The Desperate Mission

  "Ronar Hanare!"

  He stopped and turned. It might have been a trick; he wasn't sure.

  Sometimes beings could get through a checkpoint with false ID docs, then

  forget their fake name in the relief of having made it through. The officer

  would call out the name to see how quickly they would react... or not.

  "You have to file a flight plan before you leave," the officer said.

  His gaze was wary. Did he suspect something?

  "Check," Obi-Wan said.

  He let out a slow breath as he walked to his cruiser, a pleasure craft

  that had been converted to deep space capability. He surveyed his

  surroundings without seeming to look, a Jedi technique. Nothing seemed

  amiss. He felt no surge of the Force, warning him. Another solitary man,

  large and prosperous looking, was conferring with his pilot. No doubt he

  was another businessman, anxious to escape the turbulent planet. A shorter

  figure in a dark flight suit, his back to Obi-Wan, was running through an

  engine check on a gray cruiser. Obi-Wan recognized it as a Firespray-class

  ship, a rare model that appeared to have been customized.

  Obi-Wan climbed into his transport. He quickly keyed in a flight plan

  to Raed-7 and sent it to the control system. When approval for takeoff

  flashed back, he wasted no time, but shot up into the planet's atmosphere.

  He followed the flight plan up into space. He would make one orbit of

  the planet and then return to the atmosphere to get to the coordinates of

  Arno.

  He looked down at the tracking screen. A ship had taken off behind

  him. It was heading his way, but staying back, lurking. Odd. It had a

  cloaked identity. He turned, trying to make visual contact through the

  windscreen of the cockpit.

  It was the Firespray attack ship. Someone was following him - someone,

  he suddenly realized, with a connection to his past.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  According to his flight plan, Obi-Wan was scheduled to jump to

  hyperspace. He decided to deviate slightly from that plan, and see what

  happened.

  He stayed in realspace, plotting a lazy orbit around Bellassa. When

  the time came for his jump to hyperspace, he maintained cruising speed.

  The Firespray ship increased speed. Obi-Wan followed suit.

  The pilot must have customized the engine as well as the body of the

  craft.

  Obi-Wan increased his speed to maximum. He was screaming across the

  sky now, and the ship just kept on coming. Soon, it would be within firing

  range. But surely he wouldn't be fired on...

  An explosion rocked the ship. The controls were wrenched from his

  hands, and he nearly fell out of his chair. The Firespray had obviously

  customized weapons systems, too. Deadly ones. A proton torpedo had just

  detonated close to the ship.

  Obi-Wan put his ship through evasive maneuvers as laser cannons sent

  streaks of deadly fire toward the ship. It had been so long since he'd done

  this, yet he had not forgotten anything - the feel of the controls, the

  knowledge of how far he could push the ship, the feeling in his stomach if

  a dive was too steep.

  The Firespray continued to blast him. These weren't warning shots.

  Whoever the pilot was, he wanted to bring Obi-Wan down.

  Obi-Wan pushed the ship through more corkscrew turns and dives, but he

  knew it was only a matter of time before the Firespray scored a hit.

  If Anakin were here, he'd be piloting. This was the kind of challenge

  he enjoyed.

  The thought had risen unbidden. He could not seem to stop such

  thoughts. He was still in the habit of thinking of his apprentice, his

  friend. Anakin. Not who he became.

  He didn't want to remember. It brought too much pain.

  With a quick glance at the nav computer, he saw that he was near the

  remote mountain range of Arno. He didn't want to lead the pursuer there,

  but if he was successful they wouldn't know he had landed. Now he pushed

  the engines that extra bit he knew they could handle, until he was

  momentarily out of range of his pursuer. Then, he dived toward the surface.

  If his pursuer had him on his tracking computer, he would merely think Obi-

  Wan was trying to lose him in the mountains, where the sensors would have

  trouble getting a fix on him.

  He had only a few seconds before the Firespray would track him down

  visually. Obi-Wan hugged the mountainside, zooming up and over and down

  into the valley, skimming so close that he could almost count the snow

  crystals on the peaks. The steep inclines and deep valleys created wind

  currents that buffeted the ship.

  Ice had sought out the deep crevices in the rocks and glinted blue

  below him. Giant bridges made of ice appeared, and he zoomed through them.

  He held onto his speed, but it was making the craft hard to handle. He kept

  his eyes on the surface of the snow below.

  At last he spotted what he was looking for - what was most likely a

  meadow in the summer was now a vast snowfield. How deep, he wasn't sure -

  he was getting a variety of readings, meaning that drifts had formed. In

  some places the snow was fifty meters deep. He looked carefully at the

  surface. He could see no skin of ice, which meant he would not leave

  evidence of his landing. Yet the snow had to be packed hard enough for the

  ship to settle without sinking too far. He hoped.

