Star Wars: The High Republic: Beware the Nameless

By Zoraida Córdova

The High Republic continues in this fast-paced adventure that picks up from Escape from Valo, perfect for fans of sci-fi action. Think Sailor Moon meets Babysitter’s Guide to Monster Hunting by way of Star Wars . . . with a dash of Last Kids on Earth!

The fearsome Nihil continue to spread chaos inside the Occlusion Zone, aided by the mysterious creatures called the Nameless that feed on the Force itself. When the people of an embattled world plead for help with the Nihil threat, a team of both Republic Defense Coalition members and Jedi—including Ram Jomaram—is sent to their aid.

The team soon discovers that their ship contains four stowaways—Jedi younglings Kildo, TepTep, and Jamil, and Zenny Greylark, a senator’s daughter determined to find her sister. When a distress call comes in from a nearby planet, Jedi Master Adi-Li Carro agrees to take the stowaways to investigate. There, they will encounter a young Hutt on a mission, a stranger with mysterious motives, and the creatures they fear the most. . . .

This next installment in the New York Times best-selling series is written by award-winning author Zoraida Córdova and features six full-color pages of art!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Disney - RHCB
• Release date: Aug 27, 2024
• ISBN: 9781368114127

Zoraida Córdova

Zoraida Córdova is the acclaimed author of more than a dozen novels and short stories, including The Fall of Rebel Angels, the Brooklyn Brujas series, Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge: A Crash of Fate, and The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina. In addition to writing novels, she serves on the board of We Need Diverse Books, is the coeditor of the bestselling anthology Vampires Never Get Old, and is the cohost of the writing podcast Deadline City. She writes romance novels as Zoey Castile. Zoraida was born in Guayaquil, Ecuador, and calls New York City home. When she’s not working, she’s roaming the world in search of magical stories. For more information, visit her at ZoraidaCordova.com.

Book preview

Chapter ONE: Bilbousa City, Nal Hutta

Churo the Hutt was having a very bad day.

First, someone had been in his greenhouse laboratory eating his science experiments. He was almost certain it was the grumpy Gamorrean palace guard, because only the tank filled with a growing coolsap shrub and red snoruuk mushrooms had been disturbed. Churo had wanted to see if the species native to Gamorr could not only grow in Nal Hutta’s expanding swamps but thrive. Now he had to start from scratch.

Second, no matter how many times he told the cook that he was a vegetarian, the messy Toydarian served him fried worrt and crucrarocha beetle salad with his green juice. His father hadn’t let him leave the gathering until he’d finished every morsel of his breakfast, and his cousins had sneered at and mocked him all morning.

Lorko, the meanest of his cousins, had shoveled an extra helping onto Churo’s plate. "Eat up, baby Huttlet, or you’ll never be as big as me!" Everyone laughed and laughed.

Churo wanted to say that Huttlet already meant baby Hutt, so Lorko was being redundant. Also, Lorko was older by a few planetary revolutions, so of course he was bigger. But at just about a meter and a half, Churo was short compared to the relatives who were his age, too. His sister always told him he was a later bloomer, but that wouldn’t stop Lorko from playing his favorite game, called Toss the chuba on the Churo. He managed to land one of the slimy purple frogs on Churo’s head as the younger Hutt sulked back to his chambers.

"Look at him go! Off to practice your Basic?" Lorko taunted him until Churo was out of sight. Most of his cousins didn’t speak anything other than Huttese, but Churo liked learning new languages. He could make out gruff Gamorrean and was working on some Rodese, but he had problems with Rodian vowels. He had dreams of going to a university where he could learn how to care for plants and insects and discover new species, and languages would help with that. But his parents expected him to fold into the family business, enforcing Hutt protections on smaller worlds, filling the palace coffers, crushing their enemies—that type of stuff.

As he slid through the corridors, several of the guards gossiped behind clawed hands. In fact, he’d never seen so many guards at his family’s palace before. Some had been brought to Nal Hutta after a recent skirmish on the planet Ena. One of the Nikto guards told Churo he’d lost his finger when the Jedi attacked their stronghold and took their food supplies to give to the local Enami. Churo thought the food had belonged to the Enami in the first place, but the last time he’d voiced sympathy like that, his father had been furious.

