by Cavan Scott
Behind him, Dil stepped forward.
“Captain, please,” Dil begged. “She’s just a kid.”
Korda silenced the Sullustan with a single glare. “She’s a criminal, like yourself.”
Lina tried not to cry as Korda raised a gloved hand and lifted her chin so that she looked straight into his icy blue eyes. “Now tell me. Where are those maps?”
LINA HAD TOLD MILO not to leave the ship, so of course he’d done exactly that. He wasn’t going to have her boss him around. Yeah, she was older, but only by one year. She wasn’t Mom or Dad.
It didn’t help that he felt so helpless. When the generator had failed, Lina had gone on the space walk. Lina had gotten the engines running again. She wouldn’t even let him fly the ship.
It was always the same. Milo will mess up. Milo will get hurt.
Well, Milo wasn’t listening anymore!
Sitting on the edge of the canal, he pulled on the string that he’d been dangling over the edge. At the end of the line was an insect trap. It was a jar with a spring-loaded lid. A strange creature was crawling around its rim. It had multicolored wings like a Gorsian dragonfly but the bloated body of a slimy reptile.
“That’s it,” Milo whispered to the creature. “Go in the jar. Get your sweet treat.”
He had spread sugar on the bottom of the jar to see what he could attract and this was the best specimen yet. Of all the bugs that swarmed through Thune’s thick air, these were the most fascinating. The warts on their backs pulsated, glowing blue as they buzzed around the murky water.
The inquisitive creature hesitated and then darted inside, crawling into the neck of the jar. With a flick of Milo’s wrist, the lid snapped shut and the flying toad-thing was trapped. Milo hauled up his prize, peering through the glass as soon as it was in his hands.
“Oh, you’re beautiful.” Milo grinned.
The creature flew around the temporary prison, its warts darkening to glow a deep purple. Lina could keep her engines and machines; he’d take living creatures over steel hulls and faulty power cables any day.
Jumping up, he ran back to the spaceport, ducking as a large bug swooped down, narrowly missing his head. It was another of the toad-flies.
Then there was another, and another, dive-bombing him as he sprinted for the ship. In the jar, the trapped creature croaked, its long tongue darting out to slap the glass.
“Friends of yours?” Milo asked as he reached the Whisper Bird, the entry ramp automatically lowering.
Once inside, Milo placed the jar on the specimen scanner in the main hold. Dad used the machine to analyze new discoveries while on expeditions. Milo felt a pang of sadness as he imagined how much Auric Graf would have loved to see this strange bug.
Still, he told himself, working the controls, he’d have something to tell his parents when the Whisper Bird finally caught up with them. The scanner hummed, bathing the jar in green light.
“Don’t worry, little guy,” Milo told the insect. “I’ll let you go soon.”
A holographic copy of the toad-fly had already appeared next to the jar, mapping every part of the creature’s body, from its skeleton to the venom it stored in its cheeks.
Behind Milo, Crater descended from the engineering section. “There you are, Master Milo. I thought Mistress Lina told you not to run off!”
“Mistress Lina says a lot of things,” Milo said, eager to show CR-8R what he had found. “Look.”
The droid peered into the sample jar. “What a fine specimen!” he exclaimed. “A Thunian wart-hornet.”
Milo’s heart sank. “You know about them?”
“Oh, yes,” the droid replied. “Quite common around these parts—and vicious, too. You’re lucky it didn’t lick you.”
“Lick me?” Milo asked.
“Its tongue is covered in venom. Just one lick and you’ll swell up like a balloon. Very nasty.”
Milo sighed. “I thought I’d caught something rare.”
“I’ll tell you all about them later,” the droid promised. “Your father conducted a study on them five years ago. In the meantime, have you heard from your sister? I’ve recalibrated the main generator and run a full diagnosis of the Whisper Bird’s systems. Everything is good to go.”
“So we can take off again?” Milo asked hopefully.
“As soon as we’ve heard from Dil Pexton, yes!” the droid replied.
There was a crash from the hallway, and Morq ran in, screeching at the top of his lungs. He leapt into Milo’s arms and clung tightly to him.
