Star Wars - Rebel Force 04 - Uprising

by Alex Wheeler

  No longer. Vader stoked the rage, let it swell within him. His rage was his power—something the pathetic Jedi had never understood. His rage was bottomless; his power was limitless.

  Ferus was nothing in the face of that. Less than nothing. A roach to be squashed underfoot.

  Vader crossed the distance between them before the old man even had time to draw his weapon. I could kill him with a single blow, Vader thought. But there was no hurry. And he had to admit, he was curious. Ferus had become such a decrepit human specimen, paunchy and sad. Soft. It would be interesting to let him believe he could still put up a fight.

  Vader swung his blade down. Ferus met it solidly. There was a dull hum as the red and blue blades clashed.

  "Your technique has become lazy," Vader observed. He parried a blow, almost as an afterthought.

  Ferus didn't reply. He was breathing heavily, gasping with each lunge and thrust. Vader deflected every strike with little more than a flick of the wrist.

  "And you've gotten complacent," Ferus said, slashing diagonally. Vader retreated a step, and the lightsaber hummed through empty air. "You think no one can match you, right? Same old Anakin."

  "Anakin is dead!" Vader roared, and struck with his full power. Time to end this game.

  But Ferus somehow evaded the blow—and then danced away from the next one, and the next. The blue blade whirled and spiraled through the air, matching Vader strike for strike, blow for blow.

  It was that name. That was the only explanation. Even the sound of it had somehow thrown him off balance.

  This was unacceptable.

  "You move well for a fat old man," Vader granted. He was more powerful by far, but the plastoid armor made for awkward maneuvering. And he would never reclaim the physical grace he'd had as Anakin.

  Vader shook off the thought, disgusted with himself. Anakin had nothing that he wanted, nothing. He let the disgust grow. This was what he needed. Not grace, not that foul Jedi concentration. Anger.

  Darkness. Control.

  Ferus leapt through the air, driving the lightsaber down in a chopping motion as he arced toward the ground. The blade came within centimeters of Vader's face plate. Sweat poured down Ferus's face with the effort of continuing the fight. And yet still, he lived. "No older than you, Anakin," he gasped.

  And it was true. They'd once been the same age, young and stupid, easily manipulated by their Jedi Masters. Now Vader was Master of all—and Ferus was this weak, stooped thing. Is this what Anakin would have grown into, had he stayed in that frail, human body? This sagging bag of loose flesh?

  Vader was furious with himself for entertaining the thought. It didn't matter what Anakin would have become. Anakin was nothing—didn't exist, had never existed.

  "There is no Anakin," Vader said.

  "And yet here he is in front of me," Ferus countered. "The same cocky, deceitful, defiant, scared little boy you always were. You killed Obi-Wan because he saw the fear behind the mask. You killed Padmé because she saw the monster."

  Rage blotted out Vader's vision, turning the world to darkness—everything disappeared but Ferus's disgusting, knowing smile. Ferus was the one who had never changed, was still the same insufferable child he'd always been. Vader should have done the galaxy a favor and snuffed him out at the Academy. Better late than never.

  Ferus advanced with a dizzying series of strikes and parries. "You can kill me if you want. But you will never kill Anakin. I suspect someday, he'll kill you."

  "Someday, perhaps." Vader flicked a gloved hand, and Ferus's lightsaber flew across the hall. "But unfortunately for you, that day is not today." He plunged his blade through Ferus's heart, and watched with pleasure as Anakin's long-lasting enemy dropped to the ground, the life draining from his eyes.

  The pathetic old man knew nothing, he told himself. Anakin was dead and gone forever. And now there was no one who could bring him back.

  Ferus lay still, as the thundering footsteps disappeared down the corridor. He lay on his back in a pool of blood, feeling his life force trickle away. And he lay with a smile on his face, knowing that he had succeeded.

  He would have liked to kill Darth Vader.

  He would have liked to save the galaxy.

  But it was enough to know he had saved Leia.

  He had always thought dying would hurt. But there was little pain. There was little of anything, anymore. The bonds holding him to this world were fraying.

