Trapped (4 page)

Soresh gathered his nerve. It galled him that Vader could do this to him, make him cower and tremble.

But then, he was a cowardly man. He'd always known this about himself, detested it until he recognized it for what it was: a sign of his intelligence. Cowards were simply people who knew how to survive. It was the fools with no fear who died prematurely.

Vader's time was coming.

Soresh promised himself that. Then he took the call.

“Yes, Lord Vader?” he said in as even a voice as he could muster.

For several long moments, there was nothing but the sound of Vader's labored breathing. When he finally spoke, his voice filled the room. The lights even seemed to dim in deference to Lord Vader's dark presence.

“I am displeased,” Vader said.

Soresh shuddered, imagining the
thing
behind that black mask focusing its rage on him. Everyone knew that it was unwise to speculate on what kind of monster lay beneath Vader's elaborate armor. But everyone had their suspicions.

Their nightmares.

“Lord Vader, I assure you, it's just a momentary malfunction, nothing to trouble yourself about, and certainly Project Omega can continue as—”

“Silence!” Vader said. “Your pointless project means nothing to me.”

Soresh knew enough not to speak.

“The Rebel pilot,” Vader said, an ominous note of warning in his voice. “The one responsible for blowing up the Death Star. You are to stop your pursuit of him.”

No one knew of his secret plan to hunt down Luke Skywalker. No one but X-7, and malfunction or not, he'd never go crying to Vader. “What makes you think—”

“Consider your next words very
carefully
,” Vader advised.

Soresh had heard rumors of Vader's power. It was said he could suffocate a man with a thought, from across the room. It was said that his powers extended across the reach of space, that he could strike a man down wherever he stood. Of course, they were just rumors.

Probably.

“The Emperor has made it a top priority to hunt down that pilot,” Soresh said. He was determined to prove himself to the Emperor and gain the respect he deserved. But he wasn't intending to do it by going head to head with Vader. He'd watched his colleagues make that stupid mistake again and again. None of them had survived the attempt. “As a loyal servant of the Empire, I of course hope to do whatever I can to further the Emperor's goals.”

Beneath the words lay his real meaning:
I serve the Emperor, not
you.

“The Emperor cannot be troubled to concern himself with the fate of a single Rebel pilot—or a single Imperial commander,” Vader replied.

The meaning behind his words was equally clear:
The Emperor won't protect you, not from me.

“Return your attention to your own affairs,” Vader said. “Leave Skywalker to
me.
”

The transmission cut off abruptly. Soresh opened his desk drawer and pulled out his flask of Dorian Quill. He took a long swig.

His hands were shaking.

But amid the terror, his mind was spinning. Vader knew the pilot's name—perhaps had known all along? And yet instead of hunting him down, as the Emperor desired, Vader was letting the man live free. At least for now. And he was warning Soresh to stay away. Because he wanted the glory of the kill all to himself?

Maybe, Soresh thought.

But maybe it was something else. Something Vader didn't want anyone to know about.

Something that could destroy him.

T
he digits flashed on the screen, waiting for Luke to make a decision. Or rather, a series of decisions, each of which could get them killed.

Input the Imperial docking codes—and, if the codes were false, risk being blown to bits by a fleet of TIE fighters. Or ignore the Imperial docking codes—and risk being blown to bits by a fleet of TIE fighters.

Even if he did transmit the docking codes and they worked, then what? Attempt to board the Star Destroyer and find out exactly what the Empire wanted from Lune Divinian? Buy themselves enough time to follow their mysterious helper's instructions and take a hyperspace jump to who-knew-where? Or flee back to Yavin 4, without answers—but with their lives?

“I think we should go for it,” Div said suddenly. “I...I just have a good feeling about this.”

“You want to make a decision based on a
hunch
?” Luke asked, knowing exactly what Han would have to say about that. And yet Div had put his finger on exactly what Luke was feeling. Was that the Force, telling him that the mysterious TIE fighter was trustworthy?

Or was it just wishful thinking?

Aware that time was running out, Luke closed his eyes, trying to connect with his instincts. But when he did, all he saw was X-7's sneering face—a cold reminder of what happened when you trusted the wrong person. There were always consequences.

“Trust your instincts,” Div said, and at the sound of his voice, the image of X-7 fell away. “And in the meantime, get ready to fire.”

Trust your feelings,
echoed a voice in his head. Ben's voice.

