And he was left alone.
So alone that there was no thought, only rage so black it blotted everything else out.
He launched himself at Darth Vader, his lightsaber in his hand.
Chapter Nineteen
His lightsaber came down on empty air.
He thought he’d have the element of surprise, at least, but Vader had expected the attack. He had wanted it. He had provoked it. He had killed Roan to provoke Ferus. There was no other explanation for it, and it served to fuel Ferus’s rage.
Roan had died for this?
Ferus heard Amie shout, but he couldn’t focus on anything but his own need to plunge his lightsaber deep into Vader. He whirled and attacked again, but Vader again was gone, moving with a speed and lightness that was surprising considering his body armor.
Ferus felt the dark side of the Force fill the air, choking him. And suddenly his body was wrenched forward, and he hung in the air like a puppet. He looked down at Vader’s helmet.
“I am bored,” Darth Vader said. He placed his glowing lightsaber against Ferus’s neck.
Ferus waited to be killed. He looked into that helmet and felt the stirring of something … personal. A hatred deep in a black heart, a hatred so big it was directed not so much at Ferus but at what he represented.
What is the source of his hate?
Stormtroopers suddenly filled the hallway, their blaster rifles held in attack mode. Ferus felt the grip of the Force ease, and he crashed to the floor.
“Take him. And her. And take that one away.” Vader’s order was crisp.
“And the weapon, sir?”
Vader turned and looked down at the lightsaber hilt still in Ferus’s hand. “He can keep it. As a reminder of his failure.”
He turned and walked down the hall and disappeared.
The stormtroopers dragged Roan away like a sack of grain.
Ferus felt them lift him, force him to walk alongside Amie. Prison again. Execution, most certainly. He didn’t care.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Trever hadn’t strictly told the truth in the meeting with the Eleven. He wasn’t that good at obeying orders. He’d never been able to stay put just because someone asked him to. Even Ferus couldn’t make him do that.
So he watched from around the corner and saw it all. He saw the shock of Vader’s action. He saw Roan crash to his knees. He saw Ferus charge, and he waited for Ferus to die.
He couldn’t stop shaking.
He thought he’d seen everything. He thought he could handle anything. But he felt as though his mind had broken after seeing this night.
She found him in the laboratory, a tall, slender woman in a dark-red tunic that reached to her knees. When she opened the door, a shaft of light hit his face. He turned away but didn’t move. He couldn’t imagine running anymore.
She knelt in front of him. “Well, hello.”
He put his face against his knees.
“Security is all over the building,” she murmured. “I heard there was a breakin. Some prisoners taken. I’ll help you.”
He looked up.
“I’m just as much a prisoner as you are,” she said. “But I’ll try to get you out.”
“I’m supposed to go to the hangar,” he said. “Before dawn.”
“I can do that. I have clearance. Can you walk?”
Of course he could walk. But when he stood, his legs were shaking. Her hand was cool as she curled her fingers around his. She squeezed his hand lightly.
It was that touch that brought him back. He had felt so alone. He had needed to connect to something, even if it was just a touch from a stranger.
She nodded reassuringly at him, and she rolled a cart toward him with a large canister on it. “Can you fit?”
He climbed in. He drew up his knees and tightened himself into a ball. The durasteel walls of the canister were cold. She slid the top on, leaving a crevice for him to breathe.
“Here we go.”
She started the repulsorlift motor, and Trever felt the hum come up through the bottom of the canister. He felt himself move, felt every turn of the hallway.
Then something changed the light, the noise and he knew he was in the hangar.
“Leaving this for disposal,” the woman said. “Class D, toxic, so not to be opened.”
“Affirmative.” The clipped, mechanical-sounding voice of a stormtrooper.
And then the lid was slid back. He looked up into lovely dark eyes.
“This will be loaded onto a gravsled and taken back to the battalion. It’s done by droids, so wait until they’re busy negotiating air traffic. Just be sure and get off before it goes to the garrison. Good luck, whoever you are.”
“Wait.” He put his hand up to stop the canister lid from sliding back. “You’ve planned this already. This was your escape route.”