Finding a niche — the call of the Force

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel couldn't stop staring at her X-wing fighter.

She pushed her dark hair out of her eyes and sighed, forcing herself to turn around so she could no longer see the compact, deadly starfighter where it sat on its landing gear in the centre of the hangar. Her fellow pilots knew she wanted nothing more than to get back into space.

But she was on droid duty that week. Her job was to inventory the base's astromechs and make sure they were ready for duty-programming updated, flight instruments tested and confirmed as operational. It wasn't the worst job in the squadron — assisting the maintenance techs with a fuel-system clean out was much dirtier — but Sorel was sure it was the most boring. But she’d volunteered for the assignment as she sought to understand her true role in the galaxy.

Her datapad beeped for her attention, and she looked down at it with a sigh, then at the cone-headed R4 unit rolling by on its three stubby legs. The droid was painted in an orange-and-white checkerboard pattern, probably the work of a bored tech with time to kill.

"You there, droid," she called out. "Need you to hold up a sec for operations check."

The astromech whistled mournfully, no happier than Sorel about the need for an inspection. But it came to a stop and popped open a panel on its dome to expose a diagnostics port. Sorel aimed her datapad at the port and the pad blinked, beginning to exchange data with the droid's systems. She sat down cross-legged on the hangar deck and resigned herself to wait.

"Excuse me, but might I be of assistance?" a voice asked brightly.

Sorel looked up into the expressionless face of her droid. It was an old model —practically an antique — with dozens of dings and dents.

"I don't think so, but thanks," Sorel said. "It's droid duty — the diagnostics program pretty much runs itself."

"But not terribly efficiently," said the HK droid, sounding disappointed. “As I said, perhaps I could be of assistance. I just installed a very exciting new Tranlang database and despite my primary programming, was latterly used as a protocol droid and so I am fluent in nearly seven million forms of communication — including, of course, the relatively primitive languages spoken by astromechs and diagnostics readers."

The R4 unit squawked indignantly.

"Insult you?" the HK droid said, drawing back in surprise. "I did nothing of the sort, you hypersensitive little dustbin. Your method of communication is primitive — I was merely stating a fact. Why, you don't even have a proper vocabulator."

The R4 unit honked and swivelled its dome to stare at the HK droid with its single electronic eye.

"Don't move," Sorel said. "You'll break the data link and then—“

Her datapad beeped plaintively.

"Now we have to start all over," she said.

The astromech hooted accusingly at the HK droid.

"My fault?" HK replied. "Don't be ridiculous. She told you not to move. Master, might I suggest—“

"You know what, HK? I've got this. It's a simple procedure, really. I'm sure you have many more important things to do."

"You would think so, given that my specialties include communications and protocol," HK said. "But it so happens I have completed all my tasks for the day. I was going to suggest that this R4 unit might benefit from a memory wipe. When they start taking offence at every helpful suggestion, it's often a sign of flux in the motivator cortex."

The R4 unit blew an electronic raspberry at HK, but this time remained still while the diagnostic program ran. Sorel rolled her eyes as the HK droid continued to chatter away. She began to wonder if liberating it was such a good idea.

The R4 unit chirped inquiringly at her, and she patted its dome absentmindedly.

"Your programs are up to date — report to the droid pool," she said, turning back to the HK droid. She felt uncomfortable calling it hers, despite the fact it referred to her as its Master.

Just then the klaxons sounded and she waved the droid away as she boarded her ship as pilots poured into the hangar and the X-wings were scrambled.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel sensed the TIE fighter twisting for a shot at her unprotected stern even before her R4 unit squealed a warning and her sensors began flashing red.

She didn't know how he knew, just that she did — the Force was like that. Her hands went automatically to the control yokes of her X-wing fighter and hauled them back and to the left, sending the craft spinning to port. Laser fire stitched space where her fighter had been a moment before, leaving Sorel blinking from the brilliant glare.

"I saw him! I saw him!" Sorel told R4-K2 even as the X-wing completed its roll and locked on to the enemy fighter's tail. Sorel mashed down the triggers and the TIE erupted into a ball of fire. Her X-wing shot through the cloud of dust and gas, shuddering slightly.

From the droid socket behind her cockpit, Kaytoo let out a squeal of annoyance.

"It was not too close," Sorel said. "You keep the fighter flying and let me worry about what to do with it."

She opened up the throttle and dodged a pair of freight tenders, their ion engines glowing a brilliant blue. Like many other starships above the planet, they were racing away from the space lanes as fast as their engines could take them, desperate to escape the firefight that had suddenly erupted between three X-wings and a patrol of TIE fighters.

Sorel’s eyes jumped to her long-range scopes, noting the position of the two green arrowheads on the screen. Those two symbols represented the X-wings. One X-wing was in the lead, protecting a transport being evacuated from the planet below. The other two — including herself — were in the rear, keeping the TIEs busy.

Her fellow pilot had drifted too far to port for Sorel’s liking; if he ran into trouble, she wasn't sure she could get there in time to help. And there was no shortage of trouble up there — the enemy had apparently sent every fighter it had in the system to engage them.

