The Desperate Mission Page 2

  Obi-Wan sat, his hands in his lap, his mind busy. He felt feelings

  working in him that he had not felt for a long time.

  In another life, he would not have hesitated. He would have taken off

  for Bellassa. But everything had changed. He was charged to remain here and

  watch over Luke. Luke and his sister were the last and best hopes for the

  galaxy. He must be protected. Obi-Wan had promised Yoda, he had promised

  Bail Organa, he had promised Padme on her deathbed that he would watch over

  him.

  Until the time is right, disappear we will, Yoda had said.

  But Ferus had a call on him, too.

  He could not contact Yoda to ask for advice. Qui‑Gon was not readily

  available to him. He had to decide. He had to take the responsibility.

  Just as I took responsibility for Anakin.

  Yes, and look what occurred because of your judgment....

  The voices in his head were familiar but no less real. Trusting

  himself had become difficult.

  His duty was to protect Luke. He would stay. And if he came to regret

  that decision, he would learn to live with it. Just as he'd learned to live

  with all the others.

  Obi-Wan stepped outside and took a breath of the cold air, hoping it

  would chase away the noise and smoke of the cantina. He looked around for

  his eopie. Eopies were not known for their intelligence, but this

  particular beast could manage to slip out of constraints and wander, greedy

  for the sand lichen growing just beneath the dirt. Gathering his cloak

  around him, Obi-Wan began to search, berating the eopie in his head. You'd

  think if you fed and cared for a beast it would reward you for your

  loyalty, not take off at the first sign of frost.

  "It is not the eopie you're angry at." The voice was dry, amused.

  "Here you are, a Jedi Master, and you still haven't learned to correctly

  identify your feelings."

  Qui-Gon's voice seemed to come from the shadows. Obi-Wan stopped

  short. He was overcome. It was his Master. Even just the sound of his words

  recalled in Obi-Wan's mind Qui-Gon's kind, rugged face. And there, the

  ironic twist of his smile.

  "You said I wasn't ready to begin the training...."

  "You aren't," Qui-Gon said. "But you do need help."

  CHAPTER THREE

  "You're here," Obi-Wan said. The words felt thick in his throat. He

  felt a rush of emotion at hearing Qui-Gon again.

  Obi-Wan had ducked into a vacant building across from the cantina. The

  derelict shelter had no roof, so the stars shone clear above.

  "I have always been here," Qui-Gon said. "Being ready is your choice,

  my Padawan."

  "But I do choose," Obi-Wan said. "I want to begin the training. I

  don't understand what you mean."

  "When you know why you are not ready, you will be ready," Qui-Gon

  said.

  "Now you sound like Yoda."

  "Thank you for that honor," Qui-Gon replied, his voice coming from

  both the stars and within Obi-Wan's own head. "Now here I am, watching you

  hunt around for an eopie - which is right behind the cantina, by the way -

  instead of paying attention to your feelings."

  Obi-Wan sighed. He felt old, older than old. Yet it appeared he still

  had so much to learn.

  "The Living Force, my Padawan," Qui-Gon said. "It includes knowing

  yourself as well as others." "What are you asking me?"

  "Simply this: What are you feeling?"

  "Overwhelmed to hear you."

  "That's a start."

  "Angry at the eopie - "

  "Not so. Try again."

  "Irritated at your riddles - "

  "Good! Now we're getting somewhere."

  "Angry at myself," Obi-Wan burst out.

  Qui-Gon said nothing. Obi-Wan's heart was so full. He couldn't speak

  for a moment. Memories flooded him, years of missions, of conversations, of

  the many ways Qui-Gon had helped and guided him. After his death, Obi-Wan

  had missed his Master every day of his life.

  "Tell me," Qui-Gon said gently.

  "I'm angry at my own confusion," Obi-Wan said at last. "I used to make

  decisions so easily. I knew what course to take, and I took it. If another

  Jedi was in danger, I went. And now, although my mission is clear, my mind

  is not. I want to go. But I am charged to remain here. Luke is the new hope

  for the galaxy, and I must protect that."

  "All this is true," Qui-Gon said. "But it's not the only truth. Hope

  doesn't spring from one root."

  "Meaning?"

  "If Luke has a destiny, so does Ferus. If the Empire is to be

  defeated, if balance is to be regained in the Force, resistance will come

  from many places. All of this together will make the difference."

  "You think I should go?"

  "It is your choice to make, Obi-Wan. You must follow your feelings. I

  can only tell you what I see. I can assure you of this - leaving now will

  not endanger the boy. That much I know. The other is something that you

  know, too - that if Luke is to rise, he must have something to join."

  "So Ferus might be a part of that."

  "Speak of what you know about Ferus, not what you can guess."

