Star Wars: The Last of the Jedi, Volume 2

by Jude Watson

  It was an exhausting climb, and he tried to pace himself despite his eagerness to reach the top. He knew he would need all his strength to meet the gorgodons. He also knew they slept during the day, so he also might make it through the nest without waking them.

  As he climbed, he had to shake off a feeling of disbelief that he was here at all. Meeting Obi-Wan again had catapulted him onto a path he hadn’t expected. He had left his adopted homeworld, left his partner Roan, all to go on a quest to save any Jedi he could find. And he wasn’t even a Jedi any longer!

  He wasn’t sure what he was anymore. He was a strange creature, half-Jedi, half-man. A space carnival creature for children to point at and laugh, waiting for him to turn into one or the other.

  Focus, Ferus, he told himself sternly.

  Ferus shot his liquid cable and it pulled him up the remaining hundred meters to the next crag. Thick undulating curtains of ice coated the mountain. Obi-Wan had explained that it would be difficult to pinpoint the location of the gorgodon nest. He would have to use the Force.

  Ferus closed his eyes for a moment. It was sometimes an effort for him to clear his mind, to reach out to the Force. Yet using the Force had to be effortless; he could not try. He could only exist in this moment, not hope for what was to come. He felt in the air the vibrations of the ice, the rock, the molecules of the sky, his own body. They all existed together in one seamless hum of energy, and from them rose what linked him to everything in the galaxy: the Force.

  He felt it gather, and he opened his eyes. Immediately he saw that what he thought was a thick impenetrable curtain was actually a constructed wall. The gorgodons had moved the sheer planes of ice as if it were transparisteel, mimicking the steep slope of the crag for camouflage.

  Once he saw this, the rest was easy. Ferus saw the difference in blue shadow and curve of ice. There was an opening in the wall, impossible to see even if one were looking carefully. He walked toward it.

  The Force gave him no warnings, but he knew the creatures were near. He could sense them. He walked through the opening and stopped short, confused by what was around him. It took him a moment to make sense of the shapes. The gorgodons had made the nest using ice and boulders to construct shelters that looked like the humped backs of the creatures themselves. They were fifty or so meters tall and hunched together like ascending hills. They used their sticky brown saliva as a kind of mortar to hold the structures together. It had an elastic quality and hung down over the openings, looking like a ruffle on a dainty curtain and swaying slightly in the breeze.

  He knew gorgodons had an excellent sense of smell. None of them stirred as he counted the ones he could see. Two on the side, sleeping out in the open. One smaller gorgodon, half in, half out of its shelter. He did not know how many others lay inside the shelters.

  There was nothing to do but walk right into the middle of the nest. He saw the opening to the cave ahead, just a slit in the wall, not big enough for a gorgodon to get through. If he could make it through the opening, he would be safe from them.

  He started across the nest. A gorgodon stretched and flopped close, and he had to leap out of the way. Which unfortunately entangled him in the foul-smelling, sticky saliva hangings over its shelter. Silently, Ferus fought to extricate himself. It was like being trapped in the thick sap from a tree.

  The gorgodon opened one lazy eye. The eye was yellow, and Ferus saw himself reflected in the enormous dark pupil.

  He looked very small. And, he imagined, tasty.

  The gorgodon opened its mouth and roared, its triple row of yellow teeth still tinged with pink from its last kill. Ferus’s blood was already cold, and now it turned to ice. The other gorgodons stirred, and suddenly the air was filled with their cries.

  There was a time to fight, and a time to run. He ran.

  The tail came out of nowhere, smacking him in the back like a too-friendly hello. This particular greeting made pain ratchet through his body and sent him airborne, flying toward another gorgodon, jaws open to catch and no doubt break him in half.

  If ever he needed the Force, it was now. Ferus reached out, but he met nothing, no current that could help him. He knew he was too focused on the jaws that awaited him. The present moment wasn’t too awful—he was merely flying through the air. It was the next moment that was the problem. The one where the rows of teeth razored him into slivers.

