire family was destroyed by the Empire, someone with reason to want revenge. Perhaps someone with a single remaining relative who can fill in a few carefully selected blanks."
"That's a pretty specific order," General Dodonna said.
"Yes," Ferus said evenly, swallowing the emotion that threatened to consume him. "It is."
Div gave him a look of pure disgust. Then he turned his back on the proceedings and left. Ferus had known that Div would catch on.
And he knew that the younger man wouldn't be easily convinced.
"We give X-7 the identity he's looking for," Ferus said, careful not to betray his distress. "We tell him exactly what we want him to hear—and unleash him on the Empire."
"You want to brainwash a brainwashed man?" Leia asked incredulously. "Then turn him into a weapon?"
"He's already been turned into a weapon," Ferus pointed out. "We're just pointing him in the right direction."
Div closed his eyes and tipped his face up to the sun. The chill water of the creek lapped against his bare ankles. The wind whispered through the leaves, making it easy to imagine ghosts peeking through the spindly Massassi branches. But when he opened his eyes, he was totally alone. Just as he wanted it. The clearing was only a kilometer away from the Great Temple that served as the Rebel Base, but the hidden pocket of jungle
was so quiet and still he felt like he was the only man on the moon. It was the kind of spot where he could hear himself think.
It was the kind of spot where he could hide forever.
But of course Ferus found him.
Ferus sat beside him, silent. It was another thing that was different about the Jedi after all these years: The Ferus he remembered had been a talkative, joyful man—at least before things had become really bad. Something dark had settled over Ferus after the day he'd watched Darth Vader murder his dearest friend. A shadow across his face, across his heart. In the end, Ferus had fought off the dark side of the Force, and the light had returned to his eyes. But Div wondered if those days had left a permanent scar.
"You can't mean it," Div said finally. "You can't possibly expect that—"
"I do," Ferus said. "I'm sorry."
Div struggled to control his temper. Ferus obviously thought that Div hated him. But that wasn't the case. It was just that seeing Ferus again hurt, and it was a pain he'd tried long and hard to forget. For years, he'd asked himself, Why couldn't I protect them? And he'd wondered whether Ferus could have saved them.
But he hadn't been there. And yes, part of him hated Ferus for that. But not as much as he hated himself. For failing.
"I suppose you're going to tell me it's the only option," Div said sourly.
"No." Ferus paused. "Just the best option."
Div exploded. "How is it the best anything to abuse Trever's memory like that? And you honestly expect me to go along with it? For what? To help them?" He jerked his head at the path that led back to the Rebel barracks. "You think Trever would want that?"
Ferus tilted his head. "Trever risked his life for this cause, time and time again. He died for it." He swallowed hard. "Using his identity in this way…it could give his death meaning."
"Nothing can give his death meaning," Div shot back angrily. "All death is meaningless."
"And all life?" Ferus asked mildly. "Is that the next logical conclusion?"
Div didn't respond. He remembered this from his childhood, the Jedi-way—small, innocent questions designed to guide you to one big answer. Ferus always liked to claim he wasn't a real Jedi—after all, he'd left the order as a teenager, before becoming a Jedi Master. He'd given up that life and spent nearly a decade living as an ordinary man. But from where Div was sitting, Ferus was just like the rest of them—sure of his own wisdom, sure he was right. Full of secrets. Whatever the technicalities, Div thought, Ferus was a Jedi.
It wasn't a compliment.
"This won't work without your cooperation," Ferus said. "But I didn't come out here to convince you." He stood up, brushing the dirt off his clothes. He'd borrowed the ill-fitting shirt from General Dodonna. It was strange to see him dressed as a Rebel soldier—nearly as strange as it had been to see him in Imperial garb. "The choice is yours, Div." He patted Div on the shoulder. And as much as he wanted to, Div didn't squirm away. "I trust you. I always have."
Maybe you shouldn't, Div thought as Ferus left him. You trusted me to look after Trever, and look how that worked out.
It had been a long time since anyone had trusted him, and since he'd dared trust anyone else. Trusting people was the kind of thing that got you dead in a hurry. And letting other people trust you was nearly as dangerous. It meant their lives were your responsibility—and so were their deaths. It was easier to be alone.
But once Ferus was gone, Div grew disgusted by his own company. He started back toward the Rebel camp. Midway, Luke appeared, his little astromech droid in tow.
Luke waved, grinning. "Glad I found you!"
"You were looking for me?" Div asked, instantly cautious. The Rebels seemed to have lost interest in locking him up now that they had all the information they needed on this X-7. But Div hadn't forgotten that before that day, he'd been a prisoner on this moon.
And he suspected that Luke hadn't forgotten that Div had once tried to kill him.
Luke drew his lightsaber and activated the beam.
Div tensed, ready to leap out of the way. He'd seen Luke handle the weapon. His efforts were clumsy, hesitant. Div could disarm him. Probably.
"I come out here to practice sometimes," Luke said. "More privacy, you know?"
"Uh, yeah." Div felt like a fool.
