Part 2 (2/2)
The Crimson Corridor was in the Third Quadrant of the Zi- Kree sector. It was one of the oldest areas of the vast planetary metropolis, overbuilt with skysc.r.a.pers and towers constructed long ago. The buildings towered so tall and so thick that some areas of the Corridor received only a few minutes of sunlight a day. Darsha remembered hearing legends of inbred subhuman tribes living in the near-total darkness of its depths for so long that they had gone genetically blind. But darkness was the least of the dangers in the Corridor. Far worse were the things, both human and nonhuman, that lived in the darkness and preyed on the unwary.
Darsha piloted her skyhopper down through the miasmal fog that lay like a filthy blanket over the lowest levels. Why, she wondered, would anyone pick a neighborhood like this for a place in which to conceal informants? The answer was, of course, that it was the last place anyone would look.
The safe house-a barricaded block of ferrocrete and plasteel- was in a street that was not wide enough for her to set the skyhopper down.
She landed in the closest intersection, got out, and instructed the autopilot to take the craft up twenty meters and remain in hover mode there. That way it was more likely to be there when she got back.
There were a few glow sticks in protective wired cages set here and there on the buildings, but after centuries of use they were so weak that they did little to relieve the gloom. As soon as Darsha disembarked from her vehicle she was set upon by beggars supplicating for food and money.
At first she tried the ancient Jedi technique of clouding their minds, but there were too many of them, and most of them had brains too addled by privation and various illegal chemicals to respond to the suggestion.
She gritted her teeth and pushed her way though the forest of filthy waving arms, tentacles, and various other appendages.
The mingled revulsion and sympathy she felt was almost overwhelming. For nearly as long as she could remember, Darsha had been coddled and cozened in the Jedi Temple, protected from direct contact with the dregs of society-an ironic situation, since the Jedi were supposed to be the protectors of all levels of civilization, even those considered untouchable by most of the upper cla.s.ses. True, elements of her training had taken her to various rough neighborhoods, but nowhere else had she seen anything that even remotely compared with this. It horrified her that such poverty and neglect could exist anywhere, let alone on Coruscant.
She made it to the recessed entrance of the safe house and pounded on the reinforced door. A slit opened, and a sentry cam extruded from it.
”Your name and business?” it asked in a rasping voice.
”Darsha a.s.sant, on the Jedi Council's business.”
An emaciated Kubaz sought to pluck her lightsaber from its hook on her utility belt. She seized his hand and bent the thumb backwards. He squealed and backed hastily away, but others took his place immediately.
The only reason they did not drag her back into the street was that there were too many to crowd into the narrow aperture where she stood.
The security cam quickly ran a laser scan over her face. ”Ident.i.ty confirmed. Please hold your breath.”
Darsha did so-whereupon hidden nozzles surrounding the door sprayed a pink mist at the crowd of mendicants. A chorus of indignant shouts, squeals, bleats, and other protests rose from them as the airborne irritant drove them momentarily back. The door slid quickly up, and a metallic arm grabbed Darsha and pulled her inside. She found herself in a narrow corridor that was almost as dark as the street. The security droid who had taken her arm now led her down this pa.s.sageway and around a corner, into a small, windowless room. The light was not much better here; Darsha could barely make out a hunched form sitting on a chair. Bald and humanoid, he looked like a Fondorian to her.
The droid said, ”This is the Jedi who will take you to safety, Oolth.”
Though she knew it was foolish, Darsha felt a little thrill at being called a Jedi, even by a droid. ”About time,” the Fondorian said. He stood quickly. ”Let's get out of here before it gets dark-not that it ever really stops getting dark around here.” He moved toward the room's entrance, than stopped and looked back at Darsha. ”Well, come on,”
he said testily. ”What're you waiting for?”
”I'm just trying to decide how best to get back to my skyhopper,”
Darsha replied. ”I don't relish the idea of wading through those poor beings out there again.”
”We'll be the 'poor beings' if we don't get moving. This is Raptor territory. They make those sc.u.m out there look like the Republic Senate.
Now let's go!”
Darsha moved toward the hallway; Oolth stood aside to let her pa.s.s.
”I'm the one who needs protecting; you go first.”
Whatever good he was to the council, Darsha was sure Oolth the Fondorian wasn't valued for his bravery.
She pushed past him and strode back to the outside door.
The cam's monitor was mounted by the door; it showed a few street people still loitering around the area. Most of them, however, had apparently gone looking for someone else to importune. If Darsha and Oolth moved quickly, they could probably get back to the intersection where her vehicle was without too much trouble.
