by Alex Wheeler
"Nowhere near these parts," Luke said, peering at Ferus like he was trying to solve a puzzle. "I'm from Tatooine."
That much, I knew, Ferus thought. But how did you come to be here? And why didn't Obi-Wan warn me?
That was Obi-Wan for you. The Jedi only dispersed information on a need-to-know basis. And he seemed to feel there was little Ferus needed to know.
He hadn't heard from Obi-Wan in more than a year. Ferus had contacted him after the destruction of Alderaan, but Obi-Wan had responded to none of his transmissions. "You're very far from home," Ferus said. "You must miss it."
Several emotions flashed across Luke's face. Grief. Regret. Guilt.
Luke chose determination. "I'm where I need to be. It's like Ben said—" He stopped abruptly, shaking his head.
"Ben?" Ferus prompted him, something clenching in his chest. Years before, he had visited Obi-Wan on Tatooine. The Jedi Master lived as a hermit in the desert wasteland, but he had occasionally traded with some of the local creatures. They had called him by a different name. Ben.
Luke glanced at Leia, as if reminding himself that Ferus was not to be trusted. Ferus felt something in the boy shut down. "It's nothing," he said quickly. "Just something an old friend of mine used to say."
"Is he with you on Delaya? Can I meet him?" Ferus realized he was sounding too eager. "To thank him for protecting Her Highness," he added with more restraint. "As I thank all of you."
Luke looked down. "He's dead."
A shock wave crashed over Ferus, drowning out all sound, sight, and thought. The thought was unbelievable, unacceptable.
This "Ben" could have been anyone, he thought. There was no evidence linking him to Obi-Wan. Ferus wanted to grab for the tiny sliver of hope—but the Jedi in him rebelled against denying the truth.
And the truth was, some part of him had already known. Hadn't wanted to know, but known nonetheless.
Obi-Wan was gone. Ferus was alone.
He realized there was a glass of water in his hand. Lost in his daze, he hadn't even noticed the watchful stranger cross the room: Now the man knelt before him, peering intently into his eyes. "You went rather pale again—perhaps it would help to drink something."
Ferus shrank away from the man's touch. There was something in him—not wrong, but missing.
"And you are?" Ferus asked, his voice creaking like he hadn't used it in years.
"Tobin Elad," the man said, offering a hand to shake. Ferus forced himself to accept.
The Force flowed through every being in the galaxy. Good or evil, they all pulsed with different shades of the same energy. But there were a few beings in the galaxy who, for reasons even the Jedi didn't understand, lived beyond the energy flow. They couldn't be categorized into light or dark—they were simply null points, empty, as if they didn't exist.
This man existed, but the Force flowed around him, not through him. Nothing could penetrate the hollow at his center.
Ferus released the man's hand with poorly disguised relief. Touching him had been like grasping a puff of cold air.
"You're ill," Leia said, torn between annoyance and concern. "Is there someone we can call for you?"
Not anymore, he thought sourly, shaking his head.
But that wasn't true, was it? He wasn't alone in the galaxy, not with Luke and Leia standing before him. He need only speak the truth of their united past, reveal himself as a Jedi…It would be a shock for Leia, but perhaps it was time. Wasn't it wrong of him to deny her the truth, that most powerful weapon?
No.
The voice came from inside his head and outside at the same time.
Have patience.
Obi-Wan's voice.
Was his grief so deep that he'd conjured an imaginary Obi-Wan, complete with Obi-Wan's maddening caution? Was it a manifestation of the Force?
Or was it Obi-Wan himself, dead and yet somehow still alive?
The time will come to speak the truth, the voice said. But not yet. Trust me.
For whatever reason, Ferus did.
Why doesn't he tell them? X-7 thought. He could tell from the look in Fess's eye, the tension in his spine, the careful way he avoided touching X-7 when they brushed past each other—Fess knew something was up.
But he said nothing.
Interesting, X-7 thought. But how did he know?
This was the troublesome part. X-7's disguise was perfect. Certainly it should have taken more than a glance and a handshake for the stranger to see through him. As time passed, the struggle to maintain his disguise was proving to be more and more exhausting. Had he finally slipped?
