By Chuck Wendig
The second one loss of life big name has been destroyed, the Emperor killed, and Darth Vader struck down. Devastating blows opposed to the Empire, and significant victories for the insurgent Alliance. however the conflict for freedom is much from over.
As the Empire reels from its severe defeats on the conflict of Endor, the insurgent Alliance—now a fledgling New Republic—presses its virtue via removing the enemy's scattered forces sooner than they could regroup and retaliate. yet above the distant planet Akiva, an ominous express of the enemy's energy is unfolding. Out on a lone reconnaissance challenge, pilot Wedge Antilles watches Imperial superstar Destroyers assemble like birds of prey circling for a kill, yet is taken captive earlier than he can report to the hot Republic leaders.
Meanwhile, at the planet's floor, former insurgent fighter Norra Wexley has lower back to her local world—war weary, able to reunite along with her estranged son, and wanting to construct a brand new existence in a few far-off position. but if Norra intercepts Wedge Antilles's pressing misery name, she realizes her time as a freedom fighter isn't but over. What she doesn't be aware of is simply how shut the enemy is—or how decisive and hazardous her new challenge will be.
Determined to maintain the Empire's energy, the surviving Imperial elite are converging on Akiva for a top-secret emergency summit—to consolidate their forces and rally for a counterstrike. yet they haven't reckoned at the Norra and her newfound allies—her technical genius son, a Zabrak bounty hunter, and a reprobate Imperial defector—who are ready to do no matter what they have to to finish the Empire's oppressive reign as soon as and for all.
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Additional resources for Aftermath
MISS RITA This job took up most of my nights and threw me into a painful instability. A sort of savage reverie guided my hand, drove it to sudden movements, up and down, that grounded invariably in the regrouping of a part of the scene. My wrists and my fingers went along in a silent task that could only be a race with no finish line. The attraction, like the terror I had felt for her, was transformed into a hot pursuit where the line and the paper were the object, sequence after sequence, of a confused reconstruction that, for me, had to lead to a final image.
Each day she went over the space of the missing part of her life. The accident didn't matter much to her. However, she rarely made a fire. She simply put newspaper under her clothes. Surrounded her legs with it, 45 PALLAKSCH, PALLAKSCH her enormous legs. She never stopped this continuous monologue, turned towards the old bitch that followed her everywhere. Both seemed to be tormented by an incessant activity, their mouths constantly open; as soon as night fell, chewing, grinding, kneading food, gulping spectacular amounts of products, hour after hour where they were shut up.
And besides, no motive to justify the crime. In less than a week, the case will be closed. Tani is sleeping, soothed by the storm. She doesn't know the destiny that awaits her. Her plan will never see the light of day. Each week she'll go back to Mr. Slavia's. Sometimes she'll go as far as the creek to buy fish. No one will ever know who stoned to death and burned the man-horse. No one wants to know what the children from the projects do with the seagulls. 41 MISS RITA THEY CALLED her Rita. Like her bitch.