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“Nur.”
The word rings in Obi-Wan’s ears like a curse.
Roken can’t hide his disgust for the place, and fear pounds through the room from the others standing at the holotable, staring at the glowing pyramid.
“It’s a water moon,” Roken continues. “We got this off the grid while it was being built. It’s all we have. It’s in the Mustafar system.”
Mustafar.
Won’t that place ever let him be?
It still haunts his dreams, every night. It’s at the forefront of his mind. The scalding rocks, the searing pain, the confusion, the exhaustion. Mustafar is only near the edge of the galaxy, but it might as well be the very end of the universe.
“That’s Vader’s system,” Tala reminds everyone. As if every one of Obi-Wan’s senses wasn’t on high alert at just the mention of it.
“Is Vader there?” He can hardly bear to ask. But he has to know. Why that man would ever step foot onto that planet again, he doesn’t know. Much less build an entire fortress on one of its moons.
“We don’t think so,” Roken says. “Our intel shows he’s still on the ship, but he’s close.”
“So that’s it.” The man across the table has wide, focused eyes, and he seems just a bit too eager to be looking at the deadliest structure in the galaxy. “Fortress Inquisitorius.”
“It’s impenetrable, Wade.” The girl, Sully, sounds hopeless.
But Obi-Wan – as hopeless as he feels, too – knows that she’s wrong.
Nothing’s impenetrable. There’s always a way in, always something the Empire wouldn’t have noticed or thought of.
It’s a water planet.
Underwater entrances aren’t as strongly protected, as a rule. Obi-Wan’s mind flies through years upon years of battles on various terrains, from sand planets to rainforests to oceans. Kamino had been attacked once by General Grievous, and while the city lay above water, the Separatists had sent pieces disguised as shrapnel into the ocean to assemble some sort of vessel to attack from below. No one had seen it coming.
Except Anakin, that is. But he must have forgotten by now.
It was so long ago.
“How far down do you think it goes?” He’s piecing together a plan. Not a great one, but it’s something.
“I have no idea,” Roken says. “It’s their base of operations, so probably got a command center. Training facility.”
“The truth is, nobody knows what it looks like in there,” Sully adds, fear lacing her every word.
“I do.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes fly to the cave entrance, where a tall figure stands silhouetted by the dusty orange glow of sunlight. His clothes are just as drab and tattered as the rest of the residents of this base, and he sports a couple dark circles under his eyes. That seems to be the uniform around here.
Tala steps forward and quickly embraces the newcomer, holding his shoulders in a motherly display of concern. “You made it back,” she says with not a small amount of relief. “How are the others?”
The boy (he doesn’t look to be much older than twenty) smiles wearily. “They’re good. They’re on inventory right now. Goran sent me over here.”
“Good. We need you.” Tala nods, then turns and leads the boy toward the holotable. And that’s when Obi-Wan sees it.
A long silver lightsaber swinging at the boy’s hip.
“Cal,” Tala says. “This is–”
But the boy interrupts, his gaze finally landing on Obi-Wan. And recognition, disbelief, and awe fill his eyes all at the same time.
“Master Kenobi.”
He holds the boy’s gaze warily, carefully. If Tala trusts this kid, Obi-Wan is sure he’s alright. But Obi-Wan doesn’t like being recognized. It’s not safe. The less people that know he survived the purge, the better.
So he’s hesitant, although intrigued by this confident, exhausted, wise young man in front of him.
He nods, lets a small grin show the boy that he means no harm. “It’s just Ben, actually.”
Cal gets the message. He nods in acknowledgement. “Cal Kestis.”
Obi-Wan is fairly sure the rest of this team know the boy, since Tala doesn’t make an effort to introduce anyone else.
“So,” Cal begins. “What about the fortress?”
“How do you know about it?” Roken asks. “No one’s ever made it out of there alive.”
Cal braces his hands against the table and looks down. Gathers his strength for a moment. He glances to the side, then all around the room as if to watch for any extra listeners. His voice becomes low and quiet as he stands up straighter to address the team.
“There was a mission . . . Five years ago, before the Path. A Jedi holocron was stolen and brought to Nur . . . It’s a long story. Point is, me and Cere. We got in. Did some damage. Barely made it back out.”
Obi-Wan should be excited. He should be raring to go, ready to take off within the hour. But all he can feel is pure, unadulterated dread and fear.
“So it’s possible,” he murmurs.
Cal nods. “There’s a way in; not much security on the lower levels. They don’t expect intruders to swim.”
“Wouldn’t they have tightened security since you invaded?” Tala asks.
“Maybe.” Cal shrugs. “But I don’t think they know how we did it. Their arrogance goes a long way. Blinds them.”
Something in his voice tells a story Obi-Wan almost doesn’t want to know. This boy has seen things. Been places no one should ever be. Experienced the unthinkable. And it shows in his young countenance. It’s obvious by the wisdom in his words.
He is to be trusted, Obi-Wan decides.
“So what do we need to know?” Sully asks, suddenly sounding more confident than Obi-Wan feels.
He hasn’t felt this nervous or frightened since . . . he can’t remember when. He’ll do anything under the sun to get Leia back, that’s not a question. He just didn’t think it would cause this much fear.