Nal Hutta felt like the moments before a thunderstorm. Churo could feel it in the way his parents spent more and more time with others from the Hutt Council—whispering, scheming, planning—and the way his first and second and third cousins warned that something huge was coming, a chance for the Hutts to strike back against the horrible Nihil marauders and nosy Jedi. Churo had a very bad feeling about all of it even though he tried his best to be an optimist.

When the doors to his chambers slid open, he let go of an anxious breath. He was ready to roll himself onto his giant bed platform but quickly realized he wasn’t alone. Someone was in his greenhouse laboratory. He was going to catch his plant-eating thief red-handed.

Hellooo? Churo called, annoyed, even though he wasn’t very good at getting angry. The sign on the door clearly says, ‘Do not enter. Flesh-eating flora and fauna inside.’

When he went through the archway that led into his greenhouse lab, he didn’t find a thief at all. Standing among the rows of exotic plants and terrariums filled with bugs from all over the galaxy was Dahara, his big sister. She was five years older and three times his size. She wore a hat with a long silver braid. The hair had belonged to a Gigoran bounty hunter who had betrayed the family and spied for the Nihil.

Oh, it’s just you. Churo placed a palm over his racing heart. Hey.

Dahara’s orange eyes were narrowed at the ant colony as she watched them carrying dirt from one side of the tank to the other. She reached for the lid.

I wouldn’t touch that, he warned. Unless you want your skin to blister and pus like tiny volcanoes for days after they bite.

Dahara retracted her fingers. He could never quite tell what his sister was thinking. Sometimes he wondered if she even liked him or if he was just another thing in the palace that annoyed her. Is that so?

She never took an interest in his bug and plant collection. Churo was thrilled. Oh, mighty stars! Yes. These ants come from the volcanic planet Mustafar. I found a few in a cargo shipment of minerals, and now look! Their skin is thick to withstand the volcanic terrain, but I’m hoping—

I didn’t ask all that, Churo.

Right, of course. He shook his head, forgetting a chuba was still clinging to the microbinocs atop his scalp. It slapped around in an attempt to flee, like it knew what was coming. But Dahara was too fast. She swiped it in her meaty palm and gobbled it up.

While her lips smacked together, he glanced around the greenhouse nervously. His mother had convinced his father to build it for him so he’d be out of the way. Dahara never visited him there. Never.

So… He looked from the prickly thorn hanging from the ceiling to the neon woolly caterpillars getting ready to spin their cocoons to the empty tank of Naboo bamboo. What’s up?

It’s time.

Time for what?

It’s time for you to join the family ranks. You can’t hide in this tree house forever.

Churo wanted to point out that it was a greenhouse, not a tree house, as they were not even in a tree, but he was too preoccupied with everything else she had said.

"I am in the family ranks. I’m a Hutt of the triumphant Devirsivik Clan." He knew proving yourself to your family and performing coming-of-age rituals weren’t exclusive to Hutts. On Dalna, children underwent the Metamorphosis Trials. His history tutor had told him of the ancient peoples of E’ronoh, who dropped their kids in the desert with nothing but a dagger and expected them to survive and return as warriors. He was probably lucky he didn’t have to do the Blood Hunt of the beings of Cathar. Still, shouldn’t it be enough to be his parents’ son? Why did he have to start going on dangerous missions to prove he belonged in his family?

Good. Because we have a job. Let’s go. Dahara turned to the exit that would spit them out onto the palace grounds.

But— Churo felt short of breath. "But my ants. They just hatched and I need to measure their progress. I can’t leave them."

"Then bring them with you, she snapped. You cannot hide among your critters and useless plants at a time like this. The family needs you.… I need you."

Churo didn’t think he was hiding. And he had never really thought anyone needed him—not the way his plants needed him to water them and his bugs needed him to feed them. He also knew Dahara would never, ever admit something so emotional unless it was important. Perhaps deadly.

So the youngest Hutt in the palace nodded and said, I’ll get my things.

Dahara didn’t say where they were going or how long they’d be away. Churo hadn’t been offworld in many rotations, since before the Nihil marauders claimed their territory and created their Occlusion Zone in the Outer Rim, so he packed as many nutrition patties and green juices as would fit in his backpack. He transferred a couple of dozen ants into a small sealed terrarium. The last things he grabbed were his field vest, with a dozen pockets to collect field samples, and his datapad.

