Into the Dark

by Claudia Gray

  No pirate attack was imminent. However, a vague feeling tugged at Cohmac—a barely conscious sense that something important remained undiscovered. “Captain Gyasi,” he said, “can you expand your scanner perimeters?”

  Leox nodded. “Just so long as you know when we gain reach, we lose clarity. As with so much in life.”

  “An acceptable trade.” Cohmac leaned closer to analyze any scraps of information they might receive.

  Instead of scraps, the screen suddenly filled with data. Leox’s eyes widened as he scrolled in closer. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the heck have we got here?”

  “A space station?” Reath said, making the leap faster than Cohmac would’ve guessed. “But—it’s nowhere near the system’s star, and the energy levels are low—”

  “Doesn’t look like anybody’s aboard,” Affie said while bent over her own readings. “Though at this distance we can’t tell for sure.”

  “We’ve heard nothing from the station, despite the unexpected arrival of eleven ships in this system,” Cohmac said. “Energy readouts are fairly low. The likeliest conclusion is that the station’s abandoned.”

  “Abandoned?” Reath asked. “Why? Simply gone derelict? Or has it become dangerous for some reason?”

  Cohmac shrugged. “Maybe. Or could be this area was once a prosperous shipping route, and now is less so. Or it could simply have gotten old. Regardless, we should search it.”

  “I’ll add to that,” Leox said. “We need to search it soon. As in, right around now. And so should every other ship in the area. Because the local star isn’t happy.”

  A quick scan showed the danger; the star of that blank, empty system was a volatile one, not yet ready to go supernova but beginning the final millennia leading up to that cataclysm. As such it would be prone to solar flares of dangerous scale and intensity. Their readings indicated it was about to flare up, sending out plumes of superhot matter that would be a million kilometers in length. When that happened—as it would within the day, if not the hour—the individual ships would be at risk of immolation.

  “We have to put the space station between our ships and the star,” Cohmac said. “Obviously the station has shielding that allows it to endure in this system. If we anchor ourselves on the far side, we have a chance.”

  Leox nodded. “Sending out the alert right now.”

  Thank the Force, Cohmac thought, for problems with simpler solutions. They allowed the illusion that the universe could be controlled—an illusion everyone needed from time to time.

  For the first time since Master Jora had told him of their assignment to Starlight Beacon, Reath felt excited. An abandoned space station seemed likely to offer adventure without bugs, and some stories to tell his friends—whenever he got to see them again.

  But Reath wasn’t going to think about that just yet. Finally, he could get back to living in the present moment, as a Jedi should. It had been too long.

  Every second they traveled closer to the station, his fascination grew. The design was one he’d never seen before: Its center was a large sphere made of hexagonal plates of some transparent material. Heavy metal rings clustered on square-shaped tethers at its poles, with another metal ring stretching around its equator, which he estimated at roughly five hundred meters in diameter. One airlock was part of the sphere itself, but was unusable, mostly because it was both enormous and highly irregularly shaped, built to welcome some kind of ship none of them had ever seen before, perhaps because it had ceased to exist. Master Cohmac’s theory about the station’s abandonment seemed to be accurate, because signs of damage and wear were apparent—missing panels, a small chunk of one ring broken away. However, its power core must have remained strong, because light still shone from the transparent central globe. Their readings confirmed this as the Vessel got closer.

  “Gravity, check,” Affie said. “Life systems, check. Atmosphere’s an oxygen/hydrogen mix, so we can go on board if we want to.”

  Reath wanted to. “How long do you think that place has been abandoned? Decades? Centuries?”

  “More like millennia, to judge by the tech,” Leox said, squinting as he studied the station. “That looks…familiar, but I can’t place why.”

  “The Amaxines.” A thrill of recognition swept through Reath, bringing a smile to his face as he placed the familiar curved shapes and patterns of the metal. “That’s Amaxine technology!”

  “Amaxine?” Affie wrinkled her nose. “Who are they?”

