The Desperate Mission

  "No, but I know where you can get a new traveling cloak." The boy gave

  him an appraising look. "You could use a new one, if you ask me. We've got

  everything - romex, chaughaine, leathris, even armorweave. But you look

  like a Ramordian silk kind of guy. You can pull it off."

  There was the slightest trace of a snicker on the boy's face. For some

  odd reason, Obi-Wan was reminded of Anakin as a boy. Anakin had this same

  way of slyly teasing him while struggling to keep a neutral expression on

  his face. It had both charmed and irritated him. Every time a memory of

  Anakin as a boy came to him, a fresh pain startled him, like an electrical

  charge.

  "No, thank you." Obi-Wan turned and walked down the alley, chased by

  the boy's guffaw, which he had finally allowed to surface.

  He crossed the street again and headed for Dorma's Caf© on the other

  side of Ferus's door. He ordered the special. He sat at the counter, the

  only customer in the place. The woman behind the counter had a broad, plain

  face and a warm smile.

  "Not very busy today," Obi-Wan remarked. He had to work to make his

  comment sound natural, relaxed. It had been so long since he had to make

  small talk that it was an effort to remember how to do it.

  "Not very busy any day," the woman replied. "That's the way it goes.

  The neighborhood used to get foot traffic. But nobody wants to walk around

  the city these days. Businesses closing up every day."

  "Must be hard," Obi-Wan said.

  The woman pointed with her chin across the street. "Mariana - the

  tailor shop - she's barely hanging on. Poor dear. Who has the credits for

  new clothes now except the Imperials?" She bit her lip and glanced toward

  the door. It wasn't safe to say such things, he knew.

  "I noticed the business next door is gone."

  She nodded, and he could see the sadness in her eyes. "The poor

  fellows."

  "What happened?" Obi-Wan asked.

  He saw the way she closed down. He could almost feel what she thought.

  A stranger, asking questions. Could be an Imperial spy. This is what

  happened in the new galaxy. The simplest exchange was complicated by fear,

  by wariness.

  "Ferus Olin was a friend of mine," Obi-Wan said. "I came a long way to

  see him."

  She turned away and started to wipe the counter. "If you're a friend,

  then you should already know what happened. And you'd know better than to

  say that you are one."

  The conversation was over. He would not get any information from

  Ferus's neighbors. Out of loyalty or fear, they were keeping their mouths

  shut.

  At least the meal was good. Obi-Wan bent over, inhaling the aroma, and

  took another bite. Qui-Gon would advise him to eat. He never believed in

  wasting an opportunity, even for food. He remembered one of the life

  lessons of the Masters when he was just a Padawan, something Qui-Gon liked

  to quote: When food arrives, eat. Of course, the saying meant more than

  that. It was about enjoying what you have in the moment. But Qui-Gon's

  kindness had always extended to recognizing the hunger of a growing boy.

  He was about to compliment the woman on her cooking when they both

  heard the sound of thudding boots outside. The woman ran to the window.

  "A stormtrooper raid," she said, fear in her voice.

  "They don't need a reason. Go. If I'm empty, they might not come in."

  Obi-Wan found himself thrust out the door into the street. The

  stormtroopers were kicking in the door of an art gallery several doors

  down. He did not want them to question him. The ID docs Bail had acquired

  for him were good, but as an outlander he ran the risk of being detained.

  Obi-Wan turned and began to walk away. "You there! Halt!"

  He kept on walking. There was an alley just ahead.

  He heard the stormtrooper's quick steps behind him. Obi-Wan made a

  sharp right into the narrow alley.

  He was almost knocked over by a gravsled careening down the alley, the

  same one that had been standing outside the back door of the tailor shop.

  Now it. was piled with durasteel bins full of clothing. Obi-Wan stumbled

  backward in time to see the surprised face of the boy, who was piloting the

  gravsled.

  Obi-Wan leaped aboard.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "Hey, get off!" The boy tried to push him. He was surprisingly strong.

  Obi-Wan held him off with one hand as he crouched and grabbed the

  controls with the other. He saw the stormtrooper stop and look around. He

  hadn't seen Obi-Wan yet. The piles of fabric and cartons and the high sides

  of the gravsled obscured him.

  The boy kicked him hard on the shin. Obi-Wan winced. The gravsled

  lurched, and the stormtrooper looked over and called, "You there! Stop that

  gravsled!"

  Obi-Wan hit the brake and did a reverse spin, heading in the opposite

  direction. The clumsy gravsled could barely execute the maneuver, but it

  managed it. One of the things he'd learned from Anakin was that most

  machines could perform beyond their capacity if you pushed them in the

  right way. He had seen Anakin do incredible things with a gravsled.

