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ISBN 978-1-368-06208-4
Library of Congress Control Number on file
Design by Soyoung Kim and Scott Piehl
Visit the official Star Wars website at: www.starwars.com
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Star Wars Timeline
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
About the Author
Preview of Star Wars: The High Republic: Race to Crashpoint Tower
Klinith Da carefully landed the stolen cargo hauler on the edge of the dock while her partner, Gwishi, searched the nearby compartments for the ship manifest. Taking things from the weak was a great way to live, but occasionally it came with its share of hassles, like when dopey officials made life difficult. Normally Klinith didn’t worry about such things—as a human woman in a galaxy full of much stronger species, she could handle herself—but they were supposed to be keeping a low profile, and that meant blasting people was unfortunately out of the question.
“Are they going to ask for any official documents?” Klinith asked, pushing her shock of magenta hair out of her face. She caught her reflection in the gleam of a side panel. She looked nothing like she was used to. She’d removed all her piercings and covered her Strike markings—the tattoos that told other Nihil about her crew and her career as a pirate—with the coveralls she wore, but she was not about to change her hair. She was still Nihil, even when she was pretending to be something else.
After a moment she reached into her pocket and threaded her silver wire around and through the holes in her bottom lip. That was a little better, less odd.
“This far out they shouldn’t care,” the male Aqualish said, his weak command of Basic making the words sound especially snarly. “The Republic doesn’t regulate this part of the galaxy. Yet.” Like Klinith, Gwishi wore simple coveralls, his Strike markings covered—all but the nasty scar on the right side of his face where he’d taken a blaster bolt to one of his eyes. That still gleamed blue, a jagged line bisecting his bottom right eye and terminating at his tusk. The ink had been added to the still healing wound to show that even though he’d taken a grievous injury, the person responsible was no longer around to repeat the mistake.
The Nihil repaid all their wrongs threefold.
Klinith grabbed both her blaster and her knives, because in stealthy situations knives were sometimes the better option, placing them in her toolbox. Gwishi grabbed his own blaster plus his face mask and a canister of ovax gas, which he placed into his tool kit along with the rest of his gear. The gas would be necessary to incapacitate the mechanics on board the Steady Wing, a luxury liner they had followed to Port Haileap, a remote outpost on the edge of the Dalnan sector.
The plan was simple. They’d been told to board the Steady Wing and sabotage it so that no one on board was left alive. The ship was scheduled to pick up someone important to the Republic on Haileap, and the Nihil needed to let the Republic know they were not welcome in this part of the galaxy.
Not now, not ever. The Republic was bad for business.
Before disembarking Klinith went back and grabbed one more blaster, small enough to tuck into the top of her boot. Sometimes things went wrong and people got hurt. That was Klinith’s favorite part.
There was a short walk through thick jungle, the marblewood trees large and covered in blue moss, before the busy docking station came into view. Klinith had purposely chosen an out-of-the-way landing space to allow her and Gwishi to enter undetected. The last thing they needed was too many people asking questions. Manifest or not, less attention was better.
“That’s it right there,” Gwishi said, pointing to an enormous ship that took up most of the landing yard. The thing was easily ten times the size of the cargo hauler they’d stolen, and Klinith felt a tendril of fear sneak through her as she considered that.
“How in the seven Genetian moons are we supposed to destroy that?” she asked.
Gwishi sighed. “From the inside. You’re Nihil. Act like it and stop worrying.”
“I’m not,” Klinith said. She had no problem with the mission; it just felt more serious than her previous jobs, like she’d been promoted. And if this job was successful, she surely would be. She’d rise within the Nihil, maybe even report directly to Kassav himself.
Klinith and Gwishi were close to the ship, and she grinned with anticipation. Everyone would be talking about the destruction of the Steady Wing. “I’m excited. This is going to be monumental. I’m just sad we don’t get to smash anything.”
Gwishi watched her with unblinking eyes. “Come on, let’s go.”
The port was teeming with people from many different systems. As the last stop before some of the most dangerous uncharted regions in the galaxy, Port Haileap, like other ports on the edge of what was considered civilized space, was a place for ships to refuel and for people to catch up on news from back home and relax before spending time in a cramped ship. A large landing area stocked with supplies and surrounded by a ring of shops, it was just like most of the outposts Klinith had been to, with the exception of the giant marblewood trees that were visible in the distance, stabbing the violet sky with their green crowns. Humans, Trandoshans, Pantorans, and more weaved among one another in a throng, making their way to the various shops lining the outside edge of the landing zone. Klinith saw a sign advertising gambling down a far hall and her hands itched. It had been a while since she’d had a chance to play rykestra, a popular dice game. But she had more pressing issues than a game of chance.
