[Last Of The Jedi] - 06(2)

Ferus hopped on the turbolift to the landing platform. He wanted to be gone. He wanted to return to the asteroid base and see his friends. But for now, he’d better stick around.

He had a feeling his work here wasn’t quite done.





Chapter Two


The Legislators’ private landing platform was a large one, protruding from the fiftieth floor of the Hall of Ministers. Because it was open to the sky, a cooling system was installed in the overhang in an attempt to regulate the hot, dry climate. The cool air helped, but standing out here for so long was making everyone wilt. Emperor Palpatine was late. No one dared activate the transparisteel canopy bubble, for fear of offending him.

The top ministers ringed the platform. Perched on their shoulders or attached to specially designed holsters were personal droids, all customized with different colors and jeweled insets. All Samarians wore these small, lightweight droids, which had been developed exclusively on the planet from a prototype design from LeisureMech Industries. Each droid had a sleek design that combined the personal-servant features of a luxury droid and the hardwiring of a tech droid. They were about the size of a lightweight mouse droid. Known as Personal Droid Helpers, most Samarians called them PDs, or the more affectionate Peteys.

Samarians didn’t use credits. Everything from their taste in tea to the fuel level in their speeders was kept track of by their PDs. All they had to do was walk into a café or fueling station and the purchase would be automatically deleted from a central account. Everything in Samarians’ lives was contained in their droids, from their transit records to the boot sizes of their children.

Aaren Larker, the prime minister of Samaria, stood waiting, his aide by his side. Bog Divinian, the Imperial advisor, kept near the cooling jets, holding his arms out so that perspiration wouldn’t stain his royal-blue tunic.

Across the platform, Darth Vader stood in the hot sun, a black presence that seemed to suck all the air and light into his shiny black boots and helmet. Was Vader sweltering underneath all that black plastoid and armor? Ferus got a certain amount of pleasure out of the idea.

What was under that helmet, anyway? There was not a trace of skin to be seen, nothing to indicate what species Darth Vader was. Humanoid, certainly. Once again Ferus wondered where Vader had come from. If only he knew that, he might hold the key to defeating Palpatine. Or not. At any rate, it would satisfy his curiosity.

At last Ferus glimpsed the flash of the Emperor’s personal shuttle. Everyone followed its path as the ship glided downward and landed. Ferus could feel the relief bouncing off the ferrocrete with the heat. After this they could all get back to climate control.

The ramp extended until it touched the ground. The Emperor appeared at the top, his Red Guards behind him. Ferus couldn’t see his face. His hood, as usual, covered his scarred and furrowed skin, his yellowed eyes. He held out his arms to the waiting ministers, in the odd greeting Ferus had noted he’d adopted. As though he were so busy gathering in all that worship that he couldn’t be bothered to say hello. The ministers bowed in greeting.

The Emperor slowly descended. His head turned to one side, seeing Darth Vader, and then toward Ferus, who could feel the flash of the Emperor’s regard. It sent a shiver through him. Ferus could never show how being around him was like being slammed with bad frequencies. He kept his expression neutral as his throat constricted.

Bog Divinian started forward, but the Emperor ignored him. To Ferus’s surprise, the Emperor moved instead in Ferus’s direction, turning his back on Vader and leaving Bog looking foolish, striding toward an empty ramp.

If this was intended to demonstrate Ferus’s growing influence, Ferus could have done without it. He didn’t want to be a rival to Darth Vader. He wanted to keep his head down, gather all the information he could on the Empire, and get out.

The Emperor approached him. The Red Guards stayed a discreet distance away. The ministers hesitantly moved toward the turbolifts. Darth Vader had not moved.

“Ferus Olin, you have done well,” the Emperor said. “I asked you to restore Samaria to a functioning power again, and you did so.”

“The saboteur escaped.” The saboteur had turned out to be Astri Oddo, an old friend of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s whom Ferus had known only slightly. He had let her and her son Lune escape with the help of his friends.

“Yes, but that was not your responsibility,” the Emperor said with a glance at Darth Vader across the platform. “It belonged to someone else. You did what was required and you did it quickly. Your efficiency has been noted. We value efficiency in the Empire. It can be more valuable than strength.”