Star Wars - [The Last of the Jedi - 01] - The Desperate Mission (by Jude Watson)

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THE DESPERATE MISSION
CHAPTER ONE
Dusk always took him by surprise. On this two-sun world, it started early, one sun dropping first,
then the other chasing behind it in a fast slide to the horizon. Harsh sunlight gave way to long shadows
that painted the canyon floors with gray.
Another day gone. Another day to come. Each one the same.
Obi-Wan Kenobi ducked his head as he exited his small dwelling on Tatooine. It was time to make
the journey over the arid landscape of the Jundland Wastes. Time to lurk above a moisture farm and
watch a small baby crawl around the compound. Time to reassure himself that one more day had passed,
and Luke Skywalker was well.
He made sure the door was secure. The Sand People were wary of him, but he was careful with
security. No one was safe from the savagery of their foraging raids.
His dwelling was small and simple, a hovel, really, carved out of the canyon wall. He had made it
comfortable — not because he cared about his comfort, but because it gave him something to do. In
those first, raging months, it had soothed him to sweep the drifts of sand from the floors, fashion a heating
system, repair a cracked wall that let in breaches of sunlight in the early morning and spewed tiny
volcanoes of sand during the fierce, frequent windstorms.
He had found the home by accident, by luck. He had simply begun riding his eopie in a widening
circle around the Lars farm until he found someplace close enough to hike to the farm but far enough
away that the family would not take much note of him. A transient, looking to start a farm or trade with
Jawas had abandoned it, most likely. No doubt he or she had eventually discovered that only the hardiest
and luckiest survived on Tatooine.
Owen and Beru Lars knew he was here. Their friendship with him was an uneasy one; they knew he
had saved Luke, but Luke's aunt and uncle also knew the threat that he'd brought with him to Tatooine.
They were aware that he came by to observe the boy, but it was agreed that they would ignore him, so
Luke would learn to ignore him, too. He was grateful for their vigilance, for it meant that they were
vigilant against strangers as well.
And who could blame them? Obi-Wan thought, trudging through the sand. Luke had been born in a
time of violence and misery. Naturally they would want to protect him. They would not want him to end
up in the hands of the Empire — or the Sand People. Or end up like Obi-Wan, a warrior turned into an
old man overnight by sorrow and grief.
Was there anything inside him anymore? He wondered this, lying on his sleep couch at night, staring
at the rough stone ceiling. How could a being be numb and full of pain at the same time?
There had been so many that he cared about. And now just about everyone he'd loved was dead.
The names and faces would begin in his mind.Qui-Gon. Siri. Tyro Caladian. Mace Windu.
The apprentices — Darra Thel-Tanis. Tru Veld. Their Masters — Ry-Gaul. Soara Antana.
And the Jedi slaughtered in the purge. For it had been just that — a slaughter, shocking, devastating,
quick . . . but not quick enough for the victims.
His dearest friends, Bant and Garen. The imperious Jocasta Nu. The gentle Ali Alann and Barriss
Offee. The warriors — Shaak Ti, Kit Fisto, Luminara Unduli. And the great Jedi Masters —
Ki-Adi-Mundi, Adi Gallia, Plo Koon . . . .
Gone. The word would toll in his head.
Gone.
Gone.
Jedi he'd fought alongside, studied with, laughed with — a roll call of the dead that thumped out a
drumbeat of pain with every heartbeat.
And then, as dawn would bring a blush of light to his ceiling, he would turn, as he always did, to the
last, worst thing. The thing he could not avoid looking at, the thing that gave him the most awful pain.
The boy he'd raised and loved like a son had become a traitor. A killer. A monster. A convert to the
dark side, a testament to Obi-Wan's failure to guide, to protect. The boy, Anakin Skywalker, had died at
the hands of the Emperor, and the Sith Lord Darth Vader had been born in his place.
At first, Obi-Wan had thought that Anakin had died in the flames of a volcano on Mustafar. It was
months later that he'd realized what had happened, that the Emperor had kept him alive, or, at least, the
part he wanted to remain — the hate and the power. Obi-Wan had seen Darth Vader's image on a
datarecorder he'd found in an alley of Mos Eisley —it contained a HoloNet report — and he had known
at once, with a sense of shock so profound it had made him ill, that Lord Darth Vader had once been
Anakin Skywalker.
The only being in the galaxy who could understand the depths of his grief was in exile as well, and he
was forbidden to contact him. Yoda was on Dagobah, living in isolation in the middle of a swamp so
hidden no one would venture there.
And the spirit who could help him, who had promised to help him — Qui-Gon — could not appear
to him. Instead, he had only heard his voice.