  Holding his breath, Obi-Wan aimed the ship straight down at top speed

  and then cut the power. The ship sailed with what seemed like great

  gentleness toward the bed of snow.

  Then it hit. Obi-Wan's head jerked back with the impact. Sound seemed

  to be sucked into the snow itself. He heard the snow above fall with a

  whoosh down on the top of the cockpit. The whiteness surrounded him.

  The ship settled down, the snow cascading, falling all around him. It

  was like being buried alive. The ship settled a few more meters, then

  stopped.

  It was dark, but there was a curious quality to the light, slightly

  luminous despite the gloom. He saw his breath cloud the air. He waited. He

  would have to use his senses, not his instruments.

  He called on the Force. His awareness moved up through the molecules

  of snow, through the spaces between the molecules, up into the thin air

  above. He could hear it or sense it - he wasn't sure, but he knew the

  Firespray was there, searching for him, flying back and forth over the

  mountains, dipping into the snow meadows and up again, buzzing like a

  frustrated insect.

  After a time he felt the vacuum of its leaving. The Force smoothed

  out. He was alone.

  Obi-Wan gazed outside the cockpit. He would not be able to take off

  from here. Even this ship, powerful as it was, would not be able to blast

  out against the snow. He would have to crawl out. He activated the canopy

  control. It struggled against the snow but did not rise. He took a deep

  breath and let it out. He would not allow himself to consider the

  possibility that he was trapped.

  He put on his thermal cape and strapped on his survival pack. Then he

  took out his lightsaber and cut a hole in the canopy. Snow tumbled in, but

&nbs
p; he was able to crawl out. His landing had created a small bubble here,

  enough to breathe. He shoved a hand in the snow and tried to grab it. It

  would not hold him.

  He tried to remember what was above. He reached for the grapnel line

  on his utility belt. It had a recoiling action, so he could shoot a

  filament above, but the claw end had to bite into something. He cleared a

  space above with his lightsaber, then shot the cable up at an angle, trying

  to pinpoint where he remembered seeing a small cluster of rocks.

  The cable failed and recoiled back into the grapnel gun. He tried

  again. The recoiling action pulled the line back.

  Again and again Obi-Wan shot the cable up into the air. The snow was

  starting to melt due to his body warmth and the fading warmth of the ship.

  Chunks of it collapsed on top of him. If he kept this up, he would start an

  avalanche above himself - small, but enough to bury him for good.

  He shot it up again. This time, it held. He tested it. It had to work.

  He activated the mechanism, and the cable retracted, pulling him up through

  the snow. It got in his hair and his eyes and his mouth, but he did not

  stop moving.

  He broke through to the surface and said hello to a gray sky. Obi-Wan

  lay flat on the snow. He pressed the mechanism and the filament recoiled.

  He tucked the grapnel line back into his belt. Then he rose slowly, gazing

  in awe at the vast mountains below and above him.

  He dusted the snow off his tunic and started to walk.

  Night was falling on the second day as he scaled the last cliff toward

  the coordinates Roan had given him. He had taken the most direct route,

  which meant much of the time he was making his way vertically, up cliff-

  sides and scaling huge boulders. He was exhausted and cold. His thermal

  cape was stiff with ice. Ice crystals had formed on his growing beard and

  eyelashes. But he was determined to finish his journey tonight.

  At last he saw it - a small white stone cabin blending in with the

  snow. Relieved, he walked toward it.

  A voice came from behind him. It was female, crisp.

  "You've got a blaster rifle pointed at your back. Don't move."

  "I'm a friend."

  "I don't have friends."

  "Roan sent me."

  "Never heard of him."

  He heard the unmistakable sound of a rifle being lifted to a shoulder.

  His hand went to his lightsaber. The door to the cabin opened.

  "Dona, don't shoot," Ferus said after a long pause. "I'm afraid my

  friend will take it very personally if you do."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Obi-Wan walked forward. The sight of Ferus struck him as slightly

  unreal.

  "I thought you were dead," Ferus said.

  "Perhaps I was," Obi-Wan responded.

  To Obi-Wan's surprise, Ferus moved forward and embraced him. Ferus,

  who had always been so proper. It had been so long since Obi-Wan had felt

  an emotion like this that he feared he would be overwhelmed. He swallowed

  and hugged Ferus back. The rush of feeling felt like spring water down a

  parched throat. Ferus was alive, and that meant that the past had not died.

  Not completely.

  Ferus stepped back and grinned. "And I thought I was immune to

  surprises." He turned to Dona. "So, what do you say? Do you think we should

  invite him in? You're the boss."