"Tighten it up — we're each other's protection out here," Sorel warned, her experience belying her tender years and her fellow pilot’s accepted the fact.

"Gotcha, Crieff,” said Jack. "I was chasing a bandit."

"And did you get him?"

"His wingman did — flew right into him when I came up on their flank."

"That counts," Sorel said, unsmiling but none the less a trace of humour in her tone.

"Less chatter," said the cool, clipped voice of the flight leader. "With all this traffic out here there are a lot of places for enemies to hide. You need your eyes as well as your instruments."

"Copy, Leader," said a chastened Sorel.

Their leader, Colback, was a veteran pilot but Sorel knew she had skill with the Force. So she had skill with the Force, yes. But so did many in the galaxy — it was, in her mind, what she did with that gift that mattered.

"You in there, Sorel?” asked Jack, echoed by an inquiring beep from Kaytoo. "The boss wants us to turn to point two-two."

"Right, right," Sorel said, mentally kicking herself. None of her musings about the Force would do her any good if she got herself killed — and daydreaming during a firefight was an excellent way to do that.

She banked to starboard until her fighter was on the course the leader wanted. Ahead of them, a line of bulk freighters was cutting across the space lanes, their bows turning every which direction as their pilots tried to avoid a collision. The ungainly ships reminded Sorel of a herd of banthas huddled together for protection against predators.

"Get behind me, Jack,” Sorel said. "We'll scoot and shoot."

"Right with you," her wing-man said, hitting his retrorockets and dropping astern of Sorel’s X-wing, then accelerating until he was flying practically on her tail. Any inbound enemies would be able to target only Sorel’s fighter, with Jack scooting up and down to emerge from cover and fire at their attackers. It was a tricky manoeuvre — both pilots had to know each other's tendencies in combat, but more than that they had to trust each other completely. Even a month before Sorel wouldn't have dared to try it, but since then she'd flown numerous missions with Jack. They could now fly in perfect formation, anticipating each other's movements without speaking a word.

“Kaytoo, switch the deflectors to double front," Sorel said, ignoring the astromech's sulky beep that he'd already done so.

She rolled across the topside of one of the bulk freighters, then dove beneath the next one, juking and weaving to throw off any TIEs that might be trying to get a bead on her. Ahead, three bogeys wheeled through space, green fire lancing out from their blaster cannons. Laser fire splashed against her shields, which flared with the impact. She broke to starboard while Jack broke to port, their cannons spitting energy. One of the TIEs vanished in a fountain of fire, while another lurched drunkenly, one solar panel bent and spraying sparks. The third TIE was rising, up and away from the fight.

“Jack! Down!"

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel thrust her stick forward, throwing the X-wing into a dive that slammed her back in her seat, grunting with effort. Laser blasts burst all around her, dazzling her eyes. She dodged left, then right, ignoring Kaytoo's flurry of protests. She had no time to peer at her readout and see if Jack was still alive, or if his X-wing had been turned into a superheated cloud by the quartet of TIEs that had been lurking in the heart of the freighter convoy, waiting to ambush them.

"How did you-" Jack began, then stopped. "You know, for just an hour I'd like to know what it's like to fly with the Force watching my back."

"It's almost as good as having you watching my back," Sorel said, now with a grin. "Now let's make them pay for that little trick. Kaytoo, dial up the inertial compensators."

Sorel slewed her fighter around in a tight turn, grimacing at the sound of some overstressed system groaning in the port wing. Jack followed her, weaving around Sorel’s X-wing and filling the space ahead of them with deadly spears of light. Two laser blasts ripped one of the TIEs in half, while another flew too close to a freighter's engine wash and tumbled out of control.

"Two left," Sorel said. "I'll take the one to port."

She opened up the throttle, and the distance between her and the TIE ahead began to shrink. To starboard, she could see Jack’s fighter matching her manoeuvre. The TIE dodged in every direction, the pilot's desperation increasingly obvious, but Sorel hung right on his tail.

And then... what was that? It felt like something was in her mind, something elusive. Like a word hse couldn't quite call to mind even though it was on the tip of her tongue. It was no doubt the Force — but what was it trying to tell her? Kaytoo whistled urgently and Sorel shook her head, trying to chase the odd feeling away. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Jack rolled down and right, then up and left, bracketing the TIE in his sights. A moment later the fighter he'd been chasing was a bright cloud in their wake as they continued to race up and away from the planet.

"You need a little help there, Sorel?” Wedge asked, a little concerned.

Sorel smacked the side of her helmet, annoyed with herself. She needed to focus.

"I've got it, thanks," she said, rolling her fighter completely over and blasting the TIE's starboard panel off with a volley of shots while flying upside down. She brought the X-wing right side up as the crippled TIE tumbled past her, the cockpit oscillating wildly around its remaining solar panel. Then Sorel settled her X-wing in beside Jack’s, their wingtips just meters apart.

"I was just asking," Jack said. "No need to get fancy."

Kaytoo squawked derisively.

"Nice flying," Colback said in their ears. "The package is clear and calculating the jump into hyperspace. Activate your scatter protocols and we'll meet at the rendezvous point."