Klinith and Gwishi made their way up the boarding ramp to the Steady Wing. The Republic guards standing at the top of the walkway were laughing over something and paid the pirates no mind as they walked past. They blended in perfectly with the other mechanics walking on and off the luxury liner. Once they were in the ship proper, Gwishi slapped Klinith on the back.
“Too easy,” he said. And he was right.
They walked through the hallway, and Klinith felt a familiar anger rising deep in her middle. It was a grand ship, with beautiful golden floors and silver walls that featured a flower-patterned screen that shifted its design every few seconds. She tried to imagine what it would be like to stay on such a fine ship. She couldn’t, and that made her angrier than anything else. She couldn’t wait to destroy the Steady Wing and watch its beauty fracture in the emptiness of space.
Klinith followed Gwishi, stopping when he pointed to a plaque on the side of the hallway. The ship was so large that there were maps every few meters to show how to get to different areas.
“That’s where I’m headed.” Gwishi pointed to a blank spot before patting the heavy tool kit he carried. “I’m going to leave everyone a few surprises. You go and make sure the escape pods aren’t any good, either. The last thing we want is survivors. This should be a disaster that will make the Legacy Run look like a day at the fair.”
Before Klinith could respond, Gwishi turned and started off down the hallway, leaving her to figure out where the escape pods were held. After a few moments puzzling out the map—she wasn’t the best reader, and the map seemed purposely confusing—she figured out they were on another deck.
When Klinith arrived where the escape pods were, she discovered she wasn’t the only one there. A maintenance droid buzzed around the bay. At her entrance the droid stopped.
“Are you here to sign off on the pods?” the droid asked. It was a little box of a thing, with several arms sticking out at every angle.
“Yes, but we need to upgrade them. Take out the comms and nav systems.”
The droid rolled forward and back as it processed her command. “I have no such instructions. I must update my feeds to receive new instructions.”
There was a large, heavy hydrospanner on the wall, and Klinith lifted it in her hands, testing the weight. “Oh, I have your updates right here.”
She slammed the heavy tool into the top of the droid, again and again, until the droid was little more than random metal parts. Klinith smiled at the destruction all around her.
She’d gotten to smash something after all.
Vernestra Rwoh looked at the gleaming ship in the docking bay and contemplated the task before her with a mixture of excitement and dread. Her first mission for the Jedi Council and her first tasking as a Jedi Knight. She had dreamed about this day since she was a Padawan. She had only been a Knight for a short while, and it still felt too amazing to be true.
Even if the assignment was simply keeping a senator’s daughter safe. Babysitting seemed below a Jedi Knight. But! Vernestra was not going to let it dampen her spirits.
The luxury liner on the landing zone had been sent by the Chancellor herself, and it was grand and impressive. It loomed over the other ships in Port Haileap, its bright exterior flashing like a beached mael fish, massively silver and sleek in its curves. The Steady Wing boasted sixteen decks, three decorative gardens, an entire games deck, and even a grand dining room that could seat a thousand. The ship was more lavish than anything Vernestra had ever seen before, and Port Haileap was regularly visited by some of the best tour lines—Galaxy Tours, ThrillSpace Travels, and Chandrila Star Lines—in addition to the pleasure yachts flown by ambassadors visiting outlying planets and adventurers set on discovering new planets in the uncharted regions.
The Steady Wing was something entirely different. It was a ship fit for an important delegation.
Vernestra adjusted her tabard, the luminous gold design of the scrollwork along the bottom edge marking her as a Knight from the temple at Hynestia. She shifted uncomfortably in the unfamiliar clothing, finer than what she usually wore. Port Haileap was a rough-and-tumble sort of place where Vernestra usually made do with a day uniform of a gold tunic and ivory trousers overlaid with a simple tabard bearing the same gold embroidered design of her temple. Outposts like Port Haileap had no need for pomp and circumstance. The small bit of civilization carved out of the giant marblewood forest existed to help long haulers refuel and resupply, and the attire of a young Jedi Knight was the last thing on the minds of visitors. But this ship was bound for the dedication of Starlight Beacon, the greatest achievement of the glorious Republic, and would be carrying a delegation from nearby Dalna back to Coruscant after the important occasion. She could not show up in plain ivory and embroidery. So there she was, vaguely uncomfortable in her finery.
Just thinking about Starlight Beacon distracted Vernestra from her thoughts about the mission and doing a good job so she would make the Jedi proud. A massive space station, part temple and part way station for the Republic, Starlight Beacon had been under construction for as long as Vernestra could remember. As a youngling, Vernestra had heard her elders speak of how Starlight, as it was more often referred to, would change the galaxy for the better, especially for those planets far from the Core. Better communications, more support from the Republic . . . Starlight Beacon was going to change everything. The Republic’s space station in the wilds of the Outer Rim would serve as a safe haven in the wilderness, a light in the darkness. It would make the galaxy better for everyone. Vernestra was lucky to get a chance to see it for herself.
