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All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Lucasfilm Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Lucasfilm Press, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.
ISBN 978-1-368-00894-5
Cover art by Lucy Ruth Cummins
Interior art by David Buisán
Visit the official Star Wars website at: www.starwars.com.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1: Shady Business
Chapter 2: Lothal
Chapter 3: Crate Expectations
Chapter 4: Rask Odai
Chapter 5: The Moveable Feast
Chapter 6: Beetles
Chapter 7: Fire Alarm
Chapter 8: Flushed
Chapter 9: Rescue
Chapter 10: The Getaway
CAPTAIN KORDA scowled at the viewport in front of him. The swirling crimson eye of a gas giant stared back.
To Korda’s right, an Imperial officer nervously approached him, holding out a datapad.
“Captain, we have the latest findings for you.”
He was a pathetic-looking young man, with a fleshy, pockmarked face and a belly that strained against his gray uniform.
“And you are?” Korda snapped.
The young officer swallowed. “Junior Lieutenant Jams, sir.”
Korda snatched the pad from the junior lieutenant’s shaking hand.
“Your uniform is a disgrace, Jams. Those boots look like they haven’t been cleaned in months, your collar is filthy, and your insignia is crooked.”
Jams looked nervously down at the rank plaque on his chest, two red squares sitting atop two blue ones. He lifted his large hand to adjust the pins but hesitated, thinking better of it.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do better next time.”
“Make sure that you do,” Korda growled, slapping the datapad against Jams’s chest. “If you come onto my bridge looking like that again, you’ll wish you never went to the Imperial Academy.”
“Yes, sir,” Jams stuttered, almost dropping the pad before he scurried off. “Thank you, sir.”
Korda sighed. How had it come to this? Not long before he had been the rising star of the Imperial Navy. He’d received medals of honor from Governor Tarkin and been given missions by Lord Vader himself. Now he was cataloging the locations of gas giants on the edge of Wild Space in a rundown freighter. He was constantly bored. His days were filled with pointless scans and tedious reports. Even bullying his pathetic excuse for a crew had lost its joy.
He rubbed the skin around his metal jaw. The scarred flesh itched terribly, another reminder of his failure. All this disgrace was down to two children—Lina and Milo Graf. It had seemed like such a simple mission at the time: arrest cartographers Auric and Rhyssa Graf and confiscate their extensive archive of planetary maps. How could he have known that Rhyssa would trick them by hiding the data in a droid? Or that the two Graf brats and the droid would evade capture so skillfully? Korda could still hear Lord Vader’s words when he’d reported the news.
“You let children escape?”
Korda had been lucky to get out of the briefing with his life.
He would not stand for any of this. He wouldn’t spend the rest of his career out there, wasting away in the farthest reaches of space.
He marched across the bridge, only to find his path blocked by an ensign with dark skin and a worried expression.
“Sir, we are scheduled for another seven hours around Klytus V…” he said.
Korda stepped around the young officer, heading for the doors. “Then you won’t be needing me, Ensign. I’ll expect a full report at the end of your shift. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” the ensign replied as Korda stormed from the bridge.
Korda walked into his private quarters and locked the door behind him. He pulled off his hat and threw it across the cramped cabin onto the bed. Sitting in front of a tiny holo-projector, he tapped his private access code into the computer and opened the secret comms-channel he’d been using for the past few weeks.
If he was going to restore his reputation, he needed to take action—fast.
The holo-projector beeped as it established a connection, piggybacking Korda’s signal on an official Imperial communication.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a translucent image appeared in the air before Korda. The captain found himself looking into the glowing eyes of a masked figure, who scowled back at him from beneath a heavy hood.
“Captain, this is not a convenient time,” the figure said sharply.
“I’ve told you not to use my rank on an open channel,” Korda snapped back. “And I’ll decide whether it’s convenient or not.”
The hologram inclined its head. “Of course, sir.”
That’s better, Korda thought. It was about time he was given the respect he deserved.
“What have you discovered?” he asked.
“I am following a lead.”
This is like pulling teeth from a bantha, Korda thought. “Where?”
“That doesn’t concern you.”
“Doesn’t concern me? I’m the one paying you!”
“And the reason my fee is so high is that you insisted on complete discretion. After all, a respected Imperial officer hiring a bounty hunter? What would your superiors think?”
Korda struggled to keep his temper in check. The bounty hunter was mocking him, but he was also right. Korda was breaking every rule in the book by employing the Shade, one of the most notorious mercenaries in the Outer Rim. But it would be worth it. If the Shade could find the Grafs’ maps, Korda could use the data to make a series of incredible discoveries in Wild Space. High Command would welcome him back with open arms if he unearthed a new energy source or a cache of precious metal.
And if he got rid of the pesky Graf children in the process, well then so be it.
“Very well. I’ll expect a report—”
“Understood,” the Shade interrupted him, terminating the connection. The hologram vanished, leaving Korda fuming in silence.
Once he was back where he belonged, he would take great pleasure in executing the bounty hunter in the Emperor’s name.