  "Be brave, my friend. You have done well." Obi-Wan knelt beside him. Not the glowing, translucent spirit Ferus had come to know, but the real Obi-Wan, solid as he had been when he was alive. The Jedi Master took Ferus's hand. "The end is never the end," he said. "Only another journey."

  More riddles, Ferus thought wryly. Leave it to Obi-Wan to be frustratingly vague, even at a time like this. He would have laughed, but he lacked the strength. Obi-Wan smiled, as if he knew.

  And then Obi-Wan faded away, and another figure appeared in his place.

  Ferus gasped, choking on the blood that bubbled in his throat. His lips formed the name he hadn't spoken aloud in years.

  Soft fingers brushed his forehead. "Did you really think I would leave you here alone?"

  You left me alone for all those years, Ferus wanted to say. I always hoped you were waiting for me. I always hoped I would see you again.

  Roan Lands, dead for nearly two decades, gazed down at him, his eyes full of warmth and humor. Roan, who had found Ferus after he'd fled the Jedi Temple, and taught him what it meant to truly live. Roan, who had been Ferus's partner and friend for the best years of his life. Roan, whom he thought he'd lost forever.

  Ferus's fear was gone, replaced by a deep, calming peace. He had done what he could for the people he loved. He had fulfilled the mission Obi-Wan had set out for him, protected Anakin's child until she was strong enough to protect herself. He had fought as best he knew how, for as long as he could. And now Roan was here, and Ferus was ready to go.

  "I'll stay with you," Roan said, squeezing his hand. "For as long as you need me."

  Ferus let his eyes drift shut. His world narrowed to the sound of Roan's voice, and the warmth of Roan's hand.

  "You are not alone," he heard Roan say.

  And then he heard nothing at all.

  "You are not alone," Leia whispered, squeezing Ferus's hand even tighter, wishing she could give him her strength.

  But she couldn't.

  All she could do was kneel by his body and watch as his chest rose and fell with slow, shallow breaths…and then fell still. There was a faint smile on his face, and Leia hoped it meant he had died in peace.

  He was dead.

  Leia had known Ferus all her life, but she felt she'd only really known him these last few months. She felt a hole open within her, as if she'd lost a part of her family, or even herself. He was the last connection she'd had to her past on Alderaan, and to her father. It always seemed like he had secrets he was desperate to share with her, if only she'd asked the right questions. But she'd never bothered to ask.

  And now he was gone.

  If she'd come back for him sooner, maybe she could have stopped it—whatever, whoever it was that had done this to him.

  Leia knew she had to go. The sun was about to explode. And whoever had killed Ferus might still be here—might be coming back for her.

  But she didn't move. She stayed by his side, holding his hand. Just a little longer, she told herself, and then I'll go.

  She didn't want to leave him alone.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  "Leia!" Luke finally spotted the princess, kneeling beside what looked like a body. He hurried over to her, Han following close behind. Luke had a bad feeling as he approached the body, but forced himself to look at the man's face. "What happened to him?"

  Leia just shook her head.

  Luke hadn't known Ferus very long or very well, but there had been something about the man that seemed so familiar, something that made him feel like part of the family. A family
that was very quickly dying off.

  "How about we move this party to the ship," Han said. "Before we get toasted."

  Leia shot him a quick, wounded look, and he immediately softened his tone. "I'm sorry, Princess," he said quietly. "But we have to go."

  "I know," she admitted, and released Ferus's hand. "I hate to leave him."

  Luke cleared his throat. "We won't."

  He shared a glance with Han, and they both bent down on either side of Leia to raise the body of the fallen Jedi.

  Leia took hold of Ferus' hand once again. "Let's go."

  They walked in silence toward the edge of the camp where the Falcon was docked. Chewbacca had kept the engines running. The entire fleet had jumped into hyperspace, along with the Imperials. They were the only ones left in the system, with six minutes to go. But just as they were about to take off, Luke froze.

  "What is it, kid?" Han asked impatiently.

