Underworld

  calculations. They simply go after what they want.

  Don't think of it. If you think of it now, it might break you.

  He walked slowly to the window. It felt as though he was kicking

  through ashes. The toys were still scattered about, the climbing apparatus

  the younglings had used, the practice lightsabers, the lasertoys, all

  broken now.

  What kind of monster would be capable of this?

  Trever lurked behind a fallen column, keeping well out of sight as he

  spied out the window. "They're closing down the landing platform," he said.

  "Must be a security measure."

  Shaking off the dark memories in the room, Ferus joined him. While

  they'd been inside the Temple, dusk had fallen. Lights were blinking on all

  over the levels below them. "Look at that officer, arguing. The code is

  yellow, not red. See the light at the side of the platform? So my guess is

  that they let him go."

  The Force surged. It was a warning. Ferus was startled at its

  directness. Much of the time he felt he was groping for the Force through a

  fog. He realized that his Force connection was stronger while he was here.

  Something in him still responded to this place, still gained strength from

  it.

  Malorum was close.

  He looked around the room. He had seconds. There had to be something

  here he could use. His mind was working fast. He needed something to

  distract the pilot below. All he needed was an instant.

  He scooped up one of the youngling's toys. It was used for Force

  practice. In the beginning, the lasertoy would fly in a straight line. As

  the child grew in expertise, he or she would use the Force to make it dip

  and roll. The more it cavorted, the more laserlights blinked on and off.

  Ferus checked it. A few lights blinked at hint. It still worked. This

  little toy had made it through the destruction all around it.

  He stood by the broken window. The officer below had been cleared to

  take off. Ferus let the laser-toy fly.

  Now all he needed was the Force.

  He felt it flow effortlessly between him and the toy. He sent the toy

  spinning and diving. The lights blinked and flashed, faster and faster, the

  colors penetrating the gloom.

  The guards below pointed and raised their blaster rifles. He could see

  that they were puzzled, not knowing what the object could be. Was it a

  weapon? The pilot hesitated, unsure of what to do.

  "Hang onto me like a monkey-lizard," he told Trever.

  Trever leaped on his back, winding his long arms and legs around him.

  Ferus positioned himself on the ledge. Everyone below was looking at the

  laser-toy. He jumped. The Force helped him slow and guide his descent.

  The speeder was still hovering near the guards. Obviously the officer

  wanted the protection of their weaponry before he took off. Ferus kept the

  laser-toy spinning even as he guided his leap.

  It all happened in less than an instant. He landed on the back of the

  speeder. Trever slithered off his back and into the backseat.

  Ferus picked up the officer under the arms. The officer was too

  startled to struggle. "I need a ride," Ferus said.

  He tossed him from the vehicle. They were still hovering only meters

  from the platform; the officer wasn't hurt, but he wasn't very happy about

  his rough landing. He, too, drew his blaster and began firing furiously.

  "Time to go," Trever said, ducking under the seat.

  Blaster fire streaked around them as the guards realized what had

  happened. Ferus pushed the engines and they zoomed off.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  What now? Trever wondered. With every new idea Ferus had, he found

  himself spinning in atmospheric storms, dangling from towers, and stealing

  Imperial speeders. He didn't know if he was having the time of his life or

  if he was simply crazy for sticking around.

  He wondered for the thousandth time why he was here. Every time he had

  a chance to bolt, he said no.

  The truth was, the galaxy became such a big place when you had nowhere

  to go.

  And anything he could do to destroy the Empire that had destroyed his

  family he'd do it.

  "We know now that Malorum believes the Jedi is alive and on Coruscant,

  " Ferus said. "We'd better ditch this speeder fast and start looking."

  "Now?" Trever asked as Ferus piloted the speeder to a landing at a

  crowded platform. "Don't you ever stop'?"

  "Not having a good time?"

  "Food and sleep would be nice."

  "No sleep, not yet. But I can get you some food where we're headed. If

  he's still there." So much had changed, Ferus thought - he didn't expect

  anything to be the same. But he couldn't stop hoping.

  It was gone. Where Dexter's Diner once occupied its tiny space there

  was now an empty lot. Ferus stood, looking at the space where it had been.

  It had been razed. Why'?

  He didn't know Dexter Jettster all that well. He'd only met him a

  couple of times. But Obi-Wan had told him to look up Dexter if he ever

  needed information or help, and to tell him that Obi-Wan had sent him. The

  fact that Obi-Wan trusted Dexter with the fact that he was still alive

  meant something.