Thousands of light-years away, the Shade slapped shut a wrist-mounted holo-receiver.
The bounty hunter stepped off of a shabby porch and looked up and down the narrow alley. It was empty, although the sounds of the neighboring street could be heard. This was Skree, a century-old space station hidden in the middle of a dust nebula. Away from the Empire’s prying eyes, it housed some of the worst scum in the galaxy. The Shade felt right at home.
The cloaked bounty hunter swept down the alley. It was almost time for the rendezvous. Reaching a corner, the Shade peeked around and spotted a tall alien named Meggin. He had taken the Shade’s bait—the promise of a lead on the whereabouts of the alien’s treasure-loving boss, Gozetta. Perfect.
Looking around nervously, Meggin walked into a rundown restaurant. That was the Shade’s cue. The bounty hunter crossed the busy street, following Meggin into the crumbling building. The alien was inside, looking around in confusion. The restaurant was empty—just as the Shade had arranged for it to be.
Meggin turned, his small sunken eyes widening as he saw the black sphere in the Shade’s gloved hand. With a flick of the bounty hunter’s wrist, the sphere shot through the air toward Meggin, hitting the alien in the chest. It pinned him to the wall like a Sriluurian butterfly that had been mounted on a b
oard.
“You can struggle as much as you like,” the Shade sneered, stalking forward. “But you’re trapped in a localized force field. Not even a gundark could break free of its grip.”
“W-what do you want?” Meggin stammered.
“Information,” came the reply. A hologram of two children filled the air. “Milo and Lina Graf—where are they?”
Meggin shook his head. “I don’t know who they are!”
“That’s a lie,” the Shade said calmly. “Now, let’s try this again.”
The mercenary pushed a button on the wrist-mounted comlink. Meggin cried out in pain as the metal orb pressed harder into his chest.
“I’ve just increased the gravitational pressure of the sphere. It will continue to crush you until you tell the truth,” the Shade explained.
Still, the red-skinned alien refused to answer. The Shade pressed the control again, and Meggin gasped in discomfort. The Shade smiled cruelly. It was only a matter of time before the alien talked.
Fifteen minutes later, the Shade strode out of the building. The bounty hunter had gotten his answer and was already planning the fastest route to the Outer Rim.
The Graf children were heading to Lothal, and the Shade would be waiting for them.
LINA GRAF SAT back in the Whisper Bird’s pilot seat and looked at the blue-and-green planet that lay ahead of them.
So that was Lothal.
It looked so peaceful, with clouds swirling across its surface. She had almost forgotten what peacefulness felt like. Her life had been turned upside down in the past week. Ever since the Galactic Empire had captured her parents, Lina and her brother, Milo, had escaped stormtroopers, TIE fighters, and ferocious creatures. No wonder she felt so tired. Right now, all she wanted was to roll up in a ball and go to sleep. But that wouldn’t help them find their parents.
The navicomputer beeped. The Whisper Bird would be entering Lothal’s atmosphere within a few minutes.
At least the ship was operating properly for once. The Bird had always been temperamental. It was held together by a mixture of obsolete gear and luck but had taken a real beating over the past few days. Lina had pushed the hyperdrive to the limits and every system had seemed to be on the verge of collapse. She glanced at the fault locator on the central console. No lights were flashing. No alarms sounding. Maybe that was why she felt uneasy. Was she getting used to exploding circuits and emergency repairs?
The journey to Lothal had been surprisingly free of crisis. They had dropped Sata and Meggin off in the Skree nebula and followed the signal of the transmission they had first picked up on Thune.
Lina’s fingers ran along the comms-control as she tried to find the frequency, hidden among official Imperial communications. At first there was static, but then she heard a snatch of the now familiar voice. It was a man, speaking close to a microphone.
“They say they have our best interests at heart, but it’s not true. Every day more people vanish. The Empire is lying to us. They are—”
The voice was lost in a burst of white noise as the connection broke. It didn’t matter. Meggin had told Lina and Milo that the transmissions came from Lothal’s Capital City. Maybe whoever was making the broadcasts could help them find their parents—or might know someone who could.
It was a long shot, but they were running out of options.
Lina pushed the Whisper Bird’s engines just a little harder.
They were almost there.
Somewhere behind her, there was a loud crash followed by an electronic wail.
“Milo?” Lina cried out, jumping out of her seat and racing from the cockpit. “What was that? Is it the gravity compensators? Have they overloaded?”
The only answer she received was a sharp yell from her younger brother. “Look out!”
“Milo?”
She barreled into the living quarters and ducked as something large zoomed overhead.
In front of her, Milo was rolling on the floor, laughing hysterically!
She ducked again as the heavy object swept past her head. It was their droid, CR-8R, his repulsors firing.
“Get it off me!” the droid screeched as he banged against the far wall.
“Get what off you?” Lina asked before spotting the wiry Kowakian monkey-lizard clamped around the droid’s head. The small creature was cackling as CR-8R tried to pry it off with flailing arms.
