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Der Senat nimmt diese Gefahr immerhin so ernst, dass er gleich zwei Jedi-Ritter mit ihren Padawans losschickt, um zwischen den zerstrittenen Fraktionen auf Ansion zu vermitteln. Die Stadtbewohner dort haben es schon lange satt, sich von der Verwaltung der Republik gängeln zu lassen. Allerdings sind die Jedi nicht bereit, eine Austrittsentscheidung zu akzeptieren, sofern sie nicht von den Nomaden des Planeten ratifiziert wurde. Um das herauszufinden, müssen die kriegerischen Steppenbewohner jedoch erst einmal gefunden werden.
Noch vor Attack of the Clones ist mit The Approaching Storm ein Buch erschienen, dass die politischen Verhältnisse innerhalb der alten Republik im Vorfeld des Filmes ausleuchtet. Darüber hinaus gestattet der Roman einen tiefen Einblick in die Gedankenwelt der Protagonisten: Welche Zweifel hegt Anakin Skywalker an seiner Berufung als Jedi? Woher nimmt Obi-Wan Kenobi die Geduld mit seinem manchmal geradezu aufsässigen Padawan? Routinier Alan Dean Foster spart bei der Beschreibung des Planeten Ansion nicht mit exotischen Details. Souverän schildert er diplomatische Verwicklungen und finstere Intrigen, die an der Schwelle zu Angriff der Klonkrieger den Zusammenhalt der Galaxis gefährden. Die ideale Lektüre, um im Rückblick nachzuschmökern, wie es soweit kommen konnte. --Felix Darwin -- Dieser Text bezieht sich auf eine vergriffene oder nicht verfügbare Ausgabe dieses Titels.
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The galactic Republic is in a bad way, suffocating in bureaucracy, and could topple altogether if one key planet--the unimportant-seeming Ansion--should secede. Only Jedi Knights can sort out the disaffection between this world's city-dwellers and nomads. Obi-Wan and the new, female knight Luminara Unduli take on the job, accompanied by their pupils Anakin and Barriss.
Naturally local bad guys, led by the singularly revolting Soergg the Hutt, plan to make them fail. Assassins, more assassins, kidnapping, treachery, political in-fighting, bombs, still more assassins... it's tough going even for Jedi.
Foster provides the usual spectacular set-piece battles of flashing light-sabres against armies of attackers--indeed, two full-scale armies at the climax. But the challenges of this mission also demand gentler uses of the Force: mental healing, performance art, winning unlikely friends among the strange, deadly native life of Ansion.
Amid the rousing adventures of our Jedi foursome and their allies, there are repeated bodings and foreshadowings about Anakin Skywalker's headstrong impatience, contrasting with Obi-Wan's near-perfect calm and control, almost as though Anakin might one day turn to the dark side of... but that would be telling.
The Approaching Storm is a slick and cheerful romp through another world of the Star Wars universe. Hardcore SW fans won't want to miss it.--David Langford -- Dieser Text bezieht sich auf eine vergriffene oder nicht verfügbare Ausgabe dieses Titels.
From Library Journal
Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc. -- Dieser Text bezieht sich auf eine vergriffene oder nicht verfügbare Ausgabe dieses Titels.
Pressestimmen
–SFX Magazine
“FOSTER DELVES INTO THE INTERNAL CONFLICT OF ANAKIN SKYWALKER AND THE PSYCHE OF THE JEDI.”
–USA Today
Kurzbeschreibung
Über den Autor
Visit the author at his Web site at www.alandeanfoster.com.
Leseprobe. Abdruck erfolgt mit freundlicher Genehmigung der Rechteinhaber. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
"Haja, sweet scent--what're you hiding under that big ol' robe?"
Luminara Unduli did not look up at the large, unshaven, rough-hewn, and unpleasantly fragrant man
or his equally coarse and malodorous companions. She treated their knowing grins, the eager forward tilt of their
bodies, and their leering eyes with equal indifference--though
their collective body odor was some-what harder to ignore.
Patiently, she raised the spoonful of hot stew to her lips,
the lower of which was stained a permanent purplish black.
A series of interlocking black diamonds tattooed her chin,
while more intricate markings decorated the joints of her
fingers. The olive color of her skin contrasted strikingly
with the deep blue of her eyes.
These rose to regard the younger woman who was seated on the other side
of the table. Barriss Offee's attention shifted between her teacher and
the men crowding uncomfortably close around the two of them. Luminara
smiled to herself. A good person, was Barriss. Observant and thoughtful,
if occasionally impulsive. For now, the young woman held her peace, kept
eating, and said nothing. A judicious reaction, the older woman knew.
She's letting me take the lead, as she should.
The man who had voiced the impropriety whispered some-thing to one of
his friends. There was a ripple of crude, unpleasant laughter. Leaning
closer, he put a hand on Luminara's cloth-draped shoulder. "I asked you
a question, darlin'. Now, are you gonna show us what's under this lovely
soft robe of yours, or d'you want us to take a peek ourselves?" An air
of pheromone-charged expectation had gripped his companions. Huddled
over their food, a few of the establishment's other diners turned to
look, but none moved to voice outrage at what was happening or to
interfere.
