By Troy Denning
This is a prequel tale to Tatooine Ghost
BONUS: This unique novella contains an excerpt from big name Wars: Legacy of the strength: Betrayal and an interview with the author.
LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON
Growing up within the shadow of his heroic father, Lumpawarrump, son of Chewbacca, feels super strain to check his father's bold exploits. Chewie's life-debt to Han Solo retains him from returning domestic, and with no the steadying impression of his father, Lumpy is unfocused and uncontrolled. So Chewie's spouse makes a decision stopover at to Coruscant is so as. It's the best chance for the relatives to bond--and for Chewbacca to coach his son a few much-needed life-lessons.
But whilst Lumpy's eagerness to provoke his father results in direct disobedience, Chewie is compelled into an severe pursuit that would lead him into Coruscant's harmful underlevels--and to a mystery as surprising because it is lethal. . . .
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Extra resources for A Forest Apart (Star Wars)
Waiting and waiting with nothing else to do. And yet, it was too sudden. It was all too sudden. It couldn’t really be happening, not right now, right now. They shuffled down the stairs and merged with the herd of people down there. People were carrying their possessions, their few small things. “Folks, if it won’t fit in a pocket, it ain’t going,” a weirdly cheerful woman with a clipboard chirped. “Put it in the trash barrel. Don’t worry, the Lord will provide, the Lord will provide. ” 2Face stuffed a few hard-copy photos in her pockets, and her mini-book: The tiny screen was hard to read but it contained the full text of sixteen books.
He had a destiny. His destiny was not to die on a shattered Earth, one of seven-billion bugs cowering under the big cosmic shoe. Nor was it to float through the cold emptiness of space for the remaining life of the universe, pockmarked by micrometeorites and disintegrated into soup by radiation. Yago was going to be something. And there was no point moping over the long odds, or boo-hooing over poor, lost Earth. The point was to figure out how to come out on top. And the time to start preparing was now.
He was! The man was drunk. “You just walk out, one at a time, along the catwalk. Someone’s waiting inside to stow you in your berth. One at a time. ” Yago watched as the first person stepped out. The catwalk swayed in the warm, moist wind, and swayed some more with each step. The catwalk went out, turned a dog-leg, and disappeared inside the partly open payload bay. More went. Some with easy, confident strides. Others hesitant. One by one. The elevator arrived with another load. The last load. The Marine sergeant and half a dozen of her men joined.