1-Convergence

THE STAR WARS NOVELS TIMELINE

1-THE HIGH REPUBLIC

1-Convergence

2-The Battle of Jedha

3-Cataclysm

4-Light of the Jedi

5-The Rising Storm

6-Tempest Runner

7-The Fallen Star

8-The Eye of Darkness

9-Temptation of the Force

10-Tempest Breaker

11-Trials of the Jedi

12-Wayseeker: An Acolyte Novel

Dooku: Jedi Lost

Master and Apprentice

The Living Force

2-I — THE PHANTOM MENACE

• Mace Windu: The Glass Abyss

3-II — ATTACK OF THE CLONES

• Inquisitor: Rise of the Red Blade

• Brotherhood

• The Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy

• Dark Disciple: A Clone Wars Novel

4-III — REVENGE OF THE SITH

• Reign of the Empire: The Mask of Fear

• Catalyst: A Rogue One Novel

• Lords of the Sith

• Tarkin

• Jedi: Battle Scars

5-SOLO

• Thrawn

• A New Dawn: A Rebels Novel

• Thrawn: Alliances

• Thrawn: Treason

6-ROGUE ONE

7-IV — A NEW HOPE

• Battlefront II: Inferno Squad

• Heir to the Jedi

• Doctor Aphra

• Battlefront: Twilight Company

8-V — THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK

9-VI — RETURN OF THE JEDI

• The Princess and the Scoundrel

• The Alphabet Squadron Trilogy

• The Aftermath Trilogy

• Last Shot

• Shadow of the Sith

• Bloodline

• Phasma

• Canto Bight

10-VII — THE FORCE AWAKENS

11-VIII — THE LAST JEDI

• Resistance Reborn

• Galaxy’s Edge: Black Spire

12-IX — THE RISE OF SKYWALKER

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….

It is a time of great exploration. The leaders of the Republic want to bring the galaxy together. They work with the brave and wise Jedi Knights. Together, they send many PATHFINDER TEAMS to the most distant parts of the Outer Rim.

But it is also a time of great uncertainty. Communication often fails. People tell many stories about strange planets and dangerous creatures. Prospectors and pirates move freely across the frontier. At the same time, the worlds of Eiram and E’ronoh are trapped in a FOREVER WAR.

Far away, on the planet DALNA, a new danger to the galaxy is starting to appear…

THE ROOK, E’RONOH

For the first time in five years, the sky above the capital of E’ronoh was free of fighting ships. When broken pieces of debris entered the atmosphere, they burned away. By the time they fell, they were only ash resting on the stone arches. These arches spread across the land like giant figures from the planet’s early days, standing still under the red morning sky.

The war was not finished, but life continued as it always did. Some parts of the city were still burning, yet people moved quickly to bury their dead. News spread about another attempt at a cease-fire with Eiram. Because of this, the market of the Rook, the capital of E’ronoh, filled with citizens waiting for the day’s water shipment.

Among them was Serrena, a slender figure wearing a gray cloak. She slipped through the crowds as vendors shouted prices and promises. “Tip-yip ten pezz a kilo! Thirty per barrel! Bargain asterpuff—dream the dream of the dead!”

A mother argued over the price of eggs while watching the sky. A young girl, only days away from being drafted, carried her hungry baby brother on one side and cheap cuts of meat on the other. A beggar shook an empty cup. A vendor waved flies away from fruit that had already spoiled. A palace guard jumped at the loud crash of metal, then turned to see a scrap-hauling speeder lying on its side.

Serrena pulled her hood tighter, but nothing could stop the dust. On this broken planet, everyone breathed it in, even when the wind was calm. She moved through the market and into a narrow underpass. At the edge of the hangar bay, she stopped. The natural stone arches of the canyon made the place perfect for the royal launch pad. Locals said the huge opening was the stone mouth of an ancient god, frozen in a wide yawn. To Serrena, it was only another place. It was another chance to serve the one force she believed truly worked to keep the galaxy in balance.

Crewmembers moved quickly back and forth as they prepared a group of starships for flight. Serrena stayed close to the uneven canyon walls as she moved forward. She remained unseen while the pilots gathered tightly around their captain, almost as if to protect her.

The young woman’s face was partly hidden by the canyon’s shadow, but Serrena could still see the calm strength in her noble features. The captain struck her fist against her chest in a clear sign of promise. Then words rose above the noise of the crowd, sharp and strong like E’roni gems, as everyone shouted together—“For E’ronoh!”

“Thanks for the rousing pep talk, Captain A’lbaran,” Serrena muttered as she crouched behind one of the astromech droids and slid a thin program chip into its front panel. She felt a sharp rush of victory, but the feeling did not last long.

A soldier with an eye patch came around the corner and stopped suddenly. Confusion crossed his face, then fear. He moved toward her in long, fast steps. “You’re not authorized to be here!”

Serrena shrank back and let herself sink toward the ground, but the soldier pulled her up and slammed her against a stack of crates. An empty canteen hit the stone floor with a hard sound. Dust filled her mouth and stuck between her teeth and in her throat. There was always dust.

“What are you—”

“Please,” Serrena whimpered and coughed. “Spare a pezz for a poor farmer? Some water…”

“There’s a ration distribution at high noon,” the soldier said as he let her go with an angry breath. The medals on his uniform showed he was a lieutenant, though she had not seen him near his captain before. Pity crossed his scarred face, then frustration. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bronze coin. “Now get out of my sight.”

Serrena grabbed the coin and ran away from the launch pad. She disappeared into the market, joining the sea of dusty cloaks where a fight was starting. Desperate people from E’ronoh pushed each other to get a better place in the water line. The line had grown twice as long in the short time it took her to finish her mission.

Serrena pushed forward, covering her face as sweaty bodies pressed around her. At last, she broke free of the crowd. She tossed the bronze pezz into a beggar’s tin cup, then stood up straight and headed toward the road that led out of town.

“It is done,” she said into a short-range comlink.

A worried voice answered through the static, “Are you sure…it was…the right…”

“Yes, yes, I’m certain.” She held back her anger at being questioned. She had been chosen for this mission.

