Quest for Planet X, page 1
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First Edition, April 2023
Print ISBN 978-1-368-08287-7
eBook: 978-1-368-09512-9
Design by Soyoung Kim and Scott Piehl
Visit the official Star Wars website at: www.starwars.com.
Title Page
Copyright
Contents
Introduction
Star Wars Timeline
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Ninteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
About the Author
About the Illustrator
“Beware the Jedi,” Er Dal said to his partner Fel Ix as he buckled the straps of Fel Ix’s leather gauntlet around his gray left wrist.
They stood in their family quarters deep in the belly of the Gaze Electric, tucked beneath the central hall of worship along with the rest of the members of the Path of the Open Hand. The ship had been a good home to Fel Ix and his family. It was all long lines and jagged edges, with streaks of bright blue here and there. Alone in a pocket of the frontier without any charted hyperspace lanes, the starship cut silently through the galaxy like a huge, sleek shark. But as dangerous as the warship looked, it kept them safe, and Fel Ix was reluctant to say goodbye.
He and his family were Kessarine, from a swampy planet in the Outer Rim, and since the day Fel Ix had met his partners, Er Dal and Ferize, he had never left them. For the past three years they had lived on the small planet Dalna, making a home with the Path of the Open Hand. They had been happy and safe enough to have their first clutch of babies only a month earlier. But the leader of the Path, the Mother, had a vision of the Path traveling throughout the galaxy, fighting to keep the Force free, and the Mother was sending Fel Ix on an important mission of his own.
“Er Dal speaks truly,” said their other partner, Ferize. “Beware the Jedi. You will certainly encounter them.”
Silently, Er Dal and Fel Ix faced her. She sat on a low sofa, their newly hatched babies curled on her lap in various states of sleep. Ferize smiled grimly at Fel Ix, who knelt beside the babies and carefully picked up the little one called Fe Fer. The baby’s tiny scales were beginning to show along the edges of his miniature cheek frills, and Fel Ix nuzzled his child, wishing he could remain with his family. But the Mother had chosen Fel Ix for this mission specifically. It was an honor to be chosen by their spiritual leader, and as much as Fel Ix loved his family, they wanted him to go. They believed in the Path of the Open Hand. They trusted the Mother. Wasn’t the Path their family, too?
After putting Fe Fer into Er Dal’s hands, Fel Ix leaned toward Ferize. He let his cheek furls touch hers, feeling the tension in them, and his own. Fel Ix breathed deeply. He hissed and popped in Kessarine, “I know you will be well without me.”
“Well, but not happy,” Ferize hissed and popped back. The language of their home planet allowed them to speak in either air or water. A long time before, his people had been amphibious, but now they could not breathe underwater. Their green or gray skin still had tiny scales in places, their cheek and head furls looked like sea kelp, and they still had an inner set of eyelids to protect their eyes, as well as three strong tails. Fel Ix kept his tails wrapped around his waist and thighs when he had to wear a jumpsuit instead of Path robes.
“The Force will be free,” Er Dal said in Galactic Basic. It was one of the mottos of the Path of the Open Hand.
They believed that the Force should not be used, and tried to live in harmony with its will. Er Dal raised a long-fingered greenish hand and tugged affectionately on one of Fel Ix’s cheek frills. He said, “It is an honor to help the Mother’s mission. Especially after . . .”
“Yes,” Fel Ix said. Er Dal meant the battle on the moon Jedha the day before. The battle had been violent and scary, especially because it had begun during peace talks involving all kinds of people who believed in the power of the Force. But the Jedi had fought against the Path, and the Mother had unleashed the glowing blue creature she called the Leveler. The Leveler had defeated the Jedi and returned balance to the Force, but not before one of the great stone statues of Jedha fell. And even worse, the Path’s Herald—a strong Nautolan who used to share the role of leadership with the Mother—had betrayed them and been left behind on Jedha. The whole situation was uncomfortable and frightening. But they trusted the Mother to take care of them.
Fel Ix stood. He blinked his inner and outer eyelids as he studied his immediate family, curled together and soft-looking in their gray-and-blue Path robes. Fel Ix opened his hands, palms up, and bowed. “The Force will be free,” he said. Then he left their quarters.
As Fel Ix moved out of the living space of the Gaze Electric, the wide-open rooms and spacious corridors with their soft curtains and blue-and-gray decorations gave way to the more battle-ready parts of the warship. Stark black walls blinked with lights, and the corridors narrowed with purpose. The hum of the ship engine caused Fel Ix’s cheek tendrils to tremble.
He reached a juncture that led in one direction toward the bridge and observation decks and in the other toward the docking bay. Waiting for him were the Mother herself and Fel Ix’s friend Marda Ro.
Marda was Fel Ix’s favorite person outside of his family. She was Evereni and nearly his age, with deep black eyes, cold gray skin, and the sharp teeth of a predator. But instead of taking after so many of her people, Marda was loyal and gentle. She had helped his babies break out of their eggs only a few weeks earlier, and saved their lives. Fel Ix wanted her to be their friend, too, when they grew up.
