[Last Of The Jedi] - 07(30)

It wasn’t as though Russell’s life flashed before his eyes. It wasn’t as though he remembered everything from birth until this moment. He thought of his wife, and he thought of his daughter, and he thought of the courage he thought he didn’t have, and suddenly, there it was, in his hands. Courage and defiance and pride.

“I have nothing … to tell… .”

He stared into the black visor, heard the rushing sound of Vader’s breath. He felt an emptiness, as if the creature so casually choking the life out of him had no feelings about it whatsoever. He closed his eyes so he could block out that merciless void. Instead he pictured the things that nourished him. His garden. His wife. His daughter.

He was traveling down a rushing tunnel of black. Sparks shooting out of his fingers, his heels. No pain now.

He just wished … he just wished someone could know this.

He’d found his courage in the end.





*

Ferus saw immediately that the hangar was empty. He took off down the hall. He was almost to the northeast section when he saw Trever running full tilt toward him, his hair dripping with sweat.

“Vader,” he gasped out.

“Where?”

Trever pointed with his chin. “He went to an office, asked questions about you… from some old guy —”

“Russell.” Ferus started to take off, but Trever called to him.

“It’s too late.” Ferus turned. Trever’s face was ashen. “He questioned him, but Russell didn’t say anything … so …” Trever gulped in air. “I saw it. I saw it all, Ferus!”

Ferus saw that the boy was close to the edge. He had seen so many things, but he hadn’t yet seen this — the casual destruction of a living being, face-to-face, for no other motive than to extract a piece of information,

Ferus grabbed Trever and hurried him toward the laboratory. He brought him to a small room filled with equipment. “Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll get you when it’s safe. And take this.” Ferus handed Trever the information chip from Roan’s datapad. “Hide it.”

“But what…”

“Wil has to see it. If I don’t come back, get yourself to the hangar just before daybreak. There will be transports coming in and out. Try to sneak aboard — you’re good at that. I should be able to come back and get you.”

“But what will you —”

“Trever, there’s no time. One of us has to get out. It might have to be you. Just one thing — stay away from Vader!”

Ferus took off. He at least had to ensure Trever’s safety. He was too late for Russell.

He ran back the way he had come, thinking fast. He couldn’t fight Vader; he didn’t have the skill. He would, if it were a last resort. But his best strategy now would be to bluff. He had to remember that as far as Vader knew, he was loyal to the Empire.

He raced down the last hallway, turning toward the door where Roan and Amie waited. He skidded to a halt. Darth Vader stood between him and his friends.

Vader didn’t turn. “Ah, Olin has joined us. Perhaps you can explain what these thieves are doing here.”

“I was asked by the Emperor to keep an eye on security here,” Ferus said, improvising. Vader wouldn’t be able to check until later. And later Ferus would be back underground or off-planet.

If it worked.

“I can take them into custody,” he said.

Vader half turned. “Do you think I do not recognize

Roan Lands? Do you think I would be foolish enough to let you take him away?”

“He is a former associate, yes, but —”

It happened before he could get out another word. Faster than an eyeblink. Faster than he’d seen anyone move, anyone except Yoda.

The lightsaber hadn’t been there, and then it was, and the lightsaber was a blur. Vader moved without seeming to move, and the lightsaber sliced into Roan, straight into his chest. Straight into his heart.

Roan fell to his knees. At first, pain filmed his gaze but he didn’t flinch, he just looked at Ferus. Looked long and hard and said many things in the space of a second.

Don’t give yourself away for me.

Amie cried out and knelt to support Roan. Ferus ran forward and caught him as he fell. He didn’t care about his cover, he didn’t even care about Roan’s warning, he only knew the remarkable pain he felt.

Roan reached out for Ferus’s forearm, his fingers slipping off. Ferus picked up Roan’s hand and placed it on his arm. Then he put his hand on Roan’s other arm in their private greeting, their private farewell. He squeezed Roan’s arm, wishing he could pass his strength into him.

He’d seen enough of death to know it was too late. “Farewell, brother,” he whispered. He felt Roan’s spirit lift, he felt it fly.