“Whoa, what’s the matter with you?” Milo said.
“What’s that obnoxious creature done now?” CR-8R asked. There wasn’t a lot of love lost between the droid and the monkey-lizard.
“He’s shaking,” Milo said, trying to pry Morq from his chest. “What happened? Where’s Lina?”
A light started flashing on the holo-table.
“Master Milo,” CR-8R said, pointing out the alert.
“That’s probably Dil,” Milo said, running across the hold to check the readout. The signal was transmitting from Dil’s office.
“Let me,” CR-8R insisted, making his way over to the table, but Milo wasn’t about to be told what to do again. Sitting down before CR-8R could get there, he punched the control to answer the call. The holo-projector whined to life and an image appeared above the surface—but it wasn’t Dil Pexton or Lina.
It was Captain Korda.
Morq squealed in fear and climbed the wall to hide in the corner of the ceiling.
“Milo Graf, I presume,” the Imperial officer snarled, his dark voice threatening over the comms-line. “Welcome to Thune.”
Milo didn’t know what to do. Shut off the holo-projector? Run and hide? Instead, he decided to ask the question that screamed through his head.
“What have you done with my sister?” he demanded.
Korda laughed cruelly. “You’re an intelligent boy. I like someone who gets to the point. There’s no need to worry. Your sister is quite safe. She reminds me of your mother.”
With a cry of fury, Milo jumped up and swung his arm at the holographic head. It passed through, distorting the image for a second before Korda’s face realigned.
“You should apply for the Imperial Academy,” Korda sneered. “We could put all that energy to good use.”
“I’ll never work for the Empire,” Milo spat.
“Everyone works for the Empire sooner or later. We can discuss your future when we meet. That is, if you want to see Lina again,” Korda said.
Tears stung Milo’s eyes, but he wasn’t about to cry in front of Korda. “Of course I do.”
Korda’s smile fell away. “Then send me your coordinates. I have to say, I’m impressed. My men haven’t been able to break your encrypted holo-channel and Lina isn’t saying anything. For now.”
“I’ll come to you,” Milo said, trying to sound as calm as possible.
“Master Milo, no—” CR-8R started to say, but he was silenced by a wave of Milo’s hand.
“You want the data, don’t you?” Milo asked.
Korda nodded. “Intelligent and insightful.”
“A public place, then,” Milo said. “With no guards. Bring Lina and I’ll bring the files.”
The captain laughed again. “I think someone has been watching too many holo-dramas, but if you wish. What about Merchant’s Bridge? Do you know it?”
“I’ll find it,” Milo said firmly.
“You have thirty minutes. If you’re not there, then your sister will pay the price,” Korda threatened.
“Don’t hurt her!” Milo shouted.
“I haven’t yet, but I can and I will. That’s a promise, not a threat. Merchant’s Bridge in thirty minutes. Be there.”
The signal went dead, and Korda’s image vanished.
Milo sat down hard and started to cry. With a whimper, Morq crawled down the wall and wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him tight.
“We have to call the authorities
and report that dreadful man,” CR-8R said.
“I keep telling you—Korda is the authorities,” Milo sniffed, hugging Morq back.
“Then what?” CR-8R said, exasperated. “We can’t face him alone!”
Milo looked at the wart-hornet croaking furiously in the sample jar. “Maybe we won’t need to.” He wiped his nose against the back of his hand. “Where’s this Merchant’s Bridge?”
CR-8R hovered over and connected himself to the holo-table. A three-dimensional map of Thune City appeared in the air, and CR-8R zoomed in on a large bridge that spanned the canal. It was covered with market stalls and traders.
“Here it is,” the droid said. “It has one of the biggest markets in the city.”
“How long will it take us to get there?” Milo asked.
“Only ten minutes or so, but we can’t trust Korda,” CR-8R said, worried. “His men will already be looking for us.”
“They don’t know that the Whisper Bird survived the explosion on the swamp world,” Milo pointed out. “And Lina’s obviously not told them anything. According to your fake codes this is Starstormer One, remember?”
