AYLEE
"These," Aylee said lifting her hand toward two holograms suspended at the front of the classroom, "you may recognize. The originals are downstairs in the Archive, and they're prime examples of-"
Her voice cut out at a sudden, searing pain in her right arm. She grabbed it, aghast and confused, and a second later screamed. Quick and brutal, a snapping stabbing pain through her arm. She lurched at a second assault to her leg and fell to one knee.
"Master!" Tir-Zen appeared at her side as a murmur rose from the younglings.
Something ripped into her side, and she doubled over, too out of breath to scream again. She clawed for Tee and used his strength to lever herself back up.
Obi-Wan...
She knew it like a memory, and gasped as she squeezed on Tee's hand.
"Master?" Tir-Zen held her steady and searched her face.
She blinked at him. I have to go. Then patted at his chest as the phantom pains faded. "Take over class."
"What?" he frowned and tried to get a look at her arm. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"I can't-" Panic and fear beat at her senses. She shuffled back away from him. "I can't. I have to go. I have to-!" She turned and bolted for the door, spinning back to look at him on her way out. "Take over!"
Tee held his hands up in a lost, questioning gesture, but he didn't follow, and he didn't try to stop her.
Aylee's heart beat like falling rain. She moved light and fleet through the Temple hallways, following the sense of Obi-Wan in the Force. She needed to get high. Outside. Some place with no walls in the way, nothing blocking her view. The eastern garden was closest.
She burst through the door at a run, dodged the labyrinth, and ran to the corner, where she could get the widest view. Her breath came in gasps as she closed her eyes and felt for that peculiar presence, the thread of life radiating heat. She turned, turned, spread her hands into the air as though she could feel the cry of pain and fear against her palms. Too far. She turned back and opened her eyes to the general direction where he felt the strongest.
A whole planet lay in that direction: north of the Temple. But north was better than nothing.
Anxiety pressed on her chest as she ran from the garden for the elevator to the speeder bay. She rubbed at her arm while she waited for the car to descend, bounced on the balls of her feet, chewed at her lip. Something was very wrong. Very wrong.
He was hurt; that's all she knew. Arm, leg, stomach. Not where. Not why. Not, not anything!
The door opened, and Aylee sprinted out into the bay, heading for the first empty speeder she saw. She vaulted into the driver seat and tore out onto the skyway without following procedure. It was easy enough to take the first exit north, but after that?
Her hands shook on the controls, and she struggled to bring herself into the present moment. She was driving, so she needed to be driving. Not what-ifs. Not worries. Just the controls in her hands, the flow of the traffic, the feel of the wind.
She took a breath and let it out slowly. Let a speeder cross into her lane. Her heart slowed.
Direction...
Where did he go?
She concentrated on the feel of the Force, letting it flow through her. Driving receded into instinctual autopilot as she turned her attention to that energy. It guided her hands. She swerved off the marked skyway toward spacescrapers and poured on a bit of speed. The vehicle shot between buildings and under another busy skyway. Across Coco Town and the Financial District. She had no idea where she was going, only that Obi-Wan's presence lingered in front of her and the Force rushed at her back.
When she crossed the Works, something changed, and she pulled the speeder into a sharp turn before slamming to a stop. She turned, searching for the sensation of heat across her face. She caught it faintly just back the way she'd come.
Aylee frowned and stood up on the seat to get a better look. As her gaze fell toward the ground, a warm breeze brushed against her cheek.
Down...
She dropped back into the driver's seat and pushed the speeder into a dive. The Works bubbled and brewed with steam and gas. Aylee swerved to avoid the worst of the clouds and rejoined a skyway that would lead her deeper into the district.
Blackened metal husks of factories menaced on both sides. And as she moved further into The Works, traffic thickened with transports and heavy freighters approaching the few functional compounds still left. Coruscant had outsourced its manufacturing ages ago, leaving the sector largely deserted.
Aylee slowed with the traffic and scowled. Her side ached. Heat and cold prickled across her skin in waves. Obi-Wan. The urgency burned. She couldn't just sit here in traffic. The beacon of his presence, a little stronger, pulled at her.