His feelings were telling him that an ally was nearby. A friend. But was that friend in the TIE fighter, helping him escape—or was the friend a prisoner desperate to be rescued from the Star Destroyer? What if the TIE fighter was just trying to send Luke on a wild-goose chase so he wouldn't discover the truth?

The seconds were ticking by, and the TIE fighters were powering up their weapons. But Luke had learned something else from Ben: Hasty action could often be more dangerous than inaction. Sometimes it was best to wait until you were sure.

“Luke, make a drokking decision or—”

A spurt of laserfire burst out of the nearest TIE fighter and slammed into the ship, which bucked beneath them. Luke was thrown off his feet. He flew backward, slamming into the rear bulkhead. A sharp pain radiated through his head and down his spine. Div was saying something, but Luke couldn't take it in. His ears were ringing. Red spots swam across his field of vision. The ship shuddered as Div fired toward the TIE fighters. Smoke billowed from the sensor array. Luke shook his head, trying to clear it. Unsteady but determined, he pulled himself to his feet.

Div was frantically trying to keep them alive. But they were wildly outnumbered, and they'd already used most of their missiles. As for evasive maneuvers, the ship handled about as well as a three-legged dewback.

They were a sitting target.

Laserfire lit up the sky as TIE fighters swarmed. Then, without warning, one of the fighters turned on its own. Its laser cannons fired a blast at the nearest Imperial ship. The ship shattered, sending debris spinning wildly into the rest of the fleet. The renegade TIE fighter was everywhere at once, picking its way through the Imperial fleet, taking them down one by one.

It was all the distraction Luke needed.

He activated the hyperdrive, hoping they wouldn't end up inside a sun.

They jumped.

Light streamed past the viewscreen as they blazed through hyperspace. Smears of stars streaked across the black of space. And then, after an instant that felt like an eternity, the stars were stars again, points of light in the darkness. Space was silent, still, and empty. They had arrived.

Somewhere.

“I hope you're right about this,” Luke said nervously.

“Me? You're the one who powered up the hyperdrive and took a blind jump.”

“You'd rather we sat waiting to be blown out of the sky?” Luke argued, annoyed. He
knew
that Div would have done the same thing if he'd had the chance. He was obviously just irritated that Luke had moved faster. “Besides, you're the one who said we could trust this guy.”

“I don't trust anyone,” Div said.

As he spoke, a TIE fighter appeared out of hyperspace.

“That's impossible!” Luke exclaimed. “TIE fighters don't have hyperdrives!”

“Feel free to complain to the Empire,” Div said, manning the missile launchers. “
I'm
going to get the weapons ready. You know, just in case the impossible TIE fighter decides to blow us out of the sky.”

It seemed likely the TIE fighter was the same ship that had sent them the coordinates, though there was no way to tell. But now it was battle-scarred, deep gashes running up and down its hull. It had clearly taken some heavy fire before jumping, which meant the pilot, whoever he was, must have been good. TIE fighters weren't built to withstand much fire. Imperial pilots, like their ships, were considered infinitely replaceable.

Of course, the ships also weren't built to make hyperspace jumps. Obviously this was no ordinary TIE fighter—which meant it was likely no ordinary pilot.

Ignoring them, the ship maneuvered into orbit around a nearby moon and disappeared into the thin atmosphere. A transmission came through, on the same Rebel frequency used before. More coordinates, this time for a landing spot on the face of the moon.

Luke and Div exchanged a glance.

“We've come this far,” Luke said, and took the Firespray down to the surface.

The atmosphere was thick enough that they could breathe but thin enough that they could still see the stars. The moon was dead, arid, flat, and small. In the distance, Luke could make out the curve of the horizon. They stayed in the ship, keeping their weapons trained on the TIE fighter. Its hatch opened, and a figure stepped out. He was dressed in the uniform of an Imperial pilot, but an Imperial pilot would never be so out of shape. As the man drew closer to the ship, Luke glimpsed his face. He nearly laughed in relief. “Come on,” he told Div. “It's okay. He's a friend.” He flung open the hatch of the Firespray and hurried to meet their rescuer, a man he'd never expected to see again. Ferus Olin.

Div followed slowly.

“Luke,” Ferus said when Luke had reached him. He didn't seem at all surprised.