Neither Marda nor the Mother spoke, simply waiting for Fel Ix to arrive. The Mother was a human woman with dark brown skin and warm eyes, in the voluptuous robes of the Path Elders. Despite her recent injuries, to Fel Ix she was beautiful and exuded charm and comfort. It was easy to believe the Force had chosen her to be its spokesperson, especially with the Leveler always at her side. The creature frightened and inspired Fel Ix with its power. He tore his gaze away from its creepy eyes and looked back at Marda. Marda was still. Her black hair was braided softly around her face, and she wore the long gray-and-blue robes all the Path used to wear when they lived on the planet Dalna as farmers and simple gatherers—before the Mother had brought them to the stars in the Gaze Electric. She smiled at Fel Ix. Three bright blue lines of brikal-shell paint cut starkly down over her eyes and nose. It was strange: Marda used to wear her paint in soft waves on her forehead, but now her lines were bolder.
In her hands she held a shallow bowl of brikal-shell blue paint.
Fel Ix stopped before them and bowed again, his palms up. When he straightened, Marda smiled. “Allow me?” she said softly.
“Always,” Fel Ix answered, stepping closer. Marda dipped three long fingers into the blue paint and reached out to touch them against Fel Ix’s forehead. She streaked the paint in three hard angles. “Go with freedom, harmony, and clarity,” she said.
“The Force will be free,” Fel Ix murmured in return.
To clean her hand, Marda smeared the last of the blue against his shoulder armor. It made Fel Ix smile.
“You’re clear about the mission?” the Mother asked in her rich voice. Her smile was mild.
“Yes, Mother. I have the map of priority buoys, and I memorized the characters of the Graffian slicer code so that I don’t have to have any physical copies.”
“Impressive,” the Mother murmured.
Fel Ix bowed again, and remained with his head lowered.
Marda said, “I’ll walk you to your ship.”
The Mother said, “Be quick and light, Fel Ix, and return to us.” She briefly touched his temple, then turned to head back toward the bridge, footsteps echoing off the dark walls. Once she had vanished into the throat of the Gaze Electric, Marda moved nearer to Fel Ix. She bumped her shoulder against his and then gestured for him to go with her. The silly shoulder bump reminded him of how young they both were, despite all they’d done and the families they’d built.
Fel Ix followed easily, studying his friend. The pattern of her brikal-shell lines was not the only thing that had changed. Though she still found smiles for Fel Ix, she carried herself more coldly and
As they walked down one of the slowly curving corridors that led into the lower levels of the ship, Fel Ix and Marda passed other Path members going about their business—new business. Everyone but the children and the most elderly worked to maintain the Gaze Electric, to hone weapons and keep the starship in order. Other teams were preparing to depart, too, though Fel Ix did not know the nature of those missions. He willed his cheek frills to be calm and limp, a neutral expression for Kessarine. Not that most people could read Kessarine expressions. But Marda had spent enough time with them to know. He didn’t want her to think he was nervous.
They reached the hangar bay, a long but narrow bay lined with seven different small ships and shuttles, half of them marked with the blue of the Path, while the others had no distinguishing features other than identification numbers stenciled on their noses. Fel Ix’s was one of the unmarked ships, a sleek little shuttle they’d fitted out for long voyages. It carried only three crew members, including him.
Marda stopped at the entrance to the bay. Fel Ix paused with her, turning. “Marda?”
She smiled, and it was her new, hungrier smile. The one with teeth. Fel Ix let his cheek frills stretch in an answering smile. Then he said, “Take care of my Littles.”
Surprisingly, Marda glanced away. But before Fel Ix could ask what was wrong, she looked right into his eyes with her huge black ones. “I will hold their names in my heart, in harmony with the Force,” she said. Then she leaned closer. “But I am unsure I’ll be with them.”
“What?”
Marda took his wrist. “I have a mission of my own.”
Fel Ix nodded. “The Force will be free.”
“Exactly.” Marda grinned again. Then her expression slipped back into seriousness. “But, Fel Ix, I wanted to warn you . . .”
He waited. Droid beeps, the hiss of soldering lasers, and raised voices—regular sounds of a hangar bay—surrounded them. The new sounds of the Path of the Open Hand.
“The Jedi,” Marda said darkly. “After Jedha . . .” She shook her head. “More of them will come. The Mother is ready, and your mission is part of that readiness. But you’re leaving the safety of her open hands. Be careful. Be wary. They are dangerous.”
Fel Ix held out his hands, palms up. He fought a chill, because Marda and his partners echoed each other’s fears. Slowly Marda placed her cool hands underneath his, palms to his scaled knuckles. He said, “I will serve the will of the Force. I am not afraid of the Jedi.”
Jedi Padawan Rooper Nitani had spent most of her time on Batuu in the archive at the Jedi research facility located a short speeder’s drive from Black Spire Outpost.