Down.
She frowned, trying to imagine where down led, but gave it only a second's thought before shoving on the yoke and sending the speeder into another dive. She shot out below the skyway, and her pulse went wild. The Works was a major intersection, and the skyways here overlapped. A dive through one... meant a dive through many.
The vehicle dropped like a stone, and Aylee threw her senses outward. Swerved to slip vertical between oncoming cars. A transport. Brakes! Then pouring on speed. Like threading a needle, she dropped between layers of the Coruscant cityscape, still no destination in mind, only the feel of Obi-Wan's suffering and the pressure of the Force for guidance.
She reached the bottom-most level of the sunlit city and pulled the speeder out of the dive, carving to stop, but still instinct said down.
But there was nowhere else to... the Undercity.
The promenades, parks, and landing bays of the upper levels sliced the vertical cityscape into layers. The Works buildings themselves rested on the stumps of whatever had come before. She would need to find an entryway to go lower. Aylee pulled the speeder back up to get a better vantage point and maneuvered in a circle, casting her eyes over the dim industrial zone.
Only one spot stood out.
An orange glow like a pot of melted gold simmering just out of sight.
She hit the nav computer on the speeder's dash for a map and couldn't help but give it a small grin. The Orange District. She hadn't heard of it, but Coruscant was a big place. She hadn't heard of most things.
With a tightening grip on the controls, Aylee dropped her vehicle through the opening to the Orange District and stared around in awe. The glamor of the modern city had no home here. Giant buzzing lanterns threw that strange light out from every building and sidewalk, and the architecture was... familiar. Old. Heavy and hard-edged like the Great Library had been. A bit like Besk, too.
The temperature fell as she descended out of the sun, and the musk of rot and old oil rose up and wrapped around instead. Down here, the streets were chasms, sheer drops next to the promenades and the buildings. No skyways. Not even traffic signals. She nudged the speeder up to a landing bay and stopped just to get her bearings.
No one seemed to take much note. She gave a quick glance around at the sidewalks just to check, and then let her eyes fall shut. She whispered his name as though it might help and turned as though scenting the air, searching for the brush of heat, the familiar honey glow.
It touched just under her chin.
Down.
Her eyes popped open. Down? But she was already...
Aylee leaned over the side of the speeder, peering further into the dark. She frowned and then checked her surroundings again. Most of the inhabitants were aliens moving in segregated groups. Safety in numbers perhaps. That wasn't reassuring. She bit her lip and stared down the length of the nearest sidewalk. A few businesses had small, tasteful signs.
And then there was The Rancor Hutt.
She moved without really deciding. Deliberations took time. She no time. He had no time. Aylee jumped from the speeder, barely remembering to take the key fob with her, and ran for the bar.
Heads turned to watch her, but no one made the mistake of trying to get in her way. The door slid open automatically, and Aylee made for the bar through a fog of death stick poison and cantankerous music. If there had been chatter before she'd gotten there, it died on entry.
The bartender very warily caught her eye and set his hands on the bar top in plain view.
Aylee slowed to a halt, staring at him. A Nazzar. An actual living breathing Nazzar. With the long ears drooping down on either side and the elongated equine muzzle and the harness headdress. A Nazzar! They didn't— They never left Nazzri. Not unless they were...
He lifted a very expressive eyebrow at her staring.
"I... sorry..." ...kicked out, exiled.
Aylee tried to put her thoughts into order and stepped closer, placing her hands very deliberately where they could be seen. The Nazzar's brown-black eyes followed the motion and then met her gaze again. Worry whistled a chill song between her ribs, and Aylee felt her throat close a little. Hurry. Hurting. Cold. And die. On every breath, a chant.
She forced herself to speak. "Can you tell me what's down from here?"
The bartender tilted his head and frowned.
"Down. If I got in a speeder and dropped toward the surface, would I find anything? Please."
