Summary:
Agents of Chaos #1
The New Jedi Order #4
Merciless attacks by an invincible alien force have left the New Republic reeling. Dozens of worlds have succumbed to occupation or annihilation, and even the Jedi Knights have tasted defeat. In these darkest of times, the noble Chewbacca is laid to rest, having died as heroically as he lived--and a grief-stricken Han Solo is left to fit the pieces of his shattered soul back together before he loses everything: friends, family, and faith.
Refusing help from Leia or Luke, Han becomes the loner he once was, seeking to escape the pain of his partner's death in adventure . . . and revenge. When he learns that an old friend from his smuggling days is operating as a mercenary for the enemy, he sets out to expose the traitor. But Han's investigation uncovers an even greater evil: a sinister conspiracy aimed at the very heart of the New Republic's will and ability to fight--the Jedi.
Now Han must face down his inner demons and, with the help of a new and unexpected ally, honor Chewbacca's sacrifice in the only way that matters--by being worthy of it.
Features a bonus section following the novel that includes a primer on the Star Wars expanded universe, and over half a dozen excerpts from some of the most popular Star Wars books of the last thirty years!
Agents of Chaos #2
The New Jedi Order #5
A string of smashing victories by the forces of the sinister aliens known as the Yuuzhan Vong has left New Republic resources and morale stretched to the breaking point. Leia Organa Solo, estranged from her husband, Han, oversees the evacuation of refugees on planets in the path of the merciless invaders. Luke Skywalker struggles to hold the fractious Jedi Knights together, even while one of them undertakes a bold but reckless undercover mission.
Manipulating their alliance with the amoral Hutts, the Yuuzhan Vong leave a cunning trail of vital information where New Republic agents are sure to find it--information the desperate defenders cannot afford to ignore: the location of the aliens' next target.
Then Han Solo stumbles into the dark heart of raging battle, thus beginning a furious race against time that will require every skill and trick in his arsenal to win...
Features a bonus section following the novel that includes a primer on the Star Wars expanded universe, and over half a dozen excerpts from some of the most popular Star Wars books of the last thirty years!
The Yuuzhan Vong are a seriously evil bad guy, on some levels perhaps even more deadly than the Emperor, perhaps not as clever but definitely a tad deadlier and creepier. Even though it is said in the blurp I won't put a name to it but one of the hardest and saddest character deaths happened in the first book(Vector Prime by R.A. Salvatore) that kicked off this next leg of the journey, The New Jedi Order. When it happened I was completely devastated and saw no way forward without the amazing rebel but the story continued and though this character was forever missed, James Luceno did a wonderful job mixing the absence with continuing on, bringing the grief full circle to a degree.
As the fight with the Yuuzhan Vong gains momentum many former rebels who have or had held position of power in the New Republic are again called to protect their way of life and in many cases their very existence. This is such a brilliant look into the early days of the Yuuzhan Vong war you can't help but be sucked in. It's been longer than I care to admit since I last read Agents of Chaos but it all came flooding back and loved it just as much now that it's non-canon as it did when it was the only future Star Wars had.
Hero's Trial #1
ONE
If the system’s primary was distressed by the events that had transpired on and about the fourth closest of its brood, it betrayed nothing to the naked eye. Saturating local space with golden radiance, the star was as unperturbed now as it was before the battle had begun. Only the conquered world had suffered, its punished surface revealed in the steady crawl of sunlight. Regions that had once been green, blue, or white appeared ash-gray or reddish-brown. Below banks of panicked clouds, smoke chimneyed from immolated cities and billowed from tracts of firestormed evergreen forests. Steam roiled from the superheated beds of glacier-fed lakes and shallow seas.
