ND-5 and Jaylen Vrax embark on their descent into the galaxy’s underworld in search of answers and opportunity, in this essential prequel to Star Wars Outlaws.
Jaylen Barsha, heir to his family’s immense power and wealth, had his life charted out for him neatly and meticulously by his parents, even though he suspected his neglected half-brother Sliro would be a better fit for the bright corporate future his parents envisioned. Then the Empire stripped it all away on trumped-up charges of conspiracy against his family. Before he can reach Sliro for help redeeming the Barsha name, a battle droid arrives at the family compound with a mission to kill every last member of the Barsha clan. Jaylen manages to fend off the attack as the sole survivor, but realizes the droid, who he reprograms, is his only chance to stay alive. But he can no longer be Jaylen Barsha—he’ll have to live now as Jaylen Vrax.
Former Separatist battle droid ND-5 knows he should be scrap metal, all things considered. He was a proficient contributor to the Separatist cause, but what is a soldier without a war? A trigger without aim? Loyalty is in his programming, and Jaylen, who treats him as more than just a weapon, has earned it. Perhaps, the droid thinks, with a partner he can be more. ND-5 just has to earn Jaylen’s trust.
With the threat against the Barsha clan still shrouded in mystery, the pair has no choice but to leverage the chaos and disappear. They find sanctuary in the anonymity of the underworld, building their reputation among scoundrels, bounty hunters, and crime syndicates. But when their latest score gives the first real clue in years to who sent ND-5 after Jaylen’s family, their biggest opportunity presents a new kind of risk. Do they give up this chance at the wealth and power Jaylen was denied to pursue answers? Or will ambition and the weight of the past shatter their unlikely partnership?
Release date:
February 3, 2026
Publisher:
Random House Worlds
Print pages:
384
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The ship in front of Jaylen was called a Star Destroyer. Technically, a Venator-class Star Destroyer, capable of transporting countless Republic clone troopers across the galaxy—the might of the Republic, molded into a single vessel. And while many companies were involved with every Star Destroyer, from hull plating to weapon systems and shield generators and internal power balancers, Nnytyl Barsha always let everyone know that “the Republic flies with Barsha.”
In his twenty-two years, Jaylen Barsha had heard his dad say that so many times. Usually with his mother, Roisem Barsha, nodding next to his father, and then the two of them would start exchanging statistics about Barsha Corporation, particularly the propulsion systems. Thousands of ships built for the war. Millions of people employed. The backbone of planetary and galactic defense. The backbone of peacetime leisure travel.
And so on and so on.
Even now, in the company of his family at Corellia’s Macronian Shipyard, Jaylen’s dad spouted off the same facts he’d said over breakfast, over lunch, over dinner, over desserts, over evening drinks, over morning caf. This moment was supposed to be a big deal—the family finally together again, just in time to see the next evolution of Barsha Corp propulsion technology integrated into Republic Star Destroyers.
Jaylen stood on a balcony overlooking a large outdoor construction bay. Fabrication and assembly vehicles zoomed through the air or hovered along the ground, all around the nearly upgraded Star Destroyer. Jaylen was tanned and healthy, having spent a year “learning culture” across the Core Worlds and Mid Rim after graduating from the prestigious University of Bar’leth, a harsh juxtaposition to his younger brother next to him. Sliro stood paler and slighter, with a thin stubble across his face and a posture that failed to illustrate his upcoming local graduation from Corellia University.
Alongside them stood their parents, wind tossing back their long coats—quite impractical, really, for a visit to watch Star Destroyers install upgrades.
“It’s in there,” Nnytyl said, as he adjusted the tie fastened to his high-necked shirt. “Our new main engine turbine embedded into the propulsion system. Smaller, more efficient than anything before. When this war is over, every pilot, every armada, every fleet of every government will have one. They’ll know that—”
Jaylen knew what he was going to say. Sliro biting his lip showed he did as well.
Their mother, though, looked out over the balcony, and her voice matched Nnytyl’s in tone and cadence. “—the Republic flies with Barsha.”
His entire life, Jaylen’s mother had told him that he should know when to say something and when to stay quiet. Here, he chose to stay quiet.
Maybe by doing so, this whole thing would end earlier. Neither of the brothers wanted to be here. The Barsha parents might have wanted to see the ships, but their sons always seemed like afterthoughts. Jaylen would rather be having lunch. Sliro would probably rather be anywhere else on the Corellian Trade Spine.
Four Barshas together, at least by Jaylen’s count. Three and a half by his parents’. That was how the Barshas worked. Jaylen, the true biological child of Nnytyl and Roisem, got better things than Sliro, but both always came second to “the company” in all possible respects.
