Zusatztext Praise for Star Wars: Alphabet Squadron Alphabet Squadron is a thrilling examination of the cost of war. . . . a combat novel that brings nuance and depth to the Galactic Civil War. The Verge The dysfunctional! damaged aces of this new Starfighter Squadron are some of the most compelling new additions to the Star Wars canon in recent years. io9 Every fan who wants a taste of what the future of Star Wars has in store for us should read this novel. Star Wars News Net Every pilot has a story in the galaxy far! far away! and the pilots of Alphabet Squadron have fascinating ones. Syfy Wire Informationen zum Autor Alexander Freed is the author of the Star War: Alphabet Squadron trilogy, Star Wars: Battlefront: Twilight Company, and Star Wars: Rogue One and has written many short stories, comic books, and videogames. Born near Philadelphia, he endeavors to bring the city's dour charm with him to his current home of Austin, Texas. Leseprobe Chapter 1 Six Trillion Suns and None I On Polyneus, where Wyl Lark was born and lifted into adulthood by the Sun-Lamas of the Hik'e Matriarch, the word city was synonymous with garden. Settlements on Polyneus grew on canyon walls like moss and sprouted from forest floors, cultivated and tended by their residents. In Cliff, where Wyl learned to fly the suravkas, the streets flooded and changed with every monsoon, and the residents rearranged their homes to suit what fate and drainage made of the landscape. Wyl had traveled to many worlds since leaving Polyneus. On Troithe he realized he had never truly seen a city before. The engines of his RZ-1 interceptor thundered as he banked away from a massive façade of midnight metal and gold-plated arches, hurtling between towers and under tram lines. Above the lines of digital billboards solar projectors cast their midday light. Bright against the black sky, they guided Wyl through the urban labyrinth. Tell me you're not running, brother? The voice coming through Wyl's comm was barely audible over the noise of the A-wing. Nath Tensent sounded amused. Not running, Wyl said. Circling around. That's a big circle. You're off my sensors. Maybe because your equipment is older than I am, Wyl returned, but he forgot to smile and he wasn't listening to himself. He angled his fighter into a cloud of smoke, specks of ash smearing his canopy as he reduced speed. He wrestled with throttle and repulsor controls, looking only at his scannervisuals told him nothingand his stomach lurched as the A-wing dropped a hundred meters and exited the cloud. To his right, a multi-level speeder port rose out of view. Sections of three stories spewed jets of flamethe source of the smoke cloudwhile crimson particle bolts sprayed another two levels, pockmarking metal and chipping duracrete slabs. Wyl veered away from the flames and into the storm of bolts, watching his shields shimmer as he banked hard and felt his harness bite into his side. He glimpsed pavement far below and two groups clashing along the boulevard. The particle bolts battering the speeder port (andat the momentWyl's deflector screens) were aimed at a UT-60D U-wing transport hovering twenty meters above one group of combatants and unleashing its weaponry onto the second. Wyl processed the image in less than a second, steering his ship with his body as his vision glimmered with spots. Kairos? he asked. You need an assist? He avoided colliding with a metal spiredecorative architecture or obsolete technology, he wasn't sureas a low tone sounded over the comm. That's a negative, Wyl thought, and flinched at the roar of the U-wing's laser cannons. What she needsNath's voice againis...

**Praise for *Star Wars: Alphabet Squadron

“Alphabet Squadron is a thrilling examination of the cost of war. . . . a combat novel that brings nuance and depth to the Galactic Civil War.”—The Verge

“The dysfunctional, damaged aces of this new Starfighter Squadron are some of the most compelling new additions to the Star Wars canon in recent years.”—io9

“Every fan who wants a taste of what the future of Star Wars has in store for us should read this novel.”—Star Wars News Net

“Every pilot has a story in the galaxy far, far away, and the pilots of Alphabet Squadron have fascinating ones.”—Syfy Wire

Autorentext
Alexander Freed is the author of the Star War: Alphabet Squadron trilogy, Star Wars: Battlefront: Twilight Company, and Star Wars: Rogue One and has written many short stories, comic books, and videogames. Born near Philadelphia, he endeavors to bring the city’s dour charm with him to his current home of Austin, Texas.

Zusammenfassung
Alphabet Squadron’s hunt for the deadliest TIE fighters in the galaxy continues in this Star Wars adventure!

News of the New Republic’s victory still reverberates through the galaxy. In its wake, the capital ships of the newly legitimized galactic government journey to the farthest stars, seeking out and crushing the remnants of imperial tyranny. But some old ghosts are harder to banish than others. And none are more dangerous than Shadow Wing.

Yrica Quell’s ragtag Alphabet Squadron still leads the search for Shadow Wing, but they’re no closer to their goal—and the pressure to find their quarry before it’s too late has begun to shake them apart. Determined to finish the fight once and for all, Quell works with New Republic Intelligence’s contentious Caern Adan and the legendary General Hera Syndulla to prepare the riskiest gambit of her starfighting career—a trap for Shadow Wing that could finish the chase once and for all.

But in the darkness, their enemy has evolved. Soran Keize, last of the Imperial aces, has stepped into the power vacuum at the head of Shadow Wing, reinvigorating the faltering unit in their hour of need. Once adrift in the aftershocks of the war, Keize has found meaning again, leading the lost soldiers of his unit through to safety. The only thing standing in his way? The most mismatched squadron in the New Republic Navy, led by his former mentee: the traitor Yrica Quell.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

Six Trillion Suns and None

I

On Polyneus, where Wyl Lark was born and lifted into adulthood by the Sun-Lamas of the Hik’e Matriarch, the word city was synonymous with garden. Settlements on Polyneus grew on canyon walls like moss and sprouted from forest floors, cultivated and tended by their residents. In Cliff, where Wyl learned to fly the suravkas, the streets flooded and changed with every monsoon, and the residents rearranged their homes to suit what fate and drainage made of the landscape.

Wyl had traveled to many worlds since leaving Polyneus. On Troithe he realized he had never truly seen a city before.

The engines of his RZ-1 interceptor thundered as he banked away from a massive façade of midnight metal and gold-plated arches, hurtling between towers and under tram lines. Above the lines of digital billboards solar projectors cast their midday light. Bright against the black sky, they guided Wyl through the urban labyrinth.

“Tell me you’re not running, brother?” The voice coming through Wyl’s comm was barely audible over the noise of the A-wing. Nath Tensent sounded amused.

“Not running,” Wyl said. “Circling around.”

“That’s a big circle. You’re off my sensors.”

“Maybe because your equipment is older than I am,” Wyl returned, but he forgot to smile and he wasn’t listening to himself. He angled his fighter into a cloud of smoke, specks of ash smearing his canopy as he reduced speed. He wrestled with throttle and repulsor controls, looking only at his scanner—visuals t…