Star Wars: The Last of the Jedi, Volume 3 (3 page)

He calculated the distance. He remembered how high the entrance had been, how many meters above his head. He remembered his own height and made the necessary calculations.

Then he walked forward. “It’s behind here,” he said, pointing to a spot in the pile. His Jedi memory and the Force had guided him.

Either that, or he was completely wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He unsheathed the lightsaber that had been given to him by Garen Muln in the caves of Illum. From the first moment, it had felt as if it had always belonged in his hand. He inserted the
lightsaber and slowly rotated it until its heat started to dissolve the area around it in an ever growing circle. Trever stepped forward, fascinated as always by a lightsaber’s power.

When Ferus had cleared enough space, he pushed aside the rest of the rocks and debris with his hands and crawled in, holding a glow rod in front of him. He could sense, rather than see, that
he’d unblocked the entrance. He called back to Trever to follow him. He had to crawl for about twenty meters, but at last he passed through and was able to stand. Trever joined him seconds
later.

It was difficult to get their footing due to the debris and dirt that littered the walkway. This had once been a gleaming white tunnel, lit by pale blue glowlamps. It had been built to transport
droids from repair to various points in the Temple. The ceiling was low and the walls curved around.

“This comes out near the living quarters,” Ferus said. “That part of the Temple, from what I can see, wasn’t as badly destroyed as the others.”

“That means we’ll be bumping into more stormtroopers,” Trever said.

“I’ll do my best to avoid them.” Ferus slowly moved through the tunnel. “The Padawans used to explore all the service tunnels and little-used passageways. Sometimes it
was helpful if you didn’t want to bump into any of your teachers—if you’d forgotten an assignment or had skipped a practice session.”

“Aw, Ferus, you’ve lived up to my expectations. I knew you were the kind of renegade who didn’t do his homework.”

Ferus snorted. Trever was way off base. Trever knew a different person from what Ferus had been. “Renegade” hardly fit the description of his Padawan years. Actually, he had never
skipped an assignment or a practice session. He had striven for perfection in every waking moment. He was driven by his need to excel. As a result, he hadn’t made friends easily. It was only
near the end of his apprenticeship that he had grown close to Darra and Tru.

Darra had died on Korriban. He still felt responsible for her death. He had left the Jedi Order because of it.

And there was Anakin. Anakin, whose gifts were so great, who had thought of Ferus as a rival. He remembered their squabbles now, and their deep rift. He would have done things differently now.
He would not have judged Anakin the way he did. Now Anakin was dead, along with Tru, along with the Padawans he’d lived with for most of his childhood. Even the greatest warriors of the
Jedi—Mace Windu, Kit Fisto, even Yoda—could not defeat the Sith.

So what made him think that
he
could?

I know I can’t defeat them. But maybe if we strike enough blows, we can hurt them.

It wasn’t in the Jedi nature to act out of anger. But was it really so wrong to enter a fight because you were so deeply and thoroughly enraged?

Ferus held up a hand as they approached the end of the tunnel. He knew that it opened into a service passageway that ran parallel to one of the main halls. He was betting that the stormtroopers
would use the main halls, which were larger and led to the grand staircases and turbolifts. The service passageways were narrow and had a complicated layout. It was easy to get lost.

“Where do you think the prison is?” Trever asked in a low tone.

“It has to be in the big storage rooms,” Ferus replied. “It’s one of the only places that could be reconfigured into a secure area. And from what I could see through the
electrobinoculars, it remains largely intact. There was a series of turbolifts at the end of the first service passageway that led down to the storage floor. With any luck they’ll still be
there. Even if they aren’t functioning, we might be able to get down one of the shafts.”

Waiting a moment to ensure that the service passageway was empty, Ferus edged out into the hall. Trever followed as he held the glow rod in front of him, keeping it down to its lowest setting.
Here the walls were also blackened from the fire, but the hallway didn’t seem too badly damaged.

Only a wall separated them from a main passageway, and they could hear the noise of activity on the other side.

“I don’t get it,” Ferus murmured. “There seems to be a lot of movement. This place must be more than a prison. No wonder there was so much activity at the landing
platform.”

“The more the merrier,” Trever said grimly.

Ferus reached the turbolift area. He frowned in disappointment. What had been a turbolift bank was now a collapsed heap of duracrete. Even worse, it blocked the connection to the other service
hallways.

“We’re going to have to use the main hallway,” he said. “Just for a bit, to get to the other turbolift bank.”

He paused in front of a door. He heard no sound, so he cautiously eased it open. The hallway was empty. Ferus knew exactly where he was. If he followed this hall to the right, it would lead him
to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Beyond that was another passage that would get him closer.

Beckoning to Trever, he emerged into the hallway. Moving quickly and silently, they hurried down the hall. As they passed the large wooden doorway to the Room of a Thousand Fountains,
Ferus’s footsteps faltered.

“What is it?” Trever whispered.

“One moment.”

He couldn’t help himself. It had been his favorite place in the Temple. He had to see. Ferus pushed open the doors.

He took a cautious step inside. The first thing that struck him was the silence. In his mind he’d been expecting the calming note of splashing, trickling water. He had even turned his face
upward to feel the cooling spray.

Empty. Desolate. The remains of the fragrant plants and flowers, dried, brown. Stumps rising like crooked fingers. Dried pond beds, stone urns upturned and cracked.

He turned. He would have to harden his heart against this. He couldn’t allow every sight to be a blow. It would just slow him down.

They walked past the Map Room, where once a student could access any quadrant of the galaxy, any world. Ferus wasn’t tempted to peek. And Jocasta Nu’s beloved library—without
even entering, he could see through the blasted doors that it had been systematically destroyed. All that knowledge, all that wisdom—gone.

