#fromacertainpointofview

"Many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on your won point of view." -Obi-Wan Kenobi I suggest grabbing a cup of joe with a strong force and snuggling up for some great short stories! #bnplit #starwars #fromacertainpointofview #bookstagram #maytheforcebewithyou

My copy of #fromacertainpointofview! Panel was lovely. So many people being very kind about Aphra too. Little overwhelmed.

#bywhateversun #ashleyeckstein #ekjohnston #starwars #fromacertainpointofview #bookphotography #booksoutside #bookstagram #bookquotes #calligraphy #365daysofbookquotes. ... @heruniverse @ek_johnston @delreystarwars

Well, this is bloody huge! #starwars #fromacertainpointofview #newcanon

New York Comic Con 2023 is well underway and Fantha Tracks are on the ground once again covering the Star Wars focused happenings at the event. After the From A Certain Point of View: Return of the Jedi panel, authors Tara Sim, Jason Fry, Danielle Paige, Adam Lance Garcia, Sarah Glenn Marsh, K Arsenault Rivera and Del Rey editor Tom Hoeler walked the short distance to Hall 1A for a signing sessions, giving fans a chance to thank them for their work and grab a signature. https://www.facebook.com/fanthatracks/posts/pfbid031UeQSqprAvFrHvjXoeKKWMvcrc6rUDu3TsbSeE7FY7ZeHTSZFW3YEfFtnML9FC2ol https://www.instagram.com/p/CyUZccPMw6e/ Stay tuned for plenty more NYCC content across the weekend here on the site, on our socials and on Fantha Tracks Radio. [amazon box="B0BGJKLTB3"]

Arriving 29th August, From a Certain Point of View: Return of the Jedi brings 40 stories from the timespan of Episode VI, and here's a look at one of those adventures, "Trooper Trouble" by Laura Pohl which gives us an insight into the life of a lowly Stormtrooper. TK-423 LOG—DS-II—ENTRY11 There is still no caf in the cafeteria. One would think this elementary since it is impossible to spell one without the other. When I mentioned that this may be due to lack of planning on the part of the Empire to the unkind worker behind the counter, TK-293 told me to shut up because we will get into trouble, and troopers who get into trouble get sent through the air lock, which explains the lack of per­sonnel the officers are constantly complaining about. I don't want to point fingers but perhaps the solution for the "we need more men" problem would be not to throw all available men through the air lock once they complain there's no caf. TK-423 LOG—DS-II—ENTRY12 Locked inside the refresher on our floor, no doubt the diligent work of R2-Q9. Hammered on the door until someone opened it for me, all while hearing it malignantly beep on the other side. TK-423 LOG—DS-II—ENTRY15 Not only has the caf not arrived (although promises were made, ex­cuses were given, the shipments aren't what they were in early Em­pire days, the ISB has prioritized their own offices' supply first, etc., etc.) but the wages are still late (more promises were made and fur­ther excuses were given, the ISB has been prioritized over other workforces, etc., etc.). TK-848 was none too happy when discussing this later in the eve­ning in our quarters, saying ships had been set on fire for much less on his home planet. According to his words, "We signed up to be here but there were conditions, and these conditions aren't being met," which quickly jumped to "we are being exploited" and then to "I've been talking to the other troopers about forming a un—" which was interrupted by TK-293 telling him that "the commanding officers don't like the U-word." I was deeply confused, and expressed this by telling them I could not see how any Ugnaughts could relate to our situation. The conversation ended abruptly when TK-534 told all of us that TK-848 was an agitator and that we'd all be getting a Considerable Scolding if we didn't stop all this Ugnaught talk at once. TK-423 LOG—DS-II—ENTRY16 Never mind all that, today Lord Vader showed up, so instead of us getting a Considerable Scolding, it was Moff Jerjerrod's turn. Other troopers had warned us (TK-848, actually, who apparently knows ev­erybody and everybody's business) of Vader's reputation, but said he never bothers with the stormtroopers, and only keeps his threats to important commanding officers. "Now, that's class solidarity," said TK-848 after Moff Jerjerrod had made the usual "we need more men" speech (which I had on my card, "claims lack of workers," for the betting pool), and then Vader men­tioned the Emperor (which TK-293 had on his card, "namedropping"). All in all, we got to be the audience for one of Vader's famous threats, which is a real treat if you're not on the receiving end of it. Fortunately, we did not witness a less appealing Vader management method, the choke hold, which makes all officers unhappy and scared and thus more prone to screaming at the lower chain of command (i.e., us). Moff Jerjerrod affirmed we'd be back on schedule, which appar­ently means we'll have longer shifts of waiting around and pacing corridors. Most important, we now have Standing There for the Em­peror's Arrival to look forward to. It'll require a lot of stormtrooper units, which means the betting pool is larger for how many will pass out from dehydration. [amazon box="0593597915"]

