Star Wars: The Last of the Jedi, Volume 9 Read Free

Breha, and Deara turned their backs on the Inquisitors and walked out.

As Ferus and Hydra climbed back into the airspeeder, Ferus said, “I think we should try the office of Official Records first.”
    “You were deferential to Bail Organa,” Hydra replied, surprising him. “Why?”
    “He’s a Senator.”
    “He is the main opposition to the Emperor in the Senate. He works to destroy the Empire.”
    “It’s easier if you avoid confrontation when you’re digging on someone else’s ground.”
    “That is a curious statement,” Hydra said. “Alderaan belongs to the Empire. This is
our
ground.”
    Oops
, Ferus thought. He had to be more careful. “I’m speaking of perception,” he said. “If we push the Senator too hard, he may close access to us in ways we
aren’t even aware of. We don’t have a lock on this planet…yet.”
    She didn’t reply, and Ferus guided the airspeeder toward a cluster of official buildings in a central area of the city of Aldera. He’d have to dump Hydra somehow. She was too
watchful. His job here was to investigate the report as fast as possible and then close the book on it. He didn’t want her around. Obi-Wan seemed less interested in the possible presence of a
Force-sensitive child than he was in getting the Inquisitors off the scent. If Ferus found the child, he’d be honor-bound to make sure he or she was protected. It could be tricky.
    He was anxious to get free of Hydra and contact Amie Antin. She was a doctor and scientist, and he needed her expertise. Just days ago he’d broken into EmPal SuRecon and was able to steal
some supply records. The Emperor’s private medical facility had to have been the place where Darth Vader’s suit had been constructed and fitted. No other place in the galaxy had that
expertise. Ferus hoped that after Amie Antin analyzed the records, she’d be able to give him a clue to Vader’s identity, or at least a place to start.
    If his suspicions were correct, Darth Vader was a fallen Jedi. Not only that, Ferus had the nagging feeling that he’d known him. Perhaps even known him well.
    If Ferus could discover the nature of Vader’s injuries, he might discover who he’d been. That might give him an edge in a battle.
    Because they were heading for a fight.
    Vader had killed his partner Roan Lands in cold blood. He had done it just to infuriate Ferus. He had taken a life just for his own amusement.
    He had to pay for that.
    Ferus knew that by giving in to his rage he was jeopardizing his rediscovered grasp of the Force. He had never become a Jedi officially; he had resigned from the Order when he was still an
apprentice. He knew his limitations. He wouldn’t be much of a match for Vader as he was.
    He had learned detachment as a Jedi Padawan, but he didn’t feel detached. Not at all. A calm, steady fury was at the core of him now. It needed only a trigger to explode. He had been
taught all his life that avenging a death was wrong. But this didn’t feel wrong.
    The Emperor had told him that he could teach Ferus about the dark side of the Force. He had told him that his anger would only make him stronger. Ferus had to admit he’d been right. You
couldn’t argue with results. The few times he’d tapped into his anger and felt the dark side of the Force, he’d been able to move objects at shocking velocities just by
concentrating his rage.
    Before he’d left Coruscant, he’d met briefly with the Emperor. Palpatine had given him a Sith Holocron, small enough to tuck into his tunic pocket. He’d told him that if he had
the courage to access it he could gain great power.
    He didn’t tell him what he’d see. He didn’t tell him what he’d learn. But the way he’d rasped the word
power,
the way he’d caressed the Holocron, had
told Ferus everything. If he wanted to beat Vader, this was the only way.
    He hadn’t yet accessed the Holocron. He could feel it in his tunic, lending a weight out of proportion to its size. Sometimes it