[Last Of The Jedi] - 06(16)

He said the words contemptuously, but Ferus picked up something behind his tone.

“You know me?”

Vader never second-guessed himself now. He so rarely made a mistake. He had reacted to the Ferus Olin he’d known. The obtuse, thick-headed, pompous Padawan. He had to remind himself that Olin must have changed. Ferus was quicker now, smarter.

Vader turned away. “I know what you are. I know what you want. You are transparent. Go.”

He was surprised when Ferus didn’t come back with a quip. He just went away.

I know you.

Why did those words freeze him in his tracks?

Ferus thought back on the way Vader had spoken. There was no special emphasis in his tone; it was the same deep, expressionless disembodied voice that issued from a breath mask.

Or was it? What was it that he’d caught? An emotion, a feeling, a taunt?

Something.

And whatever it was, it had struck the same chord in Ferus.

I know you.

He knew Vader, too.

He stopped in the hallway, stockstill with the shock of it. It washed over him, the possibility — and along with that, the searing knowledge of his own stupidity.

He had assumed Vader had sprung up from nowhere because Palpatine had wanted it that way. He had assumed that Vader had been like Darth Maul, an apprentice trained and kept concealed until he was needed.

He had never considered the possibility that Vader hadn’t been concealed.

That Vader had, instead, been turned.

That Vader could be — incredibly, tragically, unbelievably — a former Jedi.

I know you.

Could it be? Ferus turned and looked back at Vader’s closed door. His eyes burned. He had known so many Jedi, crossed paths with so many. Hundreds. And he was known to many. He had been Siri Tachi’s apprentice, and all Jedi knew Siri Tachi.

He stared at the closed door, wondering at the presence behind it.

Who are you?





Chapter Nine


Trever used his liquid cable as a lifeline. He made it to the top of the crystal formation — barely. What he wouldn’t give for a little Force ability, a little boost to his jumps. Because at this rate, he wasn’t getting away from these guys, and the chase had been going on for far too long.

At least they aren’t shooting at me.

Suddenly, a large hunk of crystal next to him fused into white heat and disappeared.

Uh, scratch that.

Trever ducked arid jumped onto the next formation. He had about three more jumps until he ran out of formations and into thin air. Now the crystals he’d admired from the air turned into sharp needle-like edges that scraped his palms and knees and made it impossible for him to get firm footing.

Far below he saw the mystery speeder close to the crystal forest floor, zigzagging through formations while the Imperial speeder tried to keep up. As he watched, the Imperial speeder lost control of a tight turn and slammed into a rough crystal mountain. The speeder skidded along the ground, spun around, and came to a stop.

Trever leaped to the next formation, avoiding the blaster fire that pinged and blasted through the branch where he’d been standing just a moment before.

The other Imperial speeder made a tight turn and came back at him. He leaped again.

He was now officially out of room. He could use his liquid cable again, but there was nowhere to go.

Then he saw the mystery speeder zoom upward. It maneuvered directly below him. The cockpit canopy slid back.

It was a very long drop.

He leaped.

He landed awkwardly, one leg out of the speeder, but the pilot made a hard starboard turn with one hand and yanked him inside with the other, stabbed at the canopy control, and went into a screeching dive, all while Trever was trying to catch his breath.

“Try to hang on.” The voice came from inside the helmet. He couldn’t see the driver’s face. The fingers on the controls were delicate and soft-looking, but within ten seconds Trever realized he was in the hands of an amazing pilot.

The speeder was pushed to maximum as they screamed around formations, squeezed through branchlike forms, zoomed up and back down into canyons. It was like being in one of the Podraces Ferus had told him about, the highly illegal ones that were held on Outer Rim planets.

They lost the pursuing Imperial airspeeder. The pilot slowed down, and Trever told his tripping heart to slow down, too.

“That was one galactic ride,” he said, nearly out of breath.

The pilot headed into a deep, narrow canyon and snaked the vehicle around the trunk formations of crystals. Trever saw a sleek ship with a red body and a chromium hull pulled up under an overhang. They stopped there.

He got out, his legs still shaky. The pilot leaped off the speeder and removed the helmet, shaking out shoulder-length dark hair. She was a petite human woman of middle years, with piercing green eyes that matched the crystals around them.