Free Crosscurrent by Paul Kemp

a likeness of the skull of an erkush, one of the largest predators on Kalee.
    “You used to wear a mask of real bone,” Relin said.
    “I reserve that now for only special prey,” Saes said, and attacked.
THE PRESENT:
41.5 YEARS AFTER THE BATTLE OF YAVIN
    Jaden’s ship emerged from hyperspace and the navicomp automatically removed the tint of his cockpit windowwhile R6 confirmed coordinates. Jaden checked the readout. They’d had a good jump and reentered realspace at the edge of the Unknown Regions.
    “Well done, Arsix.”
    Ahead, Fhost spun through space, night side facing out. He saw only an old weathersat and commsat in orbit. Like many planets so far out on the Rim, Fhost had no orbital dock and processing station, no planetary defenses, no sign of Galactic Alliance bureaucracy at all. The population of Fhost was on its own.
    He felt a sudden, overwhelming impulse to throw away everything and start anew on some wild, independent backworld like Fhost, free of rules and obligations, but he had enough self-awareness to recognize the feeling for what it was: a desire to run away from his old life, not a desire to run
to
a new one.
    He engaged the ion engines on his customized Z-95 and sped around the planet, outpacing its spin, chasing the day, until he saw the system’s star crest the horizon line.
    “Put us in geosynchronous orbit, Arsix,” he said, and the droid complied.
    Jaden stared out the cockpit’s window as the planet rotated into day. Light filled his cockpit and washed over the planet’s surface by increments, unveiling a quilt of clouds floating over the red, orange, and tan of vast deserts, the blue smear of an ocean, the spine of a mountain range that ran the length of the main continent. To Jaden, it was like watching the slow reveal of a masterful work of art, a sculpture of land and water, wondrous in its lonely, whirling trek through the emptiness of space. He always tried to see a starcrest from orbit before setting foot on a planet. He wasn’t sure why—maybe he wanted to see every world in its best light before putting down on its surface.
    Unbidden, he recalled a starcrest over Corellia that he’d seen from a viewport aboard Centerpoint Station as he and his strike force had moved through the metal maze of its corridors.
    He dismissed the memory quickly, pained by the realization that his actions on Centerpoint had polluted even this, one of the small pleasures he had long enjoyed.
    Frowning, he looked out of the cockpit, past Fhost, and into the field of stars that dotted the Unknown Regions.
    “There be dragons,” he said, smiling.
    R6 beeped a question.
    “Something Kyle once said to me,” Jaden explained.
    What you seek can be found in the black hole on Fhost
.
    Fhost’s largest population center was Farpoint. He would start there, keep an ear to ground, and try to figure out how something could start in the lightlessness of a black hole. He’d pose as a salvager with old Imperial–era hulks to sell for scrap. The fact that he piloted a Z-95 would add credibility to the claim.
    “Why do I fly an old Z-Ninety-five, Arsix?”
    The droid beeped and whistled in answer, though Jaden needed none. He flew the Z-95 for the same reasons he still bore an old lightsaber in the small of his back.
    “Arsix, set the comm to standard planetary control frequency.”
    R6 chirped when it was done.
    “Farpoint control, this is
Far Wanderer
, requesting permission to land.”
    A long pause and the crackle of static answered his request. Before he could repeat it, the planetary control finally answered in Basic.
    “
Far Wanderer
, permission granted. Coordinates for the yard are being transmitted to you now. What is that, a Z-Ninety-five? How’d you get a hyperspace sled to stay attached to that old girl? We didn’t know those antiques still flew.”
    “Still flies, Farpoint control. But it isn’t always pretty.”
    Laughter carried over the channel. “Bring that bird