Star Wars: The Last of the Jedi, Volume 3 by Jude Watson Read Free Book Online Page B

favors.
    Trever strolled over to look down at him. “Oh,” he said, “so that’s how it’s done.”
    The Whiphid crossed the distance in two gigantic strides. He towered over them. “This is a private club! Get your carcass back to the hole it crawled out of!”
    “Hey, Tooth-Face!” Trever shot back angrily. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
    “They don’t like it when you call them that,” Ferus murmured. “So I wouldn’t—”
    The Whiphid picked up Trever with his clawed hands and tossed him on top of Ferus. Ferus felt his breath puff out in a
whoosh
at the impact.
    “Call the garbage compactors!” the Whiphid roared to someone inside. “We’ve got some trash!”
    A slender human male in an ankle-length coat stood in the doorway. Ferus recognized the telltale signs of a slythmonger, a being who bought and sold narcotics and potions, sometimes without
regard to whether they were deadly or not.
    I can take them both
, Ferus thought.
The Whiphid just took me by surprise. I can handle this.
    The slythmonger laughed. “Come on, sweetblossoms. We’ve got two live ones!”
    A tall Bothan and nine—no, ten—other beings charged out the door.
    Okay. Maybe not as easy as I thought.
    Trever rolled off him. Ferus sprang to his feet, his hands held up, palms out. “Hey, I’m just looking for some information.”
    “And what makes you think we have any to give?” the slythmonger asked.
    “Not give. Sell.”
    “He’s got credits!” a tall human man called gleefully. “Get him!”
    As if in one mass, the homicidal crew headed toward them.
    He didn’t want to use his lightsaber. News would get back quickly that a Jedi had been spotted. He didn’t want to tip off Malorum. He knew now that Malorum believed Fy-Tor was alive,
and that would only endanger her.
    Still, he didn’t particularly want to get himself and Trever killed.
    Trever had the most finely honed sense of self-preservation he’d ever seen. Within seconds, he had scurried over and rolled under a burned-out speeder.
    “Wooo,” a woman with a crisscrossing holster packed with blasters yelled. “Look at the little womp rat run! Get him!”
    Ferus leaped and landed on top of the speeder. He drew his blaster. “You’ll have to get through me.”
    With a slither and a clatter and a clang, everyone’s weapons came out. Pocket blasters. A blaster rifle. Vibroshivs. Vibroblades. And even what looked like an Imperial force pike.
    “Gladly,” the Bothan said.
    Suddenly a deep laugh rolled out from the dark interior.
    “Would you mind not killing the poor fellow, chums?” Dexter Jettster said. “I think I might know him.”

Dexter beckoned to them with three of his four hands. Ferus and Trever stepped uneasily into the dark bar. Only a few steps behind them, the disappointed crew followed,
muttering darkly about what they’d missed out on.
    They sat at a small table that was dwarfed by Dex’s bulk. Waving the others away, he fixed his friendly, beady eyes on Ferus.
    “Ferus Olin, is it? I remember when Siri would bring you by. And here I thought you left Coruscant behind forever. That would have been a smart move. And who is this with you?”
    “Trever Flume,” Trever supplied.
    “Well, Trever Flume and Ferus Olin, what brings you down to these parts?”
    “Obi-Wan said you would help me,” Ferus said. “I just left him a few days ago.”
    Dexter leaned backward. All four hands went to his chest as he let out a gusty breath. “You should prepare a fellow for news like that. He’s alive. That’s good to hear. Where
is he?”
    “I can’t tell you that,” Ferus said. “But he sends his regards.”
    “Well, if you see him, tell him Dexter Jettster is still his friend.”
    “He’ll be glad to hear you’re well.”
    “Well?” Dexter chortled. “I wouldn’t go that far. Not that far, at all. But I’m surviving.”
    “You’re one of the Erased.”
    “Erased I am. No name, no background, nothing to declare