The Darkness

  © & TM 2017 LUCASFILM LTD.

  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 978-1-368-00895-2

  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: Inmates

  CHAPTER 2: Adrift

  CHAPTER 3: In the Dark

  CHAPTER 4: The Basement

  CHAPTER 5: On the Bridge

  CHAPTER 6: On the Loose

  CHAPTER 7: Spiders

  CHAPTER 8: A Trap

  CHAPTER 9: One Good Shot

  CHAPTER 10: Transmission

  IF HE STOOD right up on his tiptoes, Milo Graf was just able to peer out through the porthole set high into the wall of their cramped cell. He could see nothing but a blanket of deep green, dotted with flecks of white. In the center was a tiny black smudge, getting smaller and smaller as the star freighter Moveable Feast rose into the upper atmosphere.

  That shrinking dot was Capital City, bustling hub of the planet Lothal—and they were leaving it behind. Leaving behind their ship, the Whisper Bird, and Milo’s beloved Kowakian monkey-lizard, Morq, who hadn’t spent a day without his master since he’d hatched from the egg.

  And leaving behind their new friends Mira and Ephraim Bridger, who had helped Milo and his sister, Lina, right when they’d needed it most. The Bridgers were the only ones who might have been able to help the Graf children find their parents—so they were leaving that hope behind, too.

  “We’ll see them again,” Lina said, putting her arms protectively around her brother. “I know we will.”

  “No, you don’t,” Milo said softly. He could see the curve of the planet now, where the emerald shimmer of Lothal gave way to the blackness of space. “But thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

  He turned, putting on his best smile. Lina ruffled his hair.

  “What we need is some kind of plan,” she said. “There has to be a way out of here. A freighter like this wasn’t designed to hold prisoners. The Shade must have converted one of the cargo bays. So maybe there’s something she missed.”

  Lina turned, inspecting the narrow cell. Three of the walls were plate durasteel, broken only by the little porthole. The fourth was a lattice of bars as thick as Milo’s arm, inset with a sturdy gate and secured by a bulky electronic lock. It looked out into a broad hallway lined with more cells, three on either side.

  Lina peered out. “There’s a control panel down there, by that door,” she said. “Maybe we could throw something, try to hit it. Take off one of your shoes.”

  “Why my shoes?” Milo asked. “Why not one of yours?”

  “Okay, one of mine,” Lina said, reaching down. “If we hit the panel straight on, maybe it’ll trigger the lock.”

  Milo looked doubtful. “Captain Mondatha—I mean the Shade—she may be evil, but she’s not stupid. I don’t think she’d put the cell controls right where anyone could get to them.”

  “Well, it’s worth a try,” Lina said, leaning out through the bars and taking aim. “Maybe she doesn’t expect us to try a trick like this, ’cause we’re just kids. Or maybe she really is that dumb.”

  “You’ll find I’m not.” A woman’s voice echoed through the empty corridor. Milo recognized the icy tones of the bounty hunter who had betrayed and imprisoned them back on Lothal. “Throw, if you want to sit here in the dark. That’s a light switch.”

  Shalla Mondatha—or the Shade as she preferred to be known—had been set on their trail by Captain Korda, the Imperial officer who had taken their parents. Now he was after the Graf children, too, desperate to get his hands on their droid, CR-8R, and the maps the droid was carrying around in his cranial databanks. Maps to Wild Space and the countless worlds the Grafs had spent their lives exploring. What Korda would do with the maps when he found them only he knew for sure, but Milo and Lina were determined not to let him have them.

  “Where are you taking us?” Lina demanded, not sure where to direct her angry stare.

  “To Korda, of course,” the voice came back. “I just have one small errand, then I’ll let him know where to pick you up. The droid, too.”

  “Where’s CR-8R?” Milo demanded. “What have you done with him?”

  “Oh, he’s unharmed,” the Shade told him. “Look.”

