Star Wars: Shadow of the Sith

Chapter 1WILD SPACE, COORDINATES UNKNOWNNOWAt first, there was nothing but empty space. And then the * appeared, mass and form and structure. Here to there, crossing boundless gulfs of space, as easy as pulling a lever. It was almost magical in its simplicity.Right then, however, the *’s overheating navicomputer begged to differ.For a moment, the battered old freighter just floated, hanging in space, like a garu-bear coming out of a long hibernation, taking stock of its surroundings.And then the * shuddered and began listing to portside, carving a long, slow spiral that was suddenly accelerated as an aft impulse stabilizer failed in a shower of white sparks. The *’s nose dipped even further, the starboard engine now sputtering, a loose cover plate revealing a dangerous red glow from beneath.For the pilot and her two passengers, the situation had just gone from bad, to worse.Two days. That was all they’d managed. Two days out from Jakku, limping along in a * that shouldn’t be flying at all, but was the only hulk they’d managed to jack from Unkar Plutt’s scrapyard outside of Niima Outpost. And it didn’t look like they were going to make it much farther.Just a few hours earlier, they dared to think that maybe . . . they’d made it? They’d gotten out of their homestead, their all-purpose house droid, handcrafted from more scrap and salvage, sacrificing itself as it led the hunters astray. Then they found the * (truth be told, they had long ago earmarked it for such a day—a day they hoped would never come). Launched it, just themselves, a bag of toys and books and blankets, a handful of credits, the clothes on their backs. Pointed the navicomputer along a vector that would take them way out of range (so they hoped). And buckled in for the ride.But now? The * had barely survived the initial trip. Escaping to Wild Space had been a desperate move, but was far from the endgame. It was supposed to be where they could hide, just for a while, take the time to make a plan and plot a course.Those options now seemed decidedly more limited as they floated adrift. They’d escaped Jakku, only to . . . what? Die in the cold reaches of space, the old freighter now nothing but a tomb for the three of them, lost forever on the outskirts of the galaxy, their passing unmourned, their names unremembered.Dathan, Miramir.Rey.The freighter’s interior was as old and battered as the exterior—the flight deck was cramped and functional, the old-fashioned design requiring not just pilot and copilot but navigator, the third seat at the back of the cabin, facing away from the forward viewports. For this trip, they’d had to make do with a crew of just two.The pilot’s seat was occupied by a young woman, her long blond hair corralled loosely with a blue tie that matched the color of her cloak, the sleeves of her cream tunic rolled up as she leaned over the control console in front of her, one hand gripping the uncooperative yoke, the other flying over buttons and switches as she fought to control the shuddering *. The forward view, as seen through the angled, heavily scratched transparisteel viewport, showed the starscape ahead sliding diagonally as the freighter’s spin accelerated.Behind her, a young man, his dark hair short, the beginnings of a beard over his jaw, knelt on the decking behind the navigator’s seat. His arms were wrapped around it and its small occupant, the child cradled in a padded nest formed out of a bright, multicolored blanket, a stark contrast with the drab, greasy gunmetal of the flight deck.The man craned his neck around as he watched his wife wrestle with the controls, then he stood and leaned down to kiss the head of the six-year-old girl strapped securely in the seat, a large pair of navigator’s sound-deadening headphones over her ears. In front of the girl, the ancient navigation panel—a square matrix of hundreds of individual tiny square lights—flashed in multicolored patterns of moving shapes, a simple game the girl’s mother had loaded