He gave a quick glance to some of the alien patrons lined up along the bar. "The Crimson," he said in a slow, breathy voice.
"And what's down there?"
The Nazzar huffed, his fleshy lips flapping. "Nothing anyone needs. Nothing you could not find better here at a safer price."
Aylee frowned, still conscious of the complete silence that had fallen all around them. She cleared her throat and lifted her voice a little for those eavesdropping far in the back. "I'm looking for someone. A Jedi. Did he come in here?"
The Nazzar lifted his heavy, furred brow. "I do not know. What does a Jedi look like?"
Aylee stepped back a pace and spread her arms to show him the drape of her cloak and tunic.
"No," the bartender said.
"I saw one," a Kler'terrian with a high, sharp voice sitting at the bar turned his eye stalks her way.
Aylee's heart jumped. "Where?"
He waved a hand. "Outside. He was heading for the elevator. Looked like someone who knew were he was going."
"Elevator?" Aylee looked at the Nazzar.
"To the Crimson," he supplied.
Right.
"Thank you." She dug into one of her belt pouches and produced a few credit coins, dropping them onto the bar. "Another round for my friend there," she told him, nodding in the Kler'terrian's direction. The alien lifted his glass, and the Nazzar swiped the coins into his hand. It was more than enough to cover one round. She watched him count for a second and then took a step back. The movement made him look up.
Aylee offered him a traditional farewell in the sighing, lilting language of his people. His dark eyes flashed wider for a moment, and then he responded with a far more colloquial salute with two of his four fingers.
She hadn't even gotten his name. But by the time she'd thought of it, she was already back at the door, and the bar had filled in the void of her wake with chatter and music. She shot back down the sidewalk and into the speeder while suffering scratched at her skin. Hurry. Hurting. Cold. And die.
"Hold on," she whispered to herself as she shoved the starter fob into the dash. The speeder buzzed to life, and Aylee dropped it vertical.
The Crimson was much farther down than she'd have imagined. It had to be almost near the surface. She descended into the perpetual black of winter and had to slow down just to keep the wind from whipping her fingers too frozen to feel. Her breath frosted on the air, as she turned the speeder toward the only source of light she could see. From this angle, it was just reflection off of metal walls. But if there was light, there was life.
Obi-Wan's presence felt stronger here, and she chased the feeling, taking a corner a bit too fast and nearly smashing into a floating billboard of a dancing, naked Twi'lek that hovered in what should have been a traffic lane.
Only there was no traffic.
Aylee stared at the walking street in front of her, a dazzling array of ancient signs and gaudy advertisements. This... had to be it. But there wasn't even a landing pad! She scowled and brought the vehicle closer to the sidewalk. Short on choices, she grabbed the fob and left it where it was, hovering in empty space and begging for a parking ticket.
With a short, Force-assisted jump, she landed on the sidewalk and immediately felt heat seep into her bones. Startled, she turned, searching. Her breath still showed on the air, but her fingers could feel again.
Necessity, she thought. And a mystery for a different day.
Aylee started down the marketplace with no idea what she was looking for. Information. A map. An obvious scene of attack. A trail of blood would be helpful.
She opted for the second shop on the right, because its clerk was half out in the street hanging garments on a rack.
"Excuse me," she said, and the clerk, a human, looked up. "I'm wondering if you can help me. I'm looking for someone."
"Wrong shop, lady." He hooked his thumb toward one of the billboards of writhing dancers.
Aylee scowled. "No, I—" She pulled her imagecaster from her belt and called up a hologram of Obi-Wan from his Temple personnel file. She held the image out. "Have you seen this man? Please. It's important."
The clerk narrowed his eyes at her, without looking at the hologram. She let a bit of her worry and fear show through, and the unexpected openness of it surprised him into compliance; a bit of the hardness left his face. He looked at the hologram and squinted at Obi-Wan's face before straightening.
"I'm sorry, lady, but no one looking like that came to my shop today."
Her heart fell a little, and she nodded. "Thank you... Thank you for looking."
The man watched her go, and then turned back to his task.