“Hurry back. Got a…perfect spot to see…the fireworks.”

As Serrena began to jog, thirty starfighters shot up into the sky. She let her hood fall back and felt the warmth of the rising sun on her face. She smiled as she waited for the will of the Force—because if the Force decided it, none of those starfighters would come back.

BEYOND E’RONOH’S GRAVITY WELL

Captain Xiri A’lbaran was tired of waiting. She waited for the ice hauler to leave hyperspace. She waited for the enemy to break the fragile cease-fire and attack. She waited for her world to burn again and again, knowing that this time, after everything she had fought for, it would be her fault.

Still, Xiri waited. In the far edges of the galaxy, among the forgotten parts of well-known worlds and sectors, waiting was all she could do. The feeling of helplessness cut deep, but she kept her chin raised. Her eyes stayed fixed on the empty stretch of space before her.

She was the captain of E’ronoh’s fleet. She had to lead by example for the new recruits, each group younger than the one before.

Xiri’s Thylefire Squadron had guarded the planet’s atmosphere since sunrise. Before the war, the monarch of E’ronoh would not have sent a full squadron for what should have been a simple escort mission. But drought had damaged the world, and pirates filled the hyperlanes. Protecting the cargo had become a matter of life and death.

Under other conditions, Xiri would have admired the view of their small corner of the galaxy. Her home world showed red mountains and smooth canyons. Nearby Eiram displayed turquoise seas, always covered by storms. Between them lay a belt of debris. These were the remains of years of fighting, scattered like asteroids along the route. There was also the Timekeeper moon.

Xiri remembered a story her grandmother used to tell. She said that long ago, E’ronoh and Eiram were two beings born from stardust. The moon was their shared heart, important to E’ronoh’s winds and Eiram’s tides. Xiri had once loved that story.

In peace or in war, the planets and their moon were tied together forever. They were connected not only by gravity, but by a long history and an uncertain future. It was a future Xiri had decided to spend her life trying to fix.

Now the unease among the young pilots was starting to show. One of them drifted out of formation for a moment, then moved back into place.

Captain A’lbaran and Lieutenant Segaru had chosen an unheard-of number of pilots for this mission. Thirty pilots were assigned to safely escort an ice hauler as it arrived. Their job was to guide it to the capital’s docking bay and prepare the ice for immediate distribution. But the hauler was late.

The shipment before this one had been destroyed during the latest fight with Eiram. The shipment before that had vanished inside the confusing web of new hyperspace routes. The one before that, or what remained of it, had been found. Pirates had likely attacked it and stripped it down to bare wires, leaving half the crew dead and drifting in space.

No, the only way to protect this cargo was to meet the hauler the moment it came out of hyperspace and escort it the rest of the way.

“Captain, we can’t stay out here much longer,” Lieutenant Segaru said. His voice was calm, though the hum of static edged their private channel.

“It’ll come,” she answered sharply.

“Captain—”

“It will come.” She pressed her tongue against the dry roof of her mouth. That morning, she had given her water canteen to a child begging in the market. She tried not to think about how thirsty she was. “It has to.”

Xiri turned to her left, to where he always stood in their chain-link formation. His bronze helmet covered most of his bearded face. She imagined the sharp look in his storm-gray eye. She could picture the scars under his eyepatch turning red when he felt angry or frustrated.

She also knew he was likely gripping the handle of the ceremonial bane blade at his hip. Every E’roni soldier carried one, and she shared the same habit. She knew that part of him would never forgive her for being promoted instead of him. He resented her, even as he turned toward her, as if he could feel her watching him.

“Captain.” Then, more softly, “Xiri.”

“Don’t.” She snapped her focus straight ahead, past the blue glow of Eiram and toward the tiny points of distant stars. “We’re lucky to have secured this shipment after Merokia reneged on their promise of relief.”

Merokia was the newest name added to their list of former allies. What could she or the Monarch have really expected? Year after year, cease-fires failed. Peace talks broke down. One by one, even their closest trading partners turned away from E’ronoh. Very few were willing to step into the conflict. Most simply waited for someone to win, so they could choose the safer side.

“I am aware of our predicament, Captain A’lbaran. It’s…” He paused for so long that Xiri moved to check her channel, wondering if her comm had failed again. “We agreed to clear the corridor between the two planets for Eiram’s military escort. They could take our prolonged presence here as a breach of the terms. I’m always ready for a fight, but this cease-fire, clearing the corridor—all of it was your plan.”

Your plan. Jerrod Segaru always knew how to get under her skin.

It had taken years of her life to convince her father to agree to this plan. He believed the situation was a complex trap by the enemy to catch E’ronoh unprepared and attack. That was why they had sent thirty starfighters.

The terms were clear. Xiri would lead the escort mission at daybreak and clear the space corridor. In the afternoon, the path would be open for Eiram. No weapons would be used. Past cease-fires had fallen apart over much smaller issues, but Xiri trusted that Eiram was just as desperate for relief. Because of that, she believed they would understand.

Xiri knew very well who would be blamed when—if—something went wrong.

“Thank you for reminding me, Lieutenant. But we can’t go home empty-handed, and I won’t have another one of our shipments destroyed or raided because our backs were turned fighting a war. I’ll handle Eiram. We’re staying.”

“I hope Eiram’s general is as—understanding—as you would be,” he said, and then he switched his comm channel.

She did the same, and the restless voices of the pilots filled the silence. Each moment they stayed out in open space, they seemed to forget their captain could hear them. She did not mind. During these rare quiet moments, she learned about them by listening to the sound and rhythm of their voices.

“Look at all this junk,” Thylefire Ten said.

“That’s not junk,” Thylefire Nine spoke up, his voice cracking at the end. He was the youngest pilot in the group. On his first day of training, Thylefire Nine had been given the nickname Blitz.

Most of the new recruits had joined because of the draft. Blitz was different. He had begged to join early to honor his sister, Lina, who had died. He was only weeks away from the age of conscription. Xiri had done the same after her own brother’s death, and maybe that was why she had approved his request.

