“THEY’RE COMING IN FAST,” Milo said, checking the rear sensors.

“Too fast!” CR-8R agreed.

“Try being out here with them!” Lina shouted over the comms.

“Get into the engineering section, Sis,” Milo suggested. “Perhaps they won’t—”

The fighters roared over the top of the Whisper Bird, zooming past the ship.

“They’re gone,” Lina breathed.

Milo sank back into his chair. “I thought they were after us,” he said, his voice shaking.

“They’re heading toward Thune,” CR-8R reported. “As are we, if you haven’t remembered!”

“I’m on it,” Lina replied. Milo flicked through the internal camera feeds and found her climbing down into the engineering section.

“I see you,” Milo said. “How’s it looking in there?”

“Smoky. There’s been a fire. Some of the cables must have burnt through,” Lina said.

Milo watched his sister swing over to an access panel. She pulled it open to find their mom’s supply of emergency tools.

“This shouldn’t take me long,” she promised. Milo hoped she was right. He glanced through the front windows. Thune was massive now and he could make out every ship in its orbit.

“Those are the new-model Imperial ships—TIE fighters,” CR-8R reported. “They’re docking with that space station.”

As if on cue, a red light started flashing urgently on the control console.

“Now what?” Milo asked the droid.

CR-8R checked the readouts. “It’s the space station. They want to talk to us.”

“Why?” Milo asked.

“Without answering their call, that’s difficult to know,” CR-8R remarked.

“We’ll have to ignore them,” Milo said. “How long until we hit the atmosphere.”

“Six minutes.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Humor isn’t part of my programming.”

Milo flicked on the comms. “Did you hear that, Sis?”

“Loud and clear. The core is in bad shape. The transfer coils are fried, but I should be able to divert power. How’s Crater doing with the repulsors?”

“Poorly,” was the droid’s too-honest reply. “The safety computer is being stubborn. It won’t release the repulsors until there’s a stable power source.”

Just then, the light on the console began flashing again.

“They really want to talk to us, don’t they?” Milo said, staring at the space station.

“They’ve increased the priority of the signal,” CR-8R told him. “If we don’t answer, they might send those TIE fighters back to investigate.”

“Just answer the call, Milo!” Lina snapped over the comms. “The last thing we need is another flyby!”

Milo pressed the communication control with a shaking finger. “H-hello, there,” he said, dropping his voice in an attempt to sound more like his dad. “How can we be of assistance?”

“This is Imperial Harbor Control. We were about to ask you the same question,” a woman replied. “You are approaching the planet at extreme speed.”

“Roger that, Harbor Control,” Milo bluffed even though he had no idea what he was talking about. “We’re experiencing a little booster trouble, but will sort it out, er, now-ish.”

“Now-ish?” Lina repeated from the engineering section.

Milo glared at her image on the screen.

“Unidentified Mu-class shuttle! Please transmit your identity,” the harbor controller requested. Panicking, Milo killed the comms.

“What are you doing?” CR-8R asked.

“We can’t tell the Empire who we are,” Milo insisted. “They think the Whisper Bird was destroyed. If they find out we’re alive we’ll be arrested like Mom and Dad!”

“So you’re just going to ignore them?” the droid replied.

“That won’t work,” Lina said as she pulled on different cables. “As soon as we’re within range, the Whisper Bird will just send our IFF code automatically.”

“Our what?” Milo asked.

“Identify Friend or Foe,” CR-8R explained. “Every ship automatically transmits an ID code by law.”

“Lina can just override it, right?” Milo asked.

“Even if I could, I’m a little busy,” Lina replied.

A red light flashed on the console.

“They’re signaling again,” CR-8R reported.

Milo felt like screaming. They couldn’t have come this far to be stopped by something as silly as an ID code. Up ahead, the TIE fighters were racing back toward them.

“How are you doing with that power?” he asked his sister, gripping the arms of the pilot’s chair tightly.

“I just need a few more minutes,” Lina replied.

“We don’t have a few minutes. Crater needs to make…” He hesitated, unable to find the right words.

“Evasive maneuvers,” CR-8R said for him.

“Not with me next to the generator you don’t!” Lina exclaimed.

The TIE fighters were now so close that Milo could make out the twin muzzles of their laser cannons. “I don’t think we’re going to have a choice!”

“We’re coming within IFF transmission range,” CR-8R said.

“Crater, you have to do something,” Milo pleaded.

“I’m not sure what I can do,” CR-8R began. “Even if overriding the code wasn’t illeg—”

Suddenly, the droid froze, his head cocked to one side.

“Crater?” Milo said, shaking the droid gently.

“What’s happening?” Lina asked.

“He just…stopped working,” Milo reported.

“He what?” Lina cried.

CR-8R’s head snapped up again and his eyes flashed. One of his probe arms shot out of his body and slammed into the navicomputer. “Overriding codes,” he announced.

“But you said that we couldn’t—” Milo started.

Before Milo could finish his sentence, CR-8R answered the harbor controller’s call. The female voice echoed through the cockpit.

“Starstormer One, we have received your transmission.”

Milo stared at CR-8R in amazement. Starstormer One? What was that about?

“Your IFF checks out. Everything present and correct,” the woman said.

Milo stared at the comms-speaker as the TIE fighters sped back to the base. “It is? I mean, it is. Good. So we can proceed to Thune, then…please?” Milo said shakily.

“You still need to reduce speed,” the harbor controller replied. “Do you require a tractor beam? We could pull you into the station’s hangar.”

“No!” Milo shouted, a little too quickly, before recovering. “We don’t need the tractor beam, we have everything under control.”

He switched frequencies to talk to his sister. “Lina, please tell me we have everything under control?”

“Rerouting power…now!” Lina reported.

The Whisper Bird shuddered, nearly throwing Milo from the pilot’s chair. With a squeal, Morq landed in Milo’s lap.

“The repulsors are responding,” CR-8R said, seemingly back to normal. “Retro-rockets are firing. Acceleration compensators activated.”

“You did it, Sis,” Milo shouted. “Now get back to the airlock.”

“There’s no time for that,” CR-8R insisted as the navicomputer beeped wildly. “We’re about to enter the planet’s atmosphere. Mistress Lina, I’m closing the hatch.”

“What? No!” Lina cried.

“You will be safe in the engineering shaft while we make planetfall,” CR-8R said. “Well, as safe as any of us.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Milo hissed.

“Starstormer One, you are coming in too fast,” the harbor controller shouted over the comms. “You are going to crash. Engaging tractor beam.”

“Crater, do something!” Milo yelled desperately.

“I am,” the droid replied. “Firing retro-boosters. Full reverse. Hold on!”

The Whisper Bird’s hull blazed red as it plunged into Thune’s atmosphere, out of control.