  Reath loved nothing more than a chance to explain. “They were ancient warriors—from really long ago, even before the Republic. Their fierceness in battle was supposedly unmatched. There are all these legends of how their scouts would appear almost out of thin air, signaling the troops to sweep in for attack.”

  “What happened to them?” Affie asked.

  “Apparently, when the Republic unified so much of the galaxy, the Amaxines weren’t willing to accept the peace. So they left the galaxy and flew into empty space, in search of another great war to fight.” Which didn’t make much sense, in Reath’s opinion, but he didn’t waste time judging a people who’d died out thousands of years before. Besides, the sheer thrill of this moment—seeing something that had once been only myth and legend suddenly come vividly alive—eclipsed everything else.

  Leox drawled, “Now that you mention it, I believe I’ve heard some stories about the Amaxines, how they took off so long ago. But people have been here way more recently than that.”

  Frowning, Affie asked, “How do you know?” Reath was glad she had, because that meant he didn’t have to.

  “Preprogrammed coordinates.” Leox thumped the dash. “This system was in our navicomputer. I don’t know why, and neither does Geode, and neither do you—which is why I want you to ask your momma about this as soon as we get back to her. You’re the only one who might get a straight answer as to why Byne Guild ships all come programmed with a map that leads us out of hyperspace, straight to here.”

  Reath turned his head, as though studying the readouts more thoroughly, so he couldn’t see Affie’s face. The explanation was obvious: some kind of illegal trade, maybe something the Guild did on the side. It wouldn’t be easy for Affie to hear that, surely.

  But there were other possibilities. The Guild might monitor illegal trade rather than engage in it—or even work against it, in an effort to eliminate corrupt competition. They didn’t have enough information to know.

  For Reath, information had always been as vital as air, something he felt he could never accumulate enough of. However, he was realizing that not knowing everything created a certain…exhilaration.

  Which was probably going to be brief. And wasn’t as good as actually being informed and prepared. Still, he’d take what enjoyment he could get.

  A red light appeared on the Vessel’s console. Then another. Then all of them almost at once, glaring scarlet. Every single alert on the ship was sounding.

  “Uh-oh,” Leox said. His usual calm was finally shaken. “We’ve got a solar flare incoming.”

  Reath stared in the rough direction of the star, but it wasn’t visible at that angle. “When?”

  Affie’s face had gone pale. “Four minutes.”

  Normally an apprentice was to wait for a Master’s approval before taking any dramatic action.

  Nothing about this situation was normal.

  Reath went for the comms. “All vessels! Approach the station for immediate docking. You have four minutes to get on the safe side of the station, away from the star. We’ll send boarding orders shortly, after we’ve checked the station out. Just get there now!”

  Coordinates came up on Leox’s panel, and he nodded. “Thanks, Geode. Heading in.”

  The ship shifted so swiftly the gravity didn’t have time to compensate, sending Reath sliding to the far side of the bridge; apparently the senior Jedi had been caught off guard also, to judge by the thumps and a muttered oof he heard from within the main cabin.

  Within seconds, the
other ships came into view, all of them headed for the one small sliver of safety to be found behind the station—until one, the smallest one, slowed.

  “That’s Nan’s ship, right?” When Affie nodded, Reath took the comm again. “Nan, you guys need to hurry.”

  “Our engine’s given out! We need repairs—and there’s no time.”

  Reath turned toward Leox. “Does the Vessel have a tractor beam?”

  “Negatory.” Leox wore a thoughtful look. “What we do have is a towline.”

  “Head for Nan’s ship,” Reath said.

  Affie shot him a look, and it occurred to him that while the Jedi were ready to risk their lives for others, civilians weren’t necessarily as committed. Nor was it fair to expect that of them. People had the right to guard their own survival. Before he could speak, though, she’d already flipped the toggle to ready the towline, and Leox turned them sharply toward Nan’s ship.