Xiri had seen many soldiers die, but Lina’s death changed everything for E’ronoh. What should have been a normal recon mission to Eiram’s western isles ended in disaster. Moments after takeoff, Lina’s starfighter suffered a thruster failure. She fell from the sky. It was the third malfunction in only a few days, but it was the first one that killed someone.

People across the Rook seemed to hold their breath as they watched the ship crash into Ramshead Gorge.

Lina’s death pushed the civilians into open riots. People filled the streets, asking hard questions. How many had they lost, not to Eiram, but to their own old and failing ships? What would the Monarch do to stop it from happening again? What would he do to finally end the war? Where were the promised food and water rations?

Xiri could not—and would not—fight her own people and Eiram at the same time. Still, the unrest forced the Monarch to act. He leased land in the southern mountains to Corellia in exchange for three dozen devilfighters. Xiri had hated the deal, but she knew it was the most practical choice. Their fleet was spread too thin. E’ronoh itself was spread too thin.

She wondered what the Monarch would sell next. What would ever be enough? Questioning the decision, especially during a war, and especially as one of E’ronoh’s captains, would have been treason. Even if that captain was the Monarch’s own daughter.

Xiri’s only small act of rebellion had been giving one of the new ships, the one assigned to her, to Blitz, who had just finished basic combat training. She chose to stay in the old, worn-out ship she had flown since she first enlisted. No matter the ship, she believed she would always reach where she needed to go.

“It’s not junk,” Blitz repeated. His starfighter shook slightly, likely because his hands were trembling as he worked the controls.

“Easy, Thylefire Nine,” Lieutenant Segaru said in a low, sharp voice over the comm. “Get ahold of your ship.”

Blitz went still and gave a small, shaky apology.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Thylefire Ten muttered. “It’s just—look at it.”

The belt of debris could not be avoided. Broken starships and bodies drifted together in a slow river of burned metal and frozen limbs. At first, Xiri had flown recovery missions. She had turned cargo ships into transport barges for the dead, hoping to give some peace to the families waiting below. Now, the wreckage had mixed together so completely that it was hard to tell anything apart.

If the cease-fire held, she told herself, she would try again.

People only wanted something to bury. Lieutenant Segaru often reminded her of that. They might never be close again, but Xiri never doubted his loyalty or his willingness to do the hard work for their cause.

“No, he’s right. It’s not junk. It’s a graveyard,” Thylefire Six said. His serious words were followed by a strange yowl.

Is that your stomach?” someone asked.

“Ah, he’s just nervous,” Lieutenant Segaru said in a friendly tone. “It’s his first flight.”

Or he’s hungry, you giant fool, Xiri thought. The words almost slipped out, but she held them back. Lieutenant Segaru had a talent for calming the soldiers. He spoke to them gently and made light of danger. He told them to relax. He told them explosions were small things. He told them that losses were part of war. He promised that Eiram would pay for its crimes and that their glass palaces would sink into the sea.

Segaru could be the kind, easygoing lieutenant. Xiri was the one who pushed them through hard drills until their bodies hurt. She was the one who worried about whether the promised rations would reach the new recruits and their starving families. She was the one who argued with her father about choosing water over fuel.

That was why the ice shipment had to arrive. It had to arrive whole. It had to arrive now. After five years of war, their homeworld had reached its limit.

“The old gods are angry,” cried the temple elders. “The old gods are angry at the Monarch’s war and have stopped the rain.”

Xiri did not blame the old gods or the new ones for the worst drought she could remember. She trusted only herself. All she could do was use every bit of her strength to bring help to her people. E’ronoh would demand everything from her, and she was ready to give until nothing was left.

As the planets slowly moved along the moon’s orbit, Xiri scanned Eiram for any sign of movement. She saw only swirling clouds above bright turquoise seas. There were no escort ships yet, but she knew they would come.

“My wife’s going to kill me for missing supper again,” Thylefire Three murmured. The woman Xiri knew as Kinni was one of the oldest pilots in the squadron. She had been a retired mechanic before she reenlisted a few years earlier.

“I miss my mum’s pilafa stew,” Blitz added.

Kinni laughed softly. “You’re all welcome, of course.”

“Now that the war’s over—” Thylefire Six began, but stopped with a grunt.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Thylefire Thirteen snapped. “Nothing’s over. Not until they return everything they’ve taken. Our colony, our prince, our lives. Eiram should never know peace.”

Thylefire Thirteen was Rev Ferrol, the son of Viceroy Ferrol, one of her father’s most trusted advisers. Rev was repeating the same sharp words the Monarch often spoke from his balcony whenever morale dropped. Quiet agreement passed through the channel.

Xiri tried to swallow the tight feeling in her throat, but her mouth was dry. She could feel Lieutenant Segaru watching her, but she only shook her head. Her people were angry and tired. If she cut the comm now because of her own guilt, she would fail them—not only as their captain, but also as their princess.

“We’re just catching our breath is all. The barnacles are, too,” Lieutenant Segaru added.

“M-my gran used to say when she was small, they measured time not by the moon, but by when Eiram’s ships flew over the city.” Blitz laughed nervously. “I—I think she was exaggerating but it was ages ago.”

“Was it now?” Kinni scoffed. “Then I’m ages old.”

Laughter moved through the channel.

“Well, when it’s over,” Blitz said with his usual excitement, “I’m taking a pleasure barge to one of them resort planets.”

“There’s no pleasure barge coming out here,” Rev muttered.

“I hear that on some worlds you can pay to have simultaneous—”

“Simultaneous what, Ten?” Xiri said into the comm. The channel crackled as others laughed at the embarrassed pilot.

The young pilot swallowed and stumbled over his words. “P-princess! I mean, Captain. Captain A’lbaran.”

“All right, Thylefire, stay sharp,” Lieutenant Segaru ordered in his relaxed tone.

Xiri allowed herself a small smile. She liked hearing them talk about their dreams and future plans. It meant they believed there would be a time after the war. Their hope was delicate, but it was real. She could not allow herself to forget it, not even for a moment.

