We’ve just been given our first in-depth look at the upcoming media-spanning story set in a galaxy far, far away. The entire first chapter of Star Wars: The High Republic – Light of the Jedi has been released, and it chronicles a critical moment in the history of Star Wars canon.
This excerpt from Charles Soule’s upcoming novel comes from IGN, painting a unique picture of what the galaxy used to be. It also reveals some details about a catastrophic event that kicks off the story of the novel. Soule describes it as “the moment that changes The High Republic forever.” If you’d rather go into the book blind, I’d avoid reading this first look. But for those (like me) who can’t wait for this series, the chapter is a fascinating glimpse at a new era in Star Wars, and depicts an event that shaped the galaxy forever. Take a look at a selection of the passage below:
An alarm, loud and insistent. The bridge lighting flipped into its emergency configuration—bathing everything in red. Through the front port, the swirls of hyperspace looked off, somehow. Maybe it was the emergency lighting, but they had a…reddish tinge. It looked…sickly.
Hedda felt her pulse quicken. Her mind snapped into combat mode without thinking.
“Report!” she barked out, her eyes whipping along her own set of screens to find the source of the alarm.
“Alarm generated by the navicomp, captain,” called out her navigator, Cadet Kalwar, a young Quermian. “There’s something in the hyperlane. Dead ahead. Big. Impact in ten seconds.”
The cadet’s voice held steady, and Hedda was proud of him. He probably wasn’t that much older than Serj.
She knew this situation was impossible. The lanes were selected because they were free of potential debris, their clarity calculated down to a meter of resolution. Any granules missed would be detected and evaded by the shipboard navidroids making adjustments along the vector. Lightspeed collisions along established lanes were mathematical absurdities.
She also knew that even though it was impossible, it was happening, and that ten seconds was no time at all at speeds like the Legacy Run was traveling.
You can’t trust hyperspace, she thought.
Hedda Casset tapped two buttons on her command console.
“Brace yourselves,” she said, her voice calm. “I’m taking control.”
Two piloting sticks snapped up out from the armrests of her captain’s chair, and Hedda grasped them, one in each hand.
She spared herself the time for one breath, and then she flew.
The Legacy Run was not an Incom Z-24 Buzzbug, or even one of the new Republic Longbeams. It was a sixty-year-old freighter at the end of—if not beyond—its operational lifespan, loaded to capacity, with engines designed for slow, gradual acceleration and deceleration, and docking with spaceports and orbital loading facilities. It maneuvered like a moon.
The Legacy Run was no warship. Not even close. But Hedda flew it like one.