You are not ready for the training.
But I am, Master. I have nothing else now.
That is why, my Padawan, you are not ready.
It was hard not to feel impatience, even anger against Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan struggled with this emotion
daily. It was his Master who had charged him to take Anakin on as his apprentice. And now it was
Qui-Gon who was withholding the knowledge he'd learned from the Ancient Order of the Whills, a
training that could bring Obi-Wan some measure of peace. He could learn to be one with the Force but
retain his consciousness.
Would that mean he could lose this pain, this grief? Obi-Wan wondered.
Obi-Wan saw the Lars homestead ahead. He stopped for a moment to make sure that Owen was
not patrolling the perimeter. It was late, the shadows long, the suns slipping behind the hills. Beru and
Owen were always sure to be inside the below-ground compound by dusk.
He walked forward, feeling as much a shadow as the ones that reached out like fingers from the hills.
He bent down, flat against the ground, and looked over the rim into the main courtyard below.
The baby had hair full of sunlight, and it glinted, even in this dusky light. He was laughing as he
crawled after a ball that Beru rolled away from him. Was it Obi-Wan's imagination, or was the boy able
to slow the ball without touching it? If the Force was there — and he knew Luke was Force-sensitive
—he did not know if the boy was aware of it. Not yet. Not for a long time, if ever, without training.
Beru rocked backward from her perch on the door-stop, laughing. Usually, she had something
cooking about now, and she would disappear inside for a few seconds to check on it. Luke would crawl
to the doorway and watch her. He seemed to feel a need to keep her in sight.
Obi-Wan heard Beru's laughter, saw Luke tumbling and laughing with her. He was not even tempted
to smile. Seeing Luke gave him satisfaction, but he had left smiles and laughter behind him, part of
another life.
Satisfaction was enough for him now. He had promised Padme that her children would be safe, and
he had made it so. Leia was growing up on Alderaan, the adopted daughter of Bail Organa, the kindest
and noblest man Obi-Wan knew, and his wife, the Queen. He wished Padme could know that her
children were more than well-cared for — they were loved.
But Padmè — fierce, sad, beautiful Padme —was dead, too.
Owen Lars emerged from the dwelling. That was Obi-Wan's signal to leave. Darkness was falling
fast, and Owen was about to activate the KPR perimeter droids. Obi-Wan lingered for a moment,
watching as Beru pretended to chase Luke inside the dwelling. He saw the light spilling out from the
doorway and could almost feel the gentle heat, almost smell their food.
He turned his back against it and felt the chill against his face. Without anyone noticing, Obi-Wan
Kenobi walked away into the growing darkness.
The next night, Obi-Wan maneuvered through the noisy crowd at the cantina in Mos Eisley. He
journeyed on an eopie through secret trails to the spaceport once a month for supplies, and always under
the cover of darkness. When he did, he always stopped at the cantina. It was a magnet for the worst of
the galaxy — itinerant space pilots, adventurers, criminals. Creatures who greedily supped on gossip and
rumor as well as bantha stew and ale. Obi-Wan needed to keep in touch with what was happening in the
galaxy. He could withdraw, but he had to stay informed.
The Galactic Senate was still operating, but it served more as a discussion group than a governing
body. The Emperor controlled the majority, who simply approved of anything he proposed. Bail Organa
was still there, fighting when and how he could. He refused to give the Emperor the satisfaction of seeing
him resign. Obi-Wan kept up with these happenings, but he resolved to keep his distance from them. He
saw the daily erosion of liberties from afar, as though they had no relation to how he lived his life any
longer. If he allowed himself to feel frustration or rage, he was afraid it would overtake him.
He wore his hood low over his face and picked a dark corner. Thanks to a liberal use of bribes, the
one-eyed Abyssin bartender watched out for him and made sure he was left alone. Here he was Ben
Kenobi, a half-crazy hermit who had no need for companionship. A drink was brought by a scurrying
waiter, who set it down and ran off to service a table of traders almost ready to brawl before their
multicolored concoctions arrived.
Obi-Wan had chosen his table carefully. He recognized one of the group sitting next to him, a space
pilot named Weasy. He was a muscular, hairy Bothan who was known for taking on any cargo, no
questions asked. He was also an excellent reporter of information who did not exaggerate. He sat with
the other pilots, well into a large pitcher of ale.
Obi-Wan gathered the Force to help him filter out the noise and hone in on what the pilots were
saying. He listened for a moment to make sure they were relatively sober. He was used to the boasts and
fabrications that made up "news" in this cantina.
