By Karen Traviss
The Clone Wars are over, yet for people with cause to run from the hot galactic Empire, the conflict to outlive has merely simply began. . . .
The Jedi were decimated within the nice Purge, and the Republic has fallen. Now the previous Republic Commandos–the galaxy’s most interesting specific forces troops, cloned from Jango Fett–find themselves on opposing aspects and in very diverse armor. a few have abandoned and fled to Mandalore with the mercenaries, renegade clone soldiers, and rogue Jedi who make up Kal Skirata’s ragtag resistance to Imperial career. Others–including males from Delta and Omega squads–now function Imperial Commandos, a black ops unit inside Vader’s personal 501st Legion, tasked to seek down fugitive Jedi and clone deserters. For Darman, grieving for his Jedi spouse and separated from his son, it’s an agonizing attempt of loyalty. yet he’s now not the single one who’ll be pressured to check the binds of brotherhood. On Mandalore, clone deserters and the planet’s personal natives, who've no love for the Jedi, could have their so much adored ideals challenged. within the savage new galactic order, previous feuds could have to be put aside to unite opposed to a miles higher danger, and no-one can take previous loyalties without any consideration.
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They both stayed with Anglo. Odd, Kenmuir reflected, what a relaxed attitude to schedules most Lunarians had, when survival might depend on precision. Well, with them timing was practically instinctive, as fast as recovery from a stumble was to an Earthman in his high-gravity home. You got to know your competences andftheir safe boundaries. "I wonder what exactly went wrong," he remarked. " "Thus the cybercosm tells us," Eythil growled. "M-m, nothing is guaranteed, you know. The planning may be total, but-I simply wonder if this blowup was due to an oversight, or a runaway chaos, or a quantum fluctuation that got amplified… I really don't know how these operations are conducted.
Only wind and sea and the hiss of the bow cleaving water spoke further. Aleka's glance returned to the Lunar disc. Strange, if that was where her hope lay, hope for the ancient unreasonableness of life. Or maybe not so strange. Yonder, too, it had flourished from the earliest years, heedless of the machines that kept it in being. –4iort Bowen had gained a few amenities, among them L'Etoile de Diane. The restaurant's menu was limited, but that was because all vegetables and fruit were fresh, raised in its own agro.
No loosening of muscles, no mantra was of great help. She set about understanding this past day as part of an entirety. Nothing really new had happened. It was only that things were coming to a head, which she had known they would. That • knowledge grew in her throughout her life, with roots that went back in time to before she was born and in space to the ends of the Solar System. But she had seen, she had felt, for herself. She searched out memories, less from here than from abroad, Russia, Yuri, the Lyudovite passion against the cyberneticized world that still smoldered deep down in her, missions to mainland America and the underground web of metamorphs that she touched upon, Luna and the cold Lunarian anger, the machines, everywhere the machines, and the sophotects in their multitudes and their oneness… History had become the next phase of evolution.