"Copy that, boss," Jack said. "Activating protocol now. See you on the other side, Sorel.”

A moment later the leader’s X-wing vanished into the infinity of hyperspace, followed by Jack’s.

"Access the jump pattern, Kaytoo," Sorel said.

Procedure was for each pilot to follow a randomly chosen zigzag path through hyperspace, making several jumps to foil any enemy that might be tracking his or her fighter. That way, if the worst occurred, only one fighter would be lost instead of a whole squadron — or the entire fleet.

Kaytoo beeped at Sorel that he'd accessed the coordinates and locked them into the navicomputer, then followed that up with a fusillade of hoots and whistles. Sorel glanced at her screen, where the little droid's excited communications were translated into language she could understand.

"I'm sure there will be patrols searching for us," Sorel said. "That's why we follow scatter protocol."

Sorel missed whatever Kaytoo whistled in response — that feeling was back in her head again, like a voice whose words she couldn't quite make out. She knew it was the Force. But this time, it wasn't assisting her actions. Instead, it felt like it was trying to get her attention.

"What's that, Kaytoo? Yes, I'm functioning normally. But you can take over flight duties till we get to the rendezvous.”

Kaytoo beeped questioningly.

"I'm fine, buddy,” Sorel said. "Honest. But take the stick anyway. I want to try Meditating while we're in hyperspace. Maybe that will help me figure out what it is the Force keeps trying to tell me."

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Outside Sorel’s cockpit, hyperspace was an ever-changing tunnel of brilliant light. Inside, the Jedi pilot had her eyes closed and was breathing slowly in and out.

She knew the basics of Jedi meditation, but understood that opening a connection to the Force was something even the eldest Jedi Masters studied over a lifetime. She focussed on whatever emotions were uppermost in her mind, being honest with herself about the feelings she was experiencing and how they were affecting her. And then, one by one, she let each emotion go, like pouring out a cup of water. The goal was to make herself an empty vessel. Only then, would the Force be able to fill her.

What emotions was she feeling? She considered the question. She was excited about the successful completion of their mission — that was in her mind. And she was anxious —the Force was trying to tell her something, but she had no Master with her to help her interpret its messages.

She pushed the thought gently away. Don't centre on your anxieties — keep your concentration here and now, where it belongs. Her Master had taught her that.

She examined each emotion in turn — first the excitement, then the anxiety — and then she imagined herself pouring them out, to vanish amid the whirling tumult of hyperspace. For a long time, she simply sat in the cockpit and let her mind drift. She was prone to Force Visions and she wondered if this was to another.

There was green grass under her feet. No, not grass — stones. She was standing on flagstones, but they were so overgrown with grass that at first she'd thought she was standing in some kind of meadow. Trees had grown up through the stones, forming a glade in what had once been a courtyard.

She heard water nearby. She turned and saw a fountain, surrounded by statues of people in robes. They were faceless and without limbs — they'd been sheared off by energy weapons, the surfaces blackened. The fountain was destroyed, too — but water still burbled up from inside it, spilling out through the broken walls and across the glade.

Something made a strange noise, a little like the lowing of a bantha or a dewback. Among the trees, birds and insects flitted between branches. Beyond them stood a group of horned animals, their sides grey and scaly.

She realised one of her lightsabers was in her hand. And then she sensed something else. She looked up and saw three remotes hovering nearby — remotes like the ones they used at the Academy for saber practice.

Three? She could fend off three — she had no trouble anticipating the actions of them now. And the Force was very strong there. She could feel it all around her, a living thing, like wind or rain.

And it was telling her that something wasn't right.

The horned creatures were pawing at the grass, muttering in distress.

And then she could feel it. Something dark and wicked was nearby, bent on her destruction.

She slipped on a loose flagstone, nearly falling to her knees before he recovered her balance — and found herself gazing into the infinite kaleidoscope of hyperspace. She was breathing heavily, she realised, and sweat was running into her eyes behind her goggles.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Kaytoo tootled something, and Sorel glanced at the translation on her screen.

"I know my heart rate is up — I can feel that myself," she said. "But I'm okay now. It was the Force. It was showing me something — a vision, I guess you'd say."

But what did the vision mean? She'd been practicing with her lightsabers, in a place where the Force surrounded her. Yet her life had been in danger. If only the vision had lasted a moment longer, perhaps she might have learned what it meant instead of having to guess.

Her screen lit up with a series of messages from Kaytoo.

Sorel laughed.

"I agree the Force would be more useful if it gave me an actual message instead of random data," she said. "But that's not how it works. I'll just have to keep my mind open and hope the next thing it tells me is easier to understand."

A refueling station hung above the mottled green-and-yellow sphere of the planet ahead, its navigational lights blinking green and red against the stars. Sorel took back the controls from her droid and guided her X-wing down toward the station and the pitted bulk of an ancient freighter nestled against it.

Kaytoo tweetled happily and Sorel nodded: her sensors showed two X-wings attached to the freighter's underside.

"Looks like the others beat us here," she said.

"Approaching starfighter, identify," said a stern voice over the comm.

"Little Sister coming home to Mama," Sorel said.

