hold one other time since then, grabbing as many ration kits as she could carry and taking them up to the front, trying not to look at the shrouded bodies at her feet.
In the ensuing seven days she had been both praying for and dreading an end to her journey, when she would be reunited with her Master and begin her training in the ways of the Sith. She never left the cockpit except to use the ship's refresher. Whenever she tried to sleep, she could never manage more than a fitful doze plagued with nightmares in which she relived her killing spree over and over.
Each time she woke she would tear open a ration kit and pick at the food, her body slowly replenishing what it had lost during her weeks on Ruusan. But the rations were meant for a full-grown adult, and she could never finish them. When she was done, she would toss the uneaten portion along with the container down the hall toward the cargo hold. After a few days the smells of a dozen half-finished meals began to mingle into a sickly sweet aroma that hung like a thin curtain in the air. Zannah actually welcomed the cloying scent of rotting food; it covered up the mounting stench of the decaying bodies in the back.
To fight the boredom, she'd tried to imagine what her future would be like as Bane's apprentice. She would focus on everything he'd promised her: the ability to call upon and command the Force at will; the mysterious secrets of the dark side; the power to reach her true potential and fulfill her destiny. Her mind, however, kept returning to the Star-Wakes dead crew. And each time it happened she wondered what her Master would think about such weakness.
The autonav chimed again. Zannah glanced at the readout: The ship would be entering atmosphere in five minutes. She was being prompted to select landing coordinates.
Zannah sat up straight in the pilot's chair, furrowing her brow as she studied the onscreen display. She'd been hoping that the automated systems that had carried the vessel from Ruusan to Onderon would also be programmed to land. Unfortunately, it seemed that task now fell to her… and she had no idea how to bring the ship down safely.
She punched a button on the screen labeled LANDING ZONES. A long list of unfamiliar locations and coordinates began to scroll across the display. She had no clue what any of the numbers meant, and no idea how to select one anyway.
As she stared at the readout-they were entering atmosphere now – Zannah felt the familiar bump of turbulence. Caught between frustration and panic, she reached out and began randomly poking buttons. She stopped only when the autonav beeped twice: Destination accepted.
Heaving a sigh of relief, she collapsed back into her seat and buckled up for touchdown. She tried to peer over the console to get a view through the cockpit window of where she was headed, but she was too short to see clearly. All she could make out was kilometers of thick, green canopy stretching out in every direction. Evidently she had selected a landing zone in a less civilized part of the world.
A sobering question crossed her mind. Does the autopilot know how to land in the middle of a forest? Or will it smash me to bits against the treetops?
As if reading her thoughts, the autonav chimed angrily. Zannah read the update: 'Suboptimal conditions detected at selected landing zone. Seeking nearest available alternative site.'
She felt the ship bank slightly, veering and leveling off to skim the forest in search of a large-enough clearing to land in.
'Alternative landing zone located,' the screen assured her a few moments later, and she felt the nose dip as the vessel began her final descent.
She heard a loud bang and the heavy, staccato pounding of branches striking the exterior of the hull as the Star-Wake plowed through a thin layer of branches en route to her chosen destination on the surface. A second later the ship rocked hard to one side, deflecting off a tree trunk too thick to smash through. Next came a series of heavy, jarring thumps as the ship skipped and skidded across the ground before finally coming to a stop.
Shaken but uninjured, Zannah undid her safety harness and opened the exit hatch. As she descended the vessel's loading ramp, she noticed she was on one end of a large clearing that had been carved from the forest to create a circle nearly two hundred meters in diameter. Much to her surprise, someone was in the middle of the clearing waving her over.
'Whoever's flying that ship of yours must be the worst pilot in the galaxy' the man said, eyeing her up and down as she approached him and stopped a few meters away.
He looked to be in his late twenties, though it was hard to tell because of his scrawny and somewhat scraggly appearance. His long copper-colored hair was full of mats and tangles, and his red beard was patchy and uneven across his grimy face. He wore loose pants and a torn shirt that might have been white beneath the mud and other unidentifiable stains. Over the shirt he wore a short leather vest that was fraying at the edges, and a pair of heavily scuffed boots. He gave off a sour odor.
'What's the matter, girlie?' he asked. 'You don't speak Basic? I said whoever's flying your ship is the worst pilot I ever saw.'
'Nobody's flying it,' Zannah answered carefully, glancing back at the ship that was now a good thirty meters behind her. 'She was set on auto.'
'That explains it,' he said with a nod. 'Auto's only good at landing on a permacrete runway. Not worth bantha poodoo out here.'
The man took a step toward her, and Zannah instinctively took a step back. There was something very wrong about finding this man waiting for her at the heart of a clearing in the middle of the forest. But she wasn't worried about the strangeness of the situation. Instead her mind was desperately trying to think of a way to keep him from discovering the bodies in the Star-Wake's cargo hold.
'Why you using the autopilot out here, girlie? You don't got a pilot on that ship with you?'
Zannah shook her head. 'No. There's nobody else on board. Just me.'
'Just you?' he said with an arched eyebrow. 'You sure about that?'
'I stole it,' she said defiantly. Maybe if she could convince him she had been alone on the vessel, he wouldn't go in and find the bodies.
The man let out a low chuckle. 'Stole it, you say?' Then, in a louder voice he called out, 'Looks like we got ourselves a thief!'
A dozen men and women stepped out from the thick trees on the edges of the wide clearing the Star-Wake had landed in. They were all human, and most of them seemed to be about the same age as the redhead Zannah had first spoken with. Like him, they were clad in a motley assortment of soiled, ragged clothing. Several of the new arrivals had appeared from behind the redhead, but more than a few had emerged from the trees on the other side of the clearing behind Zannah, effectively cutting her off from her ship. And, unlike the man who had first greeted her, the newcomers were all armed with vibroblades or blaster rifles.
'How… how did you find me?' she demanded, glancing from side to side as she began to realize she was surrounded.
'Scouts saw your ship flying over our territory,' the redhead answered. 'Figured if you were looking for a place to touch down, you'd end up here on our landing pad.'
'Landing pad?' Zannah repeated in surprise, momentarily distracted from her dangerous situation. 'You made this place so ships could land here?'
'Who said anything about ships?' the man answered with a sly grin. He put two fingers to his lips and gave a sharp whistle so loud and shrill it made Zannah wince.
The air above was filled with the sound of a great roaring wind, and a dark shadow blotted out the sun. Zannah looked up in amazement as four enormous winged reptiles swooped down from the sky to land on the far side of the clearing. The creatures were outfitted with bridle and reins, and each wore a large saddle on its back that looked big enough to carry up to three people at once.
'You're beast-riders' she gasped, remembering Tallo's warning when she'd first mentioned Onderon.
'Skelda clan ' the man said. 'And like I already told you, you're in our territory.'
'I'm… I'm sorry,' Zannah said. 'I didn't know.'
The man shrugged. 'Doesn't matter if you knew or not. You want to use a Skelda clan landing pad, you got to pay us for the privilege.'
From the corner of her eye Zannah noticed his companions slowly drawing in tighter around her.
'I don't have any money,' she said, taking a half step backward.
'That's okay,' the man replied nonchalantly. 'We'll just take your ship.'