  More thuds sounded from the back, and a harried Orla Jareni appeared in the doorway, bracing herself against the jamb. “What in the seven hells is going on?”

  “We’re evading a solar flare,” Reath said. “Another ship needs help to get to safety.”

  “Got it.” Orla had instantly snapped out of her mood. “What can I do?”

  Leox answered her. “Solar radiation’s about to soak this whole system. For everybody except the Mizi, that station’s the only safe place to be. So we need exosuits at the ready.”

  Affie chimed in, “And an order of boarding for all the ships, so not everybody’s trying to hitch themselves to an airlock at once.”

  Immediately Orla got to work. Reath could only hang on and watch as they drew nearer to the pitifully small ship belonging to Nan and her guardian. It looked even more slapdash up close, obviously pieced together from other ship fragments. Like a rainy-day craft project for Ugnaughts, Reath thought, then mentally took it back. These people were doing the best they could with what they had. They deserved respect for their ingenuity.

  He asked, “How close do we have to get for the towline?”

  “Not too close,” Leox said, then proved it by firing the tow. It lanced through empty space before colliding with the hull of Nan’s ship. With a shimmer of energy, the electromagnetic clamp kicked in. “All righty. Now we just have to get to the station before being incinerated to atoms.”

  Reath tried not to let his reaction show, but he must not have done a good job, because Affie said, “Don’t scare the landlubbers.”

  “We’ve only got forty-five seconds left,” Leox said, and Affie’s jaw dropped. Apparently the situation was just as scary as Reath had thought.

  But Leox (and, possibly, Geode?) took them around the curve of the spherical station a full two seconds before outer space filled with a flash of brilliant white light. Reath shielded his eyes with his arm and was still nearly blinded for a moment.

  When he could sort of see again, he said, “That means we made it, right?”

  Leox put his hands behind his head. “Am I good or what?”

  Before anyone could board the station, a landing party had to make certain the interior was safe. Dez had asked to lead the way; Affie agreed to go on behalf of the Vessel crew.

  Reath volunteered readily, though he had questions. “Should we conduct more scans first? There could be dimensions to this station we don’t understand. Risks we haven’t guessed.”

  “That’s why they call it adventure.” Dez was already double-checking settings on his wristband equipment, pacing near the airlock. “We already checked the atmosphere, so we know we can breathe. Anything else, we’ll handle as it comes.”

  As Leox carefully maneuvered the Vessel into docking position on the central ring, Reath asked Affie, “Have you explored lots of abandoned old places? Are there tons of things like this out here?”

  “First time,” she said brightly, like there was zero chance they were about to die.

  Maybe that was true. Look at it this way, he told himself. You’re doing research with primary sources. Getting the information straight from the source, to share with others later. It helped, thinking that the last phase of this task would be simply writing it all down.

  Their airlock spun open. Light streamed in, almost blinding at first, and Reath momentarily feared another solar flare. His eyes must have adjusted to the light more slowly than Dez’s, because he whispered, “Would you look at that?”

  An instant later, Reath could see it, too: a tunnel leading from the boxy, utilitarian ring straight into the central globe of the station itself. As the three of them walked through the tunnel, he realized it was transparent, creating the illusion that they were suspended in the blackness of space. He’d never experienced anything like it, strolling through a sea of stars. Vertigo threatened him for a moment, but it soon vanished in sheer fascination. Reath was drawn by both the spectacular view around him and what he saw ahead—an abundance of green.

  They emerged into the central globe, which included booths and kiosks on multiple layers of walkways. They might’ve once been shops, laboratories, all open to the glassy sphere that formed the body of the station—and all covered in vines.

  And ferns. And moss. Even a couple of trees. Plant life spilled over every beam, climbed up every wall. This was more flora than Reath saw in a year on Coruscant.

  “How—” Reath murmured as they stepped out, stems crunching beneath their feet. “How is this possible?”

