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Floating a half meter above an old starfighter pilot seat, Ram Jomaram closed his eyes and tried to block out all the clatter and commotion outside. There was plenty to block out: dignitaries and visitors from the entire known galaxy were converging on the scenic mountains and forests of Valo for the first Republic Fair in ages. Most of Valo City’s residents were putting final touches on banners, cooking scrumptious food, and preparing guest quarters. Pretty soon they’d be getting ready to gather at the almost fully constructed Jedi temple for the opening convocation.

But!

None of that mattered.

All that mattered was this very moment.

Ram had slyly mentioned to Master Kunpar that one of the security team’s speeder bikes was out of commission with a faulty gasket hub, and all the state mechanics were busy setting up the light show, sooooo . . . Master Kunpar had grumbled and fussed with his chin tentacles some before finally relenting, but he had, and that’s why Ram got to be in his favorite place on the planet: a dingy, dim garage full of rusty mechanical parts and tools.

The team of repair Bonbraks scurried back and forth on the shelves around him, chattering at each other and futzing with various smaller projects, but otherwise, Jedi Padawan Ram Jomaram was in the most peaceful state he knew: all alone in his garage.

No complicated rules or protocols to follow, no ancient wise Masters to show the correct deference to. Just metal and bolts and plastic and some big-eared, long-tailed fur balls who made plenty of squeaky fuss but mostly minded their own business.

Ram was one with the Force, and the Force was with Ram, he reminded himself. Here, in this peaceful, grease-stained hideaway, he could give over fully to the quiet, powerful place inside. All around him, a small constellation of speeder parts hovered. There was the leather seat and metal casing over the main hub—he could swing those out of the way for the moment. Here was the engine, with its grill and gaskets and piping. Here was the fuse box that would fit in alongside the fan belt and connect into the rest of the machinery. And there was the repulsor lift hub, still shiny with residue from when it had spluttered fission oil earlier during a routine patrol.

Ram could feel the quiet thrum of each part, the tiny vibrations in the air that described them as they floated in a slow circle around him, that faraway trill within the hub that rang just a fraction of a note dissonant from the rest of the parts. There! That meant something was off. Something had warped the shape of it, probably too much heat, but how? Something else must be wrong. Ram continued the scan, his mind sliding along the accelerator foot pedals, steering mechanism, control panels, and exhaust pipe. He had just caught the faintest sense of something, a teensy, off-key ding, when—

“GREETINGS, MASTER RAM!” the metallic voice of V-18 called from the doorway.

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me,” Ram whispered, eyes still closed. The speeder parts faltered in their slow rotation, dipped toward the ground.

“JomaramaRam do chunda mota mota-ta!” an irritated Bonbrak countered. That was probably Tip, the youngest and surliest of the crew. Several others concurred loudly.

“Well, there’s no need to be rude,” V-18 said.

The speeder parts slid lower. “I am one with the Force and the Force is with me,” Ram growled.

“Bacha no bacha kribkrib patrak!”

“Pratrak patrak!”

“JomaramaRam!”

“I simply expressed my salutations,” V-18 insisted. “I happen to be both excited to see the young Padawan and on an errand of some urgency, which is why I modulated my voice into a higher frequency and volume, for your info—”

One of the Bonbraks grunted out a squeak (almost definitely Fezmix—he was always the rowdy one), and then a metallic ding! rang out and V-18 yelped.
“Unnecessary!” cried the droid.

“I AM ONE WITH THE FORCE AND THE FORCE IS WITH ME!” Ram hollered as all the speeder parts except one clattered to the floor. He looked up to see seven pairs of black beady eyes and one glowing electronic one staring back at him.

“Oh dear,” muttered V-18.

Ram sighed, and then the last piece landed with a clank!

The Bonbraks immediately began bickering among themselves, and Ram lowered his legs onto the pilot seat and rubbed his eyes. “What is it, Vee-Eighteen?”
The droid had been around for Force knew how many years and it showed. He towered over everyone like a big, ridiculous rusty crate with stumpy legs. Ram had had to paint him bright purple because people kept accidentally loading V-18 onto ships when he was in sleep mode, thinking he was cargo. A single off-center eye glared out of each side and sometimes blinked, which either indicated impatience or a programming glitch—Ram was never sure. “Masters Kunpar and Lege are on a routine check of the lake,” V-18 announced.

“Okay?”

“And Masters Devo and Shonnatrucks are greeting some of the new security forces the Republic has sent for the fair.”

“Vee-Eighteen . . .”

“And all the other Padawans are with them.”

“Vee-Eighteen, why are you telling me the location of all the Valorian Jedi?”

“Because the comms tower is glitchy.”

The comms tower was outside Valo City proper, deep in the Farodin Woods. And it would be dark soon. “Well, I better take a look at it.”

“No!”

Ram blinked at V-18. “Why not?”

“Because there’s a matter that requires your attention more urgently,” the droid said.

“Are you going to make me take you apart to access your databanks for it or are you just going to tell me what it is?”

“My, my! There’s no need to—”

“Vee-Eighteen!”

“There was an alert tripped on the security perimeter of the comms tower.”

Ram’s eyes went wide. “Crashpoint Tower?”