Perhaps it was simpler than that: After all, one fraud can almost always recognize another.
And if X-7 was sure of anything, it was this: Fess Ilee was a fraud.
Fooling most people was easy—you just manipulated their emotions, showed them what they wanted to see. But X-7 had no emotions, and X-7 wanted nothing. Not in the normal sense, at least.
Which meant he couldn't be fooled in the normal sense.
Apparently this Fess, whoever he was—whatever he was—couldn't be fooled, either.
If you're smart, you'll stay out of my way, X-7 thought. If not, I'll find out who you really are.
And then I'll know how to destroy you.
CHAPTER TEN
He watches her climb out the window and leap nimbly to the ground. She sprints into the shadows.
He follows.
Ferus knows he could alert Bail Organa to his daughter's departure—but that is not his job. He is only to observe and, when necessary, protect.
He has observed a smart, headstrong girl. Too stubborn and too careless, with a fierce sense of justice. He has seen her pick a fight with a boy twice her size, avenging the ill treatment of a wounded thranta. He has watched her do battle with her father over etiquette and homework and when she will be permitted to accompany him to Coruscant—but none of the arguments have changed the fact that she adores him, studies every move Bail Organa makes, wants to be just like him when she grows up.
It is Ferus's job to make sure she has the chance.
Just a job, he reminds himself constantly. Leia charms everyone around her. Such a serious face, such an intense will, in such a young girl. But Ferus knows well the dangers of growing attached. It blinds the senses, dulls the instincts. Leia has a large family, a full staff, an entire planet of people to love her. But she has only one who is solely dedicated to protecting her. Love is just a distraction.
The shadows appear just as she approaches the deserted marketplace. For a second, Ferus imagines he sees a pack of wild taopari stalking the young princess. Then his vision resolves itself: They are men, three of them.
But they are stalking her nonetheless.
She notices nothing. She is nearly skipping down the street, arms outstretched to the darkness. He can feel the joy rolling off her in waves. Her anger at her father has dissipated, leaving behind a pure exuberance at being alone in the night. She is free, and the freedom is forbidden, making it all the sweeter.
She doesn't sense the danger—but Ferus can. He activates his lightsaber. The blue blade shimmers in the night. Ferus stretches out with the Force, and the men's whispers tickle his ears as if he is standing invisibly in their midst.
"Too risky, it's got to be a trap."
"Don't be paranoid, she's on her own. Now's our chance."
"She's just a kid. They wouldn't let her out alone like this."
"Exactly, she's a kid, she probably ran away. They might not even know she's gone yet, and by the time they do, we'll be long gone."
"It's still a risk."
"No risk, no reward. And Senator Aak's going to pay big."
"Bold move, using Organa's daughter to blackmail him."
"Bold and brilliant—if the senator gets the kid, Organa will vote however he wants. His power's gone."
"We're not gonna hurt her, right? She's a kid.
"You said that already."
"No, we're not
gonna hurt her."
"As long as she behaves."
Ferus strikes. He streaks through the dark night, invisible but for his glowing blade. The blade swoops down in a graceful are, slicing through the largest man's blaster. In a single, fluid move, Ferus whirls around and jabs his foot into a soft, fleshy stomach. There is a quiet "oooof," and the second man drops to the ground. Ferus steps down hard on his wrist, forcing him to drop the laser pistol he's just retrieved.
The third man strikes at Ferus's head. The blaster hilt slams into his skull. Before Ferus can protect himself, another blow lands. There is sharp crack of durasteel on bone. Ferus stumbles backward, dazed. His vision clouds over.
That shouldn't have happened, he thinks, lashing out blindly with his lightsaber. Perhaps the years of inaction have left him soft. Clumsy. Perhaps his connection with the Force is weakening. It wouldn't be the first time.
A laserbolt whizzes by, close enough that he can feel the heat against his cheek. He raises his lightsaber, stretching instinctively toward the incoming blasts. As he breathes in deeply, trying to absorb the throbbing pain in his head, blast after blast sparks off the glowing blade.