"Acknowledged," the voice said, its tone more friendly now. "Nice to have the family back together."

Sorel eased the X-wing beneath the freighter, goosing the retrorockets as a flexible docking tube descended from the larger ship's underside, like the questing tentacle of some great beast. The tube locked itself over the X-wing's cockpit and droid socket, clamping tight. Once Kaytoo tweeted that they were successfully docked, Sorel popped her cockpit's canopy and clambered up a flexible ladder in the tube, waving to her droid where he waited in the fighter's droid socket.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

She emerged in the freighter's main hold, where her wing-man and leader were indeed waiting for her, their flight helmets under their arms.

"Sorry I'm late," Sorel said, relieved to finally shed her own helmet. She'd spent many hours as a child dreaming about flying a fighter in deep space, yet somehow none of those fantasies had included the fact that helmets smelled awful, left you sweaty, and gave you a headache.

"You're not late," Colback said. “You were assigned a more complicated scatter pattern, with additional jumps."

"Flyboys like us are a credit a dozen," Jack said. "Heroic Jedi like you get special treatment."

Jack grinned to show he was kidding, but Sorel’s face fell anyway. Her life shouldn't be more important than the lives of her fellow pilots.

Colback clapped Sorel on the shoulder and smiled.

“Then you definitely won't like this special treatment,” he said. "Orders direct from the fleet - the high-ups have asked you to retrieve logs of communications that were intercepted by several cells along the Shipwrights' Trace."

Sorel groaned. All she wanted to do was fly her X-wing in combat, not fetch data tapes. But she couldn't ignore an order from the leadership.

"Those logs could give us a picture of operations on the entire trade route," Colback said. "Think of it as your chance to see more of the galaxy, Padawan Crieff. The mission details have been loaded into your astromech. He's on his way to Docking Bay 12 to do preflight on your Y-wing - you'll be flying one of the two-seat models."

Sorel scowled. The Y-wings were ungainly fighters, slower and less manoeuvrable than X-wings. And the two-seat configuration suggested someone was coming with her - she hoped it wasn't some member of the diplomatic corps who'd spend the journey practicing speeches and getting space-sick.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

"Good luck, Crieff,” Colback said with a smile. Sorel wasn't sure whether he was referring to the recruiting mission or the chances of surviving a journey with a diplomat.

"Yeah, Sorel - enjoy your flying brick," Jack said.

The two turned away, but then Colback stopped and looked over his shoulder, his expression grave.

"Watch out for pirate patrols, Crieff,” he said. "The planet’s lightly garrisoned, but it's not too far from hyperspace lanes."

Sorel nodded and headed to the docking bay.

The corridors of the refueling station were filled with a mix of species - horned Devaronians rubbed shoulders with green-skinned Duros, while diminutive Aleena dodged massive Herglics. The blank walls were interrupted here and there by windows revealing the planet below.

Sorel had shed her flight suit and put on her Jedi robes, her lightsabers hung beneath her robes , concealed from view. Then she stopped at one of the windows overlooking the planet. She continued to stare. Someone or something down there was calling to her.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel reached out with her mind in hopes of figuring out what the Force was asking her to do. Was this planet where she was supposed to go? Was it somehow connected with her vision?

But she could sense nothing else. She turned away from the green-and-yellow planet with a frown.

“I need to get to my fighter if I’m to make the first rendezvous," Sorel said out loud.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------​

As her Y-Wing fighter climbed away from the refuelling station, Sorel glanced back down at the planet, hoping for some new signal from the Force. Shee was still staring at the jungles far below when Kaytoo beeped to get her attention.

"Sorry, Kaytoo," Sorel said. "Access the jump pattern."

On this flight the churning infinity of faster-than-light travel brought Sorel no comfort — her anxieties seemed to press in on her despite her attempts to empty her mind of them. What had the Force been trying to tell her back there above the planet? Should she have waited for the strange feeling to return?

Perhaps the Force was trying to tell her that she was supposed to be learning to command its power instead of fetching communications logs. Learning the ways of the Force was what put into the galaxy for, wasn’t it?

What if the Force was trying to stop her from making a mistake?

The scatter program brought her Y-wing out of hyperspace in a remote system, which was little more than a sparse collection of dust and rock around a red dwarf, marked by a navigational beacon left there thousands of years before by a long-dead Republic survey team.

It was a lonely place — but not, as it turned out, an empty one.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

“Unknown fighter,” a voice said in Sorel’s cockpit. “This is a restricted system. Shut down all flight systems and prepare for inspection.”

“Kaytoo, calculate the next jump and get us out of here!” Sorel said.

Kaytoo whistled an acknowledgment, and Sorel threw the control yoke hard right, grimacing at how sluggishly the Y-wing responded. Her sensor scope lit up, and her eyes took in the information: three TIE fighters, backed up by a frigate — not state of the art but none the less packing a mighty punch..

Sorel turned to the navigational heading Kaytoo gave her and opened up the Y-wing's throttle, trying to coax every bit of speed out of the heavy fighter. But moments later brilliant flashes of light erupted around them and the Y-wing shuddered.