  Ferus kicked at a piece of rubble. He wasn't the only one who knew

  Dexter Jettster. His diner was known throughout Galactic City. Someone had

  to know what had happened to him.

  A woman in a red cloak passed by and smiled at him. "I've seen that

  expression on so many faces," she said. "Looking for sliders, right?"

  "They were the best in the galaxy. What happened?"

  "Disappeared," she said. "Happened the same night the Empire destroyed

  his diner."

  "Why?"

  "Accused of subversion, aiding and abetting enemies of the Empire."

  "The usual," Ferus said bitterly.

  The woman gave him a sharp look. "Be careful what you say," she said

  softly.

  There was a human man walking near them. Probably just someone on his

  way home after a long day of work. But you never knew who could be an

  Imperial spy.

  Ferus waited until the man had passed. "Do you know what happened to

  Dexter?"

  "Rumors," she said. "Coruscant is always full of rumors. Some say he

  was arrested. Some say he is dead. Some say he travels the galaxy, just as

  he used to, going from job to job on energy-harvesting freighters. And some

  say he's joined the Erased."

  That term again. "The Erased"?" Ferus asked.

  She gave him a curious look. "You don't know about them?"

  "I... I left Coruscant a long time ago."

  She gave him an appraising look. "Well, if you're back here, you

  should know about them. The Enemy Eradication Order of Coruscant was issued

  shortly after the Emperor took over. It was specifically designed to target

  those who had been active in the Republic. At first, it was just

  surveillance. They'd have to check in with an Imperial officer every week.

  They were forbidden to travel. But soon surveillance led to arrest,

  arrest to death or a living death, so... some engineered their own

  disappearance. They help each other now. You can get rid of your name and

  your ID docs
and any record of your existence and simply..."

  "Disappear."

  "As if you'd never been born. They say they live below. Far below, in

  one of the sublevels."

  "I see. I'm glad for Dexter, if he did make it out. He was a friend."

  Their words had passed back and forth, but something else was going on

  underneath. She was sizing him up, trying to decide what he was. And he was

  telling her, with every word, that she could trust him. He knew that she

  knew more than she was telling.

  "It's dangerous," she said. She glanced around furtively.

  "Everything is dangerous, these days."

  Her brown eyes were wary, and she appeared to make a decision. "My

  advice, of course, is not to go in the orange district near sunset."

  "Thank you for the advice," Ferus said, as she nodded briefly and

  walked away. Did he imagine it, or did she breathe "good luck" as she

  passed him?

  Most of his missions as a Jedi apprentice had taken him to the Mid-Rim

  worlds and beyond. He knew that a few of the other Master-Padawan teams,

  such as Anakin and Obi-Wan, had more experience on Coruscant. Ferus didn't

  know the underworld of Coruscant very well. But even he had heard of the

  orange district.

  It wasn't an official name. You wouldn't find it on a map. It had

  gotten that name from the residents' habit of replacing the Senate-issued

  street glow-lights with orange ones that lent the passages and walkways a

  lurid air. Every time the officials had changed the lights back to the

  clear ones, the residents somehow managed to return them to orange, block

  by block and street by street. At last the Senate had given up on the

  problem and let the orange district be.

  Ferus had never actually been there, but he wasn't worried about

  finding his way around. This was part of what he did, go into dicey

  situations arid try to find out information without making too many stupid

  mistakes.

  Sometimes he did better than others.

  They took an air taxi down to the district. The driver zoomed off as

  fast as he could. Who could blame him?

  There was little illumination here except for the garish laserlights

  that flashed invitations to various clubs and bars and, of course, the

  orange glowlights. Down here, it was never silent. The press of beings made

  walking difficult. Those who couldn't afford the upper levels lived here,

  in small cubes that passed for apartments in huge structures housing

  thousands. Many of them, Ferus was sure, were scheming how to make their

  way to the upper levels to live underneath the sun again.

  "Smart," Trever said. "Hide in plain sight. Even the Empire would have

  trouble tracking someone here. Can you imagine making a house-to-house

  search? It would take about a thousand years."

  They continued down the walkway. Blocks of compressed garbage towered

  above them. Although it had been sanitized in the processing, it still gave

  off a faint smell.

  "I think I just lost my appetite," Trever said.

  "We're in the quadrant now," Ferus said. "And it's sunset."

  "How can you tell? It's always orange down here."

  Ferus gazed around. He could go into a shop or sit on a bench and wait

  until someone approached him. In districts like these, beings always had

  things to sell; and that always included information. But maybe a cafc was

  best.