  Instead of reaching for the Force, he reached out for the stringy, elastic saliva looped over the shelter as he flew by. He grabbed at it with desperate fingertips, and it yielded to him.

  All he needed was a break in his momentum, and he got it. He pulled on the thick gummy substance, and it boomeranged him backward. He slammed into the side of a boulder, but at least that was better than landing in a gorgodon’s jaws.

  The gorgodon let out a howl of anger at the diversion of his lunch. He bounded after Ferus. But Ferus was already moving, keeping an eye out for those lethal tails. The gorgodon’s hide was so thick that blaster bolts couldn’t kill them, only annoy them, so he kept his blaster holstered. He needed to get to the vulnerable spot behind their necks to kill them, and he’d just as soon not get that close. Besides, he was the intruder. He had entered their nest, and he supposed that they had every right to be annoyed with him.

  But did they have to be so mean about it?

  He used the next gummy trail as a swing to lift him over a gorgodon’s back. A paw as big as a gravsled tried to swat him, but suddenly the Force was with him, and he sailed above it. He felt the Force now, and he used it to extend his jump over the final gorgodon shelter.

  He was almost to the cave opening when he felt himself lift into the air. His first thought was surprise. I am in the air again, but I didn’t jump, he thought, dazed.

  Then the pain hit. The left side of his body was on fire. He realized that he’d been hit with a gorgodon paw. Not only that, but the blow had been perfectly aimed. He was on a straight trajectory to the other paw, which was lifted in wait. He saw quite clearly that the creature meant to whack him from one paw to another, batter him senseless, pop him in his mouth, and crunch.

  Not his idea of a pleasant afternoon. Or a decent demise.

  Ferus somersaulted in midair, the pain forgotten as the urge to survive surged. He was conscious of the clarity of the cold air, the crystal beauty of the ice, the smell of the gorgodons, rich and fetid in his nostrils.

  His boots thudded into the gorgodon’s massive palm. His knees bent, and he vaulted off, using the creature’s power to send him flying. But instead of allowing the gorgodon to dictate his direction, Ferus used the Force to catapult himself up to the gorgodon’s head. He landed in the fur, so slick with ice it was like the slope of a hill. Ferus slid down the creature’s neck, slipping his vibroblade out of his tunic and, with a quick swivel of his body, used all his body strength to bury it in the soft place behind the creature’s skull.

  The bellow of the wounded animal rang through the air and he shook Ferus off like a dry leaf. Again Ferus flipped into the air, but he landed safely on the ground. He took off for the cave as the creature rolled on the ground, trying to dislodge the vibroblade.

  He slipped inside the cave opening and was plunged into darkness. He’d made it. The gorgodons were behind him, but he knew the worst still lay ahead.

  Trever wrapped himself in a thermal blanket and sat with his back against an ice-slicked boulder. His breath frosted in the air, so he puffed out a few clouds and watched the vapor dissipate. He did it again. Then he closed one eye and tried to figure out where the ice stopped and the frozen lake began.

  Never a dull moment.

  Ferus had left him behind again. Just when there was a promise of some action, he was parked like a training scooter. He hadn’t expected this. When he’d stowed aboard the cruiser, he hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. He just wanted to escape his homeworld and the Empire—and instead, he was tangled up with Jedi. Okay, he’d been able to see a bit of the galax
y, but hanging around with a resistance hero and a Jedi sure didn’t pay well. To Trever’s mind, adventure should mean some sort of score along the way. What else was danger for?

  Who knew Ferus would turn out to be so…noble?

  He still liked Ferus, but he didn’t sign on to be the moon to his planet.

  Trever munched on a protein pellet. Maybe he should split off from these guys and find a nice planet somewhere, someplace out in the Outer Rim where the Empire’s reach wasn’t quite so…grasping. Some decent place that was crying out for a little black market action, where he could buy and sell in peace. Someplace a harmless thief like himself could make an honest living without an Imperial boot in his face.

  Was that ice cracking, or a footstep? Trever stopped crunching on his pellet. It certainly couldn’t have been the wind ruffling any nonexistent leaves on this frozen wasteland of a planet. No, it was definitely what he thought it was…a footstep.