"Travel restrictions getting tighter," one of the pilots was saying, his antennae waving in anxiety. "It's
getting harder to bribe officials. They're all scared . . . of what, I don't know. Rumors going around of
punishments for corruption."
The other pilot snorted. "Bribes aren't going to stop, even in the Empire."
Weasy took a draft from his mug. "Long as it's something they get a piece of, they'll keep looking the
other way."
"Look, I'm not complaining," the first pilot said. "The Empire has improved my business. No more
space pirates on the run to the Rutan system. But they're clamping down now. Did you hear what
happened on Bellassa?"
"Sure, they came in and deposed the governor, stuck in their own guy," the second pilot said. "So
what? They've done that on plenty of worlds. They like to tell the governments what to do. They don't
like governors who actually govern." He guffawed at his own joke.
"Yeah, well, they had some trouble on Bellassa. Stubborn, those beings are. All the citizens took to
the streets," the first pilot said. "There were mass arrests in every city. I think they must have arrested half
of Ussa. I'm telling you, this is the start of something big."
"I was caught at the spaceport when it happened," Weasy said. "Everything was shut down because
someone escaped from prison, and there was a full-scale alert to catch him."
Obi-Wan put down his drink. There wasn't anything here to interest him. Just the usual gossip. The
various crackdowns of the Empire weren't news.
"Just one guy, can you imagine? And they held up transit for a week. I was cooling my heels
—wasn't even allowed to leave the Ussa spaceport," Weasy went on.
Obi-Wan stood. The noise of the cantina engulfed him as he allowed the Force to ease.
. . so I say to myself, who is this Ferus Olin anyway?" Weasy finished.
Ferus Olin.
The name sent a jolt through his body.
Slowly, Obi-Wan sat down again. He tuned out the noise to listen. He wasn't going anywhere
tonight. Not until he'd learned all he could about Ferus Olin.
Because at one time Ferus Olin had been trained as a Jedi.
And now, he might be one of the only ones left.
CHAPTER TWO
"Anybody who gets the attention of the Empire has to be brave or crazy," the first pilot said.
"Or dead," the second said, and they all laughed.
"I hear he's both brave and crazy," Weasy said. "But not dead — not yet, anyway. They ordered
extra troops because of him, and they'd already imported one of those Imperial battalions. He was
running rings around the stormtroopers. Became a legend on Bellassa."
"So what happened to him?"
"Nobody knows. He escaped. They've got a major hunt on for him — want to make him an example
for others who might try to rebel. Worth a bounty or two, if you're interested."
"Not me," the first pilot said. "I don't tangle with the Empire. Even to help them. Best to stay clear.
Pass me that pitcher, will you? I'm still sober."
"His partner is still in prison," Weasy said. "I guess they're thinking Ferus Olin will try a rescue, but so
far, he's stayed gone." He grunted as he put down his mug. "He'd better stay disappeared. I'm making
another run to Ussa tonight. Supplies are low there, and there's credits to be made."
Obi-Wan sipped his drink, trying to make sense of the feelings tangling inside him.
Ferus was alive. Obi-Wan had assumed he was dead.
Ferus had been a Jedi apprentice. It didn't matter that he had left the Order at the age of eighteen and
had been a civilian since then. He had been one of them, and he was still alive.
He had kept track of Ferus in the beginning. He'd always thought that after the Clone Wars he would
contact him. After they had defeated the Separatists.
That was before he understood how the dark side would not be defeated so quickly.
He knew Ferus had started a business with a partner, Roan Lands. The two had hired themselves out
to governments interested in protecting citizens who were whistleblowers — those who exposed
wrongdoing in especially vicious corporations. Ferus and Roan found them new identities and kept tabs
on them.
Obi-Wan didn't know much more than that. He'd heard that Ferus and Roan became officers in the
Army of the Republic during the Clone Wars, but he'd never had the time to track them down.
After Anakin had turned to the dark side, Obi-Wan had cause to remember Ferus. It had been Ferus
who had first warned him about Anakin. Ferus who had sensed that Anakin's great gifts hid great unrest.
Ferus who saw Anakin's power — and feared it.
He owed him.
"All I know is, the next time you go to Bellassa, you won't have a problem," the second pilot said.
"Ferus Olin will be dead."
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 Coruscant, 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
摘要：

THEDESPERATEMISSION CHAPTERONE     Duskalwaystookhimbysurprise.Onthistwo-sunworld,itstartedearly,onesundroppingfirst,thentheotherchasingbehinditinafastslidetothehorizon.Harshsunlightgavewaytolongshadowsthatpaintedthecanyonfloorswithgray.     Anotherdaygone.Anotherdaytocome.Eachonethesame.     Obi-Wa...

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