  "It's better not to advertise that you're a stranger here, but not

  seem too at home, either," he told Trever as he looked around. "If we can

  find a small cafc.."

  "Ferus."

  "... it has to be the right one."

  "Ferus! Look."

  Ferus followed Trever's jerk of his chin. Down a particularly

  dangerous-appearing alley, a small laser-light hung over a door. It would

  be easy to miss, thanks to the all-enveloping orange glow in the air. It

  was a round red light with cracks emanating from it. The cracks made the

  light appear to be a dying sun.

  "Sunset," Trever said. "In the orange district."

  "Maybe. Certainly worth a try."

  Ferus led the way down the alley. "I'll go in first. You stay out

  here."

  "I'm not sure about this," Trever said. "Maybe I should hit the

  street, pick up something I could pretend to sell - dataparts, for example,

  and.."

  "Pick up dataparts? Don't you mean steal them?"

  "Don't be so precise. My point is, I'll get inside pretending to be a

  seller and get a good look around. Nobody ever suspects a street kid."

  "No, I'll go," Ferus said. "I've got experience with this. It's got to

  be some sort of cantina. You can always find someone to help you in a

  cantina, if you approach it the right way. Wait here."

  He pushed open the door... and walked straight into the tusk of a

  Whiphid as it picked him up and threw him out the door.

  Ferus landed hard. He felt his side gingerly. The Whiphid had barely

  nicked him with his tusk. Still, he could feel the burn. Thank the stars

  for small favors.

  Trever strolled over to look down at him. "Oh," he said, "so that's

  how it's done."

  The Whiphid crossed the distance in two gigantic strides. He towered

  over them. "This is a private club! Get your carcass back to the hole it

  crawled out of!"

  "Hey, Tooth-Face!" Trever shot back angrily. "Who do you think you're

  talking to?"

  "They don't like it when you call them that," Ferus murmured. "So I

  wouldn't - "

  The Whiphid picked up Trever with his clawed hands and tossed him on

  top of Ferus. Ferus felt his breath puff out in a whoosh at the impact.

  "Call the garbage compactors!" the Whiphid roared to someone inside.

  "We've got some trash!"

  A slender human male in an ankle-length coat stood in the doorway.

  Ferus recognized the telltale signs of a slythmonger, a being who bought

  and sold narcotics and potions, sometimes without regard to whether they

  were deadly or not.

  I can take them both, Ferus thought. The Whiphid just took me by

  surprise. I can handle this.

  The slythmonger laughed. "Come on, sweetblossoms. We've got two live

  ones!"

  A tall Bothan and nine - no, ten - other beings charged out the door.

  Okay. Maybe not as easy as I thought.

  Trever rolled off him. Ferus sprang to his feet, his hands held up,

  palms out. "Hey, I'm just looking for some information."

  "And what makes you think we have any to give?" the slythmonger asked.

  "Not give. Sell."

  "He's got credits!" a tall human man called gleefully. "Get him!"

  As if in one mass, the homicidal crew headed toward them.

  He didn't want to use his lightsaber. News would get back quickly that

  a Jedi had been spotted. He didn't want to tip off Malorum. He knew now

  that Malorum believed Fy-Tor was alive, and that would only endanger her.

  Still, he didn't particularly want to get himself and Trever killed.

  Trever had the most finely honed sense of self-preservation he'd ever

  seen. Within seconds, he had scurried over and rolled under a burned-out

  speeder.

  "W000," a woman with a crisscrossing holster packed with blaster
s

  yelled. "Look at the little womp rat run! Get him!"

  Ferus leaped and landed on top of the speeder. He drew his blaster.

  "You'll have to get through me."

  With a slither and a clatter and a clang, everyone's weapons came out.

  Pocket blasters. A blaster rifle. Vibroshivs. Vibroblades. And even what

  looked like an Imperial force pike.

  "Gladly," the Bothan said.

  Suddenly a deep laugh rolled out from the dark interior.

  "Would you mind not killing the poor fellow, chums?" Dexter Jettster

  said. "I think I might know him."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Dexter beckoned to them with three of his four hands. Ferus and Trever

  stepped uneasily into the dark bar. Only a few steps behind them, the

  disappointed crew followed, muttering darkly about what they'd missed out

  on.

  They sat at a small table that was dwarfed by Dex's bulk. Waving the

  others away, he fixed his friendly, beady eyes on Ferus.