by Jude Watson
“I do not know that you’re correct,” Mace said. “A position I find myself in all too often these days. If you feel strongly, Obi-Wan, I support your decision. But everything depends on getting that tracking device on the ship without being seen.”
Obi-Wan turned to Anakin with such confidence, such assurance, that Anakin felt he would never forget this moment. Trust lay between them, unbreakable.
“Anakin?”
“I will do it, Master.”
He took a tracking device out of his utility belt and stood. Keeping behind the supplies, the gravsleds, and fueling trucks, he slid in as close as he dared. He would have to choose his moment. A moment when no one aboard would be looking.
The Force. He could use it. He wasn’t sure how. But he reached out for it and gathered it, formed it to his pleasure, to what he needed.
The engines fired. He was close enough to feel their heat. Now.
The ship rose, just a meter above the ground, hovering for the few crucial seconds needed to input coordinates and information. With the help of the Force, those seconds spun out into more time, enough time for him.
Anakin used the Force to jump straight toward the exhaust, where no viewscreens could see him. The temperature was blazing hot, too hot for a living being to stand, yet he stood it and it did not burn him. He was close to the edge of the landing platform here. He timed the move as the ship rose. With a grunt and a call to the Force for help, he tossed the tracking device as the ship lifted. He saw it catch on the underside. When the ship rotated, Anakin was already back behind the fuel pump, jumping down perfectly with not a millimeter to spare.
The Slams’ ship shot out of sight.
Anakin rose. His legs felt slightly shaky at the dangerous maneuver. His skin felt hot, but he knew he wasn’t burned. Mace and the others walked toward him.
Mace looked at him, his dark eyes raking him. “Impressive.”
“Are you hurt?” Obi-Wan asked him. “I didn’t mean for you to jump into the ship’s exhaust funnels.”
“I’m not hurt.”
Mace looked up at the vapor trail the ship had left. “I hope we made the right decision,” he said. “Are you ready to track them?”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “Granta has always been one step ahead of us. He has always planned our meetings. Now I will decide how we next meet.”
“May the Force be with you.” Mace started away.
“Uh, Master Windu?” Obi-Wan said. Mace turned and gave him an impatient look.
“Just one more thing,” Obi-Wan continued. “We need your ship.”
Siri sat at the controls. They had been traveling for days now, following the pulse of the tracking device. The Slams’ ship was heading into the vast empty space of the Outer Rim.
Ferus had stretched out on his sleep couch. He would take the next piloting shift. Obi-Wan sat at the table in the eating area. He had spread out a number of holofiles, information about Granta Omega gathered by Archivist Jocasta Nu at the Temple. Obi-Wan knew the information by heart, but he still didn’t believe it was possible to study it too deeply.
Anakin sat, staring out the viewscreen at the stars. He was in a place of deep quiet, not meditation, exactly, but open to the galaxy, to the energy that boiled from stars and worlds, satellites, matter and nonmatter, gravity, inertia, living beings.
Suddenly, he sat erect. Every muscle tensed.
Obi-Wan looked up. “What is it?”
Anakin turned to him.
“Omega. He knows we are coming.
About the Author
JUDE WATSON is the New York Times best-selling author of the Jedi Quest and Jedi Apprentice series, as well as the Star Wars Journals Darth Maul, Queen Amidala, and Princess Leia: Captive to Evil. She currently lives in the Pacific Northwest.