Deep within the planet’s shroud of cinder and debris moved the warship most responsible for the devastation. The vessel was a massive ovoid of yorik coral, its scabrous black surface relieved in places by bands of smoother stuff, lustrous as volcanic glass. In the pits that dimpled the coarse stretches hid projectile launchers and plasma weapons. Other, more craterlike depressions housed the laser-gobbling dovin basals that both drove the vessel and shielded it from harm. From fore and aft extended bloodred and cobalt arms, to which asteroidlike fighters clung like barnacles. Smaller craft buzzed around it, some effecting repairs to battle-damaged areas, others keen on recharging depleted weapons systems, a few delivering plunder from the planet’s scorched crust.
Farther removed from the battle floated a smaller vessel, black, as well, but faceted and polished smooth as a gemstone. Light pulsed through the ship at intervals, exciting one facet, then another, as if data were being conveyed from sector to sector.
From a roost in the underside of its angular snout, a gaunt figure, cross-legged on cushions, scanned the flotsam and jetsam a quirk of a gravitational drift had borne close to his ship: pieces of New Republic capital ships and starfighters, space-suited bodies in eerie repose, undetonated projectiles, the holed fuselage of a noncombat craft whose legend identified it as the Penga Rift.
In the near distance hung the blackened skeleton of a defense platform. Off to one side a ruined cruiser rolled end over end in a decaying orbit, surrendering its contents to vacuum like a burst pod scattering fine seeds. Elsewhere a fleeing transport, snagged by the spike of a bloated capture vessel, was being tugged inexorably toward the bowels of the giant warship.
The seated figure beheld these sights without cheer or regret. Necessity had engineered the destruction. What had been done needed to be done.
An acolyte stood in the rear of the command roost, relaying updates as they were received by a slender, living device fastened to his right inner forearm by six insectile legs.
“Victory is ours, Eminence. Our air and ground forces have overwhelmed the principal population centers and a war coordinator has installed itself in the mantle.” The acolyte glanced at the receiving villip on his arm, whose soft bioluminescent glow added appreciably to the roost’s scant light. “Commander Tla’s battle tactician is of the opinion that the astrogation charts and historical data stored here will prove valuable to our campaign.”
The priest, Harrar, glanced at the warship. “Has the tactician made his feelings known to Commander Tla?”
The acolyte’s hesitancy was answer enough, but Harrar suffered the verbal reply anyway.
“Our arrival does not please the commander, Eminence. He does not dismiss out of hand the need for sacrifice, but he asserts that the campaign has been successful thus far without the need for religious overseers. He fears that our presence will only confound his task.”
“Commander Tla fails to grasp that we engage the enemy on different fronts,” Harrar said. “Any opponent can be beaten into submission, but compliance is no guarantee that you have won him over to your beliefs.”
“Shall I relay as much to the commander, Eminence?”
“It is not your place. Leave that to me.”
Harrar, a male of middle years, rose and moved to the lip of the roost’s polygonal transparency, where he stood with three-fingered hands clasped at the small of his back—the missing digits having been offered in dedication ceremonies and ritual sacrifices, as a means of escalating himself. His tall slender frame was draped in supple fabrics of muted tones. A head cloth, patterned and significantly knotted, bound his long black tresses. The back of his neck showed vibrant markings etched into skin stretched taut by prominent vertebrae.
The planet turned beneath him.
“What is this world called?”
“Obroa-skai, Eminence.”
“Obroa-skai,” Harrar mused aloud. “What does the name signify?”
“The meaning is unknown at present. Though no doubt some explanation can be found among the captured data.”
Harrar’s right hand gestured in dismissal. “It’s a dead issue.”
A flash of weapons drew his eye to Obroa-skai’s terminator, where a yorik coral gunship was angling into the light, spewing rear fire at a quartet of snub-nosed starfighters that had evidently chased it from the planet’s dark side. The little X-wings were closing fast, thrusters ablaze and wingtips lancing energy beams at the larger ship. Harrar had heard that the New Republic pilots had become adept at foiling the dovin basals by altering the frequency and intensity of the laser bolts the fighters discharged. These four pursued the gunship with a single-mindedness born of thorough self-possession. Such fierce confidence spoke to qualities the Yuuzhan Vong would need to keep solidly in mind as the invasion advanced. Largely oblivious to nuance, the warrior caste would have to be taught to appreciate that survival figured as strongly in the enemy’s beliefs as death figured in the beliefs of the Yuuzhan Vong.
