Vortex
(Sprache: Englisch)
In a stunning turn of events, Luke Skywalker and his son, Ben, joined forces with members of the Sith armada sent to kill them-and turned their combined might against the monstrous being Abeloth. But with one menace dealt with, a new and even more insidious...
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In a stunning turn of events, Luke Skywalker and his son, Ben, joined forces with members of the Sith armada sent to kill them-and turned their combined might against the monstrous being Abeloth. But with one menace dealt with, a new and even more insidious threat looms.Now Luke and Ben must go on the run, taking along the inscrutable-and ever dangerous-Sith apprentice Vestara Khai. With a host of Sith warriors in hot pursuit, the Skywalkers soon find themselves trapped on the moon Pydyr, caught between their former allies and a mob of angry Fallanassi. A new truce may be their only hope. But can a Sith ever be trusted?
With the Jedi's most famous father-and-son team outnumbered and outgunned, the countdown to galactic disaster has begun-and time is running out.
Lese-Probe zu „Vortex “
Chapter OneBeyond the forward viewport hung the gossamer veil of Ashteri's Cloud, a vast drift of ionized tuderium gas floating along one edge of the Kessel sector. Speckled with the blue haloes of a thousand distant stars, its milky filaments were a sure sign that the Rockhound had finally escaped the sunless gloom of the Deep Maw. And after the jaw-clenching horror of jumping blind through a labyrinth of uncharted hyperspace lanes and hungry black holes, even that pale light was a welcome relief to Jaina Solo.
Or rather, it would have been, had the cloud been in the right place.
The Rockhound was bound for Coruscant, not Kessel, and that meant Ashteri's Cloud should have been forty degrees to port as they exited the Maw. It should have been a barely discernible smudge of light, shifted so far into the red that it looked like no more than a tiny flicker of flame, and Jaina could not quite grasp how they had gone astray.
She glanced over at the pilot's station--a mobile levchair surrounded by brass control panels and drop-down display screens--but found no answers in Lando Calrissian's furrowed brow. Dressed immaculately in a white shimmersilk tunic, lavender trousers, and a hip cape, he was perched on the edge of his huge nerf-leather seat, with his chin propped on his knuckles and his gaze fixed on the alabaster radiance outside.
In the three decades Jaina had known Lando, it was one of the rare moments when his life of long-odds gambles and all-or-nothing stakes actually seemed to have taken a toll on his con-artist good looks. It was also a testament to the strain and fear of the past few days--and, perhaps, to the hectic pace. Lando was as impeccably groomed as always, but even he had not found time to touch up the dye that kept his mustache and curly hair their usual deep, rich black.
After a few moments, he finally sighed and leaned back into his chair. "Go ahead, say it."
"Say what?" Jaina asked, wondering exactly what Lando expected
... mehr
her to say. After all, he was the one who had made the bad jump. "It's not my fault?"
A glimmer of irritation shot through Lando's weary eyes, but then he seemed to realize Jaina was only trying to lighten the mood. He chuckled and flashed her one of his nova-bright grins. "You're as bad as your old man. Can't you see this is no time to joke?"
Jaina cocked a brow. "So you didn't decide to swing past Kessel to say hello to the wife and son?"
"Good idea," Lando said, shaking his head. "But . . . no."
"Well, then . . ." Jaina activated the auxiliary pilot's station and waited as the long-range sensors spooled up. An old asteroid tug designed to be controlled by a single operator and a huge robotic crew, the Rockhound had no true co-pilot's station, and that meant the wait was going to be longer than Jaina would have liked. "What are we doing here?"
Lando's expression grew serious. "Good question." He turned toward the back of the Rockhound's spacious flight deck, where the vessel's ancient bridge droid stood in front of an equally ancient nav computer. A Cybot Galactica model RN8, the droid had a transparent head-globe, currently filled with the floating twinkles of a central processing unit running at high speed. Also inside the globe were three sapphire-blue photoreceptors, spaced at even intervals to give her full-perimeter vision. Her bronze body casing was etched with constellations, comets, and other celestial artwork. "I know I told Ornate to set a course for Coruscant."
RN8's head-globe spun just enough to fix one of her photoreceptors on Lando's face. "Yes, you did." Her voice was silky, deep, and chiding. "And then you countermanded that order with one directing us to our current destination."
Lando scowled. "You need to do a better job maintaining your auditory systems," he said. "You're hearing things."
The twinkles inside RN8's head-globe dimmed as she redirected power to her
A glimmer of irritation shot through Lando's weary eyes, but then he seemed to realize Jaina was only trying to lighten the mood. He chuckled and flashed her one of his nova-bright grins. "You're as bad as your old man. Can't you see this is no time to joke?"
Jaina cocked a brow. "So you didn't decide to swing past Kessel to say hello to the wife and son?"
"Good idea," Lando said, shaking his head. "But . . . no."
"Well, then . . ." Jaina activated the auxiliary pilot's station and waited as the long-range sensors spooled up. An old asteroid tug designed to be controlled by a single operator and a huge robotic crew, the Rockhound had no true co-pilot's station, and that meant the wait was going to be longer than Jaina would have liked. "What are we doing here?"
Lando's expression grew serious. "Good question." He turned toward the back of the Rockhound's spacious flight deck, where the vessel's ancient bridge droid stood in front of an equally ancient nav computer. A Cybot Galactica model RN8, the droid had a transparent head-globe, currently filled with the floating twinkles of a central processing unit running at high speed. Also inside the globe were three sapphire-blue photoreceptors, spaced at even intervals to give her full-perimeter vision. Her bronze body casing was etched with constellations, comets, and other celestial artwork. "I know I told Ornate to set a course for Coruscant."
RN8's head-globe spun just enough to fix one of her photoreceptors on Lando's face. "Yes, you did." Her voice was silky, deep, and chiding. "And then you countermanded that order with one directing us to our current destination."
Lando scowled. "You need to do a better job maintaining your auditory systems," he said. "You're hearing things."
The twinkles inside RN8's head-globe dimmed as she redirected power to her
... weniger
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Troy Denning
- 2010, 400 Seiten, Gebunden, Englisch
- Verlag: Ballantine
- ISBN-10: 034550920X
- ISBN-13: 9780345509208
Sprache:
Englisch
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