She tried a few more shops with the same result. If they were willing to talk at all once she claimed to be looking for someone, they didn't recognize the image. And they weren't lying about it. At least a lie would have been something.
Hurry. Hurting. Cold. And die.
A scream built behind her clenched jaw, and she squeezed on the imagecaster until her hand hurt. She needed a new tactic. A new . . . something. Perspective.
She shook her head and looked up at the light tube signs and blinking, maddening ads, half-broken and looping. The flashing and stuttered motions kicked at her brain, and she had to look away. She glanced at the next few shops to try, and the world twisted sideways. Deja vu shivered across the back of her neck. Superior Speeder Imports . . .
Her body seemed to move on its own toward the shop as she stared at the sign, both sure that she'd seen it and absolutely knowing she'd never been to this part of Coruscant before. The warm pressure of Obi-Wan's presence brushed across her senses as she stepped over the threshold of the shop. As sure a map as any.
The metal floor clattered against itself as she eased down a row of shelving and another wave of heat rushed up her exposed skin. Metal parts cluttered the shop floor to ceiling, arranged by a logic that bounced off her brain. She scowled at disarray and lack of labels on anything, turned as she moved further in and almost stumbled over a hose that stuck out from a bottom shelf.
"Can I"—a smooth, caramel voice came from nowhere, and then a granite-gray dug swung up onto the counter—"help you?" he finished, the words fading in his mouth. He clutched his hind-hands together as he gave her a quick head-to-toe glance, and then interlaced his fingers. The tendrils on either side of his snout hung straight and emotionless.
"I think you can," Aylee told him, coming to a stop just out of easy reach. "I'm looking for someone."
The dug flowered his fingers open in the smallest gesture toward their surroundings. "I sell speeder parts."
She gave him a thin smile and held up the imagecaster. "I'd like you to take a look anyway." With a flick, the hologram of Obi-Wan appeared. She watched the dug's eyes move to it and back without a hint of expression.
"Doesn't look familiar . . ." he purred.
The Force seized a little, and Aylee narrowed her eyes. She took a step closer and very slowly put the hologram away.
"I can tell when you're lying," she said, and smiled a little. The dug shifted his weight. "My friend's in danger, hurt, and I need to find him, and I'm asking for your help."
The dug took a breath to answer, but she cut him off.
"How much would the friendship of a Jedi be worth to you?"
He paused, and his eyebrow ridges arched. Dug society placed exceptional value on one's network of friends. All societies do, to some extent. It always helps to know the right people. But dugs took it to an extreme calculus. A single friend could raise one's social standing, open up new opportunities. It could make a man a fortune.
The dug edged forward on the counter and leaned toward her cautiously. "You would be my friend? For this?" He tilted his head, and his tendrils rippled. "Who are you?"
"Consular Aylee Desai. And yes. I will be your friend. I'll tell anyone you want." Desperation made her want to beg, but she bit her tongue.
He gave her another quick scan and sniffed, as though he could smell deception. Satisfied by whatever evaluation he'd made, he leaned back and offered her his hand.
"Merabax," he said, as she shook it. "I see your friend. He come here early today. Asking questions." He hopped suddenly from the counter to one of the shelving units and started turning engine parts upright, or upside-down. She didn't know.
Aylee crossed her arms. "Questions about what?"
"Catacombs," Merabax said, glancing over his shoulder. "Heard there was an entrance here."
The catacombs? Aylee scowled. "Well, is there?"
Merabax turned to her, swinging from two clinging hands. "Sure. Easy to find if you know it."
Aylee's heart beat faster. "Did he say why?"
"Does it matter? Nothing good comes outta there." He frowned and dropped to the floor with a cloud metallic crack.
So far, everything felt like the truth.
"Did you show him?" she asked.
Merabax peered up at her and nodded, looking displeased to admit to it.
Aylee's voice hardened. "Will you show me?"