"Back on Kamino, you saved my life with this thing," Luke said, lifting the lightsaber. "Like you'd been using it your whole life."
Div shrugged. "Like I say, just something I picked up."
"Well, I was kind of hoping…" Luke reddened. "You think you could teach me some moves?"
"What?"
"It's no big deal," Luke said quickly. "I just figured…I don't really have anyone else who can show me how to use this thing."
That's what you think, Div thought. He didn't understand why Ferus was so determined not to tell Luke the truth. Why not start training him as a Jedi now, before it was too late?
Like it's too late for me.
"Sounds great," Div said. "I could use the exercise."
It wasn't exercise he needed. It was distraction. Pushing himself to the point of exhaustion, and past it. This was perfect.
"Think of the lightsaber as an extension of your body," he said, repeating the advice he'd been given by the Jedi Ry-Gaul and Garen Muln. "Always be aware of its position, "but never watch your blade—you watch your enemy. Your focus has to be narrow and wide, all at once."
Div showed him Shii-Cho, the first of the seven Jedi fighting forms. He taught Luke the basics, thrust and parry, lunge and deflect. Div cringed as Luke ran through his velocity drills looking like a child waving a stick. But he would learn. Form III, Soresu, was more advanced, but Luke had already figured out many of the basic laserblast-deflection techniques. His movements were still too loose and ranging, making him a wide target for incoming blasts.
Every time Div used the lightsaber to demonstrate, it was more difficult to hand it back. His body remembered all the moves, effortlessly falling into old habits. But it wasn't just the fighting techniques, or the deadly efficiency of the blade.
A lightsaber wasn't just another weapon. Using it, even for practice, meant connecting with the Force. There was no other way to achieve the balance, the necessary equilibrium of stillness and motion. Wielding the lightsaber meant opening himself up to everything he'd shut out these last several years. It meant unlocking a door in his mind that he'd thought was sealed forever.
It was tempting to believe that it wasn't. Ferus seemed to believe that Luke could begin his training even as an adult—contrary to everything Div knew about Jedi traditions. So why couldn't Div return to his training, reclaim the skills of his youth, fulfill the destiny everyone had foreseen for him?
Even if he'd wanted it, Div felt sure it wouldn't work. Being a Jedi meant opening oneself up to the Force. It meant having trust. It required a degree of blind faith, of innocence, that Div had long since lost the capability to feel. He wasn't willing to let that vulnerability—that weakness—back into himself.
"Like this?" Luke asked, executing a perfect riposte-counterparry combination. He spun around, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, slashing the lightsaber across a bough of the nearest Massassi tree with startling accuracy. Not that Div was about to reveal that he was impressed.
"That's great…as long as your enemy moves no faster than a tree," Div said. "Again!"
Luke swept through the training exercise again, and again, blade flashing, eyes lit with determination. Div couldn't help remembering his own training many years ago. Hiding out on an asteroid with all those proud warriors, so eager for the day when he would be big enough to fight by their side. They had died for him, all of them. Gave him their one escape pod. Watched him disappear into space and waited to die. Safe in his pod, Div had watched as the Imperials had aimed their terrible weapon at the asteroid and erased it from existence.
All those people, giving up their lives so that Div could escape—so that the galaxy's "only hope" would survive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Belazura was a sewer.
According to the records, the planet had once been a popular vacation spot, its long stretches of white sandy beaches calling tourists from all over the Inner Rim. X-7 had scanned the holopics in disgust. All that land, wasted on useless pursuits. Pale bodies stretching out under the three suns. Children splashing in the surf. And behind them, acres of lush green hills, cluttered with roaming herds of wilterbeasts and hairy bronaks.
The inefficiency of it was criminal—or should have been, at least.
X-7 climbed out of his Howlrunner and looked around with satisfaction. It was an open-air spaceport, left over from the old days when it would have afforded views of the sparkling coastlines and blooming hills. Those were all gone now, thanks to the Empire. The hills had been stripped as 11-17 miner droids probed the earth beneath for valuable varmigio and mutonium. Derricks and power generators dotted the water as far as the eye could see. The water itself had turned nearly black with runoff from the factories lining the coast; the three suns were barely visible through the thick haze of brown smog. X-7 took a deep, appreciative breath. That foul stench was the perfume of civilization.
The people of Belazura a had plenty to thank the Empire for. Before the Imperials arrived, Belazurans had been useless fools whose skills were limited to serving tropical drinks and pulling flailing Phindians out of the surf. But the Empire had put them to work in the mines and the factories, turned them into productive galactic citizens.
Though none of them looked very happy about it.
Except for periodic convoys of Imperial troop carriers, the narrow streets of Belazura's capital city were nearly deserted. Small wonder, as every able-bodied man and woman was either at work or asleep. But those who couldn't work—the aged, the infirm, the very young—shuffled down the sidewalks, heads down, shoulders hunched. X-7 had no hope that anyone here would recognize him from his past; Project Omega had rebuilt his facial structure. But even if he'd worn the same face as this Trever Flume, there seemed little chance that any of these Belazurans would even dare look at him.