  The heavy door at the end of the cell block slid open, and a familiar figure floated in. CR-8R drifted toward them, hovering on his repulsors. His golden eyes lit up when he saw the children.

  “Oh, Mistress Lina, Master Milo,” the droid fussed. “I’m so pleased to see you both safe and—”

  “Quiet,” the Shade snapped. CR-8R’s voice stopped dead. “You see? I can make him do whatever I want.”

  Lina reached out, taking CR-8R’s hand. “A restraining bolt,” she said, seeing the sturdy metal stud locked onto the droid’s breastplate. “Oh, Crate. I’m so sorry.”

  CR-8R stared back helplessly, and Milo knew that as long as that bolt was in place, the droid would be unable to help them.

  “As you see, all three of you are under my control,” the Shade cut in. “Behave yourselves, and it will all be over soon.”

  “Let us go!” Lina shouted, her temper fraying. “You’ll pay for this, I swear.”

  “No, no,” the Shade said coldly. “I’ll get paid for this. Very different.” Through the speakers they heard the drone of an alarm. “Good. They’re here.”

  The speakers cut out. Lina shook her head bitterly.

  “Don’t blame yourself, Mistress Lina,” CR-8R said. “If it’s any consolation, I was fooled, too. She did seem very friendly.”

  “Well, that’s the last time we trust a stranger.” Lina sighed. “Come here, let me take a look at that bolt.”

  Milo turned back to the porthole. Lothal was distant now, a hazy green disc on a blanket of shimmering stars.

  Then with a start he noticed that one of the stars was moving. There was a ship out there, catching the light from Lothal’s sun as it banked toward them.

  “Someone’s coming,” he told his sister.

  Lina joined him at the window. The speck of light was now recognizably a craft, its boxy, gray-white body framed by short, downward-facing wings. Laser cannons swiveled on either side of the sloping cockpit.

  “An Imperial troop transport,” Lina said.

  The craft dipped its wings as it circled above the Moveable Feast. Milo saw docking clamps extending from the base.

  “Is it Korda?” he asked, feeling the pit of his stomach plummet. “Has he come for us?”

  There was a thud as the transport docked. The cell walls shook.

  “I don’t know,” Lina said. “And I don’t want to find out. Crate, come here. If I can pry that bolt off maybe we’ve got a chance.”

  She reached through the bars, grasping at the collar around CR-8R’s neck. She pulled as hard as she could, clawing with her nails. Milo heard a snap, and there was a flash of light.

  Lina leapt back. “Yowch!” she said. “That hurt.”

  “I’m afraid the restraining bolt has been fitted with an electric charge to prevent tampering,” CR-8R explained.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?” Lina asked furiously.

  “Captain Mondatha ordered me not to,” CR-8R said. “She thought it would
be funny.”

  “And it was.” The Shade strode through the open doorway, shooting them a thin, humorless smile. She wore a dark-green robe that flapped at her ankles, and her boot heels rang on the metal floor. “Honestly, girl, what kind of fool do you take me for?”

  “The kind that locks up kids and makes deals with the Empire,” Lina shot back. “Korda will kill you just for having seen us.”

  “He might try,” the bounty hunter admitted. “He wouldn’t be the first. But that’s later. Now, join me in welcoming our guests.”

  Milo felt his heartbeat quicken as three Imperial stormtroopers marched in lockstep through the doorway. Their armor gleamed, helmets turning left and right as their black eyes scanned the cell block.

  “You said you weren’t taking us to him right away,” Milo protested. “You said—”

  “Be quiet,” the Shade snapped. “They’re dropping off, not picking up. Not everything is about you.”

  As she spoke, Milo noticed that each of the troopers had a length of metal chain wrapped around his fist. One gave a tug and an alien stumbled through the doorway, almost tripping as he lurched into the cell block. He was a Lasat, Milo quickly identified, a large humanoid species from the Outer Rim planet Lasan, with a barrel chest and bulging arms. He raised his bald head and Milo saw that his face was looped with scars, from tiny pockmarks to great grooves cut deep into his skin. His eyes were cast into shadow by his shelflike forehead.

