[Legacy Of The Force] - 08(134)

Caedus had omitted some detail about Lumiya, because it wasn’t relevant; but the rest was completely true. Mara had ambushed him, had tracked him into the tunnels, had tried to kill him-not arrest or detain him, but kill him.

Shevu looked shaken. “Well, at least I know why Ben changed his mind about serving in the Guard now.”

Everything Mara had done was about Ben. Caedus had had such high hopes for the boy, but Lumiya had been right after all. Ben didn’t have the stomach for the fight: he didn’t have what it took to be a Sith. Caedus wished he could talk to Lumiya now that he knew so much more, and that meant that he missed her. He never thought he would. But she’d diverted Luke Skywalker’s focus from him, however temporary that might eventually prove to be, and paid for that with her life. It was a heartbreakingly noble act. He had to live up to that sacrifice.

I miss her. And… I miss Allana, but I have to forget her. “It really wasn’t personal revenge, Captain, “Caedus said, concentrating again. “That’s for small people. It was part of my path to Sith ascendancy.”

“That must be very distressing, sir, “Shevu said. Caedus felt some deep, raw emotion in him that he couldn’t quite place, but it was pity in a way. “Being one of your family.”

“Yes. I’m putting it out of my mind as best I can, because we were very close once.”

Shevu adjusted his jacket in that awkward way of someone who wanted to end a painful conversation. “Try a po-lice tip, sir. When we’re faced with something horrible, something disgusting, a terrible crime, we try to forget what we feel about the perpetrator in case the anger distracts us and makes us careless. You know-cutting corners to get the guy, maybe losing the case in court because of that. So we focus on the victim. We find the pity. Pity keeps us going. We want to give the victims and their family justice-closure. Think about that sometime, sir.”

“That’s very helpful, actually, Captain.” Caedus hadn’t thought much about how non-Force-users might use techniques just as Sith did to channel their emotions produc-tively. Given that Shevu didn’t like him, the advice was touching, a recognition that they both had dirty jobs to do, a mutual respect. “By the way, I have a title, now. Darth Caedus. Would you mind using it in future?”

Shevu’s expression was now unreadable. “Yes, sir.” He seemed to be trying out the name under his breath. “Do I still call you sir?”

Jacen knew it was a lot to take in at one sitting. Shevu had absorbed it quite well, all things considered.

“Technically, it’s my lord, “Jacen said. “But sir is fine on duty.”

He glanced at the chrono on the wall, feeling a lot more positive than he had for days. The debacle at Fondor was a temporary setback, rapidly receding into the past; he had the Imperial Remnant at his side now, a shadow of its for-mer glory but still a massively powerful force to be reckoned with. And Shevu understood him and his motives.

Caedus smiled at him as he got up to leave. “You know, Captain, I feel the hand of history on my shoulder. I really do.”





Chapter 19


Ben, I’m so very sorry. You’ll hate me if I don’t send you this, and you’ll hate me when you hear it anyway, so better that you have the evidence than not. It’s going to be hard to listen to, my friend, like recorded interviews with suspects often are. Their reasons for what they do-well, they make sense to them, that’s all I can say. I can tell you that it took everything I had to keep my reactions under some sort of control. Here’s the bad news before you play the recording-his factual account of what went on at Kavan matches the physical evidence.

Comm me if you need anything else. I’m always here for you.

-Captain Lon Shevu, GAG, in an encrypted comm to Ben Skywalker, following an interview with the suspect

FORMER IMPERIAL OUTPOST, ENDOR

Ben had spent an hour working himself up to playing the holorecording Lon Shevu had risked his life to get.

Han and Leia had found a new, safer location for the Jedi base. Now Ben stood in the center of the stark room that had been his quarters, all the fixtures and equipment crated for the pullout from Endor. The rickety folding chair had gone. He was sleeping on a GAG-issue bedroll, with just his mess tin to eat from and a basic hygiene kit, but sitting on a comfortable seat wouldn’t have changed a thing. Sooner or later, he would have to move off that spot. He’d have to walk down the dusty passage, picked clean of anything that might be a clue to where the Jedi resistance had gone, and say to his father, uncle, and aunt that he had things he needed to show them.