by Alex Wheeler
Still, it was going to take more than a few good ships to untangle this mess. Luke never felt more at home than when he was behind the controls of a ship. He was able to clear his mind and focus it, all at once, letting himself become one with the machine. He dipped and glided, slipping through the web of Imperial attackers, watching his torpedoes streak through space. They always hit their mark.
But even if he shot down every ship he saw, he was only one pilot—there were hundreds of TIE fighters, maybe thousands of them. The Rebel fleet was barely holding its own.
The comm unit pinged. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Div asked.
"We need to take out more ships," Luke said, stating the obvious.
"Not to mention stop from getting taken out ourselves," Han chimed in, as another X-wing burst into flame.
"Exactly," Div agreed. "And I've got an idea."
Luke listened as Div laid out his strategy. It was dangerous, and probably crazy.
Which meant it might actually work.
"On my mark!" Div barked into the comm. He pulled his ship into a whiplash turn. "Mark!" He looped up and around the squadron of TIE fighters, leading them on a wild chase through the battlefield. Han and Luke flanked him on either side, joined by several other Rebel ships. As planned, the Rebels didn't fire—they channeled all their power into the thrusters, narrowly outpacing the TIE pursuers.
"Faster," Div murmured, pushing the engines far past their breaking point. "Come on."
The cloud was nearly in reach. The Mon Calamari cruisers had done their part perfectly. The plasma bombs they'd detonated had expelled a massive cloud of gas. It obscured a thousand meters of space behind an eerie red glow. The cloud would be harmless to ships passing through it, but was poison to navigational instruments, which meant as soon as they entered, they'd be flying blind. Perfect.
Div streaked into the cloud, letting his instincts guide the way, as they always had. He counted off the seconds aloud. "Three, two, one…Now!" he shouted into the comm. He yanked the controls, dropping the ship into a steep dive. Every Rebel ship did exactly the same. But the Imperials had no one to signal them—and no one to remind them that a Star Destroyer hovered on the other side of the cloud.
The squadron of TIE fighters slammed into the side of the ship, ripping a jagged hole in its hull. The massive ship began to list and shudder. Only a few of the TIE fighters peeled off in time, alerted by the explosions and shrapnel that danger lay ahead. Div wasn't about to give any of them a chance to shoot down the fleeing Rebels. As the X-wings followed orders and sped away, Div zoomed into the fray, picking off the TIE fighters one by one.
Dimly, through the comm, he heard Luke and Han urging some of the Rebel transport ships to activate hyperdrives while the Imperials struggled to regroup. The X-wings gave the larger ships cover as they sped out of the system and winked into hyperspace. But Div's attention was laser-focused on the four ships that had survived the sneak attack, all of which were firing on him at once.
He was a good pilot.
The best.
But he couldn't evade missiles from four directions at once. One struck a glancing blow to his forward hull. Another blasted into his rear thrusters. Smoke filled the cabin. The navigational controls became sluggish…and then stopped responding altogether. Which meant whether he survived this encounter or not, he'd be of no use to the Rebel fleet. And since the hyperdrive had been blown out with the first missile, it was only a little longer before he'd be of no use to anyone.
But the laser cannons were still operational, and as the TIE fighters moved in for the kill, Div let them approach. "Just a little closer," he whispered. If this was going to be his last fight, he intended to win it.
They thought he was helpless, and were careless as they approached. Which gave Div one chance. He lined up the shot, then closed his eyes, waiting.
This time, he didn't have to try to connect to the Force. It was there for him, as Ferus had always promised him it would be. Now. He felt it, with a deep certainty. He pulled the trigger, and opened his eyes. A missile screamed into the nearest TIE fighter. The ship exploded, neatly splitting down the middle. Its solar energy collectors blew off in opposite directions, crashing into the two TIE fighters that flanked it. The fourth got caught in the blowback, and blew up a moment later.
Just not before it released one final torpedo.
Div had miscalculated—only slightly, but enough.
As the torpedo rocketed toward him, time seemed to slow. Unfortunately, it only gave him a chance to watch the end creeping closer.
He had chosen this sacrifice. It was probably a futile one, since all he'd done was buy the Rebels a bit more time.
But sometimes more time was all you needed.
The torpedo slammed into his ship and blew off his stabilizer fin. The ship spiraled out of control, spinning wildly in a cyclone of debris.
"Div!" Luke shouted through the comm.
"Make this count, Luke," Div said, but he suspected his communications system had failed, like the rest of them. Alarms were blaring through the ship as he plunged toward the moon's atmosphere.
There was nothing to do now but wait.
"Div!" Luke shouted again, but there was still no answer. The Firespray was bleeding exhaust and fuel as it dropped toward the moon. Within moments, it had slipped into the atmosphere. It sliced through the clouds, a red-hot ember growing dimmer and dimmer. And then it was gone. "We have to go after him," Luke cried.
"He's gone, kid," Han said. "But he bought us some time. Be grateful for that."
Luke knew he was right. The Rebels needed them up here, not down there, scouring the surface for wreckage.