One of the men he's knocked to the ground is climbing to his feet. He lunges toward Ferus.
"No!" shouts the man with the blaster. "You'll block the shot!"
It is all the opening Ferus needs.
The first man throws a punch. Ferus ducks and grabs his forearm in a durasteel grip. He pulls the struggling man into a tight embrace, using his body as a shield. The blaster bolts stop instantly.
The pain in his head ebbs away, and the moment stretches. He is suddenly clear on how to end this.
The Force is with him again.
Ferus grabs the thug he's using as a shield and flings him toward the man holding the blaster. It is a direct hit. They stumble backward and hit the ground in a tangled heap. The blaster goes flying. Ferus lunges forward and snatches it out of the air. He grips his lightsaber, poised to strike.
But the men stay on the ground. They know this is over.
"I don't want to hurt you," Ferus growls, as the thugs cower beneath him. He suddenly realizes this is a lie. They are enemies of the princess—thus he wants to destroy them.
It is a dangerous emotion, and he allows it to flow through him, leaking away. He has seen what anger can do. It offers a sweet power that he never wants to taste again.
Only one of the men is still on his feet, and he takes a step toward Ferus, then thinks better of it. Ferus gestures to the ground with his lightsaber. The man drops down beside his fellow conspirators.
Ferus feels a tinge of battle rush, the dizzy excitement that always follows a victory. It's been so long since he has stood against an enemy face to face. So long since he's gripped his lightsaber with anything but nostalgia and regret.
His lightsaber…They have not seen his face, but they have seen his weapon. If stories spread of a Jedi wandering the streets of Alderaan, it will draw the Empire's scrutiny. He has endangered himself. Which means he has endangered Leia.
Vader would kill them, Ferus thinks suddenly. They are my enemies, they are Leia's enemies. Vader would argue that it is the only way.
There was a time when dark thoughts like that bubbled up inside of him, disguised as his own. The dark side of the force lay at the bottom of a steep cliff, and he had come far too close to the edge.
Those days are behind him.
He reaches out with the Force, shaping their minds to his will. "You wish to leave this planet," he says without malice. "Leave the system. You no longer wish to work for Senator Aak, or anyone who would use a child as a bargaining chip."
The men shake their heads, their gazes blank. "We wish to leave this planet," they chorus.
"No one attacked you tonight," Ferus says, retreating to the night. "There was no Jedi. No lightsaber. You never even saw the princess."
One of the men elbows another. "Let's get out of here," he says, sounding confused. "What are we doing, helping some political hack use a kid as a bargaining drip?"
"Not just the planet," another of the men says. "Let's get out of the system."
"Why are we even out here tonight?" the third says, as they wander off into the night.
Ferus still needs to deal with Senator Aak, to make sure this never happens again. That will not be as easy. But for tonight, he has succeeded. The princess is safe.
Ferus thought he had experienced too much grief in his life to ever hurt again.
Wrong.
His body felt wrenched out of shape, the absence of Obi-Wan as visceral as a missing limb. He somehow found enough strength to return to his own chambers, but once there, he was lost.
He had lived with an ever present ache for years, ever since Leia had grown old enough to take her own stand against the Empire. Ferus knew he couldn't follow her to the Galactic Senate, just as he couldn't follow her on Rebel missions. He had found the strength to let her go off on her own, but he had never found a way to make the agonizing worry fade.
Ferus had been in space when Alderaan was attacked. Terrified by reports that Leia's ship had been destroyed, Bail Organa had sent him to investigate. Ferus had long refused to join Organa's Rebel Alliance—however much he may have wanted to fight the Empire, his place was in the shadows. His role was protector, not warrior. But this wasn't about the Alliance, this was about helping Leia, and it was a request Organa knew Ferus would never refuse.
It was a request that had saved him. Shortly after Ferus lifted off, Alderaan had been destroyed. That same day, reports had surfaced that the princess was safe and sound. Knowing that Leia was safe had offered Ferus his only consolation in the time of unthinkable tragedy.
It had never occurred to him that Leia wasn't the only one to worry about.
