In this thrilling sequel to The Mask of Fear, set one year before season one of Andor, truth becomes a weapon of the Empire.
Over a decade into the Empire’s reign, life under Imperial rule has become routine. The days of the Republic have long passed into memory—if they are remembered at all.
Within the Senate, Mon Mothma and Bail Organa face dwindling influence, for there is no difference between the will of the Emperor and the direction of his Empire. Bail increasingly shifts his focus to support clandestine resistance efforts, knowing a successful fight against the Empire will come from beyond the halls of power. Meanwhile, Mon Mothma sees one chance to take a stand when she makes a horrifying discovery about the lengths the regime will go to weaponize truth and loyalty. The Empire’s newest target: the next generation raised under the Emperor’s ever deepening shadow, including Mon and Bail’s daughters.
Across the galaxy, disparate rebel factions are rendered outcasts, branded criminals, and pitted against each other. On Ghorman, an idealistic student group seeks to make meaningful change, unaware of the ISB agent who seeks to sabotage them from the inside. Leaders like Saw Gerrera and Anto Kreegyr squabble and bargain to survive one more day against the crush of Imperial might. Trust is rare and betrayal quick. A distracted, disorganized resistance is one that is easy to snuff out. There are few heroes . . . and no alliances.
When one of Gerrera’s partisans is captured by the Empire, time is running out for senators, outcasts, spies, and all those that desire a better tomorrow. What the prisoner knows could help the Empire eradicate any whisper of resistance, end any rebellion before it can truly begin—and ensure that the Empire’s truth is all the galaxy will ever know.
Release date:
September 15, 2026
Publisher:
Random House Worlds
Print pages:
336
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The city of Theed’s Free People’s Library had seen better days. Its white stone facade was pockmarked and neglected, its tiled turquoise roof leaked during the spring rains, and the modest remaining collection of popular recordings, holobooks, and board games on its dusty shelves sat mostly unwatched, unread, and unplayed. Visitor traffic was light even on the busiest days, as there was a better, newer facility only a few blocks away that hosted a children’s storybook hour and free craft-making workshops. The only things working in the Free People’s Library’s favor were the café next door that served strong tea for very cheap and a complex series of underground tunnels, unknown to most citizens of the galaxy but very well known to a select few, directly below the building. The tunnels were left over from a public works endeavor during a period of Theed’s expansion. They linked the Library to the nearby spaceport, if you knew what storage closet door to open and which buttons to push once inside.
From that hidden passageway and storage closet, a wiry woman in her late thirties exited, entering the Library. She kept her head down, quickly moving among the tall metal shelves, her dark hair tucked under a black knitted cap, her patched leather jacket a size too big. At the corner where the hallway opened to the lobby was a small circular information desk, and, beyond that, the glass-front entrance. The woman paused to make sure she hadn’t been spotted entering the unconventional way. It was her first time at the Library, and she wasn’t as confident in the layout as she should have been, but time was of the essence, and she was the one Saw had trusted to come.
Assured that she had not been seen, she strode purposefully across the open area to a community announcements board on the wall. She passed an older man slumped on a wide-backed seat watching a daily video news briefing, and two teenage girls, their heads close together as they giggled over something on a holopad. The old man, the young girls, and, of course, the librarian seated at the desk, appeared to be the only patrons besides herself.
The bulletin board was an oversized screen with an attached keyboard where community members could leave announcements, messages, and solicitations. Each section was divided into various subsections, including requests for day laborers and pet-sitters, objects for sale ranging from old electronics to household items, notices about available housing, and information about community activities. The woman in the black cap ran a finger across the various topics until she came to the section titled Travel Exchange. She moved through the listings quickly, passing by ads for house-sitting on Alderaan and tickets to a play on Coruscant. Halfway down the third page was a small section dedicated to the planet Inusagi. She clicked on the listing for the Blossom Festival. A video of an Inusagi starbird unfurling its wings played before a man appeared.
“The Inusagi Blossom Festival is one of the premier cultural celebrations in the galaxy,” he said in a mellifluous voice. The woman wasn’t listening to his words, only watching his hands. His right hand was raised. Right means the mission is a go. He continued his pitch and purposefully spread the fingers on his right hand wide. Five fingers means the local militia will help.
A smile, her first of the day, spread across her face. Surely this would please Saw. It was the third and final confirmation that the mission was on. The redundant assurances seemed unnecessary to her, but Saw called the shots. He didn’t know the Inusagi locals and didn’t trust them. That made the mission high-risk, but as he had explained to her, great reward required great risk. It didn’t, however, require blind trust.
She stopped the video and hit the button to delete the listing.
“Excuse me,” a voice asked, “do you work here?”
The woman turned to find the old man she had spied earlier. He was standing directly behind her, his mouth turned down in disapproval.
“Can I help you?” Was this part of her mission? Surely not. No one had said anything about an old man. Her instructions were to get in, verify the Inusagi confirmation, and get out as quickly as possible. But sometimes plans changed and escape routes were compromised. Her eyes darted around the Library’s lobby, her senses on full alert. But there was nothing unusual, no one loitering suspiciously, no one watching them. Just the girls on the holopad and the distracted librarian. Still, her hand strayed toward the blaster at her waist, hidden by her bulky jacket.
“You’re not supposed to delete messages from the community board,” he said. “Only the librarians can do that.”
Her hand stayed where it was, but some of the tension eased from her shoulders. This was just a nosy neighbor. “It’s fine,” she said, assuring him. “I have permission.”
The old man shook his head stubbornly. “I’m going to have to report you to the librarian.”
She wanted to laugh. If this old man knew who she really was, he’d be doing more than reporting her to the librarian. “Don’t worry,” she said brightly, stepping around the man. “I’ll do it myself.”
He frowned, taken aback. “I don’t think—”
But she was already moving, past the librarian at the information desk and through the lobby, her brisk strides taking her toward the main entrance. She would have to leave through the front doors. She couldn’t risk the old man following her around and possibly seeing her near the storage closet. She shook her head, stifling a laugh. Maybe some of Saw’s paranoia was rubbing off on her after all.
The street outside was busy, the outdoor seating at the café next door packed with the late lunch crowd. She thought she might lie low and circle back to the tunnel exit, but she didn’t want to take the chance that anyone would recognize her. She would just have to walk back to the spaceport and her waiting ship the long way. The mission had been accomplished, although not as cleanly as she wished. Nevertheless, she had the information she had come for.
And Nankry had to hurry. She was needed on Inusagi.
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