CR-8R wasn’t convinced. “Even so, now that they know you’re alive—”
Milo interrupted the anxious droid. “The wart-hornets. They tried to attack me when I trapped this one.”
“Well, yes,” CR-8R said, confused by the sudden change in subject. “They were probably trying to protect one of their own.”
“But how did they know it was in danger?” Milo asked.
“Now really isn’t the time for a biology lesson, Master Milo,” CR-8R scolded. “Your sister—”
Milo stood up and Morq jumped down onto the seat beside him. “Come on, Crater. You love a lecture. Besides, if we’re going to rescue Lina, now is exactly the time.”
MERCHANT’S BRIDGE was as busy as CR-8R had said. Milo stood in the middle, trying not to panic. Aliens streamed past him from every angle, hot and sweaty in the midday sun. The ancient bridge was wide. Stalls ran along every side. The cobbled stones beneath his feet were crumbling, worn down by thousands of feet over the centuries. Beside Milo, CR-8R twitched his manipulator arms nervously.
“This is a bad idea. A very bad idea,” the droid remarked.
“Coming to this planet was a bad idea, but I didn’t hear you talking about it then!” Milo snapped back. Morq sat shaking on Milo’s shoulders, although he jumped off when he spotted a stall selling large orange rakmelons.
Milo turned around in a circle, searching the crowd for any sign of Lina. Then, suddenly, their eyes met. She was farther up the bridge, looking straight at him, her body rigid with fear.
“There she is,” Milo shouted, shoving aliens out of the way to get to her. “Lina!”
“Master Milo, wait!” CR-8R called.
The droid tried to stop Milo, but it was no use. CR-8R got stuck behind a large furry alien that looked like a cross between a Hutt and a Wookiee having a bad hair day.
“Excuse me, madam,” he implored, but the alien wouldn’t budge.
Ahead, the crowds parted enough to show Dil Pexton standing next to Lina, looking miserable. The alien had his hand wrapped around her arm. But, Milo wondered, if Dil was there, where was Korda?
Dil pushed Lina toward Milo and she wriggled out of his grip, running forward. She grabbed her brother and held him tight. “Don’t trust him,” she whispered softly into Milo’s ear.
“Milo,” Dil said, trying to sound jovial. “It’s good to see you.”
Milo grabbed his sister’s hand and glared at the Sullustan. “What have you done?”
Dil’s ears flushed pink and he raised his hands. “Look, I didn’t have a choice.”
“Of course you did,” Lina hissed, gripping Milo’s hand tighter. “You’re Mom and Dad’s best friend.”
“And I’m trying to help them,” Dil insisted.
“By betraying us?” Lina spat.
Dil frowned and his tone hardened. “You kids have no idea what’s really going on here. This is real life, not flying around with Mom and Dad having little adventures. These people mean business. If you don’t do what they say, they’ll kill you, or worse.”
“What could be worse?” Milo asked.
“You don’t want to know. Korda has enough on me to lock me up forever, but I’m not letting that happen, so be smart. Give me the data and they’ll let you go.”
Lina laughed. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe, just that you’ve got the files,” Dil replied. “You did bring them, didn’t you?”
Milo stuck his chin in the air, hoping that the traitorous alien wouldn’t see how scared he was. “No. I didn’t bring them.”
“You little—” Dil began, grabbing Milo’s arm and pulling him close. “Don’t you realize what you’ve done?”
“Let go of me,” Milo hissed, trying to pull himself free. Around them, the market-goers ignored the struggle, not wanting any trouble themselves.
“I put my neck on the line for you!” Dil shouted angrily. “Korda wanted to come marching in here with blasters blazing, but I said, ‘No, let me go alone. Milo’s a smart kid,’ I said, ‘he won’t do anything stupid.’”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Milo said.
Dil’s grip on his arm tightened. “Where are they? Who’s got them?”
“Unhand that boy immediately,” someone called from behind the alien. Milo twisted in Dil’s clutches to see CR-8R speeding toward them, clearing a path with his manipulator arm.
Dil sighed. “Or what? You’ll bore me to death?”