The gunship had changed vector and was climbing now, seemingly intent on availing itself of the protection offered by Commander Tla’s warship. But the four fighters were determined to have it. Breaking formation, they accelerated, ensnaring the gunship at the center of their wrath.
The X-wing pilots executed their attack with impressive precision. Laser bolts and brilliant pink torpedoes rained from them, taxing the abilities of the gunship’s dovin basals. For every bolt and torpedo engulfed by the gravitic collapses the dovin basals fashioned, another penetrated, searing fissures in the assault craft and sending hunks of reddish-black yorik coral exploding in all directions. Stunned by relentless strikes, the gunship huddled inside its shields, hoping for a moment’s respite, but the starfighters refused to grant it any quarter. Bursts of livid energy assailed the ship, shaking it off course. The dovin basals began to falter. With defenses hopelessly compromised, the larger ship diverted power to weapons and counterattacked.
In a desperate show of force, vengeful golden fire erupted from a dozen gun emplacements. But the starfighters were simply too quick and agile. They made pass after pass, raking fire across the gunship’s suddenly vulnerable hull. Gouts of slagged flesh fountained from deep wounds and lasered trenches. The destruction of a plasma launcher sent a chain of explosions marching down the starboard side. Molten yorik coral streamed from the ship like a vapor trail. Shafts of blinding light began to pour from the core. The ship rolled over on its belly, shedding velocity. Then, jolted by a final paroxysm, it disappeared in a short-lived globe of fire.
It looked as if the X-wings might attempt to take the fight to the warship itself, but at the last moment the pilots turned tail. Salvos from the warship’s weapons crisscrossed nearby space, but no missiles found their mark.
His scarified face a deeply shadowed mask, Harrar glanced over his shoulder at the acolyte. “Suggest to Commander Tla that his zealous gunners allow the little ones to escape,” he said with incongruous composure. “After all, someone needs to live to speak of what happened here.”
“The infidels fought well and died bravely,” the acolyte risked remarking.
“Harrar pivoted to face him fully, a bemused glint in his deeply set eyes. “Is that respect I hear?”
The acolyte nodded his head in deference. “Nothing more than an observation, Eminence. To earn my respect, they would have to embrace willingly the truth we bring them.”
A herald of lesser station appeared in the roost, offering salute by snapping his fists to opposite shoulders. “Belek tiu, Eminence. I bring word that the captives have been gathered.”
“How many?”
“Several hundred—of diverse aspect. Do you wish to oversee the selection for the sacrifice?”
Harrar squared his shoulders and adjusted the fall of his elegant robes. “I am most eager to do so.”
Jedi Eclipse #2
"Punch it, Droma!" Han yelled as he veered the Falcon into an abrupt bank.
Muttering nervously to himself, Droma boosted power to the sublight drives and maxed the throttle. "We'll be fine venturing into Hutt space, you said. You used to do a lot of contract work up and down the Sisar Run and Sriluur was like a second home, you said. Nothing to worry about, you--"
"Quit griping and give me an update on those ships!"
Droma swung to the display screen of the ship's friend-or-foe authenticator, which showed seven bevel-shaped icons closing fast on the Falcon's aft. "Yuuzhan Vong, all right."
Han glanced at the display. The scanners limned images of what might have been asteroids save for the distinctive bulges that were cockpits and the pitted noses characteristic of weapons emplacements and dovin basal housings. "Coralskippers."
"Coordinates for the jump to Nar Shaddaa coming in."
"Belay that," Han countered, throwing switched on the console. "There's no shaking those skips. Route power to the rear deflector shields and lock in a course back to Sriluur. I'd rather deal with them in an atmosphere than out here."
Droma quickly applied himself to the task. "At least we won't have as far to fall."
