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Authors: Jude Watson
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a hand in the air. “All I heard today was noise.”
“There’s one thing we keep hearing. The crust. It’s all the way down—some say it’s even
below
the crust.”
“That’s true,” Ferus said. “That’s the common thread.”
Oryon shook back his tangled mane of hair. He was in his usual resting position, squatting on the floor. It looked uncomfortable to Trever, but Oryon seemed to find it relaxing. “There is
usually a kernel of truth in even the most exaggerated rumor. Keets might be right.”
Gilly and Spence looked up from their weapons to nod.
“There’s got to be a first time,” Hume said. He was the tall human man who’d been a Republic army officer.
Keets saluted him. “Even a broken chrono is right twice a day.”
“So we should go straight to the crust,” Curran said. “Stop wasting time.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Hume said. “I hate to waste time.”
Everyone looked at Ferus. “I agree,” he said.
“Anybody ever been that deep before?” Keets asked.
“Are you kidding?” Rhya asked. “I never made it out of Galactic City.” She looked down at the holsters on the floor. “Then again, I never shot a blaster before,
either.”
Oryon checked his weapon. “Well, get ready. You might have plenty of opportunities soon.”
They left for the crust at first light.
They zoomed down past sublevel after sublevel. There were no space lanes here, just tricky piloting. Ferus piloted the speeder, not speaking, concentrating on avoiding the other aggressive
speeders he encountered as well as broken sensors that suddenly loomed in front of him, crumbling landing platforms, and narrow passages.
Coruscant had been built from the surface up. When the levels had become too crowded to bear, more levels were built above. More buildings, more infrastructure, more power stations, more
walkways. The deeper Ferus and the others went, the more ancient these structures became.
They left the speeder on a landing platform that had been shored up with timbers of durasteel and wood. Looking around, Trever could see that improvisation was the name of the game when it came
to building down here.
Here at the crust, they entered a century that was committed to grandeur. These long-ago beings built their buildings out of stone, hundreds of stories high, with intricate carvings and
balconies, turrets, and towers. The stone of the buildings was cracked and crumbling. Often they were reinforced with scrap metal or wood. Their streets were winding and narrow, with alleys leading
off from alleys in a confusing maze.
There were no official systems here at all—no power, no water, no light, no ventilation that wasn’t powered by private generators. They walked down through a narrow arched walkway.
The stone beneath their feet was cracked and split, sometimes with fissures that were meters wide. They jumped when they had to and skirted the holes. They were the only beings out on the streets.
Although above them the suns weren’t setting, it felt like night. The air was dark and close.
This was it—the bottom of Coruscant. The lowest known level.
If they didn’t find Solace here, there was nowhere else to go.
Trever hoped there was safety in numbers. The Erased looked treacherous. He couldn’t imagine that anyone would want to tangle with them.
He found his steps slowing. He felt haunted by what was above. It was as though he could feel the pressure of the millions of lives above him, the millions of structures and machines, a whole
impossible matrix of humming life above his head, of millions of beating hearts.
It was enough to seriously creep him out.
“You’re uncharacteristically silent, young fellow.” Keets fell into step beside him.
“It all feels so...heavy,” Trever said.
“You mean everything above your head?” Keets laughed. “Yeah, I see what you mean. It’s kind of oppressive.”
“So who lives down here?” he asked.
Keets shrugged. “Immigrants from other
“There’s one thing we keep hearing. The crust. It’s all the way down—some say it’s even
below
the crust.”
“That’s true,” Ferus said. “That’s the common thread.”
Oryon shook back his tangled mane of hair. He was in his usual resting position, squatting on the floor. It looked uncomfortable to Trever, but Oryon seemed to find it relaxing. “There is
usually a kernel of truth in even the most exaggerated rumor. Keets might be right.”
Gilly and Spence looked up from their weapons to nod.
“There’s got to be a first time,” Hume said. He was the tall human man who’d been a Republic army officer.
Keets saluted him. “Even a broken chrono is right twice a day.”
“So we should go straight to the crust,” Curran said. “Stop wasting time.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Hume said. “I hate to waste time.”
Everyone looked at Ferus. “I agree,” he said.
“Anybody ever been that deep before?” Keets asked.
“Are you kidding?” Rhya asked. “I never made it out of Galactic City.” She looked down at the holsters on the floor. “Then again, I never shot a blaster before,
either.”
Oryon checked his weapon. “Well, get ready. You might have plenty of opportunities soon.”
They left for the crust at first light.
They zoomed down past sublevel after sublevel. There were no space lanes here, just tricky piloting. Ferus piloted the speeder, not speaking, concentrating on avoiding the other aggressive
speeders he encountered as well as broken sensors that suddenly loomed in front of him, crumbling landing platforms, and narrow passages.
Coruscant had been built from the surface up. When the levels had become too crowded to bear, more levels were built above. More buildings, more infrastructure, more power stations, more
walkways. The deeper Ferus and the others went, the more ancient these structures became.
They left the speeder on a landing platform that had been shored up with timbers of durasteel and wood. Looking around, Trever could see that improvisation was the name of the game when it came
to building down here.
Here at the crust, they entered a century that was committed to grandeur. These long-ago beings built their buildings out of stone, hundreds of stories high, with intricate carvings and
balconies, turrets, and towers. The stone of the buildings was cracked and crumbling. Often they were reinforced with scrap metal or wood. Their streets were winding and narrow, with alleys leading
off from alleys in a confusing maze.
There were no official systems here at all—no power, no water, no light, no ventilation that wasn’t powered by private generators. They walked down through a narrow arched walkway.
The stone beneath their feet was cracked and split, sometimes with fissures that were meters wide. They jumped when they had to and skirted the holes. They were the only beings out on the streets.
Although above them the suns weren’t setting, it felt like night. The air was dark and close.
This was it—the bottom of Coruscant. The lowest known level.
If they didn’t find Solace here, there was nowhere else to go.
Trever hoped there was safety in numbers. The Erased looked treacherous. He couldn’t imagine that anyone would want to tangle with them.
He found his steps slowing. He felt haunted by what was above. It was as though he could feel the pressure of the millions of lives above him, the millions of structures and machines, a whole
impossible matrix of humming life above his head, of millions of beating hearts.
It was enough to seriously creep him out.
“You’re uncharacteristically silent, young fellow.” Keets fell into step beside him.
“It all feels so...heavy,” Trever said.
“You mean everything above your head?” Keets laughed. “Yeah, I see what you mean. It’s kind of oppressive.”
“So who lives down here?” he asked.
Keets shrugged. “Immigrants from other
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