  Luke raised a pair of microbinoculars to his eyes. More than a kilometer away, a figure in a black robe swept toward an Imperial shuttle.

  "Vader," Luke said darkly. "You think he…"

  "Yes," Leia said, without doubt. "He killed Ferus."

  Luke activated his lightsaber, "And I'm not letting him get away with it."

  "Luke, there's no time," Leia said.

  "And there's no way you face him and live," Han added.

  Luke didn't care. He was tired of running from Vader. It was time to face the enemy head on. After everything he'd been through; hadn't he proven his strength? He felt like he could do anything—and right now, destroying Vader was the only thing he wanted to do. Leia grabbed his arm.

  "Luke, think. He'll kill you, you know that. And even if he doesn't, even if by some miracle, you manage to defeat him, it'll be too late to escape. You'll die in the shock wave." The enormous sun loomed overhead, blotting out much of the sky.

  "Then either way, Vader will die," Luke said. "All I have to do is stall him, keep him from boarding that shuttle, and he's gone forever. Isn't that worth the sacrifice?"

  Han snorted. "Sacrifice is overrated."

  "He doesn't understand," Luke said to Leia. "But you must. After everything he's taken from you—"

  "I won't let him take you, too!" Leia shouted, as close to losing control as he had ever seen her. She grabbed him by both shoulders. "How many people have given their lives so you could survive?" she asked him. "You think you can throw your life away, like it's nothing?"

  Luke gritted his teeth. "It'd be worth it."

  "Nothing's worth that," Han argued. "We'll have another chance. And when the time comes, we'll be there. We'll have your back."

  "The galaxy needs you," Leia said. "We need you. And you need us."

  Luke had learned something from his imprisonment: No matter how many friends you have, no matter how determined they are to remain by your side, some things have to be faced alone. Sometimes you only had your own strength to draw from; you only had yourself to rely on.

  And something told Luke that the day he finally faced Darth Vader would be one of those times.

  But not yet.

  Not today.

  Luke watched the black-robed figure getting smaller and smaller as he swept toward his ship. I will watch you die, he thought. I will make you pay for everything you've done.

  But today, instead of taking Vader's life, he would save his own. "Let's get out of here," he said, and began climbing into the Falcon. Leia and Han stood in the hatchway, watching him board. Suddenly, Leia's eyes widened. "Behind you!" she cried.

  Luke whirled around, fumbling for a weapon. A bloodied and ragged Soresh stood at the base of the ship.

  "Did you really think I would let you leave this moon alive, Luke?" Soresh shouted up at him. "You will always belong to me!" Soresh raised a blaster—just as a bolt of laserfire hit him squarely in the chest.

  He toppled to the ground.

  "See what I mean, kid?" Han asked. He slipped his blaster back into its holster and grinned. "That's another one you owe me."

  The shock wave blasted through the star system, steamrolling everything in its path. A small, dead moon was no match for its explosive power. The storm of fire and radiation overwhelmed the moon, blasting it to dust and ash. Within seconds, the moon was gone. Only glowing radiation and swirling debris were left behind. And still, the supernova's thirst was unquenched. The shock wave rolled on, killing one planet after another. Until what had been a star system was nothing more than a blinding glow, stretching across billions of kilometers of space.

  It almost looked alive, pulsing and expanding, constantly reborn.

  But looks were deceiving; it wasn't a life. It was a long and fiery death. For the sun, for the system—and for any living creature foolish enough to be caught in its wake.

  "There it goes," Luke said, as the white dot on the viewscreen swelled into a luminous smear, brighter than a galaxy. Hard to believe that he was watching the death of an entire star system.

  Harder still to believe that Ferus and Div were lost in the inferno, and would never be seen again.

  "You think Vader made it out in time?" Leia asked. They'd left the moon with only minutes to spare and fled the system without looking back.

  "He was cutting it close," Han pointed out. "Maybe Soresh did us all a favor and toasted the guy once and for all."

  Luke shook his head. It was a nice dream, but he knew better. "He's still out there," Luke said. "I can feel it."

