Star Wars: Lost Stars

Prologue: Part 1

A ship sliced through the shale-gray sky overhead, so quickly it was no more than a line of light and a distant screech almost lost in the wind

"That's a Lambda-class shuttle!" Thane Kyrell pointed upward, jumping with excitement. "Did you hear it? Did you, Dalven?"

His older brother cuffed him and sneered. "You don't know what the ship looks like. You're too little to know."

"Am not. It was a Lambda-class shuttle. You can tell by the sound of their engines-"

"Children, hush." Thane's mother never glanced back at them. She concentrated on holding up the hem of her saffron-colored robe so it wouldn't trail in the dust. "I told you we ought to have brought the hovercraft. Instead we're wandering down to Valentia on foot like valley trash."

"The hangars will be a madhouse," insisted Thane's father, Oris Kyrell, with a contemptuous sniff. "Thousands of people trying to land whether or not they've got a reservation. Do you want to spend our whole day fighting over docking rights? Better to do it this way. The boys can keep up well enough."

Dalven could; he was twelve years old, long-limbed and proud to tower over his younger brother. For Thane, the downhill trek through the uneven mountain paths was harder going. So far he was shorter than most boys his age; the large feet and hands that hinted at his future height were, for know, merely awkward. His reddish-blonde hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and he wished his parents had let him wear his favorite boots instead of these shiny new ones, which pinched his toes at every step. But he would have made an even more difficult trip than that to finally see TIE fighters and shuttles - real spacecraft, not like some clunky old V-171.

"It was a Lambda-class shuttle," he muttered, hoping Dalven wouldn't overhear.

But he did. His older brother stiffened, and Thane prepared himself. Dalven never hit him very hard when their parents were nearby, but those lesser shoves or punches were often a warning of worse to come later. This time, however, Dalven did nothing. Maybe he was distracted by the promise of the spectacle they would see that day - the display of flying power and fighting techniques by vessels of the Imperial fleet.

Or maybe Dalven was embarrassed because he'd realized Thane had identified the ship when he couldn't.

He says he's going to the Imperial Academy, Thane thought, but that's just because he thinks it will make him important. Dalven doesn't know every single ship like I do. He doesn't study the manuals or practice with a glider. Dalven will never be a real pilot

But I will.

"We should've left Thane at home with the housekeeper droid." Dalven's voice had become sulky. "He's too little for any of this. In another hour, he'll be whining to go home."

"I won't," Thane insisted. "I'm old enough. Aren't I, Mama?"

Ganaire Kyrell nodded absently. "Of course your old enough. You were born in the same year of the Empire itself, Thane. Never forget that."

How could he forget when she'd reminded him at least five times already, that day? He wanted to say so, but that only earn him another cuff from Dalven - or, worse, a new barrage of insults from his father, whose words could cut deeper than any blade. Already he could sense them staring at him, waiting for any show of defiance or weakness. Thane turned as if he were looking down toward their destination, the city of Valentia, so neither his father nor Dalven would see his expression. I was always better when they didn't know what Thane was thinking.

He wasn't worried about his mother. She rarely noticed him at all.

The wind tugged at his blue-and-gold embroidered cloak, and Thane shivered. Other worlds had to be warmer. Brighter, busier, more fun in every way. He believed this despite never having visited another planet in his life; it was impossible to think that the vastness of the galaxy didn't contain someplace better to be than here.

Jelucan had been settled late in galactic history, probably because nobody else had been desperate enough to want a nearly uninhabitable rock at the very edge of the Outer Rim. Nearly five hundred years before, an initial group of settlers had been exiled here from another world, equally obscure. They'd fought on the wrong side of some civil war or other. Thane didn't know the details. His parents had told him only that those first settlers had gotten themselves mired in the valleys, in nearly total poverty, and had barely been able to keep themselves alive.

True civilization had only come later, a hundred and fifty years ago, with the second wave of settlers, who had come her voluntarily in hopes of building their fortunes. They'd managed to establish mining, engage with galactic commerce, and lead modern lives - unlike the people of the valleys, who behave more like pre-technological nomads than modern people. Of course they were Jelucani, too, but they were unfriendly, isolated and proud

Or maybe it was that the valley kindred were still mad about being dumped on this icy rugged rock of a world. If so, Thane didn't blame them.

"A pity the Emperor himself won't be able to attend," his mother said. "Wouldn't it have been something to see him for ourselves?"

Like the Emperor would ever come here. Thane knew better than to say that out loud.

Everyone was supposed to love Emperor Palpatine. Everyone said he was the bravest, most intelligent person in the galaxy, that he was the one who had brought order after the chaos of the Clone Wars. Thane wondered if that was all true. Certainly Palpatine had made the Empire strong, and made himself the most powerful man within it.

Thane didn't really care if the Emperor was nice or not. The Empire's coming was a good thing, because it brought its ships with it. All he wanted was to see those ships. Then, later, to learn to fly them.

And, finally, to fly far away from here, never to return.