[Last Of The Jedi] - 07(29)

So he did what came naturally — he snooped. In his experience, information was often not hidden in computers. It was around the next turning in the hall, or behind a closed door.

He had only ten minutes, but he could cover a lot of ground in ten minutes. Trever hoofed it down the hallway, peeking into offices and laboratories, looking for something. He didn’t know what it was, but he’d know when he found it.

He turned a corner and stopped. He was at the opposite end of the factory complex now. It should be deserted. But his senses told him otherwise. It wasn’t as though he heard something or saw something. He felt something.

He shook his head. Was that Force bunkum starting to work on him? No, it wasn’t that. It was his street instincts. He trusted them just as much as Ferus-Wan trusted his Force.

He stopped and held his breath. Closed his eyes.

Whoosh, ah. Whoosh, ah.

Well, this was a new moon day. Darth Vader. Just what he needed.

He shrank back, moving quietly. There was an equipment closet to his right, and if he could just sneak into it and get out his comlink to warn the others, he just might make it out of here alive. Except that they were on comlink silence, because they figured communications could be intercepted in an Imperial facility.

He eased into the closet and kept the door open a crack. How lucky could a guy get, meeting up with Lord-on-High Vader again?

He watched as Vader swept down the hall, waved his gloved hand over a sensor, and walked into an office.

Russell Wake had always tried to stay out of politics. He was fortunate to live on Bellassa, for it made it easy, at least before the Clone Wars. Rulers were elected, and the normal ebb and flow of scandal and missed opportunities, corruption, and grandstanding, was easy to ignore. Even when the Clone Wars began, he found himself able to avoid taking a position. He couldn’t get excited about fighting Separatists, for they were fighting a Senate that was riddled with greed and corruption. Who could say they were wrong?

Then the Empire took over. And suddenly everything he valued in his life was thrown away. The Emperor turned his stone-gray gaze on Bellassa and deemed it worthy of conquest and example. He wanted to install a governor, and the Bellassans objected. And once that objection registered as solid opposition, the Empire had to come down on them.

They had underestimated the opposition. And though he tried to keep out of it, Russell Wake’s old heart was stirred. Freedom became more than a concept to him; it was a reality as firm as the turborake he held in his hands.

The things he counted on had disappeared. The quarrelsome politicians, silenced. The press, shut down. Once the Empire had moved its garrison in and controlled the government, people were imprisoned without trial or charges; fear ruled the city, and those who ran the government were replaced if they protested.

But if Russell was moved to care about all this, it didn’t mean he ever wanted to fight it. Resistance members had physical courage. Russell could show no mercy when it came to a weed choking his silverbloom bush, but he knew very well he would crumble under any real danger. The idea of joining a resistance movement was never in his plans.

Until he walked through a door and saw Ferus Olin.

So now he sat here, his palms slick with sweat, and waited for Ferus and his crew to do whatever they needed. He had given them fifteen minutes. Surely he could hold his nerves steady for fifteen minutes.

If only they weren’t such long minutes….

His door hissed open, and he shot out of his chair so fast he smashed his knees on the console.

His worst fear stood in his doorway.

“You seem … nervous this evening,” Darth Vader said.

His heart was pounding, slamming against his chest so hard, surely it was visible. He couldn’t seem to find his breath. “It’s a long night,” he said.

Somehow, even while his heart was slamming and his breath was gone and his mouth was as dry as a desert planet, somehow he managed to stand up, right in front of the console where the indicator light shone yellow, indicating a problem with security, and block it.

“You were seen talking to Ferus Olin today,” Darth Vader said.

He pretended to look blank for a moment. “Oh, yes.” So this was what it was, just a regular inquisition. He’d heard Vader liked to question beings at odd hours, keep them off balance. He cleared his throat. Don’t clear your throat, it makes you sound guilty. “In the garden. For a few minutes.”

“What did you discuss?” “Gardening.”

Suddenly Russell felt an odd constriction in his throat. His hand flew up to loosen his tunic.

“It is not your clothing,” Darth Vader said.

The constriction grew. He was croaking out a breath now.