[Last Of The Jedi] - 08(9)

This was what he had come for, but Ferus couldn’t find the words.

Enna looked him in the eyes, reassuring him with her gaze. “You must tell us everything.”

He knew they would blame him. But he owed them the truth. It was why he had come. It was why he’d been afraid to come.

“Roan volunteered for the mission. A team went into the garrison to break into the computers to discover what the Imperials are really doing in the factories. We were discovered. Darth Vader appeared. I arrived-Darth Vader would assume I was on his side. You know… I am working for the Empire now. At least, it appears that way.”

“Roan told us everything on his last visit,” Enna said, touching his arm. “We never believed you were truly working for them.”

Ferus cleared his throat. He didn’t feel worthy of the trust and affection in this room. It should be Roan who was here. He was a poor substitute for their son, and yet they were so kind they would die before they let him feel it.

“I was talking to him, trying to persuade him to release Roan and Amie into my care. I was in the middle of a sentence, in the middle of a word. There was no warning. One moment Vader was standing there, the next moment his lightsaber…” Ferus stopped as he felt Enna flinch,

“Roan was struck down,” Ferus continued, forcing the words through his constricted throat. “I knelt with him. His last message to me was to stay silent, not to avenge him. His last thought was not for himself.” He felt Enna’s deep shudder. “I should have known Vader would strike,” Ferus said.

“You couldn’t know,” Alexir assured him. “We’re glad you were with him,” Enna said. “He would have wanted you to be with him. That will give me comfort always.”

They didn’t blame him. They included him in their sorrow. Ferus felt he might break down. He got up quickly and left the room.

He blundered into the kitchen. Covered dishes lined the counters. The larder was full … food brought to grieving relatives. It was a custom throughout the gal-axy. What purpose did it serve? he wondered. It was a ritual for the givers, he imagined, not those who sat with their grief hour after hour. Nothing would help them.

He had brought nothing except the details of death to this house.

He would walk away from all this sorrow and know he was responsible for it. Of course they had told him he couldn’t have anticipated Vader’s move. They didn’t understand the Jedi. They didn’t know that any Jedi worth his or her training would have anticipated it.

Ferus slammed his fist down on the counter.

“Don’t break Enna’s dishes,” a voice said behind him. “You know how she feels about them.”

He turned. It took him a minute to recognize who had spoken. “Malory?”

“It’s me.” She gave a small smile. “A little changed from when you last saw me.”

It had been at her mother’s Nine Days of Mourning. Malory was Lilia’s daughter, Roan’s first cousin. He remembered her as a young girl, slender and pale, with long silky hair the color of moonlight. Now her hair was cropped short and she looked more mature, meeting his glance with a direct friendly gaze that reminded him suddenly of Roan. A fresh pain sliced through him.

“I’m so sorry about Roan,” she said. “I don’t have any words for you. There are none.”

The simple words touched him, and he wanted to turn away to hide it, but he didn’t. “I know.”

Malory moved to the counter and began to make tea. Ferus sat, admiring her sensitivity. She was giving him a moment to recover.

“What have you been doing these past few years?” he asked.

“I was a med student on Coruscant,” she said. “Got through all my training during the Clone Wars. I trained at ChanPal.”

Ferus nodded. ChanPal was the hospital facility in Galactic City that was renowned as one of the best in the galaxy.

“Then the Emperor took over the facility.” Malory made a face as she reached for a tray. “At first it wasn’t so bad, but now..,” She shrugged. “It’s called EmPal SuRecon now - Emperor’s Surgical Reconstruction Center. We started turning away non-human patients. The best doctors and personnel started to quit, and they recruited others. When I finished my training they offered me a job, but I said no. I won’t work for the Empire. So I left and came back home. I’m needed here more, anyway.”

She placed the teapot and mugs on the tray. Ferus had been half-listening to her, but something pinged among the clutter of words. He reached for it.

He heard Palpatine’s voice in his head. I created him.