Something flickered over the dug's expression too quick and foreign for her to read. "Can't leave my shop, Aylee-friend. No one to watch my merchandise. But!" He held up a finger, disappeared behind the counter, and then leaped up onto it again with a datapad in his hands. "I send you a map." He motioned at her. "That good?"
She dug the imagecaster back out and handed it over. Merabax plugged the device into the top of his datapad, tapped a button, and a second later handed it back. He watched her carefully. "We square, Jedi?"
Aylee brought up the map. He'd marked his shop with a blue dot and the destination with a red one. She turned the device to orient herself and only just remembered to look up at him. "Yes. Yes, we're square. You have my word."
He nodded, a pleased look on his snout, and Aylee left him, all her focus trained on the map in front of her. She counted the streets, memorized the route, and then hurried through the Crimson's marketplace with worry burning her gut.
The only thing at the end of the alley the map indicated was a grating shading a crude hole in the side of a metal wall. Cold rolled up from the black depths.
The catacombs.
Why, why the catacombs? Everyone knew not to go there. How dangerous it was. Home to nothing but kyvets, a nasty, invasive species. They'd taken over Coruscant's ruins millennia ago, driving out any homeless sentients. They hunted by scent and heat and roved in packs. There was a reason no one went to the catacombs.
Aylee pushed the grating up on its hinges with a bit of Force and leaned into the black passage. A moldy, mildew stench lingered in the air, worse than what she'd adjusted to already.
The pull of Obi-Wan's suffering was even stronger, carving into her breastbone. She pulled out her lightsaber, casting a golden glow into the passage as she started down, and followed the sensation.
She searched through the gear on her belt as she went, producing a string of beads from a back pouch. She wrapped it around her left hand, leaving the end easy to grip with her fingers.
The ceiling and sides of the passage opened suddenly away from the glowing ball of light her saber provided, and she stopped to get a good look around at the room she'd come to. She couldn't see the ceiling. Or, from this angle, the ground. Just a platform ahead, square walls beyond, and the tops of two arches. The bottoms disappeared beyond the limited reach of the lightsaber's illumination.
Aylee approached slowly and found herself standing at the top of a ladder. She squeezed one of the beads until it clicked free from the string. It grew in diameter as its insides unfolded and blinked a red light every few seconds. She dropped it over the side of the platform and watched for it to reach bottom. A faint plink sounded when it hit. Hard stone. And the red light offered some sense of distance.
Kyvets.
She couldn't let go of the thought. What if they... What if that's...
She pulled on the Force, drawing the flow of energy toward herself. And then she braced against it. It splashed against her will, fanning outward in an aura of unseen energy. Master Belami had deemed this a Bane. There were two basic ways to communicate with animals through the Force, a Lure and a Bane. A Lure touched their animal minds at the pleasure centers. It warmed in them the feeling of safety, promised food and comfort and mating. Come, come, it said.
It was an invitation.
A Bane did the opposite. It ignited primal fear. Told them death lurked here, danger and violence. Animals got wild and unpredictable under the effects of a Bane, but they tried to keep their distance and obey the imperative to live.
Aylee cast a Bane in a bubble around herself, feeling for any creatures nearby. She kept the Force flowing and settled into the sensation of keeping the Bane active. Then she peered over the edge of the platform again at the small blinking light. Her breath came out in quick golden clouds as fear clawed at her. Too late? Too slow? She held her lightsaber out and let go of the hilt, catching the weight of it with the Force and lowering it down. When it touched bottom, she jumped down after it and started following the pull of Obi-Wan's presence into blue-gilded tunnels that echoed with movement she could not see.
Her feet squished into the wet and rot, and she held her saber high to light the circumference of the tunnel. Every few paces or so, she turned back to check if she could still see the blinking bead she'd dropped, or at least the glow of its light off the walls. When it dimmed or she made a turn, she squeezed another off the strand and let it drop near a wall, where the muck was thin and less likely to swallow the light whole.
Kyvet claws skittered on stone.
And ice peeled up her spine as one howled, sounding distant. Then closer. Then impossible to guess as more voices joined in. Her heart pounded in reply, like the prey they thought her to be.