Churo! his sister shouted.

He let out a high-pitched wail and followed her across the palace grounds. Ever since the flesh-eating plants known as the Drengir had ravaged Nal Hutta, the ground and air felt different—thicker and swampier. He wanted to study the effects, understand how a creature’s infestation could transform parts of his homeworld. Maybe he’d prove that his plants and bugs weren’t as useless as his sister thought. But for now he had to be preoccupied with Dahara’s secretive Hutt business, whatever it was.

They didn’t stop moving until they reached the palace hangar. Droids soldered and fixed the guts of ships, sending sparks into the air. A group of four-armed Besalisks stacked durasteel crates in the bellies of giant haulers.

What’s in there? Churo asked his sister, then regretted it. He knew better than to ask.

She shot him a glare, her eyes like orange suns in the shadows of the hangar. She turned back around without answering and headed for one of the newest additions to their family’s small fleet. Churo didn’t know as much about ships as he did duracrete slug anatomy, but it was still impressive. The cockpit was massive, with enough room for a Hutt to pilot. Though the shape reminded Churo of the head of a common Hutta snake, its landing struts gave it the appearance of a spider. The deep green metal gleamed and looked newer and shinier than the other ships, which had clearly seen the wrong side of laser cannons.

"Viperi-class cargo shuttle, refitted with four laser cannons—one rotating, of course—the latest defense shield technology and Class One hyperdrive, and a scouting shuttle. A gift, Dahara explained as the boarding ramp lowered for her. Mother insisted this mission was of the most importance and we need to represent the family in style. I named it the Sarlacc’s Scorn."

Whoa! Churo marveled as he followed Dahara down the corridor. Orange lights dotted the way. None of the previous ships he’d boarded had been so nice and clean. It still smelled like new.

Wipe that grin off your face, Churo, Dahara muttered in Huttese. People will think you’re a fool.

Churo twisted his face to look more like his older sister’s, all stretchy and mad. He had a feeling he only managed to look like he was trying not to throw up the crucrarocha beetles he’d been forced to gulp down for breakfast.

In fact, not knowing anything was going to make him throw up with anxiety anyway, so he might as well risk asking. He ventured, Where are we going?

You don’t need to know that yet. Dahara blinked her wet eyes. Sometimes he thought the orange of his eyes and skin was the only thing he had in common with his sister. They were the exact shade of the microscopic glowworms that had infested his soil samples last summer, but Churo knew she wouldn’t appreciate that fact, so he settled into the lounge behind the cockpit, large enough for four fully grown Hutts. Five of the biggest, smelliest, slimiest non-Hutt goons in Dahara’s crew took their seats around him and wasted no time setting up a game of holochess.

The Sarlacc’s Scorn rattled as it took off, zooming through the muggy atmosphere.

Chess ko tonka! Tronk, the pale-faced Pau’an captain, ordered through the ship’s comm, instructing them to buckle up. She was the newest addition to Dahara’s trusted crew, so her Huttese was shaky.

Churo always got hiccups when they made the jump to hyperspace, and this time was no different. It was embarrassing, especially when his sister glared at him like he was sneezing on her. So he held his breath to make them go away.

It didn’t work.

When they were steady in the swirling blue hyperspace tunnel, Dahara turned her shrewd eyes on her crew. The hologame was shut off, and everyone focused.

What gives, boss? asked Jaws-of-Death, the lizard-faced Trandoshan. She had a nasally voice that made Churo want to laugh, even if those sharp teeth could bite his head off. Not that anyone would hurt Churo. Since he was a member of the splendiferous Hutt clans, no one would dare. At least, he was 99 percent sure no one would hurt him.

Ric Ket, the Rodian who had lost an eye fighting a Nihil, let out a honking grunt as he tapped the blasters at his hips. Is it time for payback?

Churo swallowed. His whole body flashed hot with fear. Sure, he attended target practice with his cousins and theoretically knew what to do when a fight broke out (hide). He was small for his age and species, which Lorko never let him forget. His sister had to know that bringing Churo along to a fight couldn’t lead to victory.