“Ferus, I can't believe it!” Luke said. He'd met Ferus Olin on Delaya, the sister planet to Alderaan. The old man had known Leia when she was a child, and he'd quickly proven himself to be a brave and solid ally. Luke had hoped he would join the Rebel Alliance, but he had refused.
He has a mission of his own,
Leia had said, sounding skeptical.
Or he's just too cowardly to fight.
But Ferus hadn't seemed like a coward, not to Luke. He'd seemed wise and oddly trustworthy. His very presence was comforting, as if he always knew more than what he was saying, and was ready to face it.
Just like Ben,
Luke thought, not for the first time.

Ferus was the last person he would have expected to meet on this strange moon, especially piloting a TIE fighter and dressed in Imperial uniform. But there was almost no one else he would rather have seen.

“Div, this is Ferus—” Luke broke off as he spotted Div's ashen face. He was standing stiffly, like a soldier at attention. His hand twitched toward his holster, as if he was fighting the temptation to draw. “It's okay,” Luke assured him. “Ferus is a friend.”

“I'm pretty sure you don't know
who
this is,” Div said quietly, glaring at Ferus. The older man's eyes widened.

Luke looked back and forth between them, confused. “Do you two know each other?”

Before anyone could answer, Ferus swept him into a fierce bear hug. “I've been worried about you, Luke. Glad to see you're all right.”

The hug seemed somewhat strange; he didn't know Ferus
that
well. But he didn't want to be rude. “No need to worry,” he told Ferus. “I'm fine.”

Something pricked the back of his neck. He slapped at it. Probably a banda bug, he thought idly. Although this moon looked pretty dead. Not a likely environment for a banda—no food for them to nibble on.

And why was he thinking about bandas?

Why were his thoughts flying in a million directions, like a flock of frightened hawk-bats?

Why did he suddenly feel like the ground was buckling beneath him?

Luke opened his mouth but lacked the strength to speak. In fact, he realized, he lacked the strength to do much of anything.

And then he was on the ground, staring up at the night sky.

I'm so tired,
he thought.
Why am I so tired?

But he was too tired to wonder for very long.

Instead, he closed his eyes.

And went to sleep.

“L
uke needs us!” Leia shouted. Why wouldn't anyone on Yavin 4 understand?

“I fear that may be, Your Highness,” General Rieekan said, “but we have no way of knowing where he is. I can't authorize a fool's mission.”

“Are you calling me a
fool,
General?” Leia asked coolly.

Han cleared his throat. “I'm sure the general's not—”

“The general can speak for himself,” Leia snapped.

General Rieekan sighed and shook his head. “The answer is no, Your Highness. I'm sorry.”

Leia turned her back on both of them and stormed out of the temple. She heard Han behind her and picked up her pace. As he walked faster, she began to run. He didn't catch up with her until they'd nearly arrived at the hangar deck.

“Where do you think you're going?” Han asked, grabbing her as she headed toward the nearest and fastest craft. She shrugged him off.

“Isn't it obvious? I'm going to find Luke!”

“And how, exactly, are you going to do that, Your Worshipfulness? You gonna fly around in circles with your eyes closed and just wait to run into him?”

“I have to do
something,
Han! Are you coming or not?”

“This is crazy, Leia. You heard General Rieekan—”

“You're siding with
him
?” Leia couldn't believe it. Han had never turned down the opportunity to do something crazy.
Never.
But now that Luke's life was at stake,
now
he wanted to talk about doing the sensible thing? Leia was angry; felt helpless.
Of course
she knew that a rescue mission was foolish. Of course she knew logically that there was almost no chance of her finding Luke. The galaxy was a big place, and she didn't even know where to start. But...it was
Luke.
She was convinced that something would guide her to him. It always did. “Don't you see, Han?” she cried, frustrated. “I have to.”

“Have to what, Princess? Spend the rest of your life jumping to random coordinates, shouting his name out the window? You really think that's going to work?”

“At least I'm doing something,” she retorted. “Unlike
you.
You're happy just sitting around doing
nothing.
”

Han grimaced at her. “Listen, lady, if you think this makes me happy—” He stopped himself, then murmured something under his breath. Leia suddenly realized he was counting to ten. When he spoke again, his voice was even. “The kid'll be fine. He's gotten himself out of plenty of tight spaces. Tighter than this.”

“You don't even know what
‘this'
is.”

“Yeah, but I know Luke. The kid's not about to go down without a fight.”

“Exactly. Which is why
some
of us are trying to fight for him.”

“Some of us?” So much for counting to ten. Han's anger was back. “Guess I don't have to ask who
‘some of us'
is. So I don't care? That's what you're saying?”