  Obi-Wan made a sharp right and careened up an alley.

  "What are you doing, you stinking monkey-lizard!" the boy screamed. "I

  was here first!"

  He made a sharp left and pushed the speed past maximum.

  "Those are Imperial stormtroopers!" the boy yelled.

  Gently, Obi-Wan pushed the boy onto an overturned bin. "Relax."

  A speeder bike roared around the corner behind him, then another. Two

  stormtroopers. Good. Two was better than one. They'd get in each other's

  way.

  The boy rose, fists clenched, and charged. Summoning the Force, Obi-

  Wan took one hand off the controls and raised the other. The boy could not

  move. His eyes were wide.

  "You'll get your gravsled back. Just don't move." A gentle Force-push,

  and he landed back on the bin. This time, the boy stayed there.

  The gravsled's controls were hot underneath his hands. They shook. He

  was pushing the machine well past its limits.

  Just hold on a little longer, he told it.

  They were in a warehouse district now. Parked along the streets were

  construction vehicles with hydrolifts, bigger gravsleds than this one, and

  hauler speeders. One of the stormtroopers flew higher, intending to come

  down on him from above. The other leaned to the right. They were trying to

  box him in against the large warehouse to his right.

  Timing was everything. And a gravsled wasn't nearly as agile as a

  speeder bike. But one thing he'd learned about the stormtroopers was that

  despite their weaponry, their unflagging energy, their relentless need to

  get the job done, they did not have much imagination. They could not

  strategize. They could only follow orders.

  Moving at top speed now, Obi-Wan had to summon the Force and use it.

  His vision became sharp. Time slowed down. Ahead he saw a construction

  crawler mounted on a track that ran up the side of a building. The workers

  had halted in the middle of a job restoring the stonework on the front

  wall.

  Obi-Wan unclipped his
lightsaber and kept it by his side, hidden by

  his cloak. He had to keep it hidden unless absolutely necessary; if it was

  discovered that he was a Jedi, he would soon have the whole planet looking

  for him. He lurched the gravsled higher, knowing he only had a few seconds

  before the swoops rose to follow. As he passed the crawler, he reached into

  the cab of the vehicle and slashed at the instrument panel with one clean,

  accurate strike.

  The immense crawler fell with a crash. It flattened the two swoops

  before they could dodge out of the way.

  Obi-Wan zoomed away, free... and uneasy.

  Obi-Wan pulled the gravsled to a halt on the border street to

  Bluestone Lake near the Commons. Here there was traffic and pedestrians.

  They would be less noticeable.

  As soon as he stopped the gravsled, the boy rose in indignation. "You

  could have killed me! And you put stormtroopers on my tail!"

  "No, I didn't. No one saw you but the two who just got flattened by

  the crawler," Obi-Wan said. "You'll be fine."

  "I'm not fine!" the boy shouted. "I don't know what you're up to, but

  count me out." He began to throw bins off the gravsled. "Take it and get

  out of here!"

  "Hey! What are you..." Obi-Wan stopped, remembering the boy's cry, I

  was here first! How he was loitering around the alley. He had just assumed

  the boy worked for Mariana the tailor. The boy had intended him to.

  "Hold on," he said, taking a bin from the boy and throwing it back

  down. "You weren't making a delivery. You were stealing these clothes."

  The boy stuck out his chin in a challenge. "You're one to talk. You

  stole them from me! Well, keep them. See what happens when you try to sell

  them."

  Obi-Wan leaned against a stack of bins. "Not very nice of you to take

  advantage of other people's misfortunes, you know. That tailor is close to

  going out of business."

  He heard himself - that tone of voice that Anakin had always resisted.

  Obi-Wan waited for Anakin's sharp response... then realized it would never

  come.

  Instead, there was this boy, who snorted in disgust. "And now I'm

  being lectured. This is one swell, full-moon day. What are you running

  from, chief?"

  Obi-Wan let a moment go by. He glanced over toward the lake. A vendor

  stood selling juice and snack foods under a flexible, clear umbrella. He

  would take his next step from Qui-Gon. Boys were always hungry.

  "How about some food?"

  The boy snorted again. "Thanks for the invitation, but get lost."

  Obi-Wan jumped off the gravsled. He walked over to the vendor and

  bought two juice packs and a package of sweesonberry rolls.

  He could feel the boy still hesitating. He took a large bite of roll.

  Not bad.

  Obi-Wan sat on a bench. He put the other juice pack next to him and

  pushed it and the remaining sweet roll toward the middle of the bench. He

  took a sip of juice.