  The woman didn't smile, but Obi-Wan could see that she enjoyed Ferus's

  teasing. "Looks like he could use a thawing out," she said. "Just don't get

  puddles on my floor."

  "I'll tell you one thing," Ferus said in an undertone to Obi-Wan. "I

  know there'll be soup."

  Ferus drew him into the warmth of the house. Now that they were in the

  light, Obi-Wan could see the changes in him. He was leaner, more muscled.

  His face had matured; its angles were sharper. He was still only in his

  early twenties, but the wide gold streak in his dark hair had turned to

  silver. He gave the impression of a man who had been through things he

  would not want to talk about.

  But there was a looseness to him, too, which was new. Even his walk

  was different. Once, Ferus had moved with the rigid assurance that came

  with a disciplined mind. Now he hooked a chair with his foot and dragged it

  in front of the fire and waved Obi-Wan toward it. The old Ferus would never

  have done something so casual, and so... graceful. And Obi-Wan had never

  heard Ferus joke before. He had changed in ways Obi-Wan had yet to

  discover.

  "You're staring," Ferus said.

  "I'm sorry, it's that you seem so different."

  "You, too. You've gone completely gray. You look older. In fact, you

  don't look all that well."

  "Thanks."

  As soon as Obi-Wan's wet things were whisked away by Dona, and he was

  sitting in front of the warm fire, Ferus allowed his anxiety to show.

  "You said that Roan sent you," Ferus said.

  "He is fine," Obi-Wan said. "He was smuggled out of the med clinic and

  taken to the Eleven. He was... given some neurotoxins while in prison."

  Ferus nodded grimly.

  "But we were able to discover what they were, and he's awake now.

  Getting stronger by the minute. He asked me to tell you not to return to

  Ussa. There were mass arrests the day I left. It isn't safe there."

  Ferus sighed and sank into a chair opposite Obi-Wan. "I hate the

  Empire. And I hate this exile."

  "You can't stay here," Obi-Wan said. "The Imperials are checking your

  list of clients. Roan thinks you are safe, but I'm not sure...."

  "Dona isn't on the list on our computer files."

  "I was followed from Ussa. I don't know why or by whom. I don't know

  if it has anything to do with you, but we can't take any chances."

  Ferus nodded, frowning. "Where is your transport?"

  "Buried under a snowbank."

  "Dona has tools, we can get it out. You're right - I should leave.

  Events have changed things. I'll have to get back in contact with the

  Eleven. We'll have to wait a bit longer for our chance, but we should be

  making plans."

  Obi-Wan held out a hand for the bowl Dona brought to him. His cold

  fingers curled around the heat. He had forgotten this, too - how warmth and

  safety felt after an impossible journey. "Just what do you expect to

  accomplish?"

  "I expect to overthrow the Empire, one planet at a time," Ferus

  answered. "Nothing less than that."

  As Ferus eased himself back into the chair, Obi-Wan could see that he

  was still in pain.

  "It's nothing," Ferus said, seeing Obi-Wan glance at his leg. "I was

  wounded in the escape. Caught a bit of blasterfire. Dona's been treating

  it, and it's almost healed."

  "I'm sensing something that surprises me," Obi-Wan said slowly. "I

  would not expect that life outside the Jedi Order would suit you."

  "I would have said the same," Ferus said with a laugh. "But I

  adjusted. Siri used to always tell me that I must accept change. Welcome

  it, she said - change is what keeps the galaxy spinning. It's what makes it

  beautiful." Ferus looked into the fire. "I heard about her death, before

  all the others. I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

  "T
here were so many deaths," Obi-Wan said. Ferus didn't know, but Obi-

  Wan missed Siri constantly and intensely, even still.

  "I'm sorry, I have to ask, Obi-Wan - Anakin. He didn't survive either?

  "

  Obi-Wan couldn't tell him. He would tell a version of the truth. "He

  didn't survive." The Anakin they both knew was dead. "He was hunted down by

  the Empire."

  Ferus nodded, pain in his gaze, even though he and Anakin had been

  rivals more than friends. "I had thought that leaving the Jedi would be the

  most terrible occurrence of my life," he said. "It turns out to have saved

  my life. I was not among those caught at the Temple, or on another planet.

  I wasn't hunted down. But hearing about all that... it was hard to bear.

  Betrayal. And seeing the galaxy in the grip of the Emperor - that is

  something that eats at me. What could we have done, what could we have

  seen?"

  "We do not look back. We take each moment."

  Ferus stretched out his legs. "Ah yes, so the Jedi say. So where have

  you been for the past year or so?"

  "Here and there," Obi-Wan said. He trusted Ferus, but he would not

  tell him about Luke and Leia. The more a secret was told, the less a secret

  it became.

  "Ah, I won't ask," Ferus said. "I'm just glad to see you. Do you know