The second phase of The High Republic while brief was one that would certainly welcome further investigation, and the freshly released Star Wars Insider special Star Wars: The High Republic: Tales of Enlightenment takes us back to the early era of The High Republic, taking us back to the Enlightenment bar on Jedha in the confident hands of author George Mann.
“What about you, then?” said Moona. She brushed droplets of condensation off the side of her glass with her fingertips.
“What about me?” Piralli tried not to let any sense of defensiveness creep into his voice but knew that he’d failed when he saw the look on Moona’s face.
“Are you happy?”
Piralli frowned. This wasn’t the usual sort of question that Moona asked. These nights were typically filled with talk about politics, or news from their homeworlds, or the Jedi, or what the new eatery at the market was selling. Anything but stuff like this. Personal stuff. He took a long draw of his drink.
“What’s it matter?” He said. “I’m fine. I like my work. I have good friends. That’s good enough, isn’t it?”
“So that’s a ‘no’,” said Moona, leveling him with a look.
“It’s not a no. I’m content. And that’s enough for me.”
“Is it?” She rapped her fingertips on the bar. “You deserve to be happy too, you know.”
Piralli shrugged. “I know.”
“Do you?”
He placed his drink on the counter. “What is this, Moona?”
“I just…” She shook her head. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Piralli, it’s that life’s short. Too short to sit here waiting for something to happen. You have to go out and grasp it. Even if it’s uncomfortable or scary.”
“Moona the Wise,” said Piralli, with a crooked smile. “Look, you don’t need to worry about me. I’ve got my ship—”
“Your ship! You’ve been working on that heap of junk for years, Piralli!”
He felt his cheeks flush. “Projects like that take time, Moona. Especially if you’re doing it properly like I am.”
He couldn’t deny it — he had been working on the old ship for years, slowly rebuilding it from original parts claimed from salvage or purchased at extortionate prices from the Bonbraks. A Sullustan Mark VIII Legacy-class space yacht, with twin cruiser engines that would give even a Jedi Alpha-3 a run for its money. When it was finished, it was going to be beautiful. A true classic. But it was currently sitting in the same dock at the spaceport that it had occupied since he’d first taken ownership of the old wreck to settle an even older debt.
“You said you were going to sail the stars,” said Moona.
“And I am,” replied Piralli, a little too quickly. “When it’s ready. You can’t rush these things.”
“It’s been eight years!”
Piralli shrugged. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why?”
“It’s missing its central processor. Everything else is done.”
“But surely you can pick up a processor unit at the market?” said Moona.
Piralli shook his head. “No. It has to be the right processor. It’s a classic, Moona. You can’t just stick any old processor in it and expect it to fly. It’s a sensitive machine. A work of art.” He sighed. “And besides, it’s a very particular type of processor. The shipyards on Sullust only made them for a couple of years. The ship won’t fly without it. They’re as rare as Boldavian spit-spines these days.”
“All right, but how much can an original processor be?”
“About two million Republic credits,” said Piralli forlornly.
“Two million!” Every head in the bar turned at the sound of Moona’s exclamation. “But that’s…”
“Precisely,” said Piralli. “A little out of my price range.”
“So, what you’re saying is the ship is never going to be finished,” said Moona.
“I don’t know,” said Piralli. “I suppose it was never really about flying it. Keth understood.” He glanced at the empty seat where his old friend used to sit. “It gave me something to hope for. Something to talk about. And it was nice. I could pretend that one day I’d be able to take that beautiful old yacht out into the skies to explore the galaxy. But things like that don’t happen to people like me. I’m a dockworker on Jedha. It was never anything more than a nice dream.”
Moona looked pained. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to poke at old wounds.”
Piralli waved her silent. “It’s nothing. Like I said, I’m fine. Really.” He reached for his drink.
Behind them, the door creaked as it swung open, admitting a newcomer to the tapbar. They both twisted in their seats to see who it was.
A Jedi.
We caught up with George during Phase 2 on a special episode of Canon Fodder as he discussed the script book of audiodrama The Battle of Jedha.