“Morq!” Lina yelled. The monkey-lizard turned his head to stare at her. He let out a panicked yelp and leapt from CR-8R’s head to hide behind Milo, who was still giggling. Meanwhile, CR-8R crashed into the holo-table and rolled across the floor before finally coming to a stop on his side.
“What are you doing?” Lina said, her hands on her hips.
“Just having a little fun,” Milo said.
“Fun?” CR-8R exclaimed, turning himself upright. “That fleabag almost ripped out my audio-receptors.”
“Well, you did say you couldn’t stand the sound of Morq’s voice!” Milo responded, the monkey-lizard peeking guiltily over his shoulder. “He was just putting his fingers in your ears for you!”
Lina couldn’t believe this. She had honestly believed that something was wrong with the ship. Instead, it had all just been another argument between their droid and Milo’s pet!
“We don’t have time for this,” she insisted. “We’re about to start descending into Lothal’s atmosphere. Crater needs to transmit a fake ID so the Imperials don’t realize we’re the Whisper Bird.”
“I remember when I used to tell you what to do,” CR-8R snapped, hovering away from the holo-table.
“She just likes to think she’s in charge,” Milo commented as he tickled Morq under the chin.
“Well, someone has to be the responsible one around here,” Lina snapped at her brother. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and be quiet!”
She stalked back to the cockpit, knowing full well that Milo and Morq would be sticking out their tongues at her back.
She didn’t care. At least CR-8R was already in position, connecting to the Bird’s computer. Ahead of them, an Imperial freighter orbited Lothal, but CR-8R’s supply of false identities would fool the Imperials into giving them permission to land.
Hopefully.
Thankfully, the false ID worked and the Whisper Bird was soon swooping down through Lothal’s bright blue sky.
Milo and Morq had joined them in the cockpit. The earlier argument was already forgotten at the sight that lay ahead.
A city of gleaming towers sat on the horizon. Each skyscraper rose majestically from the ground like a glistening needle.
“That’s where we’re heading?” Milo asked.
“Capital City,” Lina confirmed.
“It’s beautiful,” Milo said. “But what is that supposed to be?”
He pointed past the skyscrapers to a partially constructed black dome. Large cranes supported the structure as a cluster of chimneys spewed thick smoke into the atmosphere.
“The new Imperial base,” CR-8R reported. “Lothal invited the Empire here three months ago. According to the local news channel, Lothal is to be the center of a new hyperspace route, providing safe passage across the galaxy.”
Milo looked at the vast tracts of farmland below them. Massive automated machines were ripping up the crops, clearing kilometers and kilometers of wheat.
“Looks like the Empire wants more than a hyper-way,” Milo noted.
“Lothal is rich in minerals,” CR-8R reported. “I would think those farms are being cleared for mining.”
Lina frowned. The Imperial dome looked menacing, looming up behind the graceful spires of Capital City. It didn’t belong.
“Is that where we’re heading?” Milo asked, indicating a busy spaceport to the right of the city.
Lina shook her head. “I wish. I’ve booked us into a cheap landing strip on the other side of the city. It’ll be a bit of a walk.”
Milo sighed. “Because we want to keep a low profile?”
�
��No, because we’re running low on credits,” Lina explained. “Capital City is an expensive place to visit.”
“We may have another problem,” CR-8R interjected.
“Which is?” Lina asked. She didn’t want to hear any more bad news.
The droid tapped a gauge on the dashboard. “We’re running dangerously low on fuel. If we don’t replenish the fuel cells soon, we may not be able to even take off again.”
“Let’s worry about one thing at a time,” Lina said. “I can see the landing strip.”
Milo followed his sister’s gaze out the cockpit windows.
“That’s it?” he asked. The Whisper Bird had swept around the skyscrapers and was heading for a clump of squat, rundown buildings a kilometer or so from Capital City. In the middle of the shantytown lay a narrow strip of brown earth dotted with decrepit ships.
“It’s all we can afford,” Lina reminded him. “I’m taking us down.”
With Lina at the controls, the Whisper Bird touched down perfectly. Soft clay bubbled around the landing pads.
“And you’re sure the ship’s not just going to sink into the ground?” Milo said as they carefully walked down the Bird’s ramp.
“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Lina admitted. She glanced around at their surroundings. Aliens were everywhere, milling around the ships or lounging outside the rickety buildings. Lina felt like everyone’s eyes were on them.
“I suggest we keep moving,” CR-8R piped up. “Some of these characters look rather unsavory. I think I’d rather spend more time with Morq than hang around here!”
They made their way across the muddy landing strip and headed for a road that led toward Capital City.
“What about the transmission?” Milo asked the droid. “Can you track it?”
CR-8R cocked his head as they passed the first building. “I can’t even detect it anymore. Our mysterious rebel seems to have stopped broad—”
The droid stopped mid-word as a huge creature stepped in front of them. It was almost twice the size of Lina. It was a walking wall of muscle, with scaly skin and a cluster of tiny eyes beneath a solitary brow. Drool flowed uninhibited from its wide lipless mouth.
The Heist Page 1