Like all Padawans at the Jedi Temple, Ferus had grown up without parents, without a family. But who needed a mother or a father, when you had Jedi Masters like Yoda, Siri Tachi, and Obi-Wan Kenobi shaping your path?
When Ferus had decided to leave the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan had accepted his decision. Years away from the Jedi had not dimmed his respect for the great Master, tempered as it often was by irritation. The deep bond between them rested not only on their shared past, but on their future, and the fact that after Order Sixty-Six, each was all that the other had left.
"Never pause too long to mourn the dead, lest you do disservice to the living."
At the sound of the familiar voice, laced with dry wit and a hint of good humor, Ferus whirled around. And there he was. Well, not there, exactly. Not in the full-bodied flesh. Shimmering, translucent, present and yet somehow absent at the same time—but there. "Obi-Wan?" Ferus gasped. "But you're—"
"Dead. Yes." Obi-Wan smiled sadly. He seemed older than Ferus remembered, his face ravaged by age. Was it life that had been so hard on him, or death? "A necessary inconvenience."
"How is this possible?"
"The past is the past," Obi-Wan said brusquely. "We have much to discuss about our present dilemmas. First—"
"No!" It was so typical of Obi-Wan, this refusal to offer any "unnecessary" explanation. The Jedi was just as infuriating from beyond the grave. "You expect me to act as if nothing of importance has occurred?"
There was a long silence. "You've suffered greatly, I know," Obi-Wan said finally, his voice grave. "But you are not alone, Ferus." He spoke as if he could see inside Ferus's head.
Maybe he could.
The two men stood silently for several moments, absorbing the emotion of the situation, letting it flow through and between them. This was the Jedi way, to acknowledge, and move on.
Gradually, Ferus pulled himself together, accepting the new reality. As if sensing his ability to continue, Obi-Wan spoke. He told Ferus what had happened to him on Tatooine, how he and Luke had faced Darth Vader on the Death Star…how he had fallen.
"It's imperative that Luke not learn the truth about his father," Obi-Wan said urgently. "He's not ready."
"I don't see how I can train him without revealing his past," Ferus argued. "It wouldn't be fair to him."
"You won't be training him," Obi-Wan said. "Luke has learned all he needs to know for the moment, or at least all he can absorb. He needs time."
"What he needs is a lightsaber lesson!" Ferus argued. "Time won't give him control of the Force, or teach him how to fight the battles you know he will face."
"But it will allow him to discover the kind of man he is."
And without our guidance, what kind of man will he be? Ferus thought. How will we learn whether darkness dwells inside of him?
But out of respect for the fallen Master, he kept this fear to himself.
"In other words, you want to watch and wait," he said, instead. "As usual."
"The time when I could give you orders is long behind us," Obi-Wan said. "I can only ask that you trust me."
"It would mean keeping my identity from him," Ferus warned. "Allowing him to believe that he's truly alone."
"He's not alone," Obi-Wan pointed out. "He has Leia."
And so they came to the subject Ferus had been hoping to avoid. "And Leia, what of her? You would have me continue to lie to her as well? Let her fight side by side with her brother, never knowing who he is—or what she is?"
"You have many secrets from her."
It plagued him. Each morning, Ferus woke up, wondering, Is this the day? Will I finally reveal everything? But something always held him back. She wasn't ready, he told himself. Not yet.
Now he wondered whether that was caution—or fear. While Luke seemed so youthful and naïve, Leia was wise and strong. She was everything that Obi-Wan hoped Luke would become—even if Obi-Wan, so focused on Luke, couldn't see it.
Just like Anakin. Ferus immediately tried to squelch the thought. Obi-Wan had been so determined to see the best in Anakin, so sure that his Padawan was the Chosen One, superior to all others. How much had that certainty blinded him to the dangerous reality?
This was different, Ferus told himself. It was understandable that Obi-Wan focused on Luke, even to the point of overlooking Leia's potential. But Ferus had no such excuse. If Obi-Wan had deemed Luke ready for the truth—or part of it, at least—maybe he owed Leia the same.