[Last Of The Jedi] - 04(18)

“We see it.”

“Our target is on that ship. And at the controls, by the looks of it.”

“Looks like he could use a hand. Let’s go.”

Trever was suddenly slammed back in his seat as Solace took the fighter into a spinning dive.

“Did I warn you to hang on?” she yelled over the scream of the engines.

Trever felt plastered back against the seat. He had seen Solace’s piloting skills, navigating through the tight spaces and close shaves that was Coruscant air traffic. This was combat flying - fast, dangerous. It might have even felt exhilarating, if he hadn’t also felt like he was about to die any second.

“You’re going to have to operate the laser cannons,” Solace told him. “Can you do it?”

“I’m pretty good,” Trever said, even though technically he hadn’t operated any before.

“Get to it,” she said. “Just don’t shoot Oryon.”

Trever switched on the cannons. He spread his legs, keeping his balance, his eye at the scope. The Imperial fighters were firing on the starfreighter. Compared to the agile fighters, the freighter looked like a gigantic clumsy tractor plowing through stars.

The starfighters hadn’t realized the two newcomers were a threat, not yet. They might get a few clear shots first.

Trever lined up a shot. Almost within range. Almost … almost… .

He pressed the activator -

- and was rewarded with the bloom of smoke from one of the starfighters.

“Good work!” Solace shouted. “Let me get closer. They’ll be on us now.”

Trever quickly discovered that shooting at a starfighter was much more difficult when the starfighters were engaged in evasive maneuvers … and shooting back at him.

Space suddenly erupted in fire. It had bumps and peaks and valleys, currents of percussive bumps that Solace rode with ease, one hand on the controls, the other on her own weaponry controls.

Oryon was looping around the starfighters, peppering them with fire and trying to stay between them and the freighter. Suddenly Ferus’s voice popped into their frequency.

“Whoever you are, thank you!” he yelled.

“It’s us, sweetcake. Watching your back as usual,” Keets’s voice boomed out.

“It’s good to see you! I owe you one.”

“You owe us plenty!” Trever shouted from the gunport.

Oryon’s constant blaster hammering hit one starfighter, which spiraled out of control. Now only two were left, and Solace and Oryon proved to be the better pilots, maneuvering their ships so that they boxed the starfighters in, then blasted them.

Fire burst on their wings and fuselage and they careened down toward the prison world.

Ferus’s freighter did a lazy circle around them. “How about a rendezvous point?”

Solace clicked through the possibilities. “How about Alba-16? It’s not far, and the Empire has no real presence there.”

“And it’s got a great cantina!” an unfamiliar voice roared through the Comm unit.

“Who was that?” Oryon asked.

Trever felt his heart rise as he heard Ferus’s chuckle. It was good to hear it. He couldn’t help feeling that everything would be okay.

“Don’t ask,” Ferus said.

It wasn’t until Alba-16 was close that Clive brought up to Ferus what he’d seen. He was sitting in the copilot’s chair, boots on the console, leaning back as far as the chair would allow him to go.

“I always thought there was something odd about you, but I never guessed you were a Jedi,” he said.

“I was never a Jedi,” Ferus corrected. “I left when I was still a Padawan.”

“Never heard of one leaving. A story there, eh?” Clive said, but he didn’t ask for it. “You could have told me. I would have felt a mite easier about our escape probability factor. As it was, I thought for sure we were going to die.”

“My abilities aren’t as sharp as they were. And I had no lightsaber. I didn’t want you to overestimate what I could do.”

“Well, it was a nice surprise, mate. You did all right.”

“You didn’t have to punch me.”

“Authenticity, Master Ferus. That’s the key to every escape.”

Ferus landed the ship at the Alba-16 spaceport. It held the usual collection of freighters and haulers as well as a few personal craft. Because the planet was without an Imperial garrison, no one questioned the arrival of the ships.

Behind him, the two starfighters landed. Solace popped the canopy on hers and a moment later Trever stuck his head out. He jumped out on the wing and leaped to the ground, then ran toward Ferus. Suddenly he stopped, embarrassed. Ferus saw his hands dangling. He knew that Trever wanted to show his feelings, but didn’t want to expose them. The boy was such a curious mixture of emotion and toughness.