A sensor light flashed on her control panel. Twelve of Eiram’s ships rose out of the cloudy atmosphere. Their starfighters looked round and heavy, built more for moving underwater than flying in space.

“They’re here!” Blitz said. His ship jumped forward, then jerked to a stop.

“Easy does it,” Lieutenant Segaru warned.

“I-it’s these new ships,” Blitz stammered, breathing hard. “The controls are too sensitive.”

“Riiiiight,” Thirteen muttered, and the others took the chance to laugh at their nervous friend.

“Remember,” Xiri said, bringing the channel to silence, “Eiram is receiving cargo, too. We’re both escorting deliveries home. Wait for my orders.”

“Captain,” Lieutenant Segaru said. “They’re hailing you.”

Xiri ran her tongue over her dry lips. She tried not to focus on her thirst or the pounding of her heart. Her squadron needed her to lead. E’ronoh needed her to lead as well.

“This is Captain Xiri A’lbaran.” Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

“Captain, this is General Nhivan Lao.” His sharp voice came through her old starfighter’s comm, broken by static. She struck the panel hard until the sound cleared. “We agreed the corridor between planets would be clear. Those were your terms, I believe.”

“I understand that, General,” Xiri said. “But our shipment is delayed. We would afford you the same courtesy in the same position.”

“Would you?” the general all but scoffed.

Xiri did not respond. She refused to rise to the challenge. The silence between them grew heavy and long. At last, the general cleared his throat and spoke again. “Very well. See that you don’t cross your side of the corridor.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She switched off the comm.

Xiri updated her squadron, then tightened her grip on the controls. She stared into the empty stretch of space, as if she could tear open hyperspace and pull the ice hauler out by force.

“We should take whatever cargo they have, plus ours,” Rev growled. “I bet they’re planning the same thing. I bet—”

“I wouldn’t trust the Eirami, even if I had two good eyes,” Lieutenant Segaru cut in. “But we stay put for now.”

“Didn’t you lose your eye in the first battle, sir?” Blitz asked.

“Precisely.”

“I want this channel clear,” Xiri said. “Is that understood?”

One by one, they confirmed and signed off.

Her sensors flashed again. A tight feeling of anticipation formed in her stomach as she said, “A ship’s coming out of hyperspace.”

Hidden among the distant points of light around them was the exit zone of a hyperspace lane the Republic had opened a few years earlier. E’ronoh and Eiram sat far from everything, yet somehow directly along the path to everywhere.

When the ship came out of hyperspace, Xiri stopped breathing. She had flown her squadron over the shining towers of Modine Valley. She had seen the first desert roses bloom. Still, nothing had ever looked as beautiful to her as that old, rusty ice hauler.

She leaned forward, full of hope, and smiled so wide that her dry lips split and began to bleed. As she watched the hauler move smoothly through the corridor between E’ronoh and Eiram, Xiri already knew the truth. Every piece of ice on board was already claimed. They would need to find a way to get more water even before the last drop was given out. It was a problem for later that night.

Xiri was just about to hail the hauler when her fighter’s sensors chirped again, warning her of something wrong.

“Captain,” Segaru said. Worry and confusion filled his voice. “There are two more ships dropping out of hyperspace. We must clear—”

His words were cut off as two massive ships appeared in open space, one after the other, barely avoiding a deadly crash. Xiri had only seen ships like these before on holonet news reports. From the sudden noise filling the comm channel, she knew her squadron had seen them for the first time as well.

“Is that an Alif-class Longbeam?”

“Aren’t those Republic ships?”

“Dank farrik, what’s the Republic doing here?”

The Longbeams had narrow bodies with pointed noses. Xiri followed their flight path and saw where it led. Both ships were heading straight toward the ice hauler. To avoid a crash, the hauler tilted sharply and veered toward Eiram.

If it was pulled into the ocean planet’s gravity, E’ronoh would lose its water supply. Eiram could claim the ice hauler simply because it had crossed into their space. Everything Xiri had worked for—the fragile peace they barely held—would break apart once again.

But if she sped up to claim the hauler, she would cross the space corridor and enter Eiram’s territory. That would give them the right to fire.

“General Lao,” Xiri said. “Come in!”

Only static answered her call.

“Captain…” Lieutenant Segaru said urgently over their private channel.

Xiri’s fingers shook on the control panel. “I’m trying to flag them!”

A broken voice came through from one of the Longbeams. “This is the Paxion of the Republic. Who is responsible for hyperlane traffic?”

Xiri gave a short, bitter laugh before answering. “Pull back, Paxion. You are not authorized to enter E’roni space.”

“Who is this?” the offended voice asked.

Xiri did not reply. The river of debris had begun to move faster as the Paxion rushed into the space between the two worlds. Broken pieces struck her squadron. Something that looked like a helmet slammed against her viewport and left a long mark across the clear surface.

The second Longbeam, still unidentified, broke away from the Paxion and headed toward the moon. Eiram and E’ronoh were very close to each other, which made the corridor between them unusually narrow. Ships not used to this system could easily be pulled into either planet’s gravity.

The pilot of the Paxion was clearly not trained for such tight flying. The ship began to drift toward E’ronoh. When all attempts to make contact failed, Xiri knew she could not stay still. She had to move and trust that Eiram would understand she was acting to avoid the Longbeam, not to start an attack.

“Thylefire Squadron, on me,” Xiri said as she flew higher and higher. “Get clear of the Paxion, and do not, I repeat, do not cross the corridor.”

“But the ice hauler is still going the wrong way!” Blitz said in panic. Xiri could see his devilfighter drifting away from the group.

“Thylefire Nine, stay in formation,” Xiri ordered. “Lieutenant Segaru, keep hailing the ice hauler and get them to change course. I’ll deal with the general.”

Xiri never got the chance. Blitz’s devilfighter suddenly broke formation completely and shot through space in wide dips and sharp turns.

“Thylefire Nine, if you weren’t putting the mission at risk, I’d congratulate you on the best flying in your class,” Lieutenant Segaru said. “Now get your ass back here!”