Arriving 29th August, From a Certain Point of View: Return of the Jedi brings 40 stories from the timespan of Episode VI, and here's a look at one of those adventures, "Reputaion" by Tara Sim brings us a timely tale of Boba Fett delivering Han Solo to Jabba the Hutt. “If you want to keep him,” Boba said, indicating Solo with his rifle, “pay me.” The court at his back murmured at his daring. Who was he, a mere bounty hunter, to give an ultimatum to the Jabba the Hutt? But they should have known by now: He wasn’t a mere bounty hunter. Jabba gave a deep laugh and set down his pipe. He nodded at Fortuna, who went to collect something between the throne and the rotisserie cooker behind it. “You will be paid, Boba Fett. You will be paid even more if you decide to stay and take on more work from me.” Boba glanced at the dancer. Her gaze had settled somewhere around Boba’s chest, as if inspecting his armor. Like she wanted it for herself. Jabba enjoyed his various contracts, but no doubt the best transactions were the ones that came free of consequences. “You just want to use me as a buffer between you and Crimson Dawn,” Boba said. “Is that not what a mercenary does? And after all, you are the best of the best.” The majordomo returned and handed Boba a large bag. The credits had a good heft to them; Jabba’s words even more so. “We’ll see,” Boba said. The music resumed once Jabba ordered Solo to be carted away to his wall of trophies. Boba turned and scanned the alcoves again, ignoring the riffraff who stared at him, and raised his eyebrows at the sight of a familiar face. “‘Best of the best,’ ” Dengar muttered as Boba approached the other bounty hunter. “Would the best of the best have lost Han Solo?” “The best of the best got him back from both the Empire and the rebels,” Boba shot back. “Seems you’re feeling cold toward me.” Dengar scowled at the wording. His head wrap had seen better days, dirt-smudged and singed around his face. “Where’s Valance? The two of you were quick to run off together.” The last Boba had seen of Valance, the cyborg bounty hunter had been facing down the wrong end of a thermal detonator, his purpose served in helping Boba get to Solo faster. Boba shrugged in answer, and Dengar scoffed. “Should’ve known. You only ever look out for yourself.” “You say that as if it’s not what we’re supposed to do in our profession,” Boba said. “We may have a code, but that doesn’t make us familiar.” Boba had a hard rule: He did not work with anyone. First and foremost because no one could keep up with him, and he didn’t need others in his way. If he teamed up with someone, he used them and ditched them. Valance had learned that the hard way. The green Twi’lek had returned to her dance. Under the grille Boba thought he heard the low growl of the rancor, desperate for a meal. Jabba liked to keep his pets hungry. “You realize what he’s doing, don’t you?” Dengar muttered. [amazon box="0593597915"]

Arriving 29th August, From a Certain Point of View: Return of the Jedi brings 40 stories from the timespan of Episode VI, and here's a look at one of those adventures, "The Veteran" by Adam Lance Garcia which sees a return for Attack of the Clones favourite Dexter Jettster. Dexter Jettster thought of the boy he had met on Lenahra and all that the boy would never see. He thought of the warrior the boy had become and the war that had been lost. The war Dexter Jettster had helped start. A pirate holonet channel, the last bastion of a free press in the Imperial Center, was playing the destruction of the second Death Star on a loop, the shock wave blooming like a flower. Outside they were celebrating, a jubilant roar echoing through the chasms of Coruscant. The Empire had fallen. The Galactic Civil War was over. Dex had heard this song before, played to a different tune but familiar all the same. He heard it when the Nihil had been defeated, when the Republic became the Empire, on countless worlds for countless reasons. The song of hope. Dex knew better; he had learned the hard way that hope was a hollow thing, promising everything and granting nothing. Hope was for the foolish, and tonight the fools were feasting. Tomorrow, they would wake to empty stomachs. Dex limped over to the holoprojector and switched off the feed. He had seen enough. Besalisks lived long lives, not as long as some beings, but long enough that Dex wondered if he had lived too long. He still remembered the shape of the Kamino saberdart, the sharpness of its durasteel embedding prongs. The dried blood that covered its injector needle. He had been so proud, so eager to impress his young friend. He could never have known where it all would lead, that the Republic would fall, that the light of the Jedi would be extinguished, that billions would die. Dex bore the weight of every life lost, but none more so than the boy he had met on Lenahra. Dex wasn’t sure whether the warrior had died on the front or during the Purge, though he prayed it was the former. He couldn’t bear the thought of his friend being gunned down by his own men. Dex could never forget how the Jedi Temple blazed in the night, how the smoke billowed days after the fires were quenched, how the air tasted of ash, and how soot covered his diner for weeks, no matter how frequently he and Wanda cleaned. Nearly a thousand years of peace, reduced to dust. “It’ll be fine, honey, you’ll see,” Wanda had said, reminding him that droids rarely saw beyond their programming. She broke down three years later. He lost the diner soon after. [amazon box="0593597915"]