Gone.

But I must keep moving.

They heard footsteps behind them. Ferus yanked Trever behind a tall column.

He pressed himself against the column as the footsteps drew closer.

It was some kind of Imperial messenger and an officer.

“You were supposed to be here this morning.”

“It took some time to gather the data.”

“Well, you’re here now. Take it to the Inquisitor’s office.”

“Location?”

“Follow this hallway and go through the double doors. It’s the first door on your right, the one with the windows. Then put it down and leave. Inquisitor Malorum isn’t
here.”

Malorum? At the Temple?

This could be either a disaster or a piece of good luck. Obi-Wan had asked Ferus to discover what Malorum was up to, if he could. And it sounded like Malorum’s office was right here, in
the Temple.

Of course, Malorum knew his face. Not only that, he hated him. Lucky for Ferus that he wasn’t here.

Ferus thought back to the directions the officer had given.

It can’t be. Malorum’s office is Yoda’s living quarters?

“He’s not expected back until tomorrow. He’ll expect everything to be in order then. He’s going to move the base of operations over here from the Imperial
Stronghold....”

The words faded as the footsteps did.

“Not that guy again,” Trever moaned softly. He had known Malorum, too, on Bellassa. It was Malorum who had put a death mark on Trever’s head.

“Yeah, he keeps turning up, doesn’t he?” Why would be put his office in the Temple? And why choose, out of all the hundreds of rooms, Yoda’s private quarters?

Because he can.

The arrogance!

They started down the hallway again. It was empty, and they hurried to the bank of turbolifts and jumped inside. Ferus’s heartbeat quickened. At last he would discover if any Jedi remained
alive.

The turbolift worked smoothly. It was a piece of luck. It descended all the way down to the storage floor and opened. Ferus was prepared, his lightsaber at the ready, for
whatever would lie on the other side of the door. But it opened onto an empty hallway.

He took a cautious step forward. Not only empty, but...
dusty.

He listened for sound, for movement. He brought the Force to him and sent it out. True, his Force sense was still rusty at times, but he received nothing. Surely if this were a prison, he would
pick up echoes of the Living Force, no matter how faint. Especially from Jedi.

“You look worried,” Trever whispered. “And when you worry, I worry.”

“I don’t
feel
anything,” Ferus said.

“Is that all?”

“For a Jedi, that’s everything.”

They moved forward cautiously. Ferus wasn’t as familiar with this area as he was with others. They were on the very lowest levels of the Temple now. All Padawans were required to take an
extensive tour of the Temple, from top to bottom, and become familiar with the layout, but Ferus had only visited the storage areas infrequently.

Luckily it was a standard layout, just parallel hallways leading to storage rooms of varying sizes. They walked down, peering into one after the other.

Empty.

Empty except for scattered bins, random items stored here and not raided because they weren’t valuable—towels, tarps. Soap. Glow rods and servodrivers. Blankets.

“I guess the Empire found the treasure,” Trever said. “But maybe they overlooked something? Anything down here?”

“What treasure?” Ferus asked.

“The treasure the Jedi had,” Trever said. “You know the Order was rich. All those payments from worlds they protected...”

Ferus was furious. “That was a lie told by the Emperor. The Jedi never took payment for their services. Palpatine was trying to turn the galaxy against the Jedi to justify his crimes. And
now you’re repeating the lies!”

“Hey, Ferus, power down. How was I supposed to know it was a lie? Everyone said it.”

“Everyone says the Emperor is on your side, too.”

“Excellent point.”

In many ways, this was the worst fallout from Order 66, the one that had destroyed the Jedi. History had been rewritten. Palpatine’s lies had changed how the galaxy thought of the Jedi.
Their lives of service had become bids for power. Their selflessness had become greed.

“I’m sorry,” Trever said, looking at the expression on his face. “I hear the word ‘treasure’ and I start to salivate heavily. You know me....” He tried
to smile, but his eyes were worried. “You forget I’m a thief.”

“Not anymore,” Ferus said. The moment of anger passed. He looked around. “I don’t understand. This is the logical place for the prison. And the word on the street is that
the Jedi are down deep in the Temple storerooms.”

“Is there anywhere else they could be keeping them?”

Ferus shook his head. “Anything is possible, but...” He stopped. Just as they passed the largest storeroom, he thought he’d caught a glint of a reflection. Cautiously, he
walked forward. There was no Living Force here. But there was...something.

He raised his glow rod.

It took him a moment to make sense of the piles, the jumble of objects. Rows and rows and rows disappearing in the dusky light at the corners of the vast space.

Lightsabers.

Ferus felt his breath catch and his heart stop.

He could not move.

Trever, sensing his emotion, drew back. In a rare display of tact, he said nothing.

Ferus moved forward. His boot hit a lightsaber hilt, and he flinched. He leaned over to pick it up. He ran his fingers along the hilt. He didn’t recognize it. He put it carefully back
down.

Row after row after row...jumbles and piles, some laid out neatly, no doubt for identification.

“How many?” he whispered.

He leaned over to pick up a hilt here, another there.

Here was the proof. The Empire must have collected the lightsabers when they could, but for what purpose, he wasn’t sure. To identify Jedi, perhaps. But who would be able to recognize the
hilts but another Jedi? Or perhaps they meant to study the lightsabers in order to be able to use them as weapons one day.

After all, Obi-Wan had told him that Emperor Palpatine was a Sith. Darth Vader was his apprentice. Did they want to build a Sith army?

But what did it matter? There was a pounding inside him, metal against rock. Something fierce and elemental. Grief was pounding him.