It made her proud to be a Jedi and glad that the Force had provided such an opportunity for her. She tried not to let pride overwhelm her, as she knew the Force had just as much to do with her good fortune as her own hard work did, but looking at the Steady Wing and contemplating the next few weeks, it was difficult.
In her defense, it had been quite a year. Vernestra had undertaken her Jedi trials earlier than most on recommendation from her master and, to the surprise of many, had passed. “Who is she? She’s no one special,” some of the other Padawans had muttered, and they were right. Vernestra was only a Mirialan girl with a Force gift, and there were hundreds of other Padawans and younglings just like her.
But as far as she knew, she was the only Jedi who had passed her trials on her first attempt at the age of fifteen, when most Padawans were in the early stages of their apprenticeships. And most days rather than feeling arrogant or prideful at being such a prodigy, Vernestra felt a great responsibility to help the galaxy in whatever ways the Force, and the Jedi Council, determined were best. But was it so wrong to take a moment and relish her accomplishments? She closed her eyes and felt the Force flow through all, and contemplated her feelings and the obligations that lay before her. Even now, at sixteen, it seemed like a lot to be a real Jedi Knight. But she would do it as best as she could as long as she was allowed.
She decided it was fine to be happy about this first mission, even if it was just babysitting.
“Hey, stop her!”
The sense of calm shattered and Vernestra opened her eyes to see a maintenance droid chasing a small, dark-skinned human girl riding a scoot speeder built of odds and ends. The girl’s hair framed her face in a halo of riotous curls, and she held a brightly shining power crystal in a single gloved hand. The expression of joyous triumph on her face was one that Vernestra knew all too well.
Avon Starros, daughter of Senator Ghirra Starros, was once again up to no good.
Avon had not yet seen Vernestra, and the Jedi used that to her advantage. Vernestra raised her hands, palms flat toward Avon, and pushed with the Force. The girl went flying backward off of her homemade contraption, but instead of letting her fall hard onto the deck, Vernestra kept Avon suspended in the air while the vehicle froze in the middle of the docking bay.
“Avon,” Vernestra said sweetly. “What is going on?”
Avon twisted around in midair, her happy expression souring when she spied Vernestra. “Ugh, I thought you were already on the ship.”
“No, I decided to take one last walk through the outpost before we left. I can see I am not the only one. What did you do?”
“Nothing! I didn’t do anything. By the stars, I don’t know why you always think everything is my fault, Vern.”
Vernestra gritted her teeth against the terrible nickname. Master Douglas Sunvale called her that, and while she was not about to correct a Jedi Master, she had no such qualms about correcting a girl younger than her. “Please don’t call me that.” She released her hold on the Force and let Avon fall to the ground, which was not all that far. The scoot speeder, which Avon had no doubt built from materials left unattended around the port, crashed into a nearby stack of shipping crates.
“You are the worst,” Avon groaned, splaying her limbs out dramatically on the ground.
“It wasn’t that far,” Vernestra said, even though it had been a bit mean to let the girl fall.
“I will take that
,” the maintenance droid said, plucking the crystal from Avon’s gloved hand before stomping back the way it had come. Vernestra walked over to Avon and offered her a hand up, but the younger girl just glared at her and picked herself up on her own.
“One day, when I am the galaxy’s foremost inventor, I am going to create a device that blocks the Force,” Avon said. “And then let’s see how you like that.”
Vernestra laughed. “Avon, we’ve discussed this. The Force is all around and inside of us, as well. It isn’t like your power crystals. It’s impossible to block the Force. Also, why did you take that droid’s energy crystal?”
Avon huffed. “It’s for an experiment, and it’s not like I’m going to tell you, Jedi. I know you’ll find a way to ruin it somehow. Besides, can’t you just read my mind?” The girl crossed her arms and Vernestra sighed. She and Avon always butted heads. It wasn’t because Vernestra didn’t like the young girl. Quite the opposite—she found Avon’s many inventions and theories to be endlessly fascinating. But Avon did not like to be told no, and she had ended up in Port Haileap precisely for that reason. Her mother, Senator Ghirra Starros, had sent her there, hoping that some time spent on the edge of space would make Avon more appreciative of her life on Coruscant. All it had done was make Avon more determined to do as she pleased, which was usually inventing machines from bits of other things.
There was no real reason for Avon to accompany the delegation to Starlight and then back to Coruscant; her mother hadn’t sent for her and she had no official role on the journey, but Master Douglas, the marshal of the outpost, had asked to have Avon accompany them specifically because the Dalnan ambassador’s son was twelve, as well. He was hoping that the two would become friends and soften the Dalnans’ view of the Republic.
Vernestra was hoping so, too. Mostly because Avon needed a friend.
“Mistress Avon! You are late. If you do not get on board that ship this instant I will uncouple your linking hoses and then let’s see how well your scoot speeder runs.”
A Test of Courage Page 1