And surely that's all there would be, wreckage. Even if Div had managed to eject before his ship burned up in the atmosphere, he could be stranded anywhere on the moon. That was millions of kilometers of ground to search—there was no way they could do that before the supernova. One way or another, Div was gone.
The fighting continued without him, but Han was right: Div had bought them some time. A good chunk of the fleet had managed to escape. Of course, that meant the ones that remained were more outnumbered than ever. Div wouldn't be the last to fall.
But Luke couldn't think about what might happen. He couldn't think about how narrow their chances were. He could only think about surviving each moment, and the next. The next TIE fighter, the next missile, the next laserbolt, the next explosion. The moments blurted and the battle seemed to stretch on forever, until Luke felt he'd been in this cockpit his entire life. He fired and fired again, and yet there were always new ships emerging from the wreckage. The Imperials would never give up.
And then the sky lit up with a bright, blinding flare.
First he thought another squadron had been taken out, but this was brighter than a simple explosion, brighter than anything he'd ever seen. It seared his vision, and for a few seconds, he saw nothing but a glowing black.
He blinked hard, and gradually, the world came back. But it was a changed world: There was a roiling storm of fire where the dim sun had been. The resonance torpedoes had ignited their chain reaction—the sun began its collapse. The shock wave traveled at a small fraction of the speed of light, which meant they had a little time before it hit. About forty minutes, the droids had calculated—after that, the explosion would consume them all.
"This is Gold Leader," the voice came over the comm link. "The Imperials are fleeing. Repeat, the Imperials are fleeing. All ships return to base."
It was true. The firing had stopped, as understanding spread through both fleets. Star Destroyers and Rebel freighters alike were winking into hyperspace, desperate to flee the dying sun.
But Leia was still below, helping evacuate the moon. Which meant Luke wasn't going anywhere but down.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"You'll be fine," Ferus assured the stooped old woman, a streak of dried blood smeared across her face.
"Just activate the hyperdrive as soon as you're
clear of the gravitational field," Leia instructed the pilot, as he climbed aboard the ship that Soresh had taken hostage one month before.
"Be brave for your mother," Ferus said, resting his hand on a young boy's scruffy brown hair. "She needs you."
One by one, the shaken settlers climbed aboard their ship. They had been trapped on the moon for weeks; locked inside dank cells with fading hope of escape. It seemed no one could believe that they were actually being given a ship and a means to escape. But, weeping or smiling, they all climbed on board.
"That should be the last of them," Leia said.
Among the guards, confusion had proved contagious. Without Soresh around to give them orders, they were easily swayed. With the help of the guards Luke had freed, Leia and Ferus had herded them all onto ships of their own. The moon was evacuated and the sun would explode in thirty-eight minutes—which meant it was time for them to go.
After making one final sweep of the main base installation, Ferus and Leia retreated to the hangar, where the final ship of hostages was waiting for them.
It was the first time they'd really been alone together since Ferus had arrived on the moon. "I was very relieved to discover you were safe, Princess," Ferus told her. Leia would never know how relieved, just as she would never know that he had sworn his life to protect her. There was so much he hadn't told her—and so many lies that he had.
"I wasn't the one in real danger," Leia said, as they rushed toward the ship. "Luke was the one who risked everything. Sometimes I wonder…" She drifted off.
"Leia?" Ferus prompted her. It wasn't like the princess not to say exactly what was on her mind.
"I wonder what I would have done in his place," she admitted. "Whether I would have been strong enough to hold out against Soresh."
"Of course you would have!" Ferus assured her. "Princess, you're the strongest person I know."
But Leia shook her head. "But it isn't just strength, is it? Luke has something else…a certainty, a belief in his destiny. Even when everything else is stripped away, he still has…"
"The Force?" Ferus guessed.
Leia reddened, and a small laugh bubbled out of her. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this," she said. "It's ridiculous, I know. There's nothing Luke can do with his lightsaber that I can't do with my blaster. It's just sometimes I wonder how much more I could do for the Rebels if I had his gifts. I wonder if I could have saved—" She stopped, abruptly.
But Ferus knew what she was thinking. "What happened to Alderaan is not your fault, Princess. You couldn't have stopped it."
"You're right," Leia said, looking away. "I couldn't."
Ferus was quiet for a moment. He listened to the sound of their pounding footsteps. Then he made a decision. "Leia, stop," he said, and grabbed her arm.
"We've got less than half an hour," Leia said. "That doesn't leave much time for sightseeing."
"Just a second," Ferus said. "Indulge an old man."
She stopped running, and gave him an impatient stare. "Well, what is it?"
She took his breath away, this fierce, brave woman she had become. When he looked at her, he still saw the inquisitive toddler, the willful child, the rebellious teenager—he saw her entire life, and understood it had all led up to this moment. She was ready.
Ready to know the truth—ready to know her destiny.
No longer would he allow her to live in ignorance. No longer would he let her feel powerless or less than. No longer could he stand hearing her question her own strength. No longer would he listen as she doubted herself.
Obi-Wan had tried so hard to convince him it was better this way. That Luke would be their warrior and Leia their spare, their backup, in case anything went wrong. Obi-Wan believed that Luke would be the galaxy's savior, that the risk of hiding the truth would pay off. But Obi-Wan also believed that Ferus should trust his instincts.
