Darth Vader.
The dark side was so strong that Ferus felt like he was being engulfed by it as he walked up to Vader. He had to pull himself together and act as normal as he could, not like
he’d just fought a heated battle.
“I think we’re tracking the same person,” he told Vader. “Any luck?”
Vader didn’t answer for a moment. A long moment. Ferus tried not to sweat. All he could hear was the tunnel-echo whooshing of Vader’s electronic breath-mask.
“Several battalions of droids and troopers have been demolished. Prowler droids as well. The saboteur has help.”
“Lucky that you came prepared,” Ferus said, indicating the armed activity around him.
“Strange. Captain Chainly reported that lightsabers were involved.”
“That doesn’t seem likely,” Ferus said, relieved that he’d hidden his own.
Vader didn’t answer. “Do you have the saboteur’s name?”
“Quintus Farel,” Ferus answered.
“That is an alias.”
“That’s all I have. The apartment was empty when I got there.”
“You took a long time to find me.”
“I was searching. I thought we should work together.”
“I work alone.”
He could not have bested Darth Vader in battle. Ferus knew that. But he had won this round simply by walking out the door. For some reason, he had the protection of the Emperor. As long as he
had that, Vader couldn’t touch him.
Vader didn’t have to speak. Ferus knew he was angry. He could feel how difficult it was for Vader to suppress it. Behind his words was fury and frustration. He had gotten to him just by
standing here, just by existing.…
Something tickled Ferus’s memory. Something familiar about this scene. What was it? He felt there was something here that he should be able to grasp but couldn’t.
“Lord Vader?” Vader’s comlink crackled. “Space cruiser seen leaving the area, sir.”
“Go after it!” Vader commanded.
“Too late for pursuit, sir. I sent a patrol ship after it.”
“Send everything you have.”
Vader switched off the comlink. “It does not matter,” he said. “They cannot leave the planet.”
The helmet turned back toward Ferus. The blank eyes seemed to study him. Then Vader turned and walked off, his cape swirling behind him.
Keets and Curran sat on the floor together in the holding room.
“What’s taking Sauro so long?” Keets asked.
“I don’t know,” Curran said. “But the longer we’re here, the better. Once we get into an Imperial detention center, we’re sunk.”
“You mean we’re not sunk now?”
The door hissed open. Zackery stood there, a reluctant look on his face. “Senate regulations say I have to send in food.”
Keets brightened. “Things are looking up.”
A cook droid wheeled in. “Things are done by the book in the Senate, young man,” she advised Zackery.
“Don’t call me young man!” Zackery shouted at her.
“Sorry, old man!” the droid trilled.
Zackery snorted and stamped out, but left the door ajar. He stood, his hand on his blaster, and watched.
Keets looked at the droid closely. Despite the fresh paint job, he recognized the antique droid WA-7. It was the same droid that had worked in Dexter’s Diner. She’d served him
sliders and the slop Dex called a drink at least a hundred times.
Yes, things were definitely looking up.
She placed a tray on the floor next to them. A large pot of liquid, two mugs, and two veg turnovers. She took the items off the tray and then took the tray away again. “Enjoy!” she
said.
She began to wheel out. Keets reached for the cups.
“I’m not thirsty,” Curran said.
“Oh, you’ll like this.” As soon as WA-7 was between them and Zackery, Keets took the small blaster out of the pot.
Curran’s reaction time was excellent for a once-bookish senatorial aide. He jumped to his feet and charged as Keets moved forward with the blaster. At the same moment, WA-7 threw the heavy
metal tray at Zackery’s neck. It hit him hard, and he staggered
The dark side was so strong that Ferus felt like he was being engulfed by it as he walked up to Vader. He had to pull himself together and act as normal as he could, not like
he’d just fought a heated battle.
“I think we’re tracking the same person,” he told Vader. “Any luck?”
Vader didn’t answer for a moment. A long moment. Ferus tried not to sweat. All he could hear was the tunnel-echo whooshing of Vader’s electronic breath-mask.
“Several battalions of droids and troopers have been demolished. Prowler droids as well. The saboteur has help.”
“Lucky that you came prepared,” Ferus said, indicating the armed activity around him.
“Strange. Captain Chainly reported that lightsabers were involved.”
“That doesn’t seem likely,” Ferus said, relieved that he’d hidden his own.
Vader didn’t answer. “Do you have the saboteur’s name?”
“Quintus Farel,” Ferus answered.
“That is an alias.”
“That’s all I have. The apartment was empty when I got there.”
“You took a long time to find me.”
“I was searching. I thought we should work together.”
“I work alone.”
He could not have bested Darth Vader in battle. Ferus knew that. But he had won this round simply by walking out the door. For some reason, he had the protection of the Emperor. As long as he
had that, Vader couldn’t touch him.
Vader didn’t have to speak. Ferus knew he was angry. He could feel how difficult it was for Vader to suppress it. Behind his words was fury and frustration. He had gotten to him just by
standing here, just by existing.…
Something tickled Ferus’s memory. Something familiar about this scene. What was it? He felt there was something here that he should be able to grasp but couldn’t.
“Lord Vader?” Vader’s comlink crackled. “Space cruiser seen leaving the area, sir.”
“Go after it!” Vader commanded.
“Too late for pursuit, sir. I sent a patrol ship after it.”
“Send everything you have.”
Vader switched off the comlink. “It does not matter,” he said. “They cannot leave the planet.”
The helmet turned back toward Ferus. The blank eyes seemed to study him. Then Vader turned and walked off, his cape swirling behind him.
Keets and Curran sat on the floor together in the holding room.
“What’s taking Sauro so long?” Keets asked.
“I don’t know,” Curran said. “But the longer we’re here, the better. Once we get into an Imperial detention center, we’re sunk.”
“You mean we’re not sunk now?”
The door hissed open. Zackery stood there, a reluctant look on his face. “Senate regulations say I have to send in food.”
Keets brightened. “Things are looking up.”
A cook droid wheeled in. “Things are done by the book in the Senate, young man,” she advised Zackery.
“Don’t call me young man!” Zackery shouted at her.
“Sorry, old man!” the droid trilled.
Zackery snorted and stamped out, but left the door ajar. He stood, his hand on his blaster, and watched.
Keets looked at the droid closely. Despite the fresh paint job, he recognized the antique droid WA-7. It was the same droid that had worked in Dexter’s Diner. She’d served him
sliders and the slop Dex called a drink at least a hundred times.
Yes, things were definitely looking up.
She placed a tray on the floor next to them. A large pot of liquid, two mugs, and two veg turnovers. She took the items off the tray and then took the tray away again. “Enjoy!” she
said.
She began to wheel out. Keets reached for the cups.
“I’m not thirsty,” Curran said.
“Oh, you’ll like this.” As soon as WA-7 was between them and Zackery, Keets took the small blaster out of the pot.
Curran’s reaction time was excellent for a once-bookish senatorial aide. He jumped to his feet and charged as Keets moved forward with the blaster. At the same moment, WA-7 threw the heavy
metal tray at Zackery’s neck. It hit him hard, and he staggered
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