“Look at you, Han! You have less feeling than a droid!” She nodded toward the
Millennium Falcon,
where C-3PO was becoming hysterical. R2-D2 beeped soothingly.

“What do you mean, ‘this always happens, and he always survives'?” C-3PO asked indignantly. “Nothing like this has ever—”

R2-D2 beeped again.

“Oh. Yes,” C-3PO said. “But that was different, because on Kamino he—”

The astromech trilled, his lights flashing.

“That was different,
too,
” C-3PO insisted. “Who knew he could survive a Podracer explosion? But this,
this
...Oh dear, Artoo, I just don't know what I'll do if something happens to Master Luke. This is a catastrophe!”

Han snorted. “Look, Princess, you don't get this yet, but maybe someday when you're a little older, a little more experienced—”

“
Excuse
me?” In principle, Leia believed that physical violence should be used only when all other courses of action had been exhausted. In practice, she was about ready to punch him in the gut.

“— you'll see that someone has to stay calm. Be strong. You can't just run around panicking about every little thing that goes wrong. You should take things like a—” He spotted Chewbacca emerging from the
Millennium Falcon.
“Well, like a Wookiee.” He slapped Chewbacca on his furry back. “Right, pal? Go on, tell her Luke's going to be just fine.”

At Luke's name, Chewbacca threw back his giant head and unleashed a mournful roar.

Han looked at Chewie in disgust.

“I don't care what you say,” Leia said fiercely, starting toward the ship again. “I don't care what anyone says. I'm going to find Luke.”

“Leia!” Han grabbed her arm and, this time, refused to let go. “We have to trust him,” he said, the mocking tone gone from his voice. “That's the best thing we can do right now. It's all we can do. We've got to trust him to come back to us.”

“But...” She didn't want to admit he was right. She
couldn't
just sit here and wait. It was too frustrating.

Too terrifying.

“He'll be okay,” Han said, still gripping her arm. “He'll be back.”

“You really believe that?” Leia peered intently into his eyes. Han was an excellent liar, but he'd never been very good at lying to her.

“I really do,” he said. But as he answered, he looked away.

“Please don't,” Ferus said mildly as Div snatched the lightsaber from Luke's belt. Ignoring the older man, Div activated the Jedi weapon. Ferus kept his eyes fixed on the gleaming blue beam. Div kept his eyes fixed on Ferus.

Ferus Olin,
after all these years. A fairy-tale hero from his childhood. Ferus, who'd had all the answers.

Ferus, who'd turned his back and walked away.

May the Force be with you, Lune,
he had said as Ferus prepared to leave. At the time, Lune was dimly aware that his mother had fallen in love with Clive Flax and that together they would be starting a new life and a new family. But all he really cared about was that he was getting a new brother. Trever, the teenaged orphan from Bellassa who needed a home.
Take care of Trever,
Ferus told Lune. Trever was like a son to Ferus—yet here he was, leaving the boy behind.

Ferus had said one more thing before saying good-bye forever:
You would have made a fine Jedi.

With Garen Muln and Ry-Gaul dead, Ferus was the only person left in the galaxy who could teach Lune the Jedi way. And Ferus was saying good-bye. At the time, Lune had just grinned, thinking that it was a compliment. Not realizing everything he was about to lose.

Ferus hadn't aged well. The lithe, resolute man Div remembered, the proud Jedi with laugh lines creasing his worried face and a defiant gaze that dared the world to cross him, that person was gone. In his place was a prematurely old man with gray hair and a soft, bulging belly. As far as Div could tell, everything about him was soft. Since the last time they'd met, nearly twenty years before, Div had become a warrior. And Ferus had apparently become a Corellian cream puff. Though that cream puff had just put Luke on the ground.

Div would never have imagined that Ferus Olin, of all people, would turn to the dark side. But there he was, flying a TIE fighter. There he was, standing over Luke's unconscious form.

People changed.

“You've grown,” Ferus said, a smile creeping across his face. He seemed unconcerned by the lightsaber aimed at his throat.

He still has the Force,
Div reminded himself. The man might have grown old and soft, but he could likely disarm Div with a single thought.

“It's good to see you again, Lune,” Ferus said softly. “Better than I could have imagined.”

“Don't call me that. It's Div.”

