The Desperate Mission

by Jude Watson

  Star Wars

  The Last of the Jedi

  Book 1

  The Desperate Mission

  by Jude Watson

  source: IRC

  uploaded: 09.I.2006

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dusk always took him by surprise. On this two-sun world, it started

  early, one sun dropping first, then the other chasing behind it in a fast

  slide to the horizon. Harsh sunlight gave way to long shadows that painted

  the canyon floors with gray.

  Another day gone. Another day to come. Each one the same.

  Obi-Wan Kenobi ducked his head as he exited his small dwelling on

  Tatooine. It was time to make the journey over the arid landscape of the

  Jundland Wastes. Time to lurk above a moisture farm and watch a small baby

  crawl around the compound. Time to reassure himself that one more day had

  passed, and Luke Skywalker was well.

  He made sure the door was secure. The Sand People were wary of him,

  but he was careful with security. No one was safe from the savagery of

  their foraging raids.

  His dwelling was small and simple, a hovel, really, carved out of the

  canyon wall. He had made it comfortable - not because he cared about his

  comfort, but because it gave him something to do. In those first, raging

  months, it had soothed him to sweep the drifts of sand from the floors,

  fashion a heating system, repair a cracked wall that let in breaches of

  sunlight in the early morning and spewed tiny volcanoes of sand during the

  fierce, frequent windstorms.

  He had found the home by accident, by luck. He had simply begun riding

  his eopie in a widening circle around the Lars farm until he found

  someplace close enough to hike to the farm but far enough away that the

  family would not take much note of him. A transient, looking to start a

  farm or trade with Jawas had abandoned it, most likely. No doubt he or she

  had eventually discovered that only the hardiest and luckiest survived on

  Tatooine.

  Owen and Beru Lars knew he was here. Their friendship with him was an

  uneasy one; they knew he had saved Luke, but Luke's aunt and uncle also

  knew the threat that he'd brought with him to Tatooine. They were aware

  that he came by to observe the boy, but it was agreed that they would

  ignore him, so Luke would learn to ignore him, too. He was grateful for

  their vigilance, for it meant that they were vigilant against strangers as

  well.

  And who could blame them? Obi-Wan thought, trudging through the sand.

  Luke had been born in a time of violence and misery. Naturally they would

  want to protect him. They would not want him to end up in the hands of the

  Empire - or the Sand People. Or end up like Obi-Wan, a warrior turned into

  an old man overnight by sorrow and grief.

  Was there anything inside him anymore? He wondered this, lying on his

  sleep couch at night, staring at the rough stone ceiling. How could a being

  be numb and full of pain at the same time?

  There had been so many that he cared about. And now just about

  everyone he'd loved was dead.

  The names and faces would begin in his mind. Qui-Gon. Siri. Tyro

  Caladian. Mace Windu.

  The apprentices - Darra Thel-Tanis. Tru Veld. Their Masters - Ry-Gaul.

  Soara Antana.

  And the Jedi slaughtered in the purge. For it had been just that - a

  slaughter, shocking, devastating, quick... but not quick enough for the

  victims.

  His dearest friends, Bant and Garen. The imperious Jocasta Nu. The

  gentle Ali Alann and Barriss Offee. The warriors - Shaak Ti, Kit Fisto,

  Luminara Unduli. And the great Jedi Masters - Ki-Adi-Mundi, Adi Gallia, Plo

  Koon....

  Gone. The word would toll in his head.

  Gone.

  Gone.

  Jedi he'd fought alongside, studied with, laughed with - a roll call

  of the dead that thumped out a drumbeat of pain with every heartbeat.

  And then, as dawn would bring a blush of light to his ceiling, he

  would turn, as he always did, to the last, worst thing. The thing he could

  not avoid looking at, the thing that gave him the most awful pain.

  The boy he'd raised and loved like a son had become a traitor. A

  killer. A monster. A convert to the dark side, a testament to Obi-Wan's

  failure to guide, to protect. The boy, Anakin Skywalker, had died at the

  hands of the Emperor, and the Sith Lord Darth Vader had been born in his

  place.

  At first, Obi-Wan had thought that Anakin had died in the flames of a

  volcano on Mustafar. It was months later that he'd realized what had

  happened, that the Emperor had kept him alive, or, at least, the part he

  wanted to remain - the hate and the power. Obi-Wan had seen Darth Vader's

  image on a datarecorder he'd found in an alley of Mos Eisley - it contained

  a HoloNet report - and he had known at once, with a sense of shock so

  profound it had made him ill, that Lord Darth Vader had once been Anakin

  Skywalker.

  The only being in the galaxy who could understand the depths of his

  grief was in exile as well, and he was forbidden to contact him. Yoda was

  on Dagobah, living in isolation in the middle of a swamp so hidden no one

  would venture there.