  "He was the most gifted apprentice, second only to Anakin."

  "With so many gifts, he is a formidable opponent of the Empire."

  "But I would have to leave Luke alone," Obi-Wan said again. It was a

  duty that Yoda had charged him with, and he knew it was vital.

  "You will not be leaving him alone. I will watch over him. He will be

  safe for a time. There is danger for Luke, danger that is close. I can feel

  it, but I can't see it. I sense that Ferus is the key."

  Obi Wan was startled. "Ferus knows about Luke?"

  "No, it is not that easy. I sense a connection... though Ferus doesn't

  know it's there."

  Certainty flooded Obi-Wan. Certainty, and relief. All of his feelings

  had pointed to this. He wanted to help Ferus if he could. "Then I must go."

  "At last," Qui-Gon said, "you speak with your heart."

  There was so much more he wanted to say, and even more he wanted to

  ask, but Qui-Gon's presence faded. Obi-Wan was left feeling shaky, but at

  least he had a direction.

  He waited outside in the cold, no longer feeling it. Customers emerged

  from the cantina, many of them staggering. He was relieved when Weasy came

  out alone. Even better, he walked with a purposeful stride. He was sober,

  at least.

  Obi-Wan followed. After he had gone a few steps, Weasy sensed someone

  was behind him and whirled around.

  "Who is it?"

  Obi-Wan stepped a bit closer. He had deliberately let Weasy know he

  was being followed; as a Jedi, he could follow him easily without being

  seen if he wanted.

  "Oh, it's you." Weasy still eyed him warily. "Don't believe I ever

  caught your name, but I see you in the cantina."

  "Ben."

  "Well, Ben, what can I do for you?"

  "Passage to Ussa."

  Weasy's eyes narrowed. "Dangerous place, Ussa."

  Obi-Wan waited.

  "Still, it's no concern of mine, if you've got the credits." Weasy

  named the price.

  Obi-Wan handed hire the credits, nearly the last of those brought with

  him from Coruscan
t, and Weasy turned and began to walk, not waiting to see

  if Obi-Wan would follow.

  "My transport's at the spaceport. Mind you, I don't like any chatter

  on the way to Ussa. I don't need to know your life story, or you mine. Got

  that?"

  "I don't think that will be a problem," Obi-Wan said.

  Weasy led the way to the landing platform. He waved at a Corellian

  star yacht. "Climb aboard while I do the preflight check."

  Obi-Wan climbed aboard and took his seat. Within minutes Weasy stomped

  aboard and sat in the pilot seat. The engines hummed to life, and they shot

  off into the darkness. They left Tatooine's atmosphere, and Weasy set a

  course for Bellassa.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bellassa had been a thriving world with an elected government when the

  Clone Wars began. It had sent an army to fight alongside the Jedi against

  the Separatists. It was an open, peaceful world with many resources, and

  so, when the Empire was established, it was targeted for domination. Its

  governor was deposed, and crackdowns on personal liberties began.

  Journalists were silenced. Dissenters were jailed.

  This much Obi-Wan already knew. But it wasn't nearly enough. In the

  old days, he would have contacted Jocasta Nu at the Temple and asked for

  details. After admonishing him that he could look up things just as well as

  she - which, of course, wasn't true in the least - she would put her hands

  on information in several seconds that could have taken him hours to find.

  Obi-Wan felt a lurch of pain deep inside him.

  Madame Nu, killed in her beloved library. The Jedi Temple in flames.

  He pushed the images out of his mind. He could not function if he

  allowed them to linger. He had to experience the pain, and let them go.

  "Here we are." They were the first words Weasy had spoken since they'd

  left Tatooine. "Security checks before we land. They'll want to know what I

  had for breakfast. They'll want to know what my mother had for breakfast."

  After an extensive check, the ship was cleared to land. Weasy dropped

  into a vacant area near the edge of the spaceport. He activated the landing

  ramp, then turned to Obi-Wan as he grabbed his ID dots and ship specs.

  "Passengers check in over there. I have to arrange for docking. Good luck

  to you."

  Obi-Wan nodded. "Thanks for the lift."

  "And Ben?"

  Obi-Wan turned, already impatient to be gone. "You owe me a pitcher in

  Mos Eisley."

  Obi-Wan realized that in his own gruff way, Weasy was telling him to

  be careful. He nodded and stepped out onto the ramp.

  It was early morning, and the spaceport on Ussa was already bustling.

  He checked in with security and then stood for several long moments on the

  landing platform looking down at the city, trying to orient himself. Even

  though he had a map on his datapad, it helped to see the ground.