  There was a tense silence. Then Han cleared his throat. "You know what we all need?"

  "Sleep," Luke said. He suddenly realized how exhausted he was, emotionally and physically. This was the first time in a long time he'd had a chance to think—and he didn't like the thoughts that were crowding into his head. "I'll be in my bunk," he said, standing up. "I need to be alone for a while."

  "That's the last thing you need," Han insisted. "Follow me."

  Luke was too tired to argue. He waited as Han set the ship to autopilot, then followed him and the rest of his friends to the main hold.

  "You, too, grease buckets," Han told the droids, when they hesitated. "Consider it an order."

  Everyone settled around the large table in the middle of the main hold, and Han poured them all glasses of lum. Then Han raised his own glass. "To absent friends," he said. "Their sacrifices won't be forgotten."

  "I thought you didn't believe in sacrifice," Leia teased him.

  "I believe in getting the job done," Han said. "So did Div."

  "And Ferus," Leia added, quietly.

  Chewbacca roared, giving Han a hearty thump on the back.

  "When you're right, you're right, buddy," Han said. He raised the glass higher. "Okay, to absent friends—and present ones." He glanced at the droids, then at Leia. "No matter how annoying they may be."

  "To annoying friends," Leia repeated, holding his gaze.

  As they clinked their glasses together, the room bubbled with laughter and conversation. Luke leaned back in his chair and let the sounds of friendship wash over him, thinking about how much he'd lost—and how much he still had left. He wondered how long they had before the next crisis, the next battle, the next loss. Because as long as there was an Empire, and a dark side, these moments of peace could never last. There would always be another fight. But one day, Luke promised himself, there would be one final fight—and one final victory.

  Luke could only hope that when the day came, he and his friends would face it together.

  TWO YEARS LATER

  The world was white. Snowflakes swirled in gusts of icy wind. The ground lay buried far beneath a thick layer of snow and ice. As the sun dropped beneath the horizon, the temperature dropped well below freezing. By day, the planet Hoth was only barely habitable; at night, it was a dead zone. There was no shelter from the snow, no refuge from the raking winds. It seemed impossible anything could survive such wintry torment. And yet, two creatures stumbled blindly through the frozen landscape.

  One rode a t
auntaun, prodding the weary animal to take one more step, and yet another, and another. The cold bit into him with sharp teeth, but he pushed on, scanning the horizon for any sign of life.

  Several kilometers of snow and ice lay between him and what he sought. A lone man, crawling through the snow, losing strength by the second. Soon his limbs grew too numb to move, and he collapsed facedown in the snow.

  A third figure watched them both. A figure unbowed by the wind. A figure that was draped only in a thin, brown robe, and yet did not feel the cold.

  He had been watching for a long time, watching and waiting.

  But now, that time had ended.

  The time for action was upon him.

  Han Solo was steering his tauntaun the wrong way. If he continued on his course, he would lose himself in the blizzard and never find his way back to Echo Base. While Luke would lie helpless in the snow, growing weaker and weaker, until he finally succumbed to the cold.

  Obi-Wan reached out with the Force. Using the Force was different now, beyond the grave. He was stronger and weaker at the same time. In many ways, he was the Force. It animated his spirit, gave him this strange half-life—but it also separated him from the living world. He couldn't save Luke himself. But he could help Han.

  Just a few degrees to the east, and a bit to the south, and Han would be on a direct course to his friend. It was little more than a gentle nudge in the right direction. Han trusted his instincts—Obi-Wan was only giving those instincts a bit of help. Whether Han would be able to keep Luke alive and get him back to the base, Obi-Wan couldn't know. But he had faith in both of them. He'd never seen such strong wills to survive.

  It was time. Han would find Luke soon, and before he did, there was something Obi-Wan needed to say.

  "Luke," Obi-Wan said, materializing before him.

  There was no response. Had he waited too long?

  "Luke," he said again, louder.

  Luke raised his head. "Ben?" he asked weakly, his eyes widening.

  There was so much Obi-Wan would have liked to say, but there was little time. "You will go to the Dagobah system," he said.