  And the spirit who could help him, who had promised to help him - Qui-

  Gon - could not appear to him. Instead, he had only heard his voice.

  You are not ready for the training.

  But I am, Master. I have nothing else now.

  That is why, my Padawan, you are not ready.

  It was hard not to feel impatience, even anger against Qui-Gon. Obi-

  Wan struggled with this emotion daily. It was his Master who had charged

  him to take Anakin on as his apprentice. And now it was Qui-Gon who was

  withholding the knowledge he'd learned from the Ancient Order of the

  Whills, a training that could bring Obi-Wan some measure of peace. He could

  learn to be one with the Force but retain his consciousness.

  Would that mean he could lose this pain, this grief? Obi-Wan wondered.

  Obi-Wan saw the Lars homestead ahead. He stopped for a moment to make

  sure that Owen was not patrolling the perimeter. It was late, the shadows

  long, the suns slipping behind the hills. Beru and Owen were always sure to

  be inside the below-ground compound by dusk.

  He walked forward, feeling as much a shadow as the ones that reached

  out like fingers from the hills. He bent down, flat against the ground, and

  looked over the rim into the main courtyard below.

  The baby had hair full of sunlight, and it glinted, even in this dusky

  light. He was laughing as he crawled after a ball that Beru rolled away

  from him. Was it Obi-Wan's imagination, or was the boy able to slow the

  ball without touching it? If the Force was there - and he knew Luke was

  Force-sensitive - he did not know if the boy was aware of it. Not yet. Not

  for a long time, if ever, without training.

  Beru rocked backward from her perch on the door-stop, laughing.

&n
bsp; Usually, she had something cooking about now, and she would disappear

  inside for a few seconds to check on it. Luke would crawl to the doorway

  and watch her. He seemed to feel a need to keep her in sight.

  Obi-Wan heard Beru's laughter, saw Luke tumbling and laughing with

  her. He was not even tempted to smile. Seeing Luke gave him satisfaction,

  but he had left smiles and laughter behind him, part of another life.

  Satisfaction was enough for him now. He had promised Padme that her

  children would be safe, and he had made it so. Leia was growing up on

  Alderaan, the adopted daughter of Bail Organa, the kindest and noblest man

  Obi-Wan knew, and his wife, the Queen. He wished Padme could know that her

  children were more than well-cared for - they were loved.

  But Padm¨ - fierce, sad, beautiful Padme - was dead, too.

  Owen Lars emerged from the dwelling. That was Obi-Wan's signal to

  leave. Darkness was falling fast, and Owen was about to activate the KPR

  perimeter droids. Obi-Wan lingered for a moment, watching as Beru pretended

  to chase Luke inside the dwelling. He saw the light spilling out from the

  doorway and could almost feel the gentle heat, almost smell their food.

  He turned his back against it and felt the chill against his face.

  Without anyone noticing, Obi-Wan Kenobi walked away into the growing

  darkness.

  The next night, Obi-Wan maneuvered through the noisy crowd at the

  cantina in Mos Eisley. He journeyed on an eopie through secret trails to

  the spaceport once a month for supplies, and always under the cover of

  darkness. When he did, he always stopped at the cantina. It was a magnet

  for the worst of the galaxy - itinerant space pilots, adventurers,

  criminals. Creatures who greedily supped on gossip and rumor as well as

  bantha stew and ale. Obi-Wan needed to keep in touch with what was

  happening in the galaxy. He could withdraw, but he had to stay informed.

  The Galactic Senate was still operating, but it served more as a

  discussion group than a governing body. The Emperor controlled the

  majority, who simply approved of anything he proposed. Bail Organa was

  still there, fighting when and how he could. He refused to give the Emperor

  the satisfaction of seeing him resign. Obi-Wan kept up with these

  happenings, but he resolved to keep his distance from them. He saw the

  daily erosion of liberties from afar, as though they had no relation to how

  he lived his life any longer. If he allowed himself to feel frustration or

  rage, he was afraid it would overtake him.

  He wore his hood low over his face and picked a dark corner. Thanks to

  a liberal use of bribes, the one-eyed Abyssin bartender watched out for him

  and made sure he was left alone. Here he was Ben Kenobi, a half-crazy

  hermit who had no need for companionship. A drink was brought by a

  scurrying waiter, who set it down and ran off to service a table of traders

  almost ready to brawl before their multicolored concoctions arrived.

  Obi-Wan had chosen his table carefully. He recognized one of the group

  sitting next to him, a space pilot named Weasy. He was a muscular, hairy

  Bothan who was known for taking on any cargo, no questions asked. He was

  also an excellent reporter of information who did not exaggerate. He sat

  with the other pilots, well into a large pitcher of ale.