The three TIEs raced overhead, and Sorel squeezed the trigger, peppering them with laser fire as they wheeled around for another pass.

“How long, Kaytoo?” she asked.

Kaytoo whistled and hooted.

“A minute?” Sorel repeated. “Thorough is good, but is this really the time to triangulate our position?”

Sorel rolled the Y-wing to port, eyes jumping from her long-range scanners to the TIEs angling in on her. She tried to summon the Force, to let it guide her hands. But Kaytoo’s chatter and the flashes of laser fire kept throwing off her concentration. The Y-wing's starboard shields flared as the TIEs' lasers struck home, and alarms began to blare.

“Kaytoo, divert the power,” Sorel said, hammering at the fighters with the Y-wing's turret guns. The more manoeuvrable fighters were wheeling in all directions now, swooping in on their slower target.

Focus, Sorel told herself. Use the Force.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

She rolled the Y-wing over to starboard, trying to protect the vulnerable shield, and mashed down on the triggers. One of the TIEs vanished in a cloud of flames. But almost immediately, another fighter streaked up from beneath her, its laser cannons raking the Y-wing's hull. The starboard shield flickered and died — and with it, Sorel felt her connection to the Force slipping.

The frigate was peppering them with blasts now, too, bouncing the fighter up and down. Sorel squeezed off a flurry of shots at one of the remaining fighters, forcing its pilot to abandon his attack run. But his wingman took advantage of Sorel’s distraction to drop behind the Y-wing. Green flashes lit up space as the TIE fighter's blasts ripped through the starboard engine. Red lights blinked frantically on Sorel’s control panel.

“Try to increase the power!” she yelled, firing desperately at the two fighters hunting her, and weaving left and right in an effort to throw off their aim.

The starboard engine's power levels climbed, then plummeted. Laser fire knocked the fighter sideways. The TIE that had hit them streaked away from the Y-wing, cut right, then turned and raced back toward them, aiming at the battered fighter's defenceless starboard side.

Sorel fired at the TIE, but its pilot refused to deviate from his course. He kept coming, waiting to line up the shot that would destroy the engine and leave the Y-wing helpless in space. Sorel tried to turn away, but the fighter was barely responding.

She braced for impact - and was shoved back into her chair as the Y-wing shot into the safety of hyperspace.

Kaytoo beeped, perhaps a bit smugly.

“Good timing,” Sorel said, smiling. She exhaled mingled gratitude and disbelief. But there was no time to waste. The Y-wing was barely flying - they'd been saved by the tough old fighter's ability to soak up damage, but they needed to find a spaceport in which to make repairs. And they needed to do it quickly.

Sorel rejected Kaytoo's first choice for a starport, then the next three. All were either too far away or tightly controlled by criminal elements. “That's enough, Kaytoo,” she said. "We're going back to the base.”

Kaytoo whistled an objection. "Send an encrypted message to the fleet," she said. “Tell them I'll resume the retrieval mission after we repair our fighter.”

Kaytoo started to hoot at her, but Sorel shook her head.

"No, my mind's made up-take us back.”

That's where the Force was telling me to go, Sorel thought. This time I'm going to listen.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

The Y-Wing flew low over the thick jungles of the planet, a ribbon of smoke trailing from its damaged engine. Sorel had shushed Kaytoo and sought to clear her mind of doubts and questions, letting the Force direct the fighter's flight. It had guided her into the atmosphere on the far side of the planet from the capital and its garrison, then across the outback. Below her, the jungle was broken by outcroppings of stone that rose high above the surrounding trees, crowned with enormous vines and creepers. The light of the late-afternoon sun turned the rivers into threads of brilliant orange and pink.

Sorel turned the ship to starboard. Ahead was another pair of rocky pillars…No, that wasn't correct, Sorel saw now. This was something different. The rocky pillars were artificial structures — towers made by intelligent hands. Sorel eased up on the throttle, and something began banging inside the battered engine. The tops of the towers were jagged, stabbing into the sky, and their sides were pocked with craters.

That's blast damage, Sorel thought. From heavy weapons. They really took a beating.

“Kaytoo, look for a place to set down near those towers,” she said. “This is where we're supposed to go. I know it is.”

Kaytoo hooted urgently. Sorel glanced at the screen and frowned. “I understand you can barely keep the fighter in the air,” she said. “But this is important.”

The droid beeped furiously.

“OK, OK. Land us. I’ll worry about how we get airborne again.” But she sighed. Kaytoo had a point. Surely the Force wasn't telling her to maroon herself in the middle of the jungle.

“You're right Kaytoo — it will have to wait,” she said. “Scan the area for signs of settlement - and listen for activity on all known communications channels.”

 

[Sorel Crieff]

The town was little more than a cluster of buildings atop a plateau in the jungle, with a landing field whose single beacon winked in the gloom of dusk. A massive spire of bare grey stone rose a hundred meters into the air on one side of the town, crowning a steep, forested slope. On the other side of the plateau the trees had been cleared and the hill carved into terraced farmers' fields.

Sorel flew low over the town and peered down at the landing field.

“I mostly see atmosphere fliers down there,” she said. “No sign of any hostile ships. But there are a couple of star yachts parked off to the side. And one of them is a pretty fancy ship to find near a farm town in the middle of nowhere.”