Spoon pausing before her lips, Luminara seemed to devote greater
contemplation to its contents than to the insistent query. With a sigh,
she finally downed the spoonful of stew and reached down with her free
right hand. "I suppose if you really want to see . . ."
One of the men grinned broadly and nudged his hulking companion in the
ribs. A couple of others crowded closer still, so that they were all but
leaning over the table. Luminara pulled a portion of her outer robe
aside, the intricate designs on the copper- and bronze-colored metal
bands that covered her upper forearms glinting in the diffuse light of
the tavern.
Beneath the robe was a metal and leather belt. Attached to
the belt were several small and unexpectedly sophisticated examples of
precision engineering. One of these was cylindrical, highly polished,
and designed to fit comfortably in a closed hand. The aggressive
spokesman for the group squinted at it, his expression slightly
confused. Behind him, a couple of his heretofore hopeful cronies
abandoned their leering expressions faster than a smuggler's ship making
an emergency jump to hyperspace.
"Mathos preserve us! That's a Jedi lightsaber!"
Expressions falling like hard rain, the band of would-be aggressors
began to back off, split up, and drift hurriedly away. Unexpectedly
deserted, their erstwhile leader was unwilling to admit defeat so
quickly. He stared at the gleaming metal cylinder.
"Not a chance, no. A 'Jedi' lightsaber, is it?" He glared belligerently
at the suddenly enigmatic object of his attentions. "I suppose that
would make you a 'Jedi Knight,' sweet splash? A lovely, lithe Jedi at
that!" He snorted derisively. "Sure and that's no Jedi lightsaber, is
it? Is it?" he growled insistently when she failed to respond.
Finishing another spoonful of her meal, Luminara Unduli carefully set
the utensil down on her nearly empty plate, delicately patted both her
decorated and her untouched lip with the supplied linen napkin, wiped
her hands, and turned to face him. Blue eyes peered upward out of her
fine-featured face, and she smiled coldly.
"You know how to find out," she informed him softly.
The big man started to say something, hesitated, reconsidered. The
attractive woman's hands rested, palm downward, on her thighs. The
lightsaber--it certainly looked like a Jedi light-saber, he found
himself thinking apprehensively--remained attached to her belt. Across
the table, the younger woman continued to eat her meal as though nothing
out of the ordinary was taking place.
Abruptly, the gruff intruder became aware of several things
simultaneously. First, he was now completely alone. His formerly
enthusiastic companions had slipped away, one by one. Second, by this
time the woman seated before him was supposed to be anxious and afraid.
Instead, she only looked bored and resigned. Third, he suddenly
remembered that he had important business elsewhere.
"Uh, sorry," he found himself mumbling. "Didn't mean to bother you. Case
of mistaken identity. Was looking for someone else." Turning, he hurried
away from the table and toward the tavern's entrance, nearly tripping
over a scraps bowl on the floor next to an unoccupied serving counter.
Several of the other patrons watched him go. Others eyed the two women
fixedly be-fore finding reason to return to their own food and
conversation.
Exhaling softly, Luminara turned back to the remnants of her meal.
Making a face, she pushed the bowl and what remained of the meal away
from her. The boorish intrusion had spoiled her appetite.
"You handled that well, Master Luminara." Barriss was finishing up her
own food. The Padawan's perception might occasionally be lacking, but
never her readiness to eat. "No noise, no fuss."
"As you grow older, you'll find that you occasionally have to deal with
an excess of testosterone. Often on minor worlds like Ansion." She shook
her head slowly. "I dislike such distractions."
Barriss smiled gaily. "Don't be so somber, Master. You can't do anything
about physical attractiveness. Anyway, you've given them a story to
tell, as well as a lesson."
Luminara shrugged. "If only those in charge of the local government,
this so-called Unity of Community, were as easy to persuade to see
reason."
"It will happen." Barriss rose swiftly. "I'm finished." Together, the
two women paid for the meal and exited the establishment. Whispers,
mutterings, and not a few awed words of admiration trailed in their
wake.
"The populace has heard we're here to try to cement a permanent peace
between the city folk of the Unity and the Alwari nomads. They're
unaware of the far greater issues at stake. And we can't reveal the real
reason for our presence here without alerting those who would oppose us
to the fact that we know of their deeper intentions." Luminara drew her
robe tighter around her. It was important to present as subdued yet
impressive an appearance as possible. "Because we can't be completely
honest, the locals don't trust us."
Barriss nodded. "The city people think we favor the nomads, and the
nomads fear we're on the side of the city folk. I hate politics, Master
Luminara." One hand fell to her side. "I prefer settling differences
with a lightsaber. Much more straightforward." Her pretty face radiated
a zest for life. She had not yet lived long enough to become inured to
the new.
"It's difficult to persuade opposing sides of the rightness of your
reasoning when they're both dead." Turning up one of Cuipernam's side
streets, chaotic with...