  Dez gestured toward the blazing light at the core—a small array of supercharged hexagonal power banks, suspended in energy fields. “Self-generating light and heat, fueling the station. The plants took care of the rest themselves.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Affie breathed, walking forward with her face turned up to the light.

  Reath couldn’t disagree. Instead of something menacing and diabolical, he’d strolled into an orbiting garden. “I bet the station had an arboretum,” he mused as they walked forward. “To supply oxygen and food, and help travelers relax—all those things—and after the station was abandoned, the plants took it over.”

  “Sounds about right to me,” Dez said, then inhaled deeply and smiled. The air was not only breathable but also smelled wonderful—fresh, sweet. “Look there. Turns out the plants have had some help.”

  Following Dez’s pointing finger, Reath glimpsed movement within the greenery. A small droid emerged—an antique 8-T gardening model, which looked a lot like the “head” dome of an astromech let loose on its own. The thin metal instruments protruding from one of its panels appeared to be busy pollinating some bell-shaped flowers in shades of orange and violet. Another 8-T appeared, closer by, busy at the same task. They took no notice of intruders; their programming was solely about taking care of plants. It appeared the droids had done their job admirably.

  “Should we do a botanical survey?” Reath asked. “Catalog all the life-forms here, find out if any are unknown to us at present?”

  “Eh, that’s droid work,” Dez said. “And not particularly urgent. Personally, I’d like to get a better look at the other things sentients left behind…starting with that.”

  He gestured toward a particularly thick patch of fronds, revealing a shape that had been almost obscured behind them: a statue of a figure, human or at least humanoid, carved of some kind of stone and gilded with something dully golden that reflected the light. The vaguely feminine figure wore an elaborately carved headdress set with either colored glass or actual jewels, and it held its arms crossed over its chest. It resembled no mythological deity or folkloric hero Reath knew of, but he felt a thrill anyway. This was a window into history—into legend.

  But behind that thrill lurked a shiver. A shadow.

  Staring at the statue, he said, “Do you feel that?”

  “Yes,” Dez said. His voice had grown more thoughtful. “The shadow. It might not mean anything.”

  Or it might, Reath couldn’t help thinking.

  Affie Hollow neither understood what “shadow” Dez and Rea
th were talking about (which made no sense, since they were all bathed in light) nor cared. Whatever mysticism this brand of wizard-monk peddled was only mildly interesting to her. The station, however, was fascinating.

  Not because of the antiquities the Jedi were already fawning over.

  Because of objects far more recent than that.

  Affie’s sharp eyes picked out the spanner first, then the anx. A handful of spacer’s tools, strewn in one corner—obviously abandoned for a while but not long enough for any vines to grow over them. The moss beneath them still seemed healthy and green, so they couldn’t have been there longer than—a few months. A couple of years? She wasn’t exactly an expert on moss. Maybe Geode would know. However, she was certain that it hadn’t been very long since other travelers had come through the station.

  Probably some of them had been Byne Guild pilots. Why else would this system’s coordinates be preprogrammed into the Vessel’s computer? Definitely nothing else remotely interesting was to be found around there; even by the standards of open space, that area was bleak. So this station had to have been of some use to the Guild, sometime, or it wouldn’t be one of the places in their navicomputer.

  Hundreds of places, she reminded herself. Maybe even thousands. We never counted them all—what’s the point? Some of that data might be old, out of use. Obsolete to how the Guild runs today. Scover built everything off preexisting navicomputers, back when she was first creating the Guild.

  Then she remembered that Scover might at that moment be dead or injured because of a disaster far larger than anything they’d ever encountered before, and her heart ached anew. For the Jedi this disaster was of great but abstract concern; for her it was intensely personal. Remembering how hard her foster mother had worked to build her shipping fleet made Affie even more fiercely hopeful that Scover had lived. She deserved to live, to reap the benefits of all that effort.

  But the others killed in the disaster had probably deserved to live, too. Chance was too cruel to pay attention to what people deserved.