Kaytoo whistled and bleeped a response.

Sorel shook her head. “Farmers don't spend their credits on star yachts,” she said. “They save their money so they don't starve when they have a bad year.”

Kaytoo hooted.

Sorel decided that solving this particular mystery would have to wait - her choice was to set down here or crash in the jungle. She activated the retrorockets and set the Y-wing down with a jolt, followed by a hiss of coolant venting from some punctured reservoir.

The air was wet and ripe with vegetation. Light spilled from the open doorway of a squat building at the end of the landing field. Sorel descended from the cockpit and patted the Y-wing's hull gratefully, then strolled across the landing field as the droid extricated itself from the fighter.

A male met her at the door, wiping his hands on a rag. Behind him, a teenage girl looked up from a cluttered workbench, scowling beneath her polarised goggles.

“Name's Camer Lengo,” Sorel said after a tense moment in which she couldn't decide if she should give her real name. “I’m a hyperspace scout. My droid and I ran into a little pirate trouble a couple of systems over, and we need some repairs.”

“I’m James,” the man said. “That's my daughter, Carol. Let me get a light and we'll take a look at your problem.”

James fetched a work light, and Sorel followed him across the landing field, where her droid was waiting. James let the light play over the Y-wing's twisted hull and peered into the craters blasted into its plating. The holes in the starboard engine were fringed with beads where laser blasts had liquefied the metal.

“Pirate trouble, eh?” he said with a smirk. “Should probably report that.”

“I probably should,” Sorel said, aware she didn’t want to cause undue attention until her ship was flight-worthy again. “Did I mention I have credits?”

“Always good to hear,” James said. “I can repair this with what I have in the shop. But it will take three or four days - and six thousand credits. All in advance.”

“Six thousand? Really?” She suppressed as much of the surprise and disappointment as she could, but some inevitable leaked out.

“It would cost less if I had replacement parts shipped in,” James said with a shrug. “But then there'd be a lot of paperwork. Permits, bureaucrats asking questions, that sort of thing. Records that anyone could trace if they had a mind to look.”

“Oh, there's enough paperwork in the galaxy as it is,” Sorel said smoothly, reaching for her credit chip. “Let's not trouble the authorities - surely they have more important things to worry about than repairs to a scout ship.” Sorel was unsure how undercover her mission was and did not want to drawn unwanted interest if she didn’t have to.

“I’ll get your fighter under cover, then,” James said, showing a mouthful of pointed teeth. “Town's that way - you can take a room at the depot with the others.”

 

[Sorel Crieff]

The depot was a rambling building in the centre of town, assembled seemingly at random from wood, stone, prefab plastic buildings, and shipping containers emblazoned with the faded logos of Corellian import-export firms. A long porch looked out over shuttered shops and food stalls. Landspeeders, speeder bikes, and a trio of squat, green-skinned pack beasts awaited their owners out front.

Sorel followed the buzz of conversation and music through a pair of swinging doors and into a wide common room crowded with tables, mismatched chairs, and couches, many of which had seen better decades. Faces turned her way as she entered, with Kaytoo following uncertainly behind. There were men and women from a dozen different species, though at least half of those gathered were locals. A few wore rich clothes, but most were clad in worn, practical garments.

"Hey! Fresh meat!” one of the locals yelled as Sorel made her way across the room to a counter crowded with bottles of brightly coloured liquid. Some of the liquids were fizzing or roiling in a way she found alarming. “Girl needs a room! And probably a guide!”

A Rodian missing one of his antennae began pounding on a buzzer set into the top of the counter, grinning at Sorel. After a moment an old Devaronian with an eye patch emerged from a curtained alcove, looking Sorel up and down. He named an exorbitant price for a room.

“That's fine,” Sorel said quickly and without fuss. Both the Devonian and the onlookers seemed slightly disappointed - apparently they'd been looking forward to a lively bout of haggling.

“Next customer was mine - we rolled a chance-cube for it, remember?” the Rodian warned the young Devaronian standing next to him at the counter. Then he turned to Sorel.

"Name's Levo, good lady - and I'm the best guide in these parts,” he said. “Bagged pikhrons on my last three hunts. Satisfaction guaranteed or you get a third of your credits back.”

“What’s a-“ Sorel began.

“My green friend here couldn't guide you out of a sack if you cut the bottom out of it first,” the young Devaronian interrupted.

“Madam, be wary!” Levo exclaimed. “This one's the biggest liar this side of Coruscant - and that's saying something!”

The Devaronian smiled at Sorel.

“You need a native - someone like me. I've been exploring this jungle since I was a boy. I'm famous for knowing every pool, sand pit, and shady glade the pikhrons like to visit.”

“Glad to hear it,” Sorel said. “But what's a pikhron?”

When the laughter showed no signs of stopping, Kaytoo bleeped and whistled.

“Oh,” Sorel said. “Native herbivores. And their skins and teeth fetch considerable prices on the black market…given hunting them is forbidden.”

“Lots of things are forbidden but happen anyway,” the Devaonian said.