  Ussa was a city of circular districts built around seven lakes. The

  housing and commercial buildings were kept to low height limits. Wide

  boulevards ran in concentric circles around each lake. It was - had been -

  a pleasant place to live.

  He could see the Commons, a large green park at the very center of the

  city. It had once been a meeting place, a place of celebration and

  community. Now a gigantic black structure crowded out most of the grass.

  Trees and native shrubs had been razed to accommodate it. The Empire had

  imported an Imperial garrison, a huge prefabricated structure that

  contained barracks for stormtrooper battalions and a large jail for the

  overflow of prisoners.

  He could feel it rising up from below. The city of Ussa was now a city

  of fear.

  He took the turbolift down to ground level. It was a cool cloudy day

  that threatened rain. Obi-Wan blended in with the pedestrians, dodging

  speeders and air taxis as he made his way through the streets. It was

  strange to be on a populous world again, strange to feel cool air. He had

  been alone so long. He slowed his pace as he approached the Commons. The

  presence of stormtroopers was heavy here, as they filed in and out of the

  garrison. The sight of the soldiers and the building had a chilling effect.

  When the Clone Wars began, the stormtroopers had stood for the safety of

  the Republic. Now they were instruments of intimidation.

  And it was he who had found them on Kamino. He who had brought them to

  the attention of the Jedi. They had thought the vast armies of

  stormtroopers would help them after the Battle of Geonosis. Instead, they

  had been tricked. Betrayed. Obi-Wan watched the white columns march through

  the streets, watched how the people shrank before them, and his feelings of

  guilt and despair washed over him again until his footsteps faltered and

  his ears rang with the menace of their footsteps.

  People tried to avert their gazes from the garrison but shot sidelong

  glances of apprehension at it. So many streets fed onto the Commons that

  they couldn't avoid it, but they stopped speaking as they passed. Even

  footsteps seemed hushed, and paces quickened as the Bellassans hurried by.

  Obi-Wan's steps quickened again along with the rest. His first stop

  would be at Ferus's old office. It was on a street in the Cloud Lake

  district, a long walk that would also give him a sense of the layout of the

  city.

  He had seen this before. All the signs were here - the menace in the

  air, the strange silence. The troops in the streets, the black speeders

  racing by, filled with uniformed officers. Obi-Wan knew well the techniques

  of a powerful force tightening its grip on a once peaceful society. But

  this was worse. It wasn't just fear in the air - it was terror.

  It began to rain, a fine mist that made the air shimmer. Cloud Lake

  was a silver disc ahead as he walked through the streets surrounding it.

  Ferus's office was shut, blinds drawn. Outside a small lasersign read

  OLIN/LANDS. That was all. It was a quiet street, one of the outer bands

  from the lake, which was visible only as a haze of light in the distance.

  Shops and a caf© surrounded Ferus's office door. Small businesses, mostly -

  an accounting office, a tailor, a store selling ceramic teapots and plates.

  The door of the tailor shop was directly opposite. A sign outside read

  MARIANA'S EXQUISITE DESIGNS AND ALTERATIONS, FOR ALL YOUR TAILORING NEEDS.

  Obi‑Wan crossed the street. On the door, a small, hand-lettered sign read

  CLOSED, but the door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and heard a

  buzzer go off inside.

  A plump woman of middle years hurried out from a back room. Her hair

  was braided in thick plaits around her head, but it had been done hastily,

  and strands trailed to her shoulders. "I'm sorry, we're closed," she said

  in a pleasant tone, but clearly, she was busy.

  "Sorry to disturb you," Obi-Wan said. "I'm looking for Olin/Lands."

  Her smile dimmed. "That business has been shut down."

  "The sign is still on the door."

  "They did not have a chance to take it down. I'm sorry - "

  "Do you know what happened to them? I had an appointment - "

  "I'm sorry. I can't help you."

  The note of
finality in her voice was unmistakable. Obi-Wan bowed his

  thanks and went out. A short, narrow alley led to the back door of the

  shop. The back door was closed, but behind a series of garbage bins Obi-Wan

  could just make out a gravsled wedged against the wall. A young boy lounged

  on it, kicking his legs. He looked to be about twelve or thirteen, thin and

  wiry, with a narrow face and a shock of bluish hair.

  Obi-Wan strolled up the alley. "Do you work at the tailors?"

  The boy gave him a sharp look. "We're closed."

  "I heard. But maybe you could help me. I rang the bell at Olin/Lands,

  but nobody answered."

  "So what am I supposed to do?"

  With customer service like this, it was a wonder that the shop could

  survive. "I was wondering if you knew what happened to them."

  "No."

  "Do you know whether they'll be back - "

  "No. Look, I'm about to make a delivery, so - "

  "Do you know anyplace else I can get information?"