  Obi-Wan gathered the Force to help him filter out the noise and hone

  in on what the pilots were saying. He listened for a moment to make sure

  they were relatively sober. He was used to the boasts and fabrications that

  made up "news" in this cantina.

  "Travel restrictions getting tighter," one of the pilots was saying,

  his antennae waving in anxiety. "It's getting harder to bribe officials.

  They're all scared... of what, I don't know. Rumors going around of

  punishments for corruption."

  The other pilot snorted. "Bribes aren't going to stop, even in the

  Empire."

  Weasy took a draft from his mug. "Long as it's something they get a

  piece of, they'll keep looking the other way."

  "Look, I'm not complaining," the first pilot said. "The Empire has

  improved my business. No more space pirates on the run to the Rutan system.

  But they're clamping down now. Did you hear what happened on Bellassa?"

  "Sure, they came in and deposed the governor, stuck in their own guy,"

  the second pilot said. "So what? They've done that on plenty of worlds.

  They like to tell the governments what to do. They don't like governors who

  actually govern." He guffawed at his own joke.

  "Yeah, well, they had some trouble on Bellassa. Stubborn, those beings

  are. All the citizens took to the streets," the first pilot said. "There

  were mass arrests in every city. I think they must have arrested half of

  Ussa. I'm telling you, this is the start of something big."

  "I was caught at the spaceport when it happened," Weasy said.

  "Everything was shut down because someone escaped from prison, and there

  was a full-scale alert to catch him."

  Obi-Wan put down his drink. There wasn't anything here to interest

  him. Just the usual gossip. The various crackdowns of the Empire weren't

  news.

  "Just one guy, can you imagine? And they held up transit for a week. I

  was cooling my heels - wasn't even allowed to leave the Ussa spaceport,"

  Weasy went on.

  Obi-Wan stood. The noise of the cantina engulfed him as he allowed the

  Force to ease.

  .. so I say to myself, who is this Ferus Olin anyway?" Weasy finished.

  Ferus Olin.

  The name sent a jolt through his body.

  Slowly, Obi-Wan sat down again. He tuned out the noise to listen. He

  wasn't going anywhere tonight. Not until he'd learned all he could about

  Ferus Olin.

  Because at one time Ferus Olin had been trained as a Jedi.

  And now, he might be one of the only ones left.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Anybody who gets the attention of the Empire has to be brave or

  crazy," the first pilot said.

  "Or dead," the second said, and they all laughed.

  "I hear he's both brave and crazy," Weasy said. "But not dead - not

  yet, anyway. They ordered extra troops because of him, and they'd already

  imported one of those Imperial battalions. He was running rings around the

  stormtroopers. Became a legend on Bellassa."

  "So what happened to him?"

  "Nobody knows. He escaped. They've got a major hunt on for him - want

  to make him an example for others who might try to rebel. Worth a bounty or

  two, if you're interested."

  "Not me," the first pilot said. "I don't tangle with the Empire. Even

  to help them. Best to stay clear. Pass me that pitcher, will you? I'm still

  sober."

  "His partner is still in prison," Weasy said. "I guess they're

  thinking Ferus Olin will try a rescue, but so far, he's stayed gone." He

  grunted as he put down his mug. "He'd better stay disappeared. I'm making

  another run to Ussa tonight. Supplies are low there, and there's credits to

  be made."

  Obi-Wan sipped his drink, trying to make sense of the feelings

  tangling inside him.

  Ferus was alive. Obi-Wan had assumed he was dead. />
  Ferus had been a Jedi apprentice. It didn't matter that he had left

  the Order at the age of eighteen and had been a civilian since then. He had

  been one of them, and he was still alive.

  He had kept track of Ferus in the beginning. He'd always thought that

  after the Clone Wars he would contact him. After they had defeated the

  Separatists.

  That was before he understood how the dark side would not be defeated

  so quickly.

  He knew Ferus had started a business with a partner, Roan Lands. The

  two had hired themselves out to governments interested in protecting

  citizens who were whistleblowers - those who exposed wrongdoing in

  especially vicious corporations. Ferus and Roan found them new identities

  and kept tabs on them.

  Obi-Wan didn't know much more than that. He'd heard that Ferus and

  Roan became officers in the Army of the Republic during the Clone Wars, but

  he'd never had the time to track them down.

  After Anakin had turned to the dark side, Obi-Wan had cause to

  remember Ferus. It had been Ferus who had first warned him about Anakin.

  Ferus who had sensed that Anakin's great gifts hid great unrest. Ferus who

  saw Anakin's power - and feared it.

  He owed him.

  "All I know is, the next time you go to Bellassa, you won't have a

  problem," the second pilot said. "Ferus Olin will be dead."