PROLOGUE

Ships' Graveyard, Jakku

The black command shuttle descends slowly, settling onto the shifting sands as its wings fold upwards like a great dark bird coming home to roost. Down from the ramp stalks a lone man in black. Bareheaded he walks towards the decayed and sun bleached battle wreckage. It is strewn for miles, but here is the highest concentration of what fell from the sky that fateful day.

The man stands a moment to stare at history. More and more, history seems like his personal nemesis.

History repeats itself. Past is prologue. Those who fail to learn from the mistakes of the past are doomed to repeat them. Yes, there are lots of pithy sayings about the past. They are all true to some extent, the man thinks. But they are also false to some extent as well. Or, at the very least, misleading.

Because those sayings belie the role of actual people in shaping destiny. People who make decisions, take risks, endure sacrifices and revere ideals. It's not the history that repeats, the man thinks. It's human nature that does not change.

Yes, the poor will always be with us. But so will the rich. Each generation again we are proud, greedy, gluttonous, envious, lustful, angry and lazy. And so too we are kind, merciful, forgiving, faithful, nurturing, humble and meek. But always, we are in conflict. For peace is a lie.

If the timeline of events looks similar down through the ages, it is because the people shaping those events were similar. That's why different people kept repeating the same mistakes. The focus of history, the man decides, ought to be less on the events and more on the people.

His expression turns grim now. For this man knows exactly which people to blame for the destruction around him. This is the work of the Skywalkers. And they and their misguided romantic ideals are the scourge of the galaxy.