”All right,” Darsha said. She took a deep breath and reached for the Force to calm herself. She was a Jedi Padawan with a job to do. Time to get on with it. ”Let's move out.”
The door panel slid open. Darsha quested with the Force and felt no sense of anybody nearby who posed a danger. Thus rea.s.sured, she started down the street with Oolth. The vagrants seemed to materialize from out of the shadows, cl.u.s.tering around them again. Oolth shoved at them as they crowded in. ”Get away from me! Filthy creatures!”
”Just keep moving,” Darsha said to him. She had refused the droid's offer of escort because she didn't want to draw any more attention than absolutely necessary. If she had to, she could activate her lightsaber; she had no doubt that just the sight of the energy blade would send the majority of the street people fleeing. But she hoped it wouldn't be necessary. They were almost to the intersection.
And then her heart, already pounding from nervous tension, suddenly tried to batter its way up her throat.
Her skyhopper was still where she had parked it, hovering twenty meters up in the air. Cl.u.s.tered on the street beneath it was a heterogeneous a.s.sortment of beings, about a dozen in all. Among the species Darsha recognized were humans, Kubaz, H'nemthe, Gotals, Snivvians, Trandoshans, and Bith. All of them appeared to be in the late adolescent stage of their particular species, all were dressed in colorful and motley styles, and all looked extremely dangerous.
Oolth the Fondorian gasped, and whispered in a strangled tone, ”The Raptors.”
Darsha had heard tales of the street gangs that terrorized many of the more run-down sectors of Coruscant's surface. The Raptors were reputed to be the worst, by far. She had hoped to complete her mission quickly enough to avoid an encounter with them. So much for that idea.
Several grappling hooks had snagged into the two-person craft, and from them dangled ropes. Three members of the gang-a human female and two male Bith-had climbed aboard and were busily ransacking the vehicle. They tossed down various items-a holo-projector, an aquata breather, a pouch of food capsules, and medical supplies-to the gang members below. Even as Darsha watched, one of them managed to disable the autopilot, causing the craft to settle gently to the street. This was greeted by a cheer from the rest of the gang.
Oolth grabbed her robe and tried to pull her into the shadows of the narrow street. ”Quick-before they see us!”
She shook off his grasp. ”I can't let them strip the skyhopper.
It's our only way out of here. Wait here until I've dealt with them.”
Then, forcing herself to project a confidence she aid not in any way feel, Darsha strode toward the Raptors. She hadn't taken more than a few steps before her approach was noted. The raucous chatter and laughter quickly subsided; no doubt, Darsha thought, because they were having a hard time believing someone could be this suicidal. She stopped a few meters from them. There was no one else on the street now, save for the Fondorian cowering somewhere behind her. No one in their right mind wanted to be around when the Raptors were on the prowl. ”That's my skyhopper,” she said, relieved to find that her voice was not shaking.
”Please return the things you stole and move away from it.”
The Raptors looked at each other in astonishment before breaking into the various sounds that const.i.tuted laughter for each species. One of the human males-lean and wiry, sporting an improbable mane of green hair standing straight up in an electrostatic field-swaggered toward her.
”New around here, I'm guessing,” he said, causing more sn.i.g.g.e.ring-this time with a distinctly unpleasant edge-to erupt from his compatriots.
Darsha reviewed her options quickly. There weren't many. She was one against a dozen, and while her knowledge of the Jedi fighting arts improved the odds somewhat, she was still not at all confident in her ability to come out ahead in a battle. She was on their turf, after all, and for all she knew, there might be a dozen more of them lurking in the shadows. But there were alternatives to fighting. The mind trick she had tried earlier on the beggars hadn't been completely successful, but it had turned away a few of them. It might serve now to confuse the Raptors long enough to allow her to reach the vehicle. Of course, she still had to get Oolth in the craft with her, but one problem at a time.
She raised her right hand, fanning the fingers in a gesture designed to focus their attention while she reached out mentally for the Force. ”You're not interested in me,” she said, using the soft but compelling tone she had been taught, ”or my vehicle.” She could see by their confused and uncertain expressions that it was working, could feel their wills beginning to vibrate in resonance with hers.
Green Hair was either the leader or something close to it, because when he nodded and said slowly, ”We're not interested in her, or her vehicle,” the rest of the gang mumbled the same words in ragged unison.
Darsha took a few steps forward, making the hypnotic gesture again.
”You might as well go now,” she told Green Hair. ”There's nothing interesting going on here.”
”We might as well go now. There's nothing interesting going on here.” The rest of the gang again echoed him.
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