That's one of the biggest surprises for me about this book, actually. It's got its moments of tension, and action at the individual level, but it's more a suspense thriller than an action romp, more character study than outright adventure. Luceno focuses on the Erso's, but we also get to take a look inside Krennic's head, and indeed that of Tarkin, who turns up largely to piss in Krennic's cereal (which is rather accurate to their portrayal in the films, come to think of it). Anyway. The Erso's. We meet them first before Jyn is born, happily researching crystals for energy generation. The Galen we see here, however briefly, is in his element - digging into new ideas, at the same time as those ideas are being almost literally dug out of the surrounding landscape. He's clearly intelligent, a little detached, trying hard to be less so. Accessible, and clearly devoted to his wife, but a man with a passion for his ideas as much as for his ideals. In a galaxy being rent by the first of several galaxy-spanning conflicts, he wants to keep his head down, stay out of the way, and be as uninvolved as possible, preferring to live in the abstract, with the courage of his convictions, rather than have his research turned to deadly ends.
Lyra is, well, the same, but different. We don't see much of her in Rogue One, so this is her chance to shine. And she does. Passionate, thoughtful, not just a parrot for the obsessions of her husband, but an accomplished adventurer and researcher in her own right, Lyra has a protectiveness, a moral certainty, and a fire in her which complement Galen's more cerebral but less immediate demeanour. Lyra is the one who can Get Shit Done. She's also smart, and the member of the couple more willing to get her hands dirty and interact with the universe at large. When something looks sketchy, or too good to be true, she's more likely to call it out than Galen. That said, they're a wonderful pair to watch on the page - they complement each other, and they have the solid vibe of a married couple who know each other backwards and forwards, who are aware of each others blind spots and quirks, and balance each other out. And as they tumble further into the web of the Imperial weapons program, that balance, that trust and faith in each other shines off the page, even as it's central to the story itself.
And then there's Krennic. He's turned up in the fantastic Andor since this book was written, and he's pitch perfect there and here. A man without much check on his ambition, willing to use people, to lie, cheat, steal and commit the occasional atrocity in the service of his own rise to power - albeit with some fig leaves strewn about as regards the Greater Good. Krennic is shown here as a shrewd manipulator, a man with a plan to get to the top quickly, ruthless in doing so and in disposing of no longer useful tools. For all that, he's not directly violent, he's a people manager, a flamboyantly effective bureaucrat who happens to manage clandestine operations and earth-shattering weaponry in his day to day. Sitting in Krennic's head isn't living in the lair of theatrical evil, it's spinning wheels and careful paperwork, and a streak of utterly self-serving ruthlessness. His relationship with Galen, an old school friend, is fascinating in the sense that Krennic, who struggles to give a damn about anyone, actually seems to care about Galen. He wants to use the great researcher for his own advancement, but he also wants Galen to realise the potential of his genius, and struggles to understand why Erso isn't willing to do that, when all he'd have to do, which only Erso can do is build a few planet-busting weapons. This disconnect is fascinating to watch, especially over Krennic's shoulder, as he tries to figure out a way to manipulate Galen into doing things that are good for Krennic, good for the Empire, and good for the version of Galen that is in Krennic's head, rather than the one walking about in the real world. Of course, Galen has a version of Krennic in his own head, somewhat more pleasant than the version in the real world. And that clash of perceptions and realities is what makes the book, I think, two people talking past each other in the service of different dreams, different ideals, different needs.
It's a quiet story, one which slowly ramps up its discomfort and tension as the Ero's find themselves further and further enmeshed in Krennic's designs. A slow burn, a thriller, something that shows none of us are above the need to think, to question before we act, which asks what compromises someone should be or is willing to make for the sake of their country, their ideals, their own ambitions. In short, it's an interesting book, which built some excellent background for Rogue One, and was a lot of fun to read. Give it a shot!