  A human male followed, bound like the first by the wrists and ankles. He was the complete opposite of his fellow prisoner, pale and skinny with a shock of red hair standing upright on his bobbing head. The young man shot Milo a friendly wink, his green eyes gleaming.

  The troopers nodded a greeting to Captain Mondatha. “Payment on arrival at Noctu, as agreed,” said one.

  “Provided they’re still in one piece,” the other added.

  “They won’t give me any trouble,” the Shade assured them, gesturing to a large cell at the far end of the corridor. “You can put the big one down there. The other can go in here.”

  One of the troopers shoved the red-haired man into the cell opposite Milo and Lina, slamming the gate behind him. The Shade tapped in a code and the lock slid home.

  “Hey, what are those two in for?” the prisoner asked, gesturing at the Graf children.

  The Shade frowned. “I’m teaching them what happens if you don’t eat your vegetables.”

  The Lasat lumbered along the corridor, barely glancing at Milo and Lina as he passed. The trooper yanked the chain impatiently and the prisoner stumbled, grunting.

  “I told you what’d happen if you did that again,” the scarred alien said, his voice a grinding rumble like stones in an avalanche.

  “Quiet, scum,” the trooper said, giving the chain another tug.

  The Lasat staggered again. But instead of falling he lunged at the trooper, shoving him forward. The trooper hit the cell gate with a crunch and rebounded into the massive prisoner, who wrapped his arms around the trooper’s chest and began to squeeze.

  The second stormtrooper shoved past the Shade, grabbing the big alien and trying to pull him away. But the prisoner swept out with one massive arm, knocking the trooper off his feet. Milo and Lina jerked back as the trooper slammed into the bars of their cell and fell in a clattering heap to the floor.

  The Shade took a step forward, drawing something from her belt—a durasteel pole about as long as her arm. She flicked a switch and blue energy rippled along the shaft.

  She tapped the convict lightly on the back of the neck with the tip of the pole. There was a spark and the Lasat slumped, unconscious before he hit the floor.

  The trooper fought free from beneath the big alien’s body, rolling and shoving the sleeping giant into his cell and slamming the door.

  The Shade tapped in the lock code. “Seemed like you needed help,” she said. “Don’t worry, it won’t cost you extra.”

  “We could’ve handled it,” the trooper grunted. His companion was picking himself up, brushing the dust from his armor.

  “Of course you could,” the bounty hunter agreed politely. “Now please, allow me to escort you back to your ship. Droid, with me.”

  As the door slid shut behind them, Milo heard a strange wheezing noise. The younger prisoner was sitting on the floor of the opposite cell, rocking back and forth with tears of laughter streaming down his face.

  “Did you see that?” he asked, slapping his leg. “Beautiful. Just beautiful. That Davin, he’s not exactly a charmer but he does have his moments.”

  Milo looked at the prone figure lying in the next cell. The alien’s chest rose and fell, snores echoing off the steel walls.

  “So what are you in for, really?” the red-haired convict asked when his laughter had subsided.

  Lina eyed him suspiciously. “That’s our business,” she said.

  The man held up his hands. “Sure it is,” he said. “You’re a little younger than I’d expect is all. But I’m sure the Empire has its reasons. It always does, right?” He winked again.

  “Did that trooper say we’re going to Noctu?” Milo asked.

  The man nodded. “Sure are,” he said. “Straight to the asteroid mines. And you know no one ever comes back from there….Still, it’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have gotten caught. I talk too much, that’s my trouble.”

  He shook his head ruefully. “Name’s Stel, by the way. And that lump of meat over there, that’s Davin. But you don’t really need to know that, because he won’t speak to you, and if you’ve got any sense you won’t speak to him, neither.”

  “He’s…dangerous?” Milo asked.

  Stel laughed. “Dangerous? Davin?” he snorted. “You never heard of the butcher of Brentaal IV?”

