Chapter Seven: Rats of Coruscant
A year passed. Sarge had taken the gunship and left; his presence caused friction with the Temple survivors. Whilst Artus missed his comrade, he knew that the gunship drew too much attention and Sarge would likely be able to escape the planet without too much hassle.
The group had been forced to take menial jobs to survive. Barran had found work as a bouncer for a local nightclub. Artus began work as a air taxi driver whilst Zyral worked in local trash collection. Finally, Bene and Kruiz were working on a small pleasure shuttle as mechanics; the shuttle was docked at the tower's landing pad. R9 would assist them by providing bogus access codes to avoid detection.
Artus had been forced to watch as the Republic transitioned into the Galactic Empire. Squadrons of clones patrolled every street. Grey Venators roamed the skies. But the most painful change was the remodelling of the Jedi Temple into the newly crowned Imperial Palace. Blood-red banners cloaked the ancient holy site. Its five towers, once a symbol of peace and justice, now represented fear and oppression. The newly coronated Emperor Palpatine had spared no time in gutting the building and designing it in his own twisted image. Artus was forced to drive past the Imperial Palace nearly every day. He could not help feeling that the Temple mirrored his situation; once a proud Knight of the Jedi Order, he was now just more scum of the Coruscanti underworld.
The day had passed as any other would. Artus had been up before sunrise and had spent sixteen hours ferrying Coruscant's wealthy from party to party, banquet to banquet. A beard covered his usually clean-shaven chin and his long brown hair had become unkempt and wavy. A strand of hair fell just in front of his eye. His robes had long been discarded and his lightsaber lay in a hidden compartment of his speeder.
As Artus flew back to the apartment, the skyscrapers of Coruscant rushing past, he noticed a glow from one of the landing pads that littered the skyline. Maybe it was curiosity, or the will of the Force, but something drew him to change course and head towards it. Drawing closer, Artus could see a burning starship. He could just make out two figures under a burning wing. The closer figure was trapped under debris whilst the other was desperately trying to shift it but to no avail. A black probe droid, with its beady red eyes, circuled the unfurling disaster. Artus could only watch on in horror as the entire platform ignition. A terrible exposition unfurled, sending burning hunks of wreckage hurtling in all directions. A large fireball flew towards the speeder. Artus didn't think, he reacted. Using all his strength he called the Force to him. He raised his hands and pushed the wreckage away from the speeder.
"Kriff!" he exclaimed, realising his error. He looked around to see the probe droid had been hit and was crashing. Artus breathed a sigh of relief; at least he hadn't been spotted. He gripped the controls and raced back to the apartment, unaware of the tracker that the probe had launched. Artus had missed that a small grey device had latched itself onto the hull, following his flightpath.