by Jude Watson
“Of course I am capable, Lord Vader—”
“Then do it and do it now. You want to rid yourself of intruders? Blow up the Temple.”
Ferus stiffened.
“Blow it up?” Malorum asked.
“Why not?”
“But my private office is here! Valuable records would be lost.”
“You overemphasize your own importance.”
Ferus could actually hear the breath that hissed out of Malorum’s lungs. “I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to discredit me in the eyes of the Emperor. You want to destroy my work, my files...” Then he stopped. “Wait. I see now. You weren’t serious.”
“Interesting what has just now emerged, isn’t it? You have files here that have not been banked with Imperial security? That is a violation of the Emperor’s directives.”
This is a battle, Ferus thought. Malorum wants Vader’s job. He wants to be the Emperor’s pet. And Vader knows exactly what he’s up to.
Now there was an element of smugness in Malorum’s tone. “I have permission from the Emperor himself to keep files private that I feel could jeopardize an ongoing investigation.”
“Do I need to remind you of your own inferiority?”
Vader’s anger served to quash Malorum’s assurance. It was a frightening thing to feel it turned on you, Ferus reflected. He was glad he was behind the panel.
“I have no secrets from you, Lord Vader. There are reports that you haven’t seen yet, files that need additional notes...I have spies everywhere on Coruscant, as you know. Reports on our progress on surveillance in the sublevels...”
“At last you’re telling me something I want to know.”
“Not to mention certain delicate matters I’ve been pursuing for your sake alone, Lord Vader. For example, the rumors about Polis Massa...”
Ferus strained to hear. There it was again—Polis Massa. Something was at stake, something big, but he didn’t know what.
If Malorum thought he was going to impress Darth Vader, he was wrong. His boast had the opposite effect. Ferus could feel it now, the slow burn of Vader’s rage as it built.
“Lord Vader—”
Malorum’s voice was hoarse, as though he was gasping for breath. Still, Ferus could hear the fear in it.
“I...beg...you—”
A strange thing was happening. The grating in front of Ferus was vibrating. Then the actual wall was vibrating. He heard a cracking sound. Vader was allowing his rage to build.
“Do not ever mention that place again.”
“Of course, Lord Vader.”
Across the hallway, Ferus could see that the windows of Yoda’s quarters were vibrating. Suddenly the door blew in. He saw a chair sail across the room and heard it slam against a wall. Part of the ceiling cracked and cables crashed down.
Ferus signaled to Trever and began to crawl backward.
The windows shattered. The grate blew out, along with a large chunk of the wall. Ferus and Trever were exposed.
Ferus and Trever tried to pull back amidst shards of glass and looked straight up into the black breath mask of Darth Vader. Malorum was hanging in the air, a victim of Vader’s wrath, his face almost purple.
Vader released his Force-hold, and Malorum fell to the floor with a croaking sound.
For a moment, no one moved.
Vader looked down at him, and Ferus looked up, and everything inside him dissolved into pure fear. He looked into that black mirrored mask and wondered who the being behind it really was. Half living, half mechanical? He didn’t know.
Somehow training kicked in. He had a moment, and it spun out into enough time. Ferus knew he didn’t have enough power to fight a Sith. Not even close. But he couldn’t let Darth Vader dominate the Force, either. He reached out for the Force and was hit by a surprising wave. It grew in intensity and power, the most powerful surge he had ever felt, as if Yoda himself was here to help him. It felt almost as though it was directed at him, emanating from Yoda’s room.
Ferus rode a wave of the Force, grabbing Trever with one arm and jumping out to snatch at the flexible cable that had fallen from the ceiling. It was still attached above, and it gave him something to swing on. Together with Trever he swung out through the broken wall of glass, and then let go. He knew the Force would carry him.
He and Trever soared over the atrium and landed on the other side. He could feel the dark side of the Force behind him, but he paid it no mind. He simply ran, all the while knowing that if Vader wanted him, he would have gotten him. Simple as that.
Perhaps he was letting Ferus and Trever go in order to humiliate Malorum. Or test him. Or because he didn’t care that much. Whatever the reason, Ferus grabbed on to it and ran with it.
Alarms sounded.
Now the entire Temple was on alert. Ferus switched to a hallway that he knew was a shortcut to the analysis rooms. It was dark and dusty; the Imperials didn’t use it. Using his lightsaber for light, he led the way. This could buy them a few precious seconds. In his mind, he was forming a desperate plan. The only way they were getting out of here was if they did it fast; Ferus knew he wouldn’t be able to hide for very long. There was no question that Malorum wouldn’t allow himself to fail in front of his master.
“What’s the plan?” Trever asked, breathing hard. “The sooner we get away from that Vader guy, the better. Can we review? Scary! Creepy!”
“We have to steal a ship,” Ferus said. “The new landing platform lies directly below a playroom that the younglings used. During surveillance I saw that the window is partially blown out.”
“I’m sort of sensing that we’ll be jumping out a window again,” Trever said.
“Well, I’m hoping there will be a nifty little speeder underneath us.”
“You know, you keep forgetting something. I’m not a Jedi. I can’t do all this leaping and landing.”
“You’re doing just fine. Hurry up.”
Ferus slowed down as they reached the playroom. He crept forward. Just as he’d hoped, the room wasn’t being used. A cold wind blew in from the broken window. Followed closely by Trever, he stepped inside.
A wave of horror hit him, hard, directly in the chest.
Something happened here.
The younglings...
How had he pushed that thought away? He had imagined, somehow, that the Empire wouldn’t target the young. He had imagined the younglings had simply...run away.
They did not run away.
Youth, age, the sick, the weak…they do not enter into the Sith’s 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 him. 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 lasertoy. 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 lasertoy 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.
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 glowlights 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 and 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 plai
n 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 café 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 café...”
“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.