“It’s not me!” Blitz yelled. “The ship’s out of control. I can’t—”

“Nine, that’s an order! Do you copy?” Xiri said. The comm channel crackled with sharp feedback. Every ship was trying to speak at once, and no one could get through.

A green blur suddenly tore through the debris field and streaked toward Eiram’s forces. It did not matter that it missed. A shot had been fired from Thylefire Nine’s starfighter. A shot from E’ronoh.

One shot was enough.

Xiri’s pulse thundered in her ears. She tasted blood from her cracked lips and swallowed a cry of helpless fear that no one could hear. For a single heartbeat, there was silence. Then the comm went dead, and every one of Eiram’s ships fired back.

ABOARD THE VALIANT, HYPERSPACE

Moments before the collision, Jedi Knight Gella Nattai was safe inside the cargo hold of the Valiant. She felt light, as if she were walking on air.

The relief crates filled with medical supplies for Eiram rose almost to the ceiling of the Longbeam. Gella adjusted easily to the limited space. She wore only her sand-colored tunic and leggings. She focused on moving one step at a time. The Aerialwalk required complete focus. She had once seen it performed by a priestess from the Singing Mountain during her last pilgrimage to Jedha City.

Gella slowed her breathing, and her heartbeat followed its steady rhythm. The Force held her body in place. The feeling was strange and balanced at the same time. She felt as if she were floating, yet firmly held. She was still, yet moving. For a brief moment, she felt both small and endless.

She took another step and now stood fully sideways. Slowly, she stretched her arms out, palms facing up. Her muscles began to shake. Focus, she reminded herself. She fixed her eyes on the blue-and-white light streaming through the viewport. Her travels with the Order had taken her across ocean worlds, over mountain valleys, and into cities floating in the sky. Still, hyperspace humbled her in a way nothing else did. Meditating there felt like being wrapped inside light, inside the Force itself. Present, then gone. A blink. A star. A life.

She took another breath. Then she sensed someone nearby just before the cargo hold door hissed open.

“That can’t possibly be comfortable,” said Master Roy’s Padawan, Enya Keen.

Gella grabbed at the air as her focus broke. She fell hard onto her side. Pain shot through her arm and shoulder.

“That looks even less comfortable,” Enya added. She dropped onto a crate where Gella had placed her lightsabers and the rest of her robes.

Gella grunted as she pushed herself back to her feet. “It was perfectly comfortable before I was rudely interrupted.”

Enya gave her a sorry smile but did not move. She pulled one leg under her and absentmindedly twisted the end of her Padawan braid. She looked tired. There were dark lines under her eyes against her deep-brown skin, and her dark hair was coming loose from the two braided knots that crossed along her spine.

“I’ve never seen anyone meditate standing up,” she said, “or floating upside down. You looked like a Loth-bat.”

“There are many ways to meditate, you know that.” Gella tugged at her brown tabard and secured her two lightsabers at her hips. She quickly pulled on her socks and scuffed boots.

“But what’s the function for a Jedi?” Enya asked in her light, musical voice.

Gella had not really considered how the Singing Mountain’s sacred ritual applied to a Jedi’s purpose. She had only wanted to understand it. She had wanted to test herself and see if she could do it.

Enya did not wait for her answer. “Can you teach me?”

“I clearly have yet to master the Aerialwalk myself.” Gella did not mean to sound sharp, but she had hidden in the cargo hold because she wanted to be alone. Her room did not have a view of hyperspace. For a moment, she thought about leaving and hiding in one of the Alpha-class ships parked in the hangar.

“Right. Weren’t you supposed to be on your way to Jedha before you got in trouble with the Council?” Enya drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, I probably wasn’t supposed to overhear the masters talking about that.”

Gella stiffened. “Likely not.”

“Well, I’m sure what happened on your expedition to Orvax won’t happen here! I also overheard that Jedi Neverez only bruised his tailbone and the rest are going to make a full recovery.”

Gella pinched the bridge of her nose. Two weeks had passed, and the memory of her failure on her first mission as a Pathfinder team leader still felt fresh. After the accident, she had asked the Council for permission to return to Jedha. There, she hoped to train with one of the many orders that studied the deeper ways of the Force. She wanted to steady herself. She wanted to find balance again and understand where her choices had gone wrong.

Instead, she had been sent farther and farther into the Outer Rim. Now she was aboard the Valiant with Masters Sun and Roy, and Padawan Enya Keen. It was hard not to feel as if she were being punished.

Gella decided she might as well hear everything Enya knew. “Is that all Master Sun said?”

“He also said that you are impulsive, but that you’ve got the skills to be a great master one day if you just apply yourself.”

Gella answered Enya’s wide smile with a frown, though it faded quickly. She could not remember ever having that much energy herself. At thirty standard years, she was only ten years older than Enya. Still, Enya’s bright smiles and open hope could wear anyone down, especially during long journeys like this one.

“Very well,” Gella said. “I will teach you when we get to Eiram. I need the practice.”

“See? I’m going to tell Aida Forte that you are friendly,” Enya said, tapping her finger against her chin. “I wonder how long we’ll be on Eiram. Lately it seems like we’re never in the same place for long.”

“Long enough to get them medical supplies, I suppose.” Gella pulled on her robe and ran her fingers through her long black hair.

“For as long as they need our help.”

Master Creighton Sun stepped around the corner. He was a quiet man and very tall. Gella had seen him over the years at different gatherings, and he always looked the same. She believed he was around forty standard years old now, but even as a young Jedi Knight he had carried streaks of silver at his temples and fine lines around his eyes. He always seemed wise beyond his years. Whenever he entered a room, Gella felt the urge to straighten her posture.

He looked around the cargo hold as if he expected it to be burned or destroyed. To be fair, that had only happened once—and it had not been Gella’s fault.

Gella and Enya stood straight at attention.

“Of course, Master Sun,” Gella said.

Creighton Sun’s thick dark eyebrows pulled together as he looked at Gella. He rubbed his freshly shaved jaw and let out a long, tired sigh. “As I’m sure Enya came here to tell you, we’re approaching the coordinates.”