“I’m not much of a hunter, but I could use a guide,” Sorel said. “I want to visit the towers I saw on my way in. The ruined ones.”

The crowd fell silent, even the clank of utensils on dinner plates stopping. The music burbled merrily along uninterrupted. A puzzled Sorel looked from face to face.

“That’s off limits,” the Devaronian said.

Sorel smiled. “I thought many things were forbidden but happened anyway.”

The joke fell flat - Levo took a sudden interest in his drink, the Devaronian checked his comlink, and the other guides turned away.

“Was it something I said?” Sorel asked.

“No one goes there,” the Devaronian said. “You'd bring ruin to us all, messing with that place. It would risk everything we have left.”

“Why? I don't understand.”

“Because it's cursed, you brainless outlander,” growled a massive, mean-looking slab of humanoid muscle. “Filled with the ghosts of the-“

The Devaronian made a slashing motion across his throat, his single eye cold and staring.

“All you need to know is to stay away from it,” he said, handing Sorel her room key. “House rules are on the back of the door, but here's the most important one: I don't tolerate troublemakers. And you're already on my bad side, outlander.”

“Think I'll turn in, then,” Sorel said. “Maybe we can make a fresh start tomorrow.”

The Devaronian just turned away.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

The room was simple but clean, with a balcony overlooking the small town. Sorel stared up at the stars while Kaytoo fussed over the room's power connectors, certain he would be incinerated the second he tried to recharge.

No moons were in the sky. Sorel couldn't remember if the planet had any.

Sorel just lay down and thought.She wasn't afraid of jungle beasts, and he didn't believe in curses. She'd reach the towers. She just hadn't figured out how yet.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

She was swimming in dark water, beneath two pale moons in a sky spangled with stars.

She moved through the water with smooth, easy strokes, alternately gliding along the surface and dipping beneath it. When she got tired she surfaced and treaded water gently until the ripples she'd created ebbed, turning the water into a mirror of the night sky. She looked down at the water and saw her face looking back - except it wasn't her face. Her reflection had black eyes and mottled grey and green skin wreathed by tentacles.

She dove, powerful kicks of her feet taking her deep beneath the water. She inhaled water but didn't choke - the oxygen in it revitalised her. She smiled. It was peaceful down there below the surface - a realm of pleasantly cool water and muted sound.

A rock wall loomed ahead of her, with a dark oval cut in the middle of it. She swam down into it, then up through a twisting corridor. Her feet found purchase on stone steps, and her head broke the surface of the water. At the top of the stairs stood a human in dark robes. He was holding a lightsaber, which he held out with a smile.

Sorel awoke with a start, sitting up in the bed in her room. It was dark, and the night thrummed with the song of insects. Sorel saw the red light of Kaytoo's processing indicator turn her way, followed by a curious beep.

"I was swimming," she said, and Kaytoo whistled questioningly.

"In my dream, of course," Sorel said, trying to clear the fog from her brain.

Kaytoo offered a baffled hoot, and Sorel smiled.

“In the dream I was someone else," she said, scrubbing her hands through her hair. "And no, I don't understand it either."

She swung her feet to the floor and walked out onto the balcony. Just a few lights shone. Sorel looked up into the night and saw two pale moons above.

She immediately recognised them as the same ones she'd seen in her dream, even down to their positions in the sky. The constellations were identical, too.

Here. I was dreaming of this planet. No, not dreaming. It was the Force, giving me another clue about where to go.

Sorel leaned on the railing of the balcony and stared out past the great spire on the edge of town, a darker shape against the starry sky. There was a lake out there in the jungle - a lake an alien Jedi had swum in. And that lake hid a passageway.

Now she knew where she was supposed to go.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Porridge and tea made for a warm, filling breakfast, but Sorel got a chilly reception from the owner, and the guides all curtly informed her that they weren't for hire.

Frustrated, he left through through the depot's swinging doors into the streets of the makeshift town alone - she had sent Kaytoo to the landing field to check on how James was doing with the repairs.

The villagers glanced at her curiously as she marched through the town, imagining and rejecting various ideas - flying the repaired Y-wing into the jungle, say, or trusting an uncertain combination of Kaytoo's sensors and her own command of the Force. She knew neither of those plans was a good one, and the other ideas she came up with were even worse.

There was no help for it - she'd have to go back to the depot and tell the guides that since credits were no object, they should name their price. Surely one of them would be greedy enough to risk a journey to the forbidden towers.

Suddenly she was aware she was being followed. It was the girl from the landing field. She spotted a slim figure with spots on her forehead ducking around the corner of a house. She sighed and strode off in that direction.

The girl had pressed herself against the wall. She glared at her when she arrived, taking one step to run but then thinking better of it.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

"First of all, I wasn't following you," she said.

"Who said you were?" Sorel asked with a smile.

Colour bloomed in the girl’s cheeks, beneath her thin covering of reddish down.

"All right, maybe I was."

"That's better," Sorel said. "I don't think you're cut out to be a spy."

The girl scowled. "I...I trailed you to the depot last night and heard you asking about the towers. I could've warned you how they'd react."

"You know about it?” Sorel asked. "What is it?"