  The boy leaped off the gravsled and walked slowly toward him. He

  perched on the other end of the bench. Then, suddenly, he snatched the

  roll. He unwrapped it and began to munch.

  "So what's your name?" Obi-Wan asked.

  "What do you care?"

  "Just making conversation."

  "So now that you bought me food, I have to be your friend?"

  "Well, friendly, at least."

  The boy opened the juice pack. "Trever," he said.

  "I'm Ben," Obi-Wan said.

  "Well, Ben, you look like an outlander to me," Trever said, waving the

  roll. "So let me give you some advice. If you want a piece of the black

  market here, you're going to run into problems. We're a tight group. We

  don't like outsiders."

  "Where are your parents?"

  "Dead."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Why? You didn't kill them."

  "What happened to them?"

  Trever shrugged. "My mother was a captain in the Grand Army of the

  Republic. She died in the battle of T'olan, in the Wuun system...."

  Obi-Wan nodded. "I know it. That was a terrible battle." It had been

  early in the wars. Trever must have been about nine years old.

  When Trever didn't add any further information, Obi-Wan gently asked,

  "Your father?"

  "He worked for a med clinic - he was a doctor. He died right after the

  end of the Clone Wars. The Empire sent troops here right away. They wanted

  to take over the planet's defense system - for our protection, they said."

  Trever snorted. "So a bunch of Ussans decided to peacefully occupy the

  defense plant in protest. He was inside when the plant blew up. Boom. Bye,

  Dad."

  Obi-Wan knew the boy's attitude was masking a deep pain - a pain felt

  by so many throughout the galaxy.

  "So who takes care of you?" Obi-Wan asked.

  "No one."

  "Don't you have an aunt, or uncle - "

  "There's nobody, okay?" Trever took another bite of the roll. He

  didn't express any emotion. Obi-Wan waited while he chewed and swallowed.

  "I can take care of myself."

  Obi-Wan shook his head. He knew every price paid in war, he thought.

  Every suffering. Every injustice. They were all heartbreaking, but one was

  worst of all. War made orphans.

  "So that's why you learned to steal."

  "I move around a lot. The security forces in Ussa are busy with other

  things. People get distracted when there's an occupation. And I know places

  to go, people who'll give me food or a place to sleep. Dorma gives me a

  meal sometimes. And Ferus used to - "

  Trever stopped.

  "So you do know Ferus Olin," Obi-Wan pointed out.

  Trever said nothing.

  Obi-Wan continued. "He used to help you, too, didn't he?"

  Trever remained mute.

  "Listen, Trever, I need your help. I'm a friend of Ferus Olin. An old

  friend. I heard he was in trouble. I'm just trying to find him."

  The boy chewed, then took a sip of juice. "What's in it for me?"

  "Ferus helped you. Don't you want to help him? Don't you want to stop

  the Empire from destroying your planet?"

  "I said, what's in it for me?"

  Obi-Wan sighed and pushed over a few credits.

  As Trever snatched them up, his dark eyes studied Obi-Wan. "How did

  you get that crawler to smash down?" he asked.

  "Where is Ferus?"

  "How did you get me to stop moving like that? Who are you?"

  "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I can help Ferus. Have you

  seen him since he was arrested?"

  Trever's face went hard. "He's dead."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because they want him dead. And they get what they want."

  "But you don't know for sure."

  "I know for sure that if he wasn't dead, he'd be here. He would never

  let Roan stay in prison. He would try to rescue him."

  Obi-Wan let out a breath. Ferus wasn't dead. Trever didn't know

  anything for sure.

  "I had a brother, too, you know," Trever said suddenly. "Tike. He was

  in that defense plant, too. He'd been too young to join the Army of the

  Republic, but he wanted to defend Bellassa. That's why my dad went into the

  plant. He knew Tike was inside, and he offered to negotiate a deal between


  the protestors and the Imperials. But once he was inside, they blew up the

  building."

  A remembered feeling rose in Obi-Wan - fury. He knew what the Empire

  was capable of. They were led by a Sith, and they had cruelly slaughtered

  the Jedi and caused the death of millions. It hadn't only been

  stormtroopers who had turned on them. He would have to struggle to subdue

  his fury, because he knew it would only cloud his mind. He had to turn it

  into calm action.

  He took a breath and looked out at the lake. "Everyone I loved is

  dead, too, Trever."

  Trever balled up his wrapper and his empty juice carton and tossed it

  into the trash. "Yeah. Well. They crush everyone in the end. The point is

  to stay alive."

  Obi-Wan wanted to tell this boy that merely being alive wasn't enough.

  Survival was easy. Living with purpose was hard. But the boy was too young

  to know this.

  "I think I can save Ferus. I think he's still alive."