The Padawan hurried out of the cargo hold ahead of them. Gella would have followed, but she felt a brief pause from Master Sun and stayed where she was.

“I heard what Enya said.”

Gella brushed his words aside with a small shake of her head. “It’s all right, Master Sun. But it does help to know you believe I could become a great master one day. I had hoped for more time to train after my last assignment.”

She liked how carefully he listened. The lines in his brow grew deeper. “And you believe you should do that on Jedha?”

“It seems like the clear choice,” she said. “What better way to learn about the Force, and my place in it, than to train with the many religions and groups who live by it? Perhaps it’s safer to learn that way…”

“Safer?” Master Sun asked gently. “From whom? Or what?”

Gella met his kind eyes, brown like deep forests. The first answer that came to her mind was myself. But when she tried to speak, the words would not come.

“I know how strongly you believe in our cause,” he said, noticing her silence. “To protect peace and justice in the galaxy, we must first live in the galaxy. We must understand the beings connected through the Force. The Council did not send you on this mission only to deliver medical supplies. They sent you to learn how to work as part of a team.”

As a Padawan, Gella had always followed orders. She had leapt from a cliff and trusted the Force to catch her. She had trained in temples across many worlds. On Jedha, she learned about the wide range of Force users and believers. She trained for hours, then days, then months and years. She listened to her body and meditated until she could no longer tell where she ended and the Force began.

She had done everything she was supposed to do. Yet when she was given her most important task as a team leader, she had failed.

“Perhaps I’m better off serving the Order on my own,” she said quietly.

Master Sun lifted his eyebrows with sympathy. “There are many paths, and I trust that in time you will find yours, Gella Nattai. But it seems to me that you are only beginning to understand what you may be capable of. You must have—”

“Patience,” she finished for him.

“Exactly,” he said as he turned to leave the cargo hold. “You have the ability to connect in ways that are not clear to the rest of us. We will work together.”

“I appreciate that, Master Sun,” Gella said. She would not fail again.

“Now let’s hurry and buckle in. Our last trip to Eiram ended with a rough exit from hyperspace.”

She followed Master Sun down the corridor and into the cockpit. Master Char-Ryl-Roy sat at the controls. Even seated, the Cerean was much taller than the others. He greeted Gella with a short nod as the yellow and white lights reflected off his smooth, oval head.

“You’ve been to Eiram before, is that right?” Gella asked Master Sun as she fastened herself into the seat behind Enya.

“Oh yes,” Enya said, cracking her knuckles with excitement. “Though last time we had to evacuate before we could even dock.”

Master Sun’s lips tightened for a moment before he spoke. “This will be our third visit in the past year. Eiram and E’ronoh have been locked in conflict for nearly five years. I remember hearing about their disputes even when I was a Padawan. I fear that opening a hyperspace lane through their sector, and the tragic death of E’ronoh’s prince, reopened old wounds.”

“Is it wise to stay involved, then?” Gella asked.

Master Sun’s brown eyes darkened with thought. “It is our duty to help those who ask. Eiram has asked for our aid many times, but E’ronoh has never done so. Their monarch does not trust outsiders.”

Gella thought about this for a moment. “And Eiram’s queen is not?”

“Oh, she is,” Master Sun said grimly. “The recent destruction of a military hospital left Eiram desperate. We convinced them the only way to safely get more medical relief was to agree to the cease-fire proposed by E’ronoh’s princess. I do believe it’s been the longest cease-fire since the fighting started.”

“A victory indeed,” Master Roy added from the pilot’s seat.

“How long is that?” Gella asked.

“Three days,” he replied with a pleased smile.

Three days. Gella thought. That was almost as long as their journey to the Eiram–E’ronoh system in the Dalnan sector.

“Speak your mind, Gella Nattai,” Master Sun said gently. “I know the Council suggested you join us, but I want you to feel like part of this team. I can sense you are holding something back.”

Gella had never been very good at putting her thoughts into words. Still, she cleared her throat and said, “To be honest, I don’t think three days is much of a victory.”

Enya snapped her head toward Gella, her wide eyes opening even more.

“Perhaps. But it is a start,” Master Sun said with calm confidence. “This is a fragile moment for Eiram and E’ronoh. The damage between these worlds runs deep, but I hope they can still find a path to real and lasting peace.”

“A start,” Gella repeated. Was that what this mission meant for her? A new beginning after so many mistakes? “Right.”

Suddenly, the ship jolted inside the hyperspace tunnel.

“Hold on to your backsides!” Enya shouted, gripping her harness tightly. Master Sun closed his eyes and grabbed the handle above him.

Gella felt strangely steady. She moved with the ship as it dropped into realspace and the blue glow faded into star-filled black. Master Roy grunted as his head hit the headrest. A loud thud followed, and the whole ship shook.

“What the kriff?” Enya blurted out.

Gella had never heard the Padawan swear in front of her master before, but this moment called for it. Emergency lights flashed, and alarms screamed as the ship was hit. At first, she could not tell what they had crashed into. Straight ahead was an old cargo hauler spinning through a field of debris and heading toward the turquoise planet.

Gella had expected to see Eiram’s military escort. Instead, E’ronoh’s forces were still holding position in the narrow space between the two worlds. She would not have thought it possible to divide something like open space, but these two planets had found a way.

“Pull back!” Enya shouted.

A second Longbeam cruiser appeared from their blind spot. Gella’s stomach twisted as Master Roy struggled to steer away from the Republic ship trying to correct its path. The nose of the Valiant scraped hard into the rear of the other vessel.

“It’s the Paxion,” Enya said, reading the control panel.

“Are you sure?” Master Sun asked.

Gella knew the ship by reputation alone. “What’s Chancellor Mollo’s ship doing out here?”

Before anyone could guess further, a green blast cut through the darkness. It struck a piece of wreckage, but the shot had come from a single Corellian devilfighter racing through the debris.

“I guess the cease-fire is over,” Gella said as she gripped the copilot’s headrest.

