Клаудия Грэй: Into the Dark

He whispered back, “It sounds like—like this is a pretty epic disaster. Many people have already been killed.”

Killed . The word was so final, so absolute. Reath suddenly felt ashamed to have been unhappy about his frontier assignment, to have been unhappy about his future when so many beings had lost their futures entirely.

Then a new transmission came through, louder than the rest:

“ All hyperspace lanes should be considered closed until further notice. For travelers beyond the boundaries of the Republic, through to the Outer Rim, we reiterate that hyperspace is currently unnavigable and extremely hazardous. All traffic is advised that hyperspace travel should be avoided at all costs. ”

“Well, that’s that.” Leox shut the transmissions off. “You heard the lady. Looks like we’re sticking around here for a while.”

“Where is here?” Reath asked.

Affie replied, “Pretty much nowhere.”

They were in a near-empty corner of space, unable to either move forward or get back home. For now, and for an unknowable amount of time to come, they were stranded.

“Listen,” Leox said. “Sure, we can look at this as being marooned in deep space. But when you think about it, it’s all just space, really.”

Reath was uncomforted. He went to the bridge, which at least felt potentially useful, and for one moment was alone with Geode, who still sat—stood?—at the navigator’s station. “Um,” Reath began. “Hi. This is terrible, huh?”

“Please,” Affie whispered as she entered the bridge just after him. “Don’t try to talk to him about it yet. Geode’s incredibly sensitive.”

“Of course,” Reath said. “But—I thought you said he was a wild man?”

Leox, who was passing by, interjected, “His is a capricious nature, one of many moods and climes.” After that, and a fond glance at Geode, he continued on his way. Reath studied Geode for a few seconds, wondering what exactly he was missing, because it was just a big rock sitting there.

Affie settled into the copilot’s seat, apparently to kill time, but then frowned at a blinking sensor. “What’s that?”

“Is it more damage to the ship? Something else we need to repair?” Reath was only beginning to realize how badly he needed something to do, to make him feel less helpless.

Affie shook her head. “It’s a beacon. A signal beacon. Not an actual message, but an indicator from a ship nearby that needs help.”

“Nearby?” Reath asked. “How near does that mean?”

“Within this system, reachable by sublight,” Affie said slowly. “We’re not alone. Somebody’s out there.”

“Don’t answer!” Orla called. She’d been walking by the bridge, apparently, but had halted at their words. “You don’t know who’s out there.” Her gaze had gone distant. “You never know.”

Padawans Orla Jareni and Cohmac Vitus were steering the T-1 shuttle through hyperspace, and Orla couldn’t believe her luck. To judge by the grin on Cohmac’s face, he was equally pleased.

It was the role of a Padawan to do whatever task a Master required help with. Yes, sometimes this included thrilling acts of heroism, but it could also involve mending robes or cleaning the floors. Piloting a ship counted as a high-quality assignment, particularly when that meant bringing them closer to another, even more exciting task: rescuing two kidnapped rulers from the system of Eiram and E’ronoh.

This system lay far beyond the Republic’s borders, in an area that had long resisted Republic membership or help—which the residents labeled “interference.” While Jedi occasionally traveled into this zone of space, such voyages were rare, and the citizens seemed determined to keep it that way. This was, they proclaimed, independent space.

So the fact that these two worlds had called for the Jedi’s assistance was hugely promising. A successful mission might finally bridge the gap between this area and the Republic.

(Master Laret had pointed out that if these planets were willing to ask for help from within the Republic, the situation was undoubtedly a thorny one. But Orla was undaunted.)

Probably this hostage crisis could’ve been resolved by the two worlds working together—something neither planet was willing to do. Eiram and E’ronoh occupied a system that served as a waypoint through hyperspace; they held a gateway, one that had long remained closed to the rest of the galaxy. This could’ve led to immense power for both worlds, had they been willing to share it. Instead, they competed for control of the region, belligerently dealing with those who dared to violate their space, each limiting traffic almost to nothing. Eiram and E’ronoh weren’t actively fighting a war against each other, but intelligence suggested a bitter standoff between the two, one that had lasted for more than a century. Its origins were obscure and, by then, beside the point. Eiram hated E’ronoh. E’ronoh hated Eiram. The end.

Until royalty from each planet had been kidnapped and ransomed.

“It is both a great honor and a great opportunity that these people have called to the Jedi for help,” Master Laret had said when she briefed Orla on the way to the spaceport. “We can do more than save these two rulers. We can prevent a war. We may even be able to open another part of the galaxy.”

Orla had never had an assignment so significant before. Very few Jedi ever had. She didn’t intend to let her master down.

Not again.

Of late, Orla had been asking too many questions. Challenging the decisions of the Jedi Council—only to Master Laret, of course, but still. At first Master Laret had heard her out and even gently debated her, but her patience was being tested.

“To be a Jedi is to serve ,” Master Laret had said. “How do you intend to serve if you keep questioning every command?”

The rare rebuke from her master still stung. So this time, Orla would prove how willing she was to serve the Order. She wasn’t going to question a single thing.

Nobody knew whether the moon had once orbited Eiram or E’ronoh, only that it had, at some point countless millennia past, drifted from its orbit and come to rest in dead space between the two worlds. The moon was so devoid of any value that Eiram and E’ronoh didn’t even bother fighting over it. It just hung there, obscure and ignored.

Which was why almost nobody knew about the caves and tunnels deep within the lunar salt flats, and why the caves were a perfect hideout for those who did not wish to be found.

It was the only element of the kidnapping plan that could be called “perfect.” The rest of it left much to be desired.

“Fools!” Isamer growled. The bulky Lasat threw the nearest thing he could reach at his lieutenants; it turned out to be a heavy chair, so they were lucky to dodge it. “How could you kidnap the wrong queen ?”

At the far end of the cavern huddled two hostages, each bound with metal cuffs, each wearing finery that had been stained and torn during their abduction. Monarch Cassel of E’ronoh, a bright blue Pantoran, looked extremely nervous about his situation, which indicated more intelligence than Cassel was generally credited with. Next to him sat the tawny-skinned human Queen Thandeka of Eiram, who looked furious . Isamer could crush most humans without even trying, and Thandeka was a small woman—but he was grateful she had no blaster.

One of the lieutenants pointed toward Thandeka, specifically to the silvery coronet woven through her thick black braids. “She wears their crown—the manifest reported the queen was on board—”

“Yes.” Isamer folded his massive arms in front of his chest. “The queen consort was on board. The queen consort is the one who’s married to the ruler. On Eiram, the ruler is Queen Dima—the queen regnant . In other words, the useful one!”