We’re going to negotiate with the Nihil, Dahara said.

The word Nihil was scary enough that Churo’s hiccups went away. The marauders had trapped a part of the galaxy in what they called the Occlusion Zone, making travel in that area impossible. His family was definitely not thrilled about having limits on where they could and couldn’t go. The galaxy was huge, but nothing felt safe when the Nihil were snatching ships out of hyperspace with their new weapons. They even had the Jedi scared, or so he had heard his cousin Bulcha the Hutt say.

Churo adjusted his microbinocs on the top of his head, eyes slinking to each of the five enforcers Dahara had brought along on the mission. They all seemed as confused as he was.

Is ‘negotiate’ code for something? a Gamorrean female everyone called Pinkie asked in her native grunting language.

"Yeah. Code for kill them all! Filly, a muscled human woman from Rorak, muttered in her raspy backwater accent. Starting with the sleemo Tempest Runner who tortured and murdered Myarga the Merciless."

Everyone let a moment of silence pass for the late, great Myarga. Churo remembered their distant cousin’s shiny armor and ferocious spirit. But for Dahara, she had been a hero among Hutts and someone she wanted to emulate.

"Skarabda the Wise already tried talking to the Nihil mudrats, Ric Ket squeaked. And look at how that turned out. With the Jedi in our business and Myarga dead!"

Yes, Myarga should never have allied with them, either, may her spirit rule the netherworld.… Dahara nodded thoughtfully. The only ones we can trust are those loyal to the Hutt clans. How soon before the Nihil spread into our territory? How soon before the Hutts bow down before the Nihil leader they call Marchion Ro?

Never! the crew shouted.

Churo raised his hand shyly. I—I thought we couldn’t go to Nihil space. Won’t that, you know, upset them?

Nihil space. Dahara spit in disgust. "We are one of the glorious Hutt clans. We do not fear them. They fear us."

There was a raucous cheer that made Churo nervous. He wanted to correct his sister and remind her that the Nihil didn’t seem scared of anyone. Since the destruction of the space station Starlight Beacon, almost a year and a half ago, their corner of the galaxy had come to a standstill. Trade routes were disrupted. Hyperspace beacons snuffed out. Supplies raided. Territories and planets lost! There were reports of ships vanishing in space and never being heard from again. Churo had heard their parents and elders worry over the threat. Planets within the Occlusion Zone were nearly impossible to reach.

What are we negotiating exactly? Churo asked.

Dahara rested her fingers on the swell of her green belly. "We aren’t negotiating anything. I will be meeting with one of their generals. Their Tempest. Or Thunderbolt. Whatever they like to call themselves these days. Unofficially, of course."

So no one knows where we’re going or who we’re meeting with? Churo sucked in a breath and held it, lest his hiccups start again. And me?

As the youngest of his family, he did as everyone told him to, even if that meant sitting at very long and very boring meetings. He might not be big (yet) or scary (never), but he was good at listening. He simply needed to get better at all the other things that made the Hutts, well, Hutts. This mission was a start. However, he knew he was not going to enjoy whatever Dahara was about to say to him.

You, Churo, have the most important task of this mission.

Oh, noooo, Churo whispered, low and slow.

Dahara glared down at him. What was that?

I said… ‘Oh, no… ow.’ He managed to elongate his first petrified reaction into something more positive. "Oh, now we’re talking. Anything for the family."

Dahara chuckled. That’s what I thought, little brother. I’m tired of those karking marauders. They took something from us. Now it’s our turn. Listen very closely.

Listening, after all, was Churo’s best quality. But the longer Dahara talked and explained the intricate details of his task, the more Churo the Hutt realized his very bad day was about to get a whole lot worse.

Chapter Two: Jedi Temple, Coruscant

Ram Jomaram was having a great day. Any day he got to tinker and toil in the complicated metal innards of machines was a great day, actually, and the to-do list of repairs around the Temple had only gotten longer.

Ever since the destruction of the space station Starlight Beacon, Ram had been driven to action. He couldn’t stand by and watch his home planet get swallowed up by Nihil rule like so many other worlds in the Occlusion Zone. When he returned to Valo without alerting the Jedi Council, he’d known he was doing the right