“Uh, that’s not the official name, but I suppose so, yes.”

A perimeter breach wasn’t necessarily a big deal—probably just some forest critter. But with the Nihil attacks in the Outer Rim and the fair coming up, everyone was on high alert, so the Jedi had been instructed to treat any possible security issue as top priority. “What? Did you alert the Masters?”

V-18 shook his big boxy body and blinked irritably—this time Ram was positive that flicker was on purpose. “I just told you! The comms are glitchy! Sheesh, man!”

“So there’s a security breach at the comms tower, and the comms are glitchy? And . . . Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

“Well, I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Ram didn’t have time to get into all the ways that didn’t make sense. “We have to get out there! When was the breach?”

“One hour ago!” V-18 announced triumphantly.

“We have to go now! We gotta—” He spun around, ready to jump on the security speeder bike, and then remembered that it was in pieces all over the garage floor.

And he wasn’t cleared to use any of the larger transports. And walking would take too long—they’d never make it before dark, and whatever had breached the perimeter and possibly damaged the comms tower would be long gone. Which might be a good thing, because then Ram wouldn’t have to confront them and maybe fight with them. Ram hated fighting. Well—he’d never done it, but he hated the idea of it. It felt like his body refused to cooperate any time even a practice battle was called for. Lightsaber Training and General Jedi Combat Maneuvers were his two worst classes, and the very thought of going face to face with an enemy made him jittery.

But it didn’t matter. He was a Jedi Padawan and he was apparently the only one around to deal with this. It was his duty, even he if would’ve rather spent the rest of the night tinkering. That meant he had to get out there as fast as possible.

He eyed V-18.

“First I had to go see where the Jedi Masters were, according to protocol,” the droid rambled, “but the living quarters and temple were both empty! And then I tried to raise them on the comms but . . . why are you looking at me like that?”

An idea formulated inside Ram, and once that happened, it was hard to think of anything else. He was probably squinting creepily at the droid; he was definitely assessing where different parts could fit on that bulky frame. “Do those legs retract?” Ram glanced at a spare propulsor unit he’d nabbed off an old single-pilot crop sifter headed for the junk pile. Seven tiny pairs of eyes followed his gaze.

“I’ll have you know that this nimble but robust physique is capable of an unpredictable number of—”

“Do they retract?” Ram shot a meaningful glance at the Bonbraks, who’d already started moving into position around V-18. He was glad they’d learned to recognize his about-to-spring-into-action face.

“Of course! No need to interr—”

“How would you feel about a mobility upgrade?”

“Well, I hardly see how you could upgrade this unparalleled appara—”

“Vee-Eighteen!”

“Why, yes actually, I would like that quite a bit,” the droid admitted.

“Let’s do it!” Ram yelled, and with high-pitched squeals, the Bonbraks pounced.

“What’s going on?” V-18 wailed. “Unhand me, you tiny vagrants! You’re getting greasy little fingerprints on my delicate firmament!”

“This won’t take long,” Ram assured him.

It didn’t. V-18 got enthusiastic quickly once he realized how cool the upgrade was going to be, and even tried to help out some. With the Bonbraks running point on the wiring and fuses, Ram secured the propulsor to V-18 and rigged up a handy saddle with foot pedals to control acceleration. There wasn’t time to add brakes, but who needed brakes, right? Okay—he did eventually, but he’d have to work that out later. For now, decelerating would have to do.

He shot a wistful glance at the scattered remains of the speeder, then used a foot pedal to heave himself onto V-18. The seat they’d attached was pretty comfy, and the handlebars reached up to just the right height. Ram revved the engine once and then whooshed out the door to the cheers of the Bonbraks.

“This is actually quite enjoyable!” V-18 yelled over the whistling wind as they zoomed past the shacks on the outskirts of Valo City and into the Farodin Woods.

“I thought you might like it,” Ram said. “The question is, can we go any faster . . . ?”

“I’m not sure that’s—”

Ram pushed the accelerator pedal all the way down and V-18 lurched into overdrive, flashing around the towering acthorn trees, then zipping up a hill and over a rocky embankment. “Wooooooooooooohooooooooo!” Ram yelled.

The sun was just starting to dip into the clouds over the distant mountain range as they burst out above the field where Crashpoint Tower was.

Ram pulled his foot off the accelerator. Something moved in the clearing ahead: a figure, standing up from where it had been crouching, then raising a long cylinder. Ram’s eyes went wide. He swung hard on the throttle and gunned the thrusters just as the first blast of cannon fire smashed through the trees behind him.

“Yeeeeeeeeeee!” V-18 screeched. Another fiery shot tore over their heads. “What do we do now?”

Ram pulled them behind a pile of boulders and eased into a hover. The shooting had stopped, but he could hear the angry growls of speeder engines. Way up past the branches and leaves, a few tiny lights blinked against the darkening sky. “They’re going to make a run for it,” Ram whispered. “Back to whatever ship brought them here.” If they were more interested in getting away than finishing off Ram, that meant whatever they were hiding was very important indeed. Which meant—

“I hope you’re not planning to—” V-18 warned just as Ram revved up the engine.

“We gotta stop them!”