Tales from the New Republic: Star Wars Legends
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Written by some of today's leading science fiction writers, these tales sweep us into a world where the only laws are cunning, force, and power -- and only the bravest, craziest, and deadliest dare to tread. Here mercs and smugglers, gangsters and warriors fight toe to toe, side by side, and behind each other's backs in the backwaters of a universe ripped apart by war. . . .
On Zelos II a man and a woman are held prisoner in a dark cell, each fighting in their own way for survival at the hands of Imperial captors -- and a chance for escape that could cost one of them their life. On the tortured landscape of Ryloth, Fenig Nabon awaits a ship of women warriors to complete a dangerous deal: the smuggling of a troupe of dancers to the homeworld of the Hutts -- only to get more than she bargained for. And in a stunning new novella written especially for this collection by Hugo Award-winning, New York Times bestselling author Timothy Zahn and Michael A. Stackpole, Senator Garm Bel Iblis, believed dead at the hands of an Imperial assassin, teams up with Hal Horn in a duel against the Empire's most dangerous agent. At stake are the plans for a terrifying new weapon called the Death Star -- and the fate of both the Empire and the New Republic.
the street-maintenance speeder truck she’d spotted from their earlier vantage point came lumbering by just as they reached the street, and a moment later she and Garm were safely nestled into the empty debris-storage bin in the back. “You don’t think they’ll search this thing?” Garm asked, looking cautiously out through the rear access opening they’d just climbed in through. “Not when they see the bin is already full of dirt,” Moranda told him, unfastening her outer skirt and pulling it off.
delayed. Grab Thykele from the outer office, and let’s go.” “You think three of us will be enough?” Barclo asked, pulling his blaster from a desk drawer as he stood up. “We’ll make it enough,” Nyroska said grimly, checking his own blaster and jamming it into his holster. “This time she’s not getting away.” They had left the boutique and were heading across the street when Hal’s comlink beeped again. “Do I answer it?” he asked. “Probably better,” Isard grunted, getting a grip on his arm and
lying in a dark cell with a bloody nose and nothing to live for. At that moment, Harkness came across a part of himself that he did not like to acknowledge, and his stomach tightened. It was the part that had already begun to dissolve the security of his prison, and his sense of unparalleled freedom. It was the entire reason the interrogation officers had seen fit to beat him. He had yet again discovered, to his dismay, the part of himself that wanted to survive. Whole. Undefeated. Harkness
Empire or a business dictator, needed to be set free. But for the first time in her years of being involved in such liberations, it occurred to her to question whether the New Republic had done it because it was the best thing for the planet and its people, or because a direct pipeline to BactaCo was the best thing for the New Republic. She could not forget Quarle’s prediction: that the Verkuylians, faced for the first time with self-government and the running of a business, would be crushed
Immigration checkpoint. “What detained you?” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Profile check, I assume.” She almost snapped that he should not assume anything, but she checked herself. She’d chosen Trabler to accompany her because of his unswerving loyalty to the Empire and because she recalled his wrenching the head off a captive Ithorian with his bare hands. He is here for his muscle, nothing more. He will do what I tell him to do when I tell him to do it. The blond hair and Corellian