[Last Of The Jedi] - 04(19)

Ferus had once been a stiff person, too, but not anymore. He slung one arm around Trever’s shoulders and gave him a quick, fierce hug. “Thought you lost me, didn’t you?”

“You do have a way of cutting things close,” Trever said.

The rest of the group walked up.

“Do me a favor,” Keets said to Ferus. “Try not to get arrested again.”

“Who’s he?” Solace asked, indicating Clive.

“The answer to your dreams, precious,” Clive said, linking an arm through hers. “Let me buy you a grog.”

In a flash, Solace slipped out of his grasp, twisted one of his arms behind his back, and had her lightsaber hilt nudged up against his chin.

“Did I mention Solace was a Jedi, too?” Ferus asked.

Solace released Clive, who smiled at her discomfort, and they all headed into the noisy cantina located near the spaceport. The music and conversation would cover their words.

Clive rubbed his hands together as he surveyed the mangy dive. “This is just about the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

They ordered drinks and food, and Clive ate ravenously while Ferus filled the group in on what had happened to him. They told him about the attack on Solace and her followers. Ferus was grieved to discover that the Empire had acted so quickly and that the other Erased had been killed.

“The good news is that we all reactivated our information networks,” Oryon said. “We were able to find out where the Imperial thugs were holding you.”

“We’re not ready for a real resistance movement - not yet,” Keets said. “But we can see a day where we could link up with other planets.”

Ferus saw it, too. It was years away, he knew. But someday the pockets of resistance on each planet would communicate with each other and form a network. Maybe even an army. It all had to start somewhere.

Ferus nodded. “We just have to begin. And Coruscant is the perfect place to start. The Senate has always been full of informers, people eager for a bribe. Just because the Emperor has taken over doesn’t. mean it isn’t still true.”

“Yeah, we also heard Malorum is on Naboo on some top-secret mission he concocted for himself,” Keets said. “So you don’t have to worry about him for a while.”

Naboo. A warning bell went off in Ferus’s mind. Why?

Because Obi-Wan told me to be alert to any investigations into the death of Senator Amidala of Naboo. Her funeral had been held there, in the city of Theed.

He tried to dismiss the importance of Malorum’s visit. There could be any number of reasons for him to go to Naboo. But he could not forget that Obi-Wan had told him that Malorum could threaten the future of the galaxy if he was allowed to continue his investigations.

For a moment, he felt a spurt of annoyance at Obi-Wan. The Jedi Master was sitting in exile, giving Ferus a vague order to watch out for something without telling him what was at risk. Ferus would have preferred a clear-cut mission.

Yet he couldn’t ignore this.

He looked around at the table. He would go alone, of course. But he had the feeling that this unusual collection of fighters wouldn’t let him. He wasn’t sure how it had happened or why, but they shared a bond. Even Clive.

“I have to go to Naboo,” Ferus said.

Keets put down the pitcher of grog he was about to pour. “Just when I was starting to relax,” he moaned.

“I’m not asking you to come,” Ferus said truthfully. “But I have to go.”

He felt the weight of the moment as they considered his words.

Clive slammed down his heaping forkful of food. “This place has really gone downhill,” he said. “Let’s go.”





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


Naboo was a lovely world. Theed was renowned across the galaxy for its natural marvels. The waterfalls kept the air in a state of constant, exhilarating freshness. Flowers and vines twined on every gracious building. The people of Naboo were known for their warmth and cordiality, their love of peace. There was an art to living, they felt, and their food, their buildings, and their clothes indicated this. It was a beautiful, ornate world, and Malorum wanted to blast it into space dust.

Everywhere he turned, he was met with smiles and bows. When he asked questions, he was met with earnest desires to help him, thoughtful frowns, fingers clicking on data keys, careful reviewing of records.

But no answers. “Alas and sadly . .” the functionary would say with a helpless shrug.

It was infuriating. No one defied him, no one refused him, but no one gave him what he wanted. As soon as he thought he had grasped something as firm as carbonite, he found he was holding only air. And there was no way he could threaten them, for they seemed to cooperate fully.