"Thanks for the encouragement."
The Falcon whipped through a half-twisting loop, and the curve of the dun-and-ecru-colored world ballooned into view. Terrain-following data said they were traveling northward, looking out at a slice of the northern hemisphere just east of the planetary date line.
"Skips don't perform well in gravity," Han assured. "Have to rely on the anti-grav capabilities of the dovin basals."
As if they had heard him, the enemy pilots began firing at extreme range, molten-gold comets streaming from the projectile and plasma launchers in the bows of their small craft. Two of the missiles connected and, even though weakened by distance, were powerful enough to rock the larger ship. The Falcon's sensor suite began screaming.
"Rear shields holding," Droma reported while he activated countermeasures and distortion systems. "For now."
Han took a steadying breath, vised his right hand on the throttle lever, and rammed it home. The light freighter surged into Sriluur's upper atmosphere, trembling as it continued its oblique dive. With arrant scorn for the planet's protective wrapping, the Yuuzhan Vong crafts plunged after.
"See what I told you?" Han exclaimed. "They stick like epoxy!"
The ship's indicators railed in protest as the Falcon plummeted into denser air, rolling and corkscrewing to evade the deadly fire that sought her. All caution forgotten, Han sharpened the angle of descent, sloughing control in exchange for added speed.
"You've got the bridge!" he told Droma.
Droma threw him a panicked glance. "What?"
Unfastening the straps that secured him to the pilot's chair, Han stood, spun on his heel, and started for the main ladderwell. He didn't make it past the cockpit hatch when ship-rattling impacts aft threw him to the desk and forced him to rethink the idea of getting to one of the gun turrets.
"Enable autotracking for the quad lasers," he said in a rush as he was scrambling to his feet. Buckling back into the chair, he donned a headset and began to call up targeting data on the weapons control display screen. "Let's see if we can't even up the odds."
Droma reached for the joystick that controlled the Falcon's belly gun while Han took hold of the controls for the dorsal gun. Data began scrolling across the respective screens. Han bracketed a coralskipper in the targeting reticle and squeezed the trigger on the control grip.
The enemy craft swallowed the bolt whole.
He pounded his fist on the console. "We've gotta give them more to worry about than laserfire!"
Abruptly he rolled the Falcon onto its back while Droma was still firing the belly guy. In an effort to keep up, the lead coralskipper drew deeply on the capabilities of its dovin basal and accelerated.
Again, Han brought the reticle over his target, but the coralskipper sped out of his sights in a flash.
He left the firing to Droma momentarily and peeled the ship away in a swooping descending bank. Projectiles slammed against the rear shields, and plasma streaked between the ship's mandibles. Han rerouted power to the forward deflector and again increased the angle of their descent.
They ripped through a filmy blanket of high-altitude clouds and went spiraling downward. Far below them, ocean and desert lay side by side. Storm systems shrouded Sriluur's western horizon, and to the north an expansive brown haze smudged the terrain.
Droma glanced at the meteorological sensors. "That's a sandstorm!"
"How about that," Han said. "Some wishes do come true."
The words had barely left his mouth when the lead coralskipper dropped with mind-boggling velocity and was suddenly beneath the Falcon and firing up at her, plasma geysering from its gun emplacements.
Han pulled out of the spiral, yanked the throttle, and threw the ship up and over the coralskipper directly on his tail. A molten bolt from the craft below caught its squadron mate full on. The coralskipper shuddered as hunks of yorik coral flew in all directions. Then an interior explosion burst from the crystalline cockpit, and the crippled ship went into a helpless free fall, condemned to death by gravity.
The destroyed coralskipper's wingmate veered and glued himself to the Falcon's tail, battering it with projectiles and refusing to be unseated, despite a slew of daring turns and evasions Han took them through.
Han went for a pushover, but not in time. Something hit the Falcon like a hard clap on the back. Fighting with the controls, he succeeded in righting her, only to emerge from and end-over-end roll to find three more coralskippers attached to the ship as she entered the sandstorm.