  Rolling himself more securely into the concealing thermal blanket, he slid behind a boulder. Directly below him a narrow path curved around the slope. In another second he saw two stormtroopers in some sort of snow gear walking toward him.

  He saw at once that they weren’t looking for anything. They were just two soldiers, walking a perimeter, doing a boring job.

  But they were nowhere near their base. And that meant they’d left a vehicle somewhere near. Which could be a very interesting situation.

  Quietly, Trever slipped out of the thermal blanket. He waited until the stormtroopers had disappeared from sight and then slid down the slope. He trudged through the snow, heading back the way the stormtroopers had come.

  It didn’t take him long to find their transport. Trever let out a low whistle. Sweet. It was a small space cruiser. No doubt it was outfitted nicely. He could use some decent food, maybe a few tools or an easily lifted auxiliary booster…just a few things they wouldn’t notice were gone.

  The ramp was still down. Talk about a gracious invitation. Trever walked up and slipped inside the ship.

  First he raided the galley and wolfed some food down while he searched. He slipped a brand-new fusioncutter into his pocket—you never knew when one could come in handy—as well as a small pair of electrobinoculars. He took a couple of handfuls of drills for the fusioncutter, just in case he needed them.

  He hesitated over a tracomp sensor, but decided they might miss it. He didn’t want to leave any evidence of his presence. But he pocketed a handful of alpha-plus chargers he found in a toolbox. They were powerful explosives, usually used in mining. No doubt the troopers needed them to blast through any rocks that got in their way.

  Trever thought there’d at least be a couple of spare credits lying around, or some sort of portable currency. There wasn’t even a credit chip to pocket. But his pockets were bulging anyway, and it was time to go.

  Suddenly he heard the crackle of a transmitter. The stormtroopers were returning. Trever looked out. They weren’t in sight yet.

  He was just about to race down the ramp when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that a transport was landing. They’d see him if he exited now. Cursing his bad luck, Trever faded back and hovered by the top of the ramp.

  The stormtroopers approached the new craft just as it landed. The dome roof of the cockpit opened and Trever clearly heard the officer inside ask, “Anything unusual?”

  “Nothing to report,” one of the stormtroopers said.

  “Return to base. Attack scenario seven implemented.”

  “Another drill?”

  “Negative. A ship was spotted. Sweep indicated a life-form near the vicinity of the cave. You’re sure you didn’t spot anything unusual?”

  “Yes, we’re sure.”

  Just then, one of the drill bits stuffed into Trever’s tunic pocket fell out. It bounced with a metallic ping, then rolled down the runway.

  He just knew it didn’t pay to be so greedy.

  There was a split-second pause. Then the stormtroopers wheeled, searching the area. The sensors in their helmets flashed red as they got a fix on him.

  They charged, their blasters pointed straight at Trever.

  Quickly he closed the ramp and jumped into the cockpit. He’d once won a hotwiring competition among the youngest thieves of Bellassa. Now he halved his record time.

  It was time to go for a ride.

  Sancor was a small humanoid whose dark robe seemed to dwarf him. His fingers were long and triple-jointed, and they moved easily over the keyboard as information flooded the screen.

  “This is Osh Scal, our medical supply officer,” Tuun said, indicating Obi-Wan, who had changed into the appropriate clothes for a medical supply officer, including a face-covering surgical mask.

  “At last.” Sancor waved Obi-Wan forward without turning to look at him. “I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes.”

  “I was on my break,” Obi-Wan said, keeping his tone friendly. “How can I help you?”

  Sancor snapped his long, flexible fingers and then held out his hand. “Your supply records covering the dates I indicated. Remain here while I go through them. I’ll have questions.”

  “I’ll try to answer them.” Obi-Wan handed Sancor the disk that Tuun had given him.

  Sancor slipped it into the readout slot. Information sprang to the screen, numbers and letters and codes.

  Obi-Wan leaned forward as Sancor scrolled through the material.

  “If you tell me what you’re looking for, I might be better able to assist you,” Obi-Wan said.