She didn’t mind all the research—there was so much to learn in the journals and holobooks that had been collected from around the frontier. After her adventures on Gloam with her master, Silandra Sho, Rooper understood that it never hurt to be prepared with as much information as possible before diving into the sorts of situations Jedi frequently found themselves in.
On her second day in the archive, she’d even been rewarded for her diligence. She didn’t like to think of it as a reward, because that made it sound like she was owed something. The Force did not owe anyone anything. The Jedi did not expect rewards. Perhaps it was more of a gift. She’d been walking down a long line of artifacts from the Outer Rim, studying the strange shapes as she practiced categorizing them into classes. Suddenly, Rooper heard her name whispered.
She whirled but saw nothing. Nobody was in the artifact chamber with her.
Looking around, Rooper had centered herself with the Force. She saw the Force as colors: bright rainbows and glowing rays, the colors reflecting names and needs and, she thought, the will of the Force. When Rooper closed her eyes, the chamber flared brightly in splotchy brilliance because everything there was connected to the Force. But one thing hummed a cool pink, beckoning her. It was a small compass tucked behind the crystalized skull of an ancient Batuu sea bear. Rooper had touched it and felt calm.
When she explained it to Master Merak, the dedicated archivist at the temple outpost, the old Gran had blinked all three of his eyes consecutively and suggested she put the compass in her pocket—continue listening to the Force. So that’s what Rooper had done.
But today she was very distracted from her studies and listening. Rumors had reached them of some kind of battle or conflict on the moon Jedha, and Rooper’s master, Silandra Sho, was there. Silandra had always wanted to visit Jedha for a pilgrimage, and even though Rooper would love to visit there someday, too—to see the ancient statues and the Temple of the Kyber or meet Force users who weren’t even Jedi!—it hadn’t felt like the right time for Rooper yet. Some things a Jedi had to do on her own. So Silandra had left Rooper with Master Merak and traveled alone to Jedha.
The rumors from Jedha were wild and thin—but they were all anyone on Batuu was talking about. They said violence had broken out and that many different believers and followers of the Force had been involved, including the Jedi! Maybe one of those ancient statues had fallen, and unbelievably, there’d been a monster? Some kind of monster that caused all sorts of chaos. Nobody had any real news—not even Master Merak. Rooper wanted to jump on a shuttle and fly to her master on Jedha immediately. She couldn’t, of course. Her duty was on Batuu, for now.
She felt it, though, that something was gathering out there on the frontier, and it was dangerous enough the Jedi had turned most of their attention toward it. Rooper wanted to help! But to help, she needed information. For once, the information couldn’t be found in the archive. She needed real-time accounts. Official transmissions. She’d even take rumors and speculation if they led her toward answers. Or a mission.
But Master Merak told her to be patient. The Force would provide, and until then she was safe.
Frustrated as Rooper was, she spent only a few early hours reading in the rotunda of the archive before running through meditations and exercises with her lightsabers. She grabbed a couple of spiced cloud-cricket fritters instead of full lunch, because she was heading into Black Spire Outpost that afternoon and there was so much street food there to fill her up. She’d buy a meal to share with her friend Dass Leffbruk before he left for the Hyperspace Chase with his father the next morning. Maybe he’d heard different rumors about Jedha!
Finally, she left the white-stone Jedi temple as the Batuu suns cast long afternoon shadows. The temple towers rose like fingers among the ancient petrified trees that marred the brilliant green forest. The trees looked like huge towers themselves, which was how the outpost got the name Black Spire. Rooper did like Batuu quite a lot. The Force bound all life together, and on a planet so lush with life, everything looked to Rooper like a beautiful blurry melting pot. And the spires of Batuu, even though they were long dead and long petrified, swarmed with bugs and moss and still shone with the Force when Rooper reached out.
They comforted her, almost as much as the towers of the temple did, because they mirrored the crown of the main Jedi Temple on Coruscant.
The weather that day was pleasant but chilly as a slow wind blew rain in from the sea. Rooper had on her dark brown cloak, the hood hanging over her shoulders. Her utility belt was tied around her blue Padawan sash, and she had some additional utility pouches strapped to her thighs over her tall boots. Of course her twin blue lightsabers were holstered on either hip. She’d just turned fifteen about a week before and felt very grown-up alone out there.
Rooper made her way from the temple toward Black Spire Outpost. Pretty songs from mud frogs filled the air, and a few shrieking scalemonks swung in the living trees. It wasn’t long before she saw the first of the flat domes that marked the mudbrick and limestone buildings of Black Spire.
She hoped Dass would be ready to spend time with her. He was a few years younger than Rooper, but they’d bonded on their escape from Gloam. Dass was a nervous kid but had proved himself brave when necessary. Rooper admired that and found it really interesting when he started talking about all the trouble he and his family had gotten into as hyperspace prospectors. Dass had been born on a long prospecting journey, in between short jumps, he’d told her once—though of course that was just a story his dad had told him to help him remember his mom.
