The Last Jedi

Four


They had to leave now or they never would. He knew that Laranth’s body was just an empty shell.

He knew that. He was, after all, a Jedi. Death was no stranger to him.

And yet he wanted to linger within one broken vessel, cradling the other in his arms. Or, barring that, to take Laranth’s body with him into a life pod.

He shut the urges down.

There is no death; there is the Force.

Her last words.

He looked around for Den. The Sullustan was still alive, quivering against the bulkhead with I-Five’s head in his arms. Jax had to get Den off Far Ranger. And to do so, he had to leave Laranth behind.

He forced himself to move. He deactivated his lightsaber and put a hand on the Sullustan’s shoulder.

“Get to the life pod. The one to starboard.”

Den looked up at him through haunted eyes; Jax saw his own reflection in them. “Not … not without you.”

“Wait for me. Give me a minute—that’s all I’ll need. If I’m not there in a minute, take off.”

He sprinted for his cabin then—their cabin—trusting that Den wouldn’t try to follow him. It took him only seconds to dart in and get the miisai tree—all of Laranth that was left to him. He spent another second considering the idea of not joining Den in the life pod.

He shook his head. Stupid. He was being stupid and tragic. This was not the time to make life decisions.

Carrying the tree, he raced aft again, pausing only to sweep up one of Laranth’s blasters—the only one still in one piece—and to touch her ruined face. Her flesh was cold. Her house was empty.

The ship shuddered again, reminding him that he had limited time—not that he expected Den to leave him behind. Not really. He reached the life pod and swung inside, sealing the door behind him. Den was sitting in the copilot’s seat, working on I-Five’s head, reconnecting a few of the myriad wires that straggled from the droid’s neck. Jax thought he saw the droid’s optics flicker briefly, but the effect was too ephemeral for him to be sure.

He slid into the pilot’s seat—not that he’d be doing much piloting—strapped in, and hit the launch mechanism. Seconds later they were flying through the Twins’ tidal bore.

It took long, agonizing moments to win clear of the stars’ gravity, but they did at last. In the relative silence of the capsule, Jax swiveled his seat to look at Den. The Sullustan stared back, I-Five’s head pressed between his hands. His gaze was on the tree in Jax’s lap.

“She … um … she gave you that?” Den asked.

Den’s voice was so soft, Jax barely heard him. He nodded. “Stupid, I suppose, but …”

“No. Not stupid. Not at all.”

“You waited more than a minute.”

“You took more than a minute.”

“I ordered you to go.”

“He ordered me to stay.” Den hefted the droid’s head.

“Den …”

“I did order him to stay,” said I-Five succinctly. His optics flickered, unmistakably this time. “I’ve lost enough today, as it is. We all have. Losing you … not in my plans.”

Jax felt as if his bones were melting. His hands shook. He grasped the arms of the pilot’s chair to stop them—grasped them until his knuckles turned white.

“Choice is loss; indecision is all loss,” he murmured. “I choose Yimmon—I lose Laranth. I choose Laranth—I lose Yimmon. I hesitate—I lose both … and the ship and you.”

“Except that I’m still here,” I-Five said emphatically. “Though admittedly, I’ve lost a bit of weight.” After a pause, the droid added, “In some sense, Laranth is still here, as well. Remember your training, Jax. There is no death; there is the Force.”

Jax stared out the viewport at the void of space, aware that, behind them, the Far Ranger with her lonely cargo was diving into the starstuff—returning to the primal forge. It was easier to meditate on those words than understand what they meant. He’d lost his Master and understood them, he thought. He’d lost Nick Rostu and thought he’d understood them. But this—losing the woman who’d been his most intimate companion, the person who completed his sentences—this was not like those losses. He felt as if a piece of his own soul had been ripped away.

The piece that gave it light.

He wanted, desperately, to reach out through the Force and feel her there—to make certain the Jedi mantra was truth. He told himself he did not only because it would betray his continued existence to Vader.

But Vader knew. He had taken the Whiplash leader, almost casually blasted I-Five to bits when the droid had tried to stop him, and just as casually caused Jax’s muscles to lock in titanic spasm. Then he had turned and left with his troops, walking away with studied insouciance.

A loud ping sounded in the silence. A light flashed in his eyes. He looked through the tiny porthole, saw a ship hovering perhaps half a klick away. It was their Ranger escort, come to rescue them.

Or what was left, he thought. Two broken sentients and a broken droid.