The bristles on Droma's back stood up. "Another hit like that and you may as well plow us into the sand and let the Falcon be our gravestone!"
Projectiles raced past the outrigger cockpit. With the Falcon's Quadex power core roaring, Han pushed the ship to its limits, jinking and juking as the coralskippers continued to rake fire at them. He dropped the Falcon away in a power dive, leaving Droma struggling to adjust thrust bias and avert disaster as enemy missiles ranged closer.
All at once a mountain loomed before them. Han torqued the ship to starboard so forcefully that both he and Droma nearly sailed from their seats. The lead coralskipper pilot pursued them ferociously, obviously unable to hold the Falcon in his sights but firing anyway, perhaps in the hope of shaking Han's concentration.
Without warning, a plasma bolt sizzled through the overtaxed rear shields. A muffled explosion sounded from aft, followed by the sibilant hiss of the ship's fire-suppression system. An acrid smell drifted forward on exhaust fan currents.
Han sniffed and shot Droma a wide-eyed glance. "What was that?"
Droma's eyes roamed over the console telltales. "Power converter."
Han winced. "Of all the rotten luck!"
He utilized more of the ship's amazing speed to improve their lead and leapt deeper into the swirling haze. The three coralskippers decreased velocity, waiting for the Falcon to come across their vector, but instead Han poured on all power, climbed, looped, and came around behind the trio.
Droma fired instinctively with the belly gun. With the dovin basal of the trailing ship too stressed to handle defense as well as guidance, the laser bolts sneaked through. The widespread burst caught the craft right on the nose, blowing it to nuggets.
Han hooted triumphantly as he sheered off and settled calmly into kill position behind the second craft. The coralskipper pilot, realizing the position he was suddenly in, climbed slightly, unintentionally placing himself in the overlapping field of fire between the Falcon's upper and lower batteries.
"Money Lane!" Han shouted. "One hundred credits to whomever nails him!"
"You're on!" Droma said.
Simultaneously, the two of them tightened their fingers on the trigger. The quad lasers loosed storms of red darts that peppered the rear of the enemy craft and perforated the cockpit, disintegrating the ship.
Han and Droma howled their joy as Han steered through a corkscrewing dive, zipping through the far-flung remains of the exploded ship. Swooping past the lead craft, Han inverted the Falcon and took her back into the storm.
Where it could be glimpsed at all, the land was dark red and studded with monolithic rock towers that were the sandblasted and wind-eroded remains of volcanic upthrusts. And yet despite their size, the swirling sand made the towers almost impossible to see.
Eyes on the terrain-following display and making the most of the Falcon's maneuverability, Han aimed deliberately for the closest obelisk. Faking a climb, he stood the ship on its side and swerved to starboard while Droma triggered bursts from the belly gun. Unsecured items throughout the ship flew from their perches, crashed into bulkheads, or were sent rolling along the deck plates of the ring corridor. But two well-placed laser bolts caught the coralskipper at the cockpit seam, splitting it in two, as if struck by a chisel in the hands of a master stonemason.
Still, the three remaining coralskippers clung doggedly, chomping at the Falcon's tail. Map of the ground, Han weaved through a forest of storm-obscured spires and wind-sculpted stelae. The engines moaned and the ship vibrated as if on the verge of flying apart. Hiking power to the rear shields, he snap-rolled, then stood the Falcon on its side once more...
Saturday's Series Spotlight
James Luceno is a New York Times bestselling author, best known for his novels and reference books connected with the Star Wars franchise and the Star Wars Expanded Universe, and novelisations of the Robotech animated television series. He lives in Annapolis, Maryland with his wife and youngest child.
He has co-written many books with Brian Daley as Jack McKinney.
👀Audiobooks are Abridged👀
Hero's Trial #1
KOBO / iTUNES / iTUNES AUDIO
Jedi Eclipse #2
KOBO / iTUNES / iTUNES AUDIO
New Jedi Order Series