  “I haven’t asked you a question,” Sancor snapped. His small black eyes flitted over the material. “Dr. Naturian, I don’t remember asking you to stay. I’m sure you have duties elsewhere. A patient to save, perhaps.”

  “Yes. I’ll go, then.” With a final look at Obi-Wan, Tuun backed out of the room.

  “Here.” Sancor’s long finger rested a fraction of space away from the screen. “A vitals scan kit. You ordered several replacement kits here.”

  “Yes, it’s an item we use frequently…”

  “But these are used specifically for newborns to scan for potential problems.”

  “No, not exclusively.”

  “There were no newborns in this facility at that time.”

  “I don’t know, I haven’t cross-referenced with patient records—”

  “But I have.” Sancor kept scrolling through. Suddenly, he stopped. “What is…” he closed his mouth. Obi-Wan watched his face. He had discovered the items that Tuun had entered. Sancor licked his lips as he studied the screen. Obi-Wan could see that he was trying not to show his excitement. “You had only a few patients in the med center during this period. Only one was seriously injured. Yet these supplies show a major catastrophic illness was treated. Your records don’t reflect that.”

  Obi-Wan shrugged. “Records can get sloppy.”

  Sancor gave him an icy look. “Odd that you disparage your own abilities. These records are meticulous. And the med droids are programmed to enter all of their procedures. They should match.”

  “I’m not a doctor,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m just a technician. Maybe you’ll want to check the med droids.”

  “If I wanted to talk to a med droid, I would summon it. Who else had access to your ordering at that time?”

  “I do the ordering.”

  “Does anyone check your orders or see them after you submit them?”

  “No.”

  Sancor looked at him, not believing him. The long fingers stroked the keys. “Let’s check the employee list.”

  One by one, names and photos popped up. Suddenly Obi-Wan felt uneasy.

  “I’m sure I can help you,” he said. “I just need to familiarize myself with some details.”

  “Surely you can remember something that happened so close to the end of the Clone Wars.”

  “It was a chaotic time.”

  “On the contrary. Things were slow in this quadrant; you were an adjunct on an archeological dig. The action was elsewhere
.” Sancor turned and looked at Obi-Wan, his antennae twitching.

  Behind Sancor’s head, the name OSH SCAL popped up, together with a likeness not at all like Obi-Wan’s. All Sancor had to do was turn and he would see the truth, that Obi-Wan was impersonating the supply officer.

  Obi-Wan reached out for the Force.

  “You’ve seen enough for now, and I can go,” he said.

  Sancor shook his head. “I have certainly not seen enough.”

  Sancor’s mind was too strong to influence. But Obi-Wan had to prevent him from turning.

  Obi-Wan stood up abruptly. “I can access the files more quickly on the other port.”

  “Then do it.”

  He almost got away with it. But Tuun suddenly poked his head in. “Are you almost done?”

  Sancor swiveled to see Tuun, and his gaze swept the screen. He saw the name and the image.

  When he turned back to Obi-Wan, he had a blaster in his hand.

  “Suppose you two tell me what’s going on,” he said. He smiled, and they saw small, pointed teeth. “I didn’t know if you had something to hide. But now I’m sure.”

  Obi-Wan felt the surge of the dark side of the Force before it happened. He activated his lightsaber just as Sancor fired at Tuun. Obi-Wan was able to deflect the fire as Tuun leaped back. Some of the blaster bolts streaked through the air and thudded into the wall. Obi-Wan sprang forward, his blaster activated and ready. He saw the flare of surprise in Sancor’s face, and then he ran, brushing past Tuun and taking off down the hallway.

  “He’s heading toward the main hangar,” Tuun said. “We can’t let him go. He has the disk!”

  Obi-Wan took off. Sancor threw back the sleeves on his robe, and Obi-Wan saw the glint of a wrist rocket.

  “Get down!” he yelled to Tuun, even as he dived for cover.

  The rocket exploded, sending chunks of the ceiling raining down on his head. Obi-Wan rolled out of the way and charged.