Master Sun’s mouth tightened into a scowl as the ship took another hit.

“This is Master Char-Ryl-Roy with the Jedi Council,” the Cerean said loudly into the comm. “We are a medical relief transport en route to Eiram. I repeat. We are a medical relief transport. Halt your fire.”

The cockpit lights flickered. The ship shook as laser fire and debris struck from every direction.

“Redirecting auxiliary power to the shields,” Enya said as she entered the command.

“Erasmus Capital City, come in,” Master Roy shouted, but only broken static answered him. “Eiram, come in!”

“I was trying to answer the Paxion’s call, but I think—” Enya pointed as a dish spun away into the debris field—“we knocked out their receiver.”

“Head toward Eiram,” Master Sun shouted over the alarms. “We can’t wait for the escort.”

“I have good news and bad news,” Enya said above the noise. “The good news is that now they’re firing at each other instead of us.”

“That’s a strange idea of good news, but go on,” Master Roy said.

“I can’t contact Erasmus to get landing clearance. Without it, the city’s defenses might shoot us down the moment we enter the atmosphere.”

“Well, we can’t stay here,” Master Sun argued.

He had said this was a fragile time for Eiram and E’ronoh. Yet something had been enough to start an attack while both worlds were waiting for vital relief.

Gella tightened her grip on the armrests, wanting to act. She could feel Master Sun’s frustration as well. “We should go out there.”

“We can’t,” he said, heavy with regret.

“We can’t take sides,” Master Roy agreed. “Our mission is to deliver aid to Eiram, not fight their war. For now, we’ll head for the moon before E’ronoh’s gravity pulls us in.”

Gella kept her eyes on the fighting in open space. She reached out through the Force toward the chaos ahead. Anger and fear filled every pilot, but one presence burned brighter than the rest. One ship was completely out of control. It was a Corellian model, an older type, with red paint splashed across gray metal in rough, violent lines. A laser cannon stuck out from each wing.

She watched as the pilot struggled and failed to regain control. Gella felt the pilot’s pure terror and panic. The feeling left a sharp, bitter taste in her mouth.

Gella pointed at the rogue devilfighter. “There.”

“I feel it, too,” Enya said. “The pilot has lost control and is scared.”

“There’s nothing we can do. We must get to safety first,” Master Char-Ryl-Roy said as the ship was hit again.

They could reach the moon’s surface. Then Gella would need to convince the masters to let her take one of the Alpha-3 Jedi starfighters to help the pilot in trouble. But she knew that by then, it would be too late.

Before the plan fully formed in her mind, Gella Nattai unbuckled her harness. She rushed to the back of the ship, climbed down the ladder, and entered one of the two starfighters. Flying alone made her stomach tighten, but she slowed her breathing. Her own fear did not matter. Someone was calling for help, and that was what mattered. That was why they were there. To help. She entered the commands to release the magnetic clamps and sealed the cockpit canopy.

As Gella flew into the battle, her nerves faded, and her purpose became clear. She was not the best pilot in the Order, but the Force was with her. She darted past red streaks of light and pushed into the center of the fight. Blue ships with rounded tops weaved through large pieces of debris, chasing the red-marked starfighters. Burned metal and what looked like part of a boot struck her shields and bounced away. The brief green glow of energy gave her comfort as she raced toward the pilot in danger.

“Come in, Alpha One,” Master Roy said. His voice carried clear displeasure. “Return to the Valiant, at once, that’s an order!”

“I’m sorry, master. But this pilot is in too much distress. They won’t make it out here much longer.”

There was a low sound of disapproval, then, “We’ll clear your path.”

Gella stayed focused on the Corellian devilfighter ahead. From this distance, she could see a number painted on its wing. Nine. The ship was locked on a path toward Eiram, its forward cannons firing nonstop. Eiram’s defenses were already fighting E’ronoh’s forces, trying to destroy the threat.

Gella calculated the angle she would need to strike the wing and guide the ship to safety. She knew she had to turn the pilot away from Eiram. Landing there would only cause another crisis.

“One thing at a time,” Gella told herself.

Her sensors warned her of two ships closing in fast on either side. She moved quickly, twisting the controls and pulling up hard. The ships followed her into a steep climb, breaking free of the debris field as they shot upward.

An urgent voice came through her comm. “This is Captain Xiri A’lbaran. Back off, Alpha, or I will fire. This is your only warning.”

“Oh, Captain,” came a second, bitter voice. “We should have known you were up to something. A liar, just like your father.”

“This is a misunderstanding, General,” Captain A’lbaran said. Her words were broken by static, but her control was clear. “I am willing to uphold and resume the cease-fire, just let my pilots reach the hauler safely.”

“You think I care about ice when an enemy ship is bound for my capital?”

“He’s not in control!” the captain shouted.

Gella could feel that this moment needed action, not more words. She truly hated flying, but there was no room for fear now. She pushed her controls hard. Her body pulled tight against the harness as she flew in a sharp diagonal loop. She cut through the space between the enemy ships, close enough that her wings scraped against their sides. The sound of grinding metal filled her ears. At last, their attention turned to her.

“Now,” Gella said, her heart racing, “General, Captain, I’m trying to help you, dammit.”

“Help?” Captain A’lbaran scoffed, still flying close behind the rogue pilot.

“Yes, help. My name is Jedi Knight Gella Nattai.”

“Jedi,” one of the pilots said in surprise. The word always carried the same tone wherever she went. Gella focused on that reaction. Not pride, but a steady sense that this was right.

“Call off your fighters,” Gella said.

“There is an enemy starship flying toward Erasmus Capital City,” the general snapped. “Absolutely not.”

“Eiram called for our help, General,” Gella said. “I can keep them calm while they reset their control systems. Please, trust me.”

There was a long moment of silence, filled only with dead static. Then came a rough, unwilling reply. “Do it.”

“I’m coming with you,” Captain A’lbaran said.

