The day always started the same. On the flat, red land of the nameless planet, she could trace the faint lines of stars and the arched wings of creatures that were so far from what she knew of her own planet and out here, alone, she felt far away from all the trillions of lives that clashed, merged, swarmed, and spread out across the galaxy. From the dusty ramp of the transport ship (stolen only weeks ago), she could rest her blistered feet out on the cool metal and savor the old rations she still had stored from her last visit at a nearby rebel base. The blaster she typically kept holstered at her hip was propped up on the dashboard in the cockpit, out of sight and out of mind for her while she ate.

Padme Amidala didn't mind the quiet anymore. In fact, it was a gift. She was battle-worn and regrettably more jaded than she anticipated, even more than she ever was as a queen in the distant memory of her youth. At least then she had her handmaids, her family, and the lush, overwhelming beauty of her home, Naboo, to always end her stressful evenings at. Even as a senator in Coruscant, she had her apartment, her colleagues, and a husband. Now, out here, she was isolated and it was not out of choice but out of necessity. Even being a mother to her own children wasn't safe for them or her. So, they were left with the only people she trusted and settled into two stars that she would occasionally search for in the endless blackness of space.

The closest planet was Scarif, a dusty, orange planet that was mainly a refinery for profitable resources, namely kyber crystals. It was the Galactic Senate's most recent lift on trade restrictions of kyber that signaled the increase of imperial ship routes nearing her hideaway. The only safeguard of this planet was that it was useless. That made it the most relatively safe place to wait out the presence of stormtroopers and their bloated military forces that embedded themselves into every planet's infrastructure. Padme sometimes couldn't believe authoritarianism poisoned the universe in the time of two standard solar years.

Coruscant stood at the center of the Empire now and, the last time she heard of her old home, the Emperor rebuilt his palace on the burnt foundations of the Jedi Temple. She chewed her food angrily at the audacity, staring out at the flat horizon before her with a dark expression. The traitor. And he had taken her as a fool all this time and destroyed everything she knew and loved in the process.

After her breakfast, her next task was slightly mindless but thankfully occupying from her thoughts. Her mission here was to assess the nearest traffic and report it back to the headquarters through a low-frequency, anonymous channel that avoided the standardized imperial detection. This meant spending several hours coasting her ship at high enough altitudes to gain ship feedback from nearby crafts. It wasn't thrilling but it was the contact to the rebels at their ragtag fort on a distant moon that gave her the feeling she was still helping in any small way she could.

"Sabe, what's your rations and fuel level at?"

It was Rana, one of the intelligence officers Padme had gotten to know fairly well over the radio channels. The ship coasted smoothly above the red deserts and Padme checked the fuel gage. "Low," she admitted. "I'll need to depart and refuel at the marked checkpoint. I should actually do that today."

"I'd do that sooner than later," Rana replied. "Also, a fair warning, there's increased imperial presence at the checkpoint so prioritize time to safely get in and get out, alright? The best thing we want for you is to get back to your thrilling spot on the utopia that is SC-150."

Padme smiled. Even the name of the planet she was based on was awful.

"I'm going to analyze the traffic you sent me, some of these repeated ships may be telling us that Scarif is going to become a high-volume area for imperials. Do you have any sense of what kind of ships they are appearing to be?"

"They aren't star destroyers, not even big transports for troops, it's more like small envoys. Perhaps for officers or imperial officials."

"Infrastructure, then?"

"Maybe. They could be setting up something there."

"We'll need to get some agents out on the field in Scarif then."

"Good idea."

"I'm going to send you a check-in signal tomorrow at the standardized time, alright? You can report back if anything is changed and maybe give us a heads up of what's going on at the checkpoint area if you can."

"Will do."

"Force be with you, Sabe."

Padme didn't say it back, not explicitly, but instead said, "And with you. Sounding out."

"Roger."

The ship went silent again as she lowered the ratty headphones from her ears and onto her shoulders. She wondered for a moment if it would be safe enough to go to the checkpoint at all. Rana was just a kid from Alderaan, someone that could probably wander into the trading post on the little moon with a scruffy ship and no ties to anyone and refuel and leave, even brushing shoulders past a few stormtroopers. Padme wasn't sure for herself.

There were moments where she wondered how close she was unknowingly to danger. She felt anxiety was always lingering in the back of her mind at all times anymore, even when she was safely asleep in the depths of her ship on SC-150. Her face, her name, her associations and everything about her was so ambiguously erased from the history of the galaxy. Technically, her body was buried and memorialized in a lavish family tomb on Naboo. Her family knew otherwise, but most of her colleagues believed she died the day the Empire was born. She assumed he knew but didn't tempt her thoughts even with the idea that he believed she survived that night on Mustafar. Her hands tightened on the controls in a reflex of fear.