"Just a bunch of ruins. But no-one is allowed to go there. It was a temple for the sorcerers in the old war - before they tried to take over the galaxy and had to be destroyed."

Sorel winced at hearing that old lie on the lips of this young girl. But the ancient propaganda was less important than what she had revealed. The towers were a Jedi temple - and the Force was calling her there.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

"So the guides won't go there because it’s forbidden?” Sorel asked.

"Well, that and it's haunted - that's the story, anyway."

"Haunted? By what?"

"By the spirits of those who died there," Carol said. "They say in the end the sorcerers summoned a demon warrior to help them defend against the machines — only the spell went wrong. So the demon killed them and imprisoned them there forever."

Sorel raised an eyebrow, and Carol shrugged.

"I don't believe it either," she said. "I think the guides like telling that story better than admitting that they're all too afraid. But I can take you there. I know the way. I don't believe in demons, and I'm not afraid of ghosts."

Sorel must have looked skeptical, because Carol stamped her foot impatiently.

"Think I can't? I've led hunting parties into the jungle plenty of times, you know. I've got my own hunting rifle - a real one, not a peashooter like the one in your holster - and I know how to use it. Brought back plenty of pikhron skins to sell. Why, I've even got a pack beast - all you've got to do is lend me the credits to rent a few pieces of gear that we'd need."

"Wouldn't we need more than one pack beast?" Sorel asked.

Carol looked away with a scowl.

"Mine will do," she muttered. "He's a bit small, but he's strong."

"I think I better see this pack beast of yours."

"Fine," Carol said, and marched away, with Sorel hurrying to catch up. She led him to a small house on the edge of the jungle. Outside, a leathery-skinned quadruped was tied to a stake. The beast raised its head, munching grass contentedly, and bleated at them.

Sorel sighed and rubbed the beast's nose, smiling as the animal closed its eyes and chuffed happily. It was young but in good condition.

"I'm sure he's very strong, Carol, but the two of us would be too much for him to carry. You know that."

Carol turned away, head down, and kicked at the dirt.

"But I can help out,” Sorel said, reaching into her jacket to give her some credits. "Let me-"

Carol turned, already waving her hand dismissively, but whatever she'd planned to say died in her throat. Her eyes went wide, and Sorel realised she'd seen the lightsaber under her jacket. Before she could say anything, Carol had taken a step back and drawn a small but wicked-looking pistol from her tool belt.

"You touch that laser sword and I'll shoot you," she said. "And you'll get the same if you try to take over my brain. I've heard the stories, so don't try it."

 

[Sorel Crieff]

Sorel raised her hands slowly, imagining her dreams of becoming a Jedi coming to nothing because she'd frightened a teenage farm girl into shooting her.

“Take it easy," she said. "I'm not a Jedi yet, not properly.”

That was true, she thought.

"What are you then?" the girl demanded. "You're paying dad a crazy amount of credits not to report your ship."

“Look, put the gun down. We both know you're not going to shoot me."

"I will, too!"

Sorel lowered her hands slowly and looked into the girl’s eyes.

"My real name is Sorel Crieff, and I am training to be a Jedi.”

The girl blinked at her, then lowered her pistol. Her hands were shaking and she looked off into the jungle.

"Before the pirates came, when my parents were young, people in this town were farmers," she said. "They followed the old ways, living in harmony with the forest elders - that's what pikhron means in our language. Then the pirates came. Their governor wanted to go on a pikhron hunt, but no one would take him. So the pirates told us we couldn't send our crops to market - they left them to rot in the fields. It was lead the hunts or starve."

Sorel nodded. It was a small cruelty compared with the crushing of freedom on so many worlds, not to mention the obliteration of whole species. But Sorel knew evil wasn't just warships and stormtroopers and Sith. It was a billion small cruelties, grinding up what people cherished and leaving ruin and hopelessness behind.

 

[Sorel Crieff]

"Now most of the villagers don't care about the old ways, and there aren't many pikhrons left in the jungle," the girl said. "My father makes his living fixing the outlanders' starships - he won't serve as a guide."

"But you do," Sorel said gently.

"My mother died last year," Carol said, tears starting in her eyes. "I had to do something, or we would have lost our house. Dad was so angry with me, but what choice did I have? But it doesn't matter - no one hires me unless there isn't anybody else left. I've never bagged a pikhron."

"No skins, huh?"

"None," Carol said, then smiled wanly. "I'm not sad about that part. But things will be different now. That's why you’ve been sent, isn't it? To help us."

"No," Sorel said. "I wasn't sent here. I was...called. To the temple."

Carol took a step back, looking wary. She slowly began to raise her blaster.

"Called? Called by what?"

"I don't know," Sorel admitted. "It's...hard to explain. But I'm afraid my mission is there, not here."

Carol turned away, head bowed in disappointment.

"But if you're patient, I promise I'll find a way to help you,” she said. "Somehow what I find in the temple will show me how to do that."

"I don't understand," Jane said.

Sorel smiled. She could feel the Force, humming around them, binding the jungle and its creatures together.

"Neither do I," Sorel said. "Not yet. But I will."