He’s always been confident. Collected. Even if his mind was racing with the unknown, Obi-Wan, the Negotiator, has always had a backup plan. He’s always had the Force on his side. That shining light in the darkness that guides him no matter where he is.
But after a decade of darkness, it’s been harder and harder to turn on the light.
And the gaping hole in his chest won’t stop growing.
He doesn’t need much for this journey. They’re scheduled to leave in no more than fifteen minutes, and he can’t seem to think straight.
Lightsaber. Two ration bars.
Nothing else.
“Master?”
Obi-Wan had heard the boy approaching, so it’s the old honorific that startles him.
He turns to face Cal and prepares to correct him. But before he can say a word, the boy extends his hands and says, “Just Ben, I know. But it feels . . . wrong.”
“Everything’s wrong now,” Obi-Wan explains. “We’re not Jedi anymore.”
He knows his words strike a nerve in the boy, but Cal keeps his composure and lets the statement slide. “Speak for yourself.”
Obi-Wan turns back to the holotable, studying every angle of the fortress. The more he knows about its size, depth, shape . . . the less room for error. And there is no room for error. Not now.
“I was twelve,” the boy says, and Obi-Wan’s heart sinks straight to the floor.
“We were stationed on Bracca,” he continues. “I was training under Jaro Tapal. We heard the news about Utapau, and how there might be hope that the war could be over soon. We were just about to ship out when it happened.”
He doesn’t have to elaborate. Obi-Wan knows exactly what “it” means. He hasn’t referred to it as anything else, either.
“I barely escaped,” Cal is saying. “Master Tapal took seven blaster shots to the chest. I left his body in the escape pod, buried it in rubble so the clones would think I died too. And I went into hiding for five years. Worked, ran, kept my head down. I thought it was over for me. Thought I’d be a scrapper for the rest of my life.”
Obi-Wan can never tell this boy just how similar their stories are.
“But then Cere found me. Turns out there was a purpose for me all along. I realized it’s worth more to risk exposure and death than to see others suffer. Being a Jedi isn’t about titles and words and lightsabers, you know.”
Obi-Wan lets the silence ring through his mind for a while.
There are too many thoughts to capture just one – too many regrets to vocalize. This boy might have been through a lot, but he doesn’t know the half of what Obi-Wan is going up against in that fortress.
What does Cal know about being a Jedi? His training never progressed past being a Padawan. He suppressed his abilities for five years. What right does he have to carry around that lightsaber? About as much as Haja, he guesses.
Who is he to lecture Obi-Wan about purpose? About self-sacrifice?
“That holocron we rescued,” Cal says quietly, taking a few steps forward. “It was a list of all the Force-sensitive children in the galaxy.”
Obi-Wan’s blood runs cold.
Luke and Leia could be on that list.
He looks up, panicked. Cal must have noticed his fear, because the boy opens his hands in front of him, showing them empty. “It’s gone. I destroyed it.”
That also takes just a moment to process, and thousands of scenarios fly through Obi-Wan’s mind. But he just has one question about all of this: “Why?”
Why is Cal telling him all this? And why would he destroy such a valuable source of information?
“Had to keep it out of the hands of the Empire. I thought I could rebuild the Jedi Order, but . . .”
“As long as Vader is alive, they would suffer the same fate as the rest of us.”
Cal nods. “There might never be another Jedi Order. The Empire might continue for centuries. But as long as I’m here, following the Jedi Code, helping where I can . . . protecting people. And if I teach people – ordinary people – to do the same, then the dark can never win.”
In front of him, the holotable lights up. Five minutes to take-off.
It’s time.
The boy notices. “Before you go, Master.”
This time, Obi-Wan doesn’t correct him. He’s not sure why.
“With all due respect . . . Where have you been all these years? We’ve really needed you.”
Obi-Wan heaves a long sigh and his eyebrows draw together, his heart filled to the brim with emotions he can’t explain. “I . . . I have a mission. More important than you can imagine.”
He can’t say more than that.
Luke is his biggest secret. His last hope. The entire galaxy’s only hope for freedom.
No one can know.
And somehow, Cal understands. He nods, his red hair falling in a curtain over his forehead.
“You know,” Obi-Wan says slowly, checking the chrono. Four minutes. “I could use some help out there.”
“I’m honored,” the boy replies. “But I’m shipping out again with my crew in a few hours. Plus, it’s probably best if they don’t see my face there twice. Rebel life, you know?”
That almost (almost) makes Obi-Wan smile, and he extends a hand. Cal clasps his forearm.
“May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi.”
For just a moment, Obi-Wan is frozen in place. He sees a different pair of sharp blue eyes looking down at him, a shy smile on a face partially hidden by dark hair. Dark leather robes, too big for the figure beneath them. Declarations of gratitude. Apologies. A solemn farewell that neither of them knew would turn out to be their last.
But Cal is not Anakin.
It’s been ten years.
The cave walls seem just a bit narrower.
The vision fades, and Obi-Wan blinks back his sudden wave of sorrow.
He looks up into young blue eyes, full of hope and vigor and strength, and he smiles.
“And with you, Cal Kestis.”