Lune was a child, who had needed protecting. A prodigy, a Force-sensitive. A hope. Lune was
special,
according to those who had died for him. Lune was the naive child who'd been stuffed into an escape pod, blasted off from the asteroid, leaving his friends behind, stranded. Brave Rebels before the Rebellion, they sent their one and only hope flying to safety, then waited to die. Lune was the boy who'd floated through space in an escape pod, helpless,
useless,
as an energy bolt slammed into the asteroid and blasted it into debris. And then, years later, when the scars had finally healed, Lune had sat on a hilltop and watched his entire family die.

Div
was a man. He had only one thing in common with that ignorant boy: He was a survivor.

“I take it this is as much of a joyous reunion as I can expect?” Ferus said with a glimmer of his familiar dry wit.

“Is he going to be all right?” Div asked, glancing at Luke.

Ferus nodded. “Sleep dart. He'll be awake in an hour or so. I needed to buy us some time to talk—privately. There are certain things about me that Luke doesn't need to know.”

“Like the fact that you're a Jedi,” Div guessed.

“And does your friend know that
you
are?” Ferus asked.

“He's no friend. And I'm no Jedi.”

Ferus didn't reply. He just looked pointedly at the lightsaber in Div's hand. As always, it felt so right. Like a piece of him too long absent had finally returned. Div deactivated the weapon and returned it to Luke's side. He had turned away from that life and away from the Force. He had lived with that empty hole inside him, that knowledge that he could have been something more, for a long time. The pain was no longer raw. It was tolerable.

Div scowled at Ferus. “Fine. The kid's out of the way. So here we are. You want to talk? Talk.”

“Help me carry him?” Ferus said, kneeling before Luke's body. It was beyond lucky that he'd been able to sense Luke's presence in the Firespray. The Force was strong in Luke , very strong. “It's not safe out here in the open.” Together, they lifted the unconscious Rebel and carried him toward the small shelter Ferus had been using as his base. They worked in silence. Ferus kept his head down but spread his attention, absorbing every detail of Lune with his peripheral vision. He had a feeling the boy wouldn't take kindly to being stared at. But it was tempting to do so.

It hurt seeing himself reflected in Lune's expression. The boy had once looked at him with respect, trusting, with the innocence of a child—the
ignorance
of a child—that Ferus would protect him. More than once, that trust, that duty to protect Lune, had been the only tether keeping Ferus from a bottomless fall into the dark side of the Force. But now...Ferus could feel Lune's disgust, his dismay at seeing what his old friend had become. How soft and flabby Ferus had grown over the years. How old.

How cowardly.

Lune couldn't be expected to see beneath Ferus's disguise, to understand that he'd spent decades hiding in plain sight, pretending to be a harmless, senseless courtier. And Ferus couldn't explain it to him, not without explaining
why
it had been so imperative to disguise himself. Not without revealing the secret of Leia Organa, the child Ferus had been sworn to protect. Anakin's child.

Leia was the second child Ferus had sworn to protect, the second “galactic hope.” Lune had been the first.

He's alive,
Ferus told himself. That was something.

But it wasn't everything.

Ferus had long ago accepted that his mission would mean losing the respect of all around him, even Leia herself. Only Obi-Wan understood who Ferus truly was, and Obi-Wan was dead. This, too, Ferus had finally accepted. Much as he might have craved it, he didn't need Lune's admiration. So what hurt the most wasn't the look on Lune's face; it was the look in his eyes.

As Ferus had grown soft, Lune had grown hard. The boy Ferus remembered—sweet-tempered, mischievous, preternaturally smart, hopeful—that boy was gone. The man who appeared in his place shared many of his qualities, especially that quiet, intensely watchful mode that had seemed eerie in a young boy. But this man was cold and rigid, as if a layer of thick, tough scar tissue had crusted over his soul.

Suddenly, Lune looked up and met his eyes. “Take a holopic,” he suggested caustically. “It'll last longer.”

Something else the man had in common with the boy, Ferus observed: He still saw more than anyone expected.

“It's been too long,” Ferus said softly. “I've thought of you often over the years. You and—”

“How do you know Luke?” Lune asked sharply. “What are you doing here on this cursed moon? What are
we
doing here?”

He doesn't want me to say Trever's name,
Ferus thought.
Because he can't stand to hear it? Or he can't stand to hear it from me?

“Fair enough,” he said aloud. “I was an acquaintance of Princess Leia Organa on Alderaan. After the...disaster, I found the princess again, and came to know several of her friends. Good people.”