  Milo shook his head.

  “They only caught him last week,” Stel said. “He’s been on the run for years, outwitting them at every turn. But they ran him down in the end. But look, don’t mention any of this stuff when he wakes up, okay? He’s a little touchy, in case you didn’t notice.”

  Milo shook his head quickly, watching as the pale man lay back, resting his head against the wall and closing his eyes.

  “He seems friendly,” he whispered to Lina. “Maybe—”

  “Don’t say it,” Lina said quickly. “This time, we’re going to figure things out on our own.”

  “DOES HE EVER shut up?” Milo whispered as Stel’s voice droned through the prison block.

  “Well, sometimes he’s asleep,” Lina reminded him.

  She had to admit, her brother had a point. She didn’t know how long it had been since the two prisoners had been brought in, but Stel had been talking for most of it.

  They’d heard the Imperial craft detach, and shortly afterward Lina had felt that familiar rolling lurch in her stomach and knew the Moveable Feast had made the jump to hyperspace. Stel had dropped off to sleep, and soon the children had done the same, curling up together on the hard metal floor. Lina had awoken to find Milo clutching her arm so tightly it was almost painful, muttering and twitching in his sleep. For a moment she thought they were back on the Whisper Bird, in the little cot they’d sometimes shared on long space voyages, back when they were small.

  But when she sat up and opened her eyes, it had all come flooding back. This cramped cell, those sturdy bars, that piercing light. And worst of all a pair of eyes staring at her, unflinching and hard. Davin squatted on his haunches, his fists clenched. Lina had tried a friendly wave, but the Lasat had just hung his head.

  Stel had awoken shortly afterward, and after greeting his fellow inmates with a cheery grin, he’d started talking and, so far, had forgotten to stop. He’d told them about his childhood on Lothal, how he’d grown up in his uncle’s repair shop and learned everything there was to know about ships before going on to the Academy, where he’d learned everything there was to know about the Republic and the Empire and every other subject in the galaxy.

  “You need the answer to any question,
big or small, you just ask old Stel,” he was saying. “Exobiology, engine maintenance, the best drinking den in Mos Eisley spaceport, you name it, just ask.”

  “How do we get out of here?” Lina asked, only half joking.

  Stel looked at her, and for a brief moment he was silent. Then he slapped his leg and laughed. “You got me, sister,” he said. “That one, I do not know.”

  “Also, when’s she going to feed us?” Milo asked.

  Again, Stel looked stumped. “That’s a good one, too,” he admitted. “It’s been hours, right? And nothing but a cup of cold water.” He drained the small tin cup, tossing it aside with a clang. “That droid said he’d come back right away, and he never did. Here, take this for now.”

  He threw something through the bars into Milo’s lap. It was a food bar, Imperial issue.

  “Where did you get that?” Lina asked suspiciously.

  “One of those stormtrooper boys on the last ship,” Stel said. “I can be pretty charming when I want to be.”

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Milo asked him.

  “Sure.” Stel shrugged. “But I can wait. I know growing boys need to eat.”

  “Thank you,” Lina said as Milo tore the bar open and began to chew. “You’re very kind.”

  She almost gave the young man a friendly smile, then she stopped herself. They could trust no one. However nice they might seem.

  She thought back to CR-8R’s last appearance. It was as Stel had said. The droid had handed each of them a tin cup filled with stale, ship-stored water, and Milo had asked when they were going to eat. CR-8R had promised to return as soon as he’d served his mistress, but he never came back.

  Lina felt a twinge of discomfort. CR-8R would never let them down; he’d know they must be starving by now. But he didn’t have control over his own body. Maybe he wanted to come back, but the Shade wouldn’t allow it.

  “So what’s the deal with this bounty hunter?” Stel asked, pressing his face between the bars. “You known her long?”

  “Not long,” Milo said. “She seemed nice at first, then she turned on us.”

  Lina shot him a stern glance, warning him not to say any more.