And Sliro? Why was Sliro here? He usually wasn’t involved in anything Barsha Corp. During the past year, while Jaylen “learned culture” by visiting beaches, trying foods, and buying drinks for whoever happened to be in the room, Sliro kept at his studies. They did, however, keep up their check-in talks, a tradition started as children more out of necessity than anything else—no one else could understand being raised by Roisem and Nnytyl Barsha. Even during Jaylen’s travels, he’d reach out when his mind raced, sometimes exhausted between planets, sometimes with newly made friends on a Niamos beach. Jaylen would ramble about his latest excursions, while Sliro would vent about life under the Barsha thumb and one day escaping it all.
Here, they both needed to escape from Nnytyl’s bluster.
Jaylen glanced at the hallway behind them, where a Barsha Corp executive assistant stood nearby with a datapad. They locked eyes, and Jaylen nodded at him. The young man—an Urodel probably as fresh out of university as Jaylen—came over and pulled out a palm-sized holorecorder.
“Is it time?” the assistant asked.
Time for what? Jaylen supposed it didn’t matter. His mother liked to document the minutiae of their lives, like someday, someone would really care about the details.
“Yeah,” Jaylen said, just to get things moving.
“Okay then,” the assistant said. He held up the holorecorder, and a red light began blinking across the front.
“So,” Jaylen said, “the War Council thinks this will speed things up?” Was there even a War Council? He wasn’t sure. He thought he’d heard the term before, but he didn’t really pay attention to the news while traveling.
“You mean,” Sliro said, “the Republic High Command?”
“Yeah, that’s what—”
“Sliro,” Nnytyl said, tension forming across his sharp cheekbones. “Jaylen has been ‘learning culture’ during his travels over the past year. Of course he wouldn’t know the exact terminology of this ridiculous war. It’s time for something that will far outlast any clones or battle droids.”
Blast it. Jaylen thought he was so close to moving them along, but now he’d just made it worse. Sliro’s face fell cold, unreadable, and Jaylen knew this might last throughout the entire trip, possibly beyond. He glanced back at the assistant, who hid his face behind the holorecorder.
“Well,” Roisem said, “we shouldn’t let an inconvenience like him get in the way.” Sometimes, Roisem followed insults with a tilted chin and an angled stare at her target. Sometimes, she avoided all eye contact. Both worked to strategically dismantle someone’s confidence. In this case, she spoke the line without looking at Sliro. Instead, she directed it first at the assistant, then turned to Nnytyl.
“Now then,” Roisem said, “we’ve been waiting for Jaylen to return for this. This day is about much more than engine turbines.” The bite in Roisem’s previous words disappeared, and her tone changed, now wrapped in an unusual warmth. “Sliro, we are so glad you are here to take in this moment.”
This moment. Jaylen had been certain that this was a holo op, and they’d move on without ever discussing it again. Now it meant something?
“Um,” Sliro said. His eyes shot over to Jaylen’s too quickly to actually connect. “Thank you, Lady Barsha.”
“Oh, don’t mention it,” she said. “You are half a Barsha, after all. Better than none.”
Sliro’s lips twitched at this, though he continued looking ahead.
Roisem continued, “You still get to witness the things you can’t partake in.”
Nnytyl waved for the assistant to focus the holorecorder on Jaylen and said, “Jaylen, now that you’ve completed your travel year, it’s time for you to think bigger. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you.”
Jaylen’s stomach sank at the words. He’d purposefully avoided any talk about his future during his travels. His parents wanted him in Barsha Corp—which, on its own, wasn’t that bad. But it really, really depended on the actual role. Responsibilities, the machinations of industry, the skills of business and negotiation—Jaylen might have a university degree, but he wasn’t an expert at any of those things.
And really, how was someone who just spent a year lounging on beaches supposed to know what they wanted out of life? Besides more cocktails on Niamos?
Staying quiet here wouldn’t be enough. He would have to use the other strategy: saying something. “I don’t know about that,” Jaylen said. “I just got back from all that traveling.”
“Bah, you got it all out of your system,” Nnytyl said.
That wasn’t exactly true. Those Kessurian dancers were still on—well, he couldn’t quite remember which planet they’d met, but he did promise he’d be back sometime.
“That’s kid stuff. Frivolous as toys or holodramas. No, your future is set.” Nnytyl spun around, raising his arms up at the near-completed Star Destroyer. “This is why we brought you two here.”
“We, um,” Jaylen said as he searched for the right words. “We already saw the ship.”
Both of his parents laughed, though their tones carried a lightness that hadn’t existed when Sliro spoke. Though if Sliro had dared to speak so glibly, he would have faced immediate scolding.
“Yes,” his mother said. “Yes, this is a big part of it. You see, your father and I . . .” She straightened her long coat and pulled her black and blond hair back. “Your father and I have decided that we will be retiring.”
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