The first novel in a new trilogy starring veteran New Republic pilots! On the brink of victory in a brutal war, five New Republic pilots transform from hunted to hunters in this epic The Emperor is dead. His final weapon has been destroyed. The Imperial Army is in disarray. In the aftermath, Yrica Quell is just one of thousands of defectors from her former cause living in a deserters’ shantytown--until she is selected to join Alphabet Squadron. Cobbled together from an eclectic assortment of pilots and starfighters, the five members of Alphabet are tasked by New Republic general Hera Syndulla herself. Like Yrica, each is a talented pilot struggling to find their place in a changing galaxy. Their mission: to track down and destroy the mysterious Shadow Wing, a lethal force of TIE fighters exacting bloody, reckless vengeance in the twilight of their reign. The newly formed unit embodies the heart and soul of the Rebellion: ragtag, resourceful, scrappy, and emboldened by their most audacious victory in decades. But going from underdog rebels to celebrated heroes isn’t as easy as it seems, and their inner demons threaten them as much as their enemies among the stars. The wayward warriors of Alphabet Squadron will have to learn to fly together if they want to protect the new era of peace they’ve fought so hard to achieve. Part of a Marvel and Del Rey crossover event, <Alphabet Squadron< is the counterpart to Marvel’s <TIE Fighter <miniseries, which follows the exploits of Shadow Wing as they scheme to thwart the New Republic.

Autorentext
Alexander Freed is the author of&#160;Star Wars: Battle­front:&#160;Twilight Company&#160;and&#160;Star Wars: Rogue One&#160;and has written many short stories, comic books, and videogames. Born near Philadelphia, he currently re­sides in San Francisco, California. He enjoys the city’s culture, history, and secrets, but he misses snow.

Zusammenfassung
**The first novel in a new trilogy starring veteran New Republic pilots!

On the brink of victory in a brutal war, five New Republic pilots transform from hunted to hunters in this epic Star Wars adventure.&#160;Set after&#160;Return of the Jedi,&#160;Alphabet Squadron&#160;follows a unique team, each flying a different class of starfighter as they struggle to end their war once and for all.&#160;**
The Emperor is dead. His final weapon has been destroyed. The&#160;Imperial&#160;Army is in disarray. In the aftermath, Yrica Quell is just one of thousands of defectors from her former cause living in a deserters’ shantytown—until she is selected to join Alphabet Squadron.
&#160;
Cobbled together from an eclectic assortment of pilots and starfighters, the five members of Alphabet are tasked by New Republic&#160;general Hera Syndulla herself. Like Yrica, each is a talented pilot struggling to find their place in a changing galaxy. Their mission: to track down and destroy the mysterious Shadow Wing, a lethal force of TIE fighters exacting bloody, reckless vengeance in the twilight of their reign.
&#160;
The newly formed unit embodies the heart and soul of the Rebellion: ragtag, resourceful, scrappy, and emboldened by their most audacious victory in decades. But going from underdog rebels to celebrated heroes isn’t as easy as it seems, and their inner demons threaten them as much as their enemies among the stars. The wayward warriors of Alphabet Squadron will have to learn to fly together if they want to protect the new era of peace they’ve fought so hard to achieve.

Part of a Marvel and Del Rey crossover event,&#160;Alphabet Squadron&#160;is the counterpart to Marvel’s&#160;TIE Fighter&#160;miniseries, which follows the exploits of Shadow Wing as they scheme to thwart the New Republic.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

Situational Awareness

“I was eighteen kilometers above sea level when they caught me,” she said.

The droid measured her heart rate from across the room (sixty-two beats per minute, seven above her baseline) and stored her voiceprint for post-session analysis. It performed a cursory optical scan and noted the scrapes on her lips and forehead; the sling supporting her right arm. She had begun to regain muscle mass, though she remained—the droid permitted itself a poetic flourish—frail.

“You remember the precise altitude?” the droid asked. For this interaction it had chosen a masculine voice, bass and hollow. The sound projected from a speaker on the underside of its spherical black chassis.

“I have an extremely good memory.”

The droid oriented the red lens of its photoreceptor as if to stare. “So do I.”

The woman met its gaze. The droid readjusted the lens.

This is the story she told.

Eighteen kilometers above the surface of the planet Nacronis, Yrica Quell fled for her life.

The siltstorm raged outside her starfighter, blue and yellow mud roiling against the faceted viewport. A burst of wind lifted the ship’s port-side wing, nearly sending her into a spin; she adjusted her repulsors with her gloved left hand while the right urged a rattling lever into position. The ship leveled out, and the comforting howl of its twin ion engines rose to a screech as six million stony granules entered the exhaust. Quell winced as she bounced in her harness, listening to her vessel’s agony.

Emerald light shot past the viewport, incinerating ribbons of airborne mud. She increased her thrust and plunged deeper into the storm, ignoring the engines’ scream.

Her scanner showed three marks rapidly closing from behind—two fewer than she’d hoped for. She moved a hand to the comm, recalibrated her frequency, and called out two names: “Tonas? Barath?” When no one answered, she recalibrated again and tried, “This is TIE pilot Yrica Quell to Nacronis ground control.” But Tonas and Barath were surely dead, and the locals were jammed, out of range, or ardently inclined to ignore her.

Another volley of emerald particle bolts sizzled past her ship. Quell maintained her vector. She was a fine defensive pilot, but only the storm could keep her alive now. She had to trust to the wind and the blinding mud to throw off her enemy’s aim.

Her comm sounded at last. “Lieutenant Quell?”

She leaned forward, straining at her harness, trying to peer through the storm as her teeth chattered and her hips knocked against her seat. A ribbon of blue silt streaked by and she glimpsed, beyond it, a flash of white light: lightning ahead and twenty degrees to port.

“Lieutenant Quell? Please acknowledge.”

She considered her options. She could head toward the lightning—toward the storm’s center, where the winds would be strongest. There she could try to locate an updraft. Reduce her thrust, overcharge her repulsors, and let the draft and the repulsors’ antigravity toss her ship high while her pursuers passed below. If she didn’t black out, if she didn’t become disoriented, she could dip back down and re-engage her enemy from behind, eliminating one, maybe two before they realized where she’d gone.

“You are hereby ordered to reduce speed, eject, and await pickup, detention, and court-martial.”

She couldn’t imagine that the man on the other end of the comm would fall for such a maneuver. More likely she’d be shot down while she spun helplessly through the sky.

Of course, she’d also be shot if she ejected. Major Soran Keize was a good man, an admirable man, but she knew there would be no court-martial.

She changed course toward the lightning and pitched her ship incrementally downward. Toward the ground, she reminded herself—ground, like atmosphere and gravity, was a challenge…