“Or I’ll…” The droid hesitated, then repeated himself. “Or I’ll…okay, I don’t know exactly what I’ll do, but it won’t be very nice, I can promise you that.”
Dil shook his head. “Pathetic.”
But before he could say another word, a man shouted above the loud bustle of the crowd.
“Time’s up, Pexton.”
Dil spun around. “No!”
“Clear the bridge,” the man commanded.
All at once there was the sound of blaster fire, and bolts of energy shot up into the air. There were screams and cries of panic as the crowd ran for cover. Purchases were thrown to the ground as the mass of aliens almost climbed over each other to get away. The woolly female nearly mowed down CR-8R in her panic. Milo turned to his sister. “Let’s go, now!”
“Don’t even think it,” Dil sneered, pulling a blaster from his belt. He pointed it straight at Milo.
“You wouldn’t shoot us,” Milo said, although he wasn’t so sure that was true.
“Don’t make me find out,” Dil pleaded.
The bridge was almost deserted now. Milo, Lina, and CR-8R stood in the middle with Pexton. Morq sat on a nearby stall, smothered in rakmelon pulp and spitting out the sticky seeds. It was only when he looked up and realized that everyone had gone that he raced over to the children.
Captain Korda stood on the far end of the bridge, flanked by a line of armed stormtroopers. A second row of stormtroopers blocked the other exit. There was no escape.
As if to emphasize the point, three TIE fighters screamed past overhead before turning and circling the city.
Korda started walking toward the children, his hands behind his back. Both rows of stormtroopers followed the captain, marching in formation with their blasters at the ready.
Dil shuffled closer to Milo. “Don’t argue with him,” he whispered. “Whatever he wants, just give it to him, for all our sakes.”
“Milo Graf,” Korda said as he moved forward. “The intelligent boy with the spirited sister. Oh, they’re going to love you two at the Academy. Stormtrooper training, possibly? Maybe even officer potential. Would you like that? A uniform like mine?”
Milo didn’t respond. He stood there, clutching his sister’s hand.
“Maybe you’ll even meet the Emperor himself,” Korda continued. “Go all the way to the top. A clever boy like you. There’s no
thing you couldn’t do. Your sister, too. So sure of herself. So strong-willed. Not many people keep quiet when I’m asking them questions.”
He stopped in front of them, the stormtroopers standing behind him.
Milo pretended that he didn’t care. He had a question of his own.
“What have you done with our parents?” he said.
Korda flashed a sly smile.
“What have you done with my files?” the captain replied.
“Why should we give them to you?” Milo said.
Korda’s smile vanished. “Because if you don’t, my men will start shooting. We could begin with your droid?”
The nearest stormtrooper pointed his rifle at CR-8R. The robot gave an electronic wail and raised all six of his arms in defense.
“Wait,” Dil said, stepping forward. “If I know Auric and Rhyssa, they’ve hidden the data on that droid. It doesn’t look like much, but they love that old thing.”
“Old?” CR-8R bellowed, despite his obvious fear.
“Is that right?” Korda said, turning to Milo and Lina. “Are the files in the droid?”
Neither one of them responded, but their silence didn’t faze the Imperial captain.
“Very well,” he said. “We’ll strip its memory, just in case. Thank you, Pexton. You have done very well.” He turned to the stormtrooper. “Arrest him!”
“What?” Dil cried. “You can’t! I did what you said! All of it!”
“I can do whatever I want,” Korda barked. “Drop your weapon or we’ll shoot!”
Dil sighed. For a moment, Milo thought Dil was going to throw his blaster to the ground. Then, with a look of sheer desperation, the Sullustan brought it back up sharply, aiming straight for Korda.
He never took the shot. Rings of blue energy blasted from one of the stormtrooper’s rifles, knocking Dil off his feet. He crashed to the ground.
Milo let out a cry. He couldn’t help it. He was terrified.
“The alien’s stunned,” Korda informed them. “Nothing more. A lifetime of mining awaits him. As for you?” Korda glared at them. “This is your last chance. Give me those files! Now!”