And his instincts were telling him that Luke and Leia would be stronger together. That the Force lived within her, and she deserved the chance to know it, to know herself—and to know her brother.
"There's something I haven't told you," he said, aware that after this moment, nothing would be the same. "Something you need to know."
"What is it?" she asked impatiently. "We have to leave."
"Leia, I—" Suddenly, he couldn't catch his breath. His lungs squeezed together as if trapped in a vise. A curtain of darkness descended across his vision. It was as if the air had turned to poison, killing him with every breath.
And, as he reached out with the Force, he heard it, the breathing, heavy and even, wheezing death with every exhalation.
Vader was here.
And he was close.
"I heard something," he said quickly. "Back in the base. Belowground." They were at the mouth of the hangar. "It sounded like a cry for help. I think there might be more prisoners."
"I don't hear anything," Leia said. "And time's running out. Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," Ferus said urgently. He had to get her out of here before Vader got close enough to sense her presence, They'd met face-to-face before, and Ferus couldn't believe that Vader hadn't figured out the truth. There was no way he was going to risk giving Vader another chance again. Because even if he didn't realize who Leia was, he would surely take her prisoner—or kill her.
"Then we have to go back and help them," Leia said.
"I'll go," Ferus said. He would do whatever it took to stall Vader and give Leia time to escape. It was the only way to make sure she survived.
"I'm not letting you go on your own!" Leia said, indignant.
There was little time to argue. "Leia, please," Ferus said. "I promised your father I would protect you. Don't make me break that promise. If there's anyone back there, I'll help them. I'll be fine. Please—just go."
He could tell it was the last thing she wanted to do. But maybe she saw his desperation.
"All right," she finally said. "But if your ship doesn't take off in ten minutes, I'm coming back for you."
Ferus grasped her hands and gave them a tight squeeze—it was as much of a good-bye as he could allow himself. If she knew what he was about to do—and how it would most likely end—she would never let him go.
Leia boarded the freighter and Ferus ran into the base, back the way they'd come. Back toward Vader. He didn't have far to run. As he rounded one corner, and then another, the stench of evil grew overwhelming, the air thick with darkness. And then, just beyond the second corner, there he was. Darth Vader, standing still in the middle of the hall, as if he were waiting. As if he knew exactly what was coming, and who.
Ferus froze at the opposite end of the corridor. He couldn't force his legs to carry him any closer.
"I had hoped you were dead," Darth Vader said in a low rumble.
"Sorry to disappoint you." Rage swelled within Ferus. He hadn't come face-to-face with Vader since that day, so many years ago, when the Sith had left him for dead. When Ferus had failed to avenge Roan's death, and left Vader alive, to kill so many more. Because Ferus failed, Vader lived to strike down Obi-Wan. To destroy nearly everything and everyone he touched. Standing before him, Ferus understood the true nature of hate.
He had told himself that he only wanted to stall Vader, to protect Leia. But that wasn't the whole truth.
He wanted another chance at killing the Dark Lord. He wanted to stand over Vader's body and watch him die.
"I could kill you where you stand," Vader said. "I could kill you with a thought."
"It would probably be easier," Ferus replied lightly. He knew he had to leave behind his hatred if he was going to survive this encounter. He couldn't beat Vader by matching him darkness for darkness. His rage would only cloud his connection to the Force; he needed to stay clear. "And you always were one to take the easy way out. Anakin."
"Anakin is dead," Vader said.
"So you've told me before," Ferus said. "You killed him. Just like you killed Obi-Wan. And Padmé." He watched carefully, hoping for some f
linch, some sign, something to indicate that the name had some impact. If Anakin really was dead and gone, then Ferus had no chance left at all. Perhaps none of them did. "Erase all reminders of who you used to be, isn't that the plan? Any reminders of what you've done and how much it hurts?"
"You know nothing about pain," Vader said. Then he raised his lightsaber. The red beam glowed in the darkness. "But it will be my pleasure to teach you."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Darth Vader had come for Luke Skywalker. He had come to find the boy who had caused so much trouble, wrought so much destruction—and somehow, inexplicably, bore Anakin's name.
But he had stayed—even when it became clear that Luke was gone, along with everyone else—because he sensed there was someone else hiding in the bowels of the station. Someone familiar. A presence that evoked strange and unsettling images of the past, of things he hadn't thought about for many years. Images of Padmé—her scent, the soft melody of her voice, the myriad details he'd spent two decades trying to forget. It meant there was someone on this station connected to his past, and that someone needed to die.
As he swept through the halls, he had been almost…not afraid, certainly. Fear was beneath him now, useful only as a weapon with which to destroy his enemies. No, he had been watchful, wondering who he might find lurking around the next corner.
Discovering Ferus had been a relief. This was no unknown variable from the past. Ferus was known, easily dealt with. A loose end he should have tied up long before. Ferus had no power over him; his words were empty. He was nothing but a feeble old man babbling about a dead past. And yet the sight of him—the sound of the name Padmé on his lips—was enraging. Ferus should be dead, as all the Jedi should be dead. It was infuriating that he was still crawling around like a Bossuk roach.