Gella did not hesitate. She pushed her ship forward at full speed to catch the rogue E’roni devilfighter. One by one, Eiram’s ships pulled back. At the same time, E’ronoh’s squadron closed in around the cargo hauler. The Valiant and the Paxion drifted together along the corridor toward the silver moon between the worlds. Gella let out a long breath she had been holding, but she knew it was too soon to relax.

“Nine, come in,” Gella said as she flew beside the fighter, which was heading toward the massive blue planet. “What’s your name?”

She pressed her ship gently against his from the right, pushing it upward and away from the capital city’s path.

“I can’t stop! I don’t know—”

“Listen to my voice.” Gella spoke in a calm, steady tone that seemed to cut through the noise and reach him directly. “What’s your name?”

“Who are you?” he asked. His voice sounded young and terrified.

“It’s okay. Talk to her, Blitz,” Captain A’lbaran said, urging him on.

“Bly,” he gasped. “Bly Tevin, but everyone calls me Blitz.”

“All right, Blitz,” Gella said. “I want you to listen to your captain.”

His devilfighter slammed into hers again. Automatic fire burst from its front cannons as the ship tried to turn back toward Eiram. Captain A’lbaran moved in from the other side. The three ships locked together, metal scraping and sparks flying.

Gella reached out through the Force. She let its weight surround the pilot, hoping to steady him. If she had more time, she might have understood him better and calmed the storm of fear driving him. For now, this would have to be enough.

“Blitz,” Captain Xiri said firmly. “Shut it down.”

“I can’t, I don’t—!”

“You can, you will,” Gella said, sending calm through her voice. “Just for a moment.”

She felt his fear spike again as he lost control once more. The ship shook violently against them. Together, Gella and Xiri fought to keep him steady.

“It’s not working!” Blitz shouted. “It’s running an autopilot program. I’m locked out of the controls. You’re—you’re going to have to shoot me down.”

“That is not an option, Thylefire Nine,” Captain Xiri shot back. “I don’t care if you have to open up that panel with your bare hands, find a way to shut it down.”

If Blitz answered, they did not hear him. Gella pushed her controls to their limit. The Alpha-3 was lighter than the old E’roni starfighter and devilfighter. With the Force, she could fly faster and with more control. Still, the effort of keeping Blitz steady was tearing at her body and mind. Her grip on their already fragile connection began to slip.

Then a rough, unfamiliar voice cut into the comm.

“Many apologies, Princess,” the stranger said. “But we did not sign up for this. Releasing cargo.”

Gella saw the ice hauler flash out of the sector. A massive crate dropped toward the debris field as the princess shouted a stream of curses. In that moment of chaos, Blitz broke free. His ship dove again toward Eiram.

“They dumped the ice and bolted! Lieutenant Segaru, do not lose that haul.”

Suddenly, the out-of-control devilfighter powered down and began to spin slowly through space.

“I did it. I got it!”

Gella felt Blitz’s relief through the Force. His fear still clung to her, sharp and rough, like gravel against her skin.

“General Lao…Please…” Captain A’lbaran began. Blitz was still heading toward Eiram, but at least his weapons were offline.

“I understand,” General Lao said reluctantly. “I’ll personally make sure you both get home.”

“Thank you, Gella,” Captain A’lbaran said.

Gella pulled her ship away from the others and turned back toward the Valiant.

“Captain,” Blitz said, his voice full of fear.

Gella turned around. The captain and the general were still flying beside Blitz. Something was wrong.

“There’s a problem. I—”

Before he could finish, before Gella could return, red-and-white fire burst from Bly Tevin’s exploding devilfighter.

BEYOND EIRAM’S GRAVITY WELL

Bly Tevin had always wanted to see the blue waters of Eiram up close, even though it was a world he was meant to hate. But the boy called Blitz could not truly hate anyone. Not like some of the other pilots, whose anger ran so deep it seemed burned into them.

That mission should have been the beginning of a long military career. It should have been his chance to finish what his sister had started and what his grandfather had once fought for. For E’ronoh. Always for E’ronoh.

When he was reassigned to one of the new ships, he loved the feeling of breaking through the atmosphere into open space. No simulator and no training run through Ramshead Gorge could compare to it. This was his chance to prove himself. Not Blitz, the clumsy pilot. Bly Tevin, hero of E’ronoh.

But he had not become the hero he wanted to be. The moment he lost control, he tried to steer the devilfighter away, even though others might have called him a deserter. He did not want anyone to get hurt. The controls would not answer him. They were programmed to fire, and his ship was locked on a path straight toward Eiram’s capital.

It felt like hours passed while he struggled, trapped inside his own fear. Then he heard her voice. He felt pressure against his chest, pushing the fear away and clearing his thoughts until he understood what he had to do.

He remembered the ceremonial bane blade at his hip. His fingers were sweaty and shaking as he worked the clasp and pulled it free. The blade had been passed down from his grandfather. It was not sharp enough to cut flesh easily, but it was enough. He drove it into the control port. A surge of power cut through the system, shutting down the navigation and killing the engines.

“I did it. I got it!”

He could restart the ship by hand. He had permission to land on Eiram, of all places. He thought about his mother, sitting in their small apartment. She had promised to make a fresh pot of pilafa stew when he came home on leave, if the cease-fire held. That was why he was out there, far from home yet so close to it.

He thought of her as she once was, smiling while he played with other children in the narrow, dusty streets near the palace. She was a woman who could make a single ration last for days. Once, he thought it was a miracle. Later, he understood. He saw how thin and tired she looked as she stirred their weak soup.

Together, they had watched his sister fall from the sky. He was thankful his sister never saw him struggle during training. She never saw him crash one simulation after another until people started calling him Blitz. Blitz Tevin. A name he laughed at with the others, even though he hated it.

When his shaking stopped and the manual restart began, he closed his eyes and thanked the old gods. The same gods his mother still prayed to. He was sure she was waiting now, climbing the watchtower where families gathered to watch the ships return. She was the reason he did this. For her.

As his ship spun back to life and a countdown started, he called out for help that would not come. Bly Tevin’s final thought was of his mother. She had always wanted to see the enemy’s turquoise seas too.