No, Obi-Wan assured her that she was dead to him. Their connection through the Force was severed so severely that he wouldn't be able to sense her presence like in the past. The subsequent weeks that Obi-Wan remained at Padme's side on Alderaan in the Organa's palace were dark and lonely but he had stayed at her side as she healed from the birth and promised, when she recovered, that he would assist her with protecting herself. Not physically but mentally. Just in case.

Not that she ever could tell that any of her time practicing with him was worth it or not. She just mostly remembered hating learning anything about the Force. She had no abilities, no power that everyone said Anakin was gifted with. Even when they were children, she remembered how different he was from her. She was logical and precocious from a young age but he was always intuitive, much more than she ever was, and it was his ability to trace her thoughts and feelings that had always charmed her (and then eventually unnerved her). The same abilities could be found in Obi-Wan and she tried to not be afraid of the Force or the Jedi but it was so difficult now. The Jedi were dying out and those that wielded the Force were something far worse. Padme rechecked the fuel gauge.

However scared she was, the ship couldn't fly without fuel. She had no real excuse not to risk it again on the moon, like so many times before, and she did several calming breaths as she let her ship rise above the planet, through its heavy atmosphere, and sail upwards into space.

The moon was fairly close to Scarif but was too small for large ships to dock at, providing instead most services to travelers. It wasn't a safe place. In fact, Padme thought it was similar to Tatooine in respect to the amount of crime and corruption riddling the decrepit buildings. She always took her blaster and the lightsaber with her, a big cape to hide her form, and usually kept a bandana over her lower face to keep out the heavy stench of fuel, spice, and smoke that polluted the air. People jostled past her in the ship docking area and she thankfully didn't have to go far to get one of the nearby attendants to ready her ship with new fuel. Prices were going up and she could hear a litany of languages and aliens all complaining about the expenses as she waited out her time on the moon. She remembered how low her rations were getting. Packets. Those should be easy to find here.

The main streets were stuffed with vendors, uneven cobbled roads, swarming crowds, and old signs and graffiti that covered the ancient storefronts and residences. Padme was relieved she was small enough to hide among everyone and out of view of the occasional stormtrooper she noted on the fringes of the roads. She thankfully avoided some pickpockets and swam through the throngs of people and to a small grocer stand. There were packed goods and she nearly grabbed the merchant, an older blue-skinned man with several eyes, to keep herself from falling. She apologized, "I'm looking for preserved food parcels. Something to last for forty solar days."

He understood her thankfully. "350 credits."

She stared at him. "Last time I was here it was 200!"

"Demand," he answered with a shrug.

"Fine," she said stiffly, paying for the food and taking the large pack of food into her arms. It was unfortunate the rebellion didn't pay too well. She needed a second job at this point to fund her missions.

The walk back was worse. Unsteadily, she tried to fight against the oncoming crowds and back to the docking station. The ship would have to be done by now and she couldn't even begin to imagine what the fuel must have cost if food here was this expensive. Without much attention to her footing, she slipped and fell with a loud cry.

Her knee hit the stones and the palms of her hands flew out to stop her from her fall. The food spilled out before her. She tried to scramble up. "Hey!" she shouted as several people fought to grab some of her packets. Her hands were bloodied as she attempted to get back up to her feet and salvage the rest of her goods but was stopped as someone rushed to her side. Suddenly, the rest of her food on the ground remained untouched and instead she was given a wide berth of space by people now moving frantically past. Bewildered, she turned to the person next to her and paled.

"Are you alright?" the stormtrooper asked, the helmet garishly white and sleek against the grubby streets.

"I'm -yes, thank you," she managed. "I'm in a hurry but thanks."

"Of course, allow me."

To her confusion, he gathered up the rest of her food packets and then gestured at her. "Identification, please."

He had her food -a surprisingly good tactic. She narrowed her eyes and held back any snappish retort and reached for her pockets to find her ID (faked of course). Her hands shook slightly. Then, she completely froze just as she saw him lower his helmet to the side of her hip. Padme's own eyes snapped down. The hilt of the lightsaber caught the light from just to the side of her raised cape.

As she saw him reach for his own blaster, she instinctively drew out her own and fired. He cried out and she narrowly missed the discharge of the blaster as it clattered to the ground. The street erupted into terror, fleeing from her. Other stormtroopers appeared in the corner of her vision.

She ran.

Blaster fire hit at her heels and flew past her as she pushed past people, carts, market tents, past sharp corners, and all with her eyes pinned onto the distant ship docks. The lightsaber clattered frantically off her holstered hip. She cursed her stupidity. No way could she reach her ship now with an entire battalion chasing her now. Already frantic and seeing the hangar door closed ahead of her, Padme took out the lightsaber and ignited it -sending a shrieking blue light through the air as she waved it to get people out of her way. People rushed past her and she ran even faster before slashing the saber straight into the heavy metal door, hitting part of its locking mechanism, and ducking in as the hangar door slammed back up. A few mechanics yelled at her. Someone screamed "Jedi!" but she didn't register anyone around her now. She didn't stop, but instead raced up the open ramp, to the cockpit, slammed the ramp closed, and revved the engines with as much shuddering power as the ship would allow. Padme was out of breath, dizzy, and she heaved the ship up into the air, nearly straight up, in pure desperation to flee the muffled blaster fire striking the craft. She hit the engine again with her flat, bleeding hand and she roared out of the hangar and into the thick clouds. The craft hit against strong wing currents and then, reaching, reaching, reaching upwards… she pierced through the atmosphere of the moon and into the smooth coast of space. She thought over a list of planets in her mind. Any place. Anywhere except here.

The day always started the same. The cool confines of the oxygenated chamber slid apart, enveloping his weary vision in the pure onyx black of his chambers. He allowed his eyes to close, attempting to recall the faint dream he had had, and waited as the mask adjusted and locked against the sides of his face. Startling cold air rushed into his lungs, rushing in and out with a steady, droning rhythm that he was now able to ignore for the most part. He rose up from his chair and crept out of the chamber as though he hadn't used his limbs in ages. His entire body still felt heavy and clumsy, although the medics said he would continue to adapt to his suit as he continued to train. But he was impatient. He didn't want to train like some lowly student. He was a master and he commanded the Empire, he shouldn't be this restrained.

He was in an especially bad mood. The pain was worse than usual. There wasn't much to be done about that, he wasn't fond of pain relief, and his schedule didn't allow for rest. In fact, he barely slept anymore. Barely ate. The times he meditated in his oxygen chamber were the rare times he allowed himself to sleep. He hated to. Dreams still managed to startle him and he returned to reality always more scared and angered than before.

The sleek corridors of the Perilous were relatively quiet. Many of the stormtroopers on board were resting and the imperial officers were their third shift, meaning a majority of the men and women were asleep in their quarters. Darth Vader stormed through the halls and up to the bridge, knowing he would need the newest report of the recent skirmish that had occurred off planetside of Dantooine. The rebels were becoming much more confident since they had taken military supplies and gained support in the Outer Rim. It was most inconvenient but not destabilizing. It was now just a distraction from his projects to establish militarized zones, enforce Imperial rule, and continue hunting down the last of the Jedi.

"Lord Vader," one of the lieutenants greeted, bowing respectfully as Vader strode to the main deck of the bridge.

"What is the situation at Dantooine?" he asked. He didn't want to waste any time with formalities.

"Twenty prisoners captured. All confirmed as members of the Rebel Alliance. Eight imperial soldiers were killed in the fight but we sustained little damage beyond that. There is still a body count being finalized for the rebels killed and those captured will be transferred to the Vigilant to be detained and processed."

"Very well. I want another star destroyer based on Dantooine until further notice. We cannot have this occur again."

"Of course, sir."

"Is there anything else?"

"Yes. We have reports of a Jedi sighted on SC-325, near the Scarif facilities."

Vader considered who would be that stupid to hide in an official militarized zone.

"The Jedi escaped after killing one storm trooper. Her ship is being tracked and monitored now. She is going to the Outer Rim and estimated to exit hyperspace near Ryloth if she follows that specific route," the lieutenant said.

Padme knew she was being tracked. She was still in hyperspace but couldn't shake the feeling that the imperial forces on the moon weren't going to let her kill one of their troops and get away with it. Especially thinking she was a Jedi, no less. She felt sick to her stomach. She had never done anything so reckless in her life. Of course, she had done daring things but all within the confines of reason and commonsense. Even her affair with Anakin, as much of a threat and scandal that would have ultimately been, she had always justified. But this was something else entirely.

At this point, she could do nothing but pace around. The lightsaber sat incriminatingly on the bench in what was now her living area in the craft. She had tried to contact the rebel base but couldn't get a good signal and decided, after several attempts, it would be safer if they weren't involved. She had to find a place to hide out until the heat was off her.

Obi-Wan would be appalled at her. Using a lightsaber that used to belong to Anakin was a huge mistake. All lightsabers were registered. His included. Reigniting the weapon could send out an alert that the weapon was operating against the law. She pressed a hand painfully against her forehead.

Ryloth would be the closet planet. She was hopelessly unfamiliar with the vast majority of Outer Rim planets and Ryloth remained the only one she knew personally from her time as a humanitarian aid worker there. It was additionally one of the last planets that wasn't confirmed under the Empire's official territory and jurisdiction. Star destroyers or other imperial forces wouldn't have the authority to follow her down onto the planet. She could perhaps camp out somewhere in the less-populated areas to keep a low profile and maybe wait out the Empire. They couldn't devote all their time and resources to wait for some small, ratty looking woman to leave Ryloth. That would be ridiculous.

As she dipped the ship down into the planet, Padme saw that it was just as jagged and unforgiving as she remembered it. The mountainsides, the sparse villages, and ruinous rivers and plains were a dull, dismaying sight to arrive at. Her ship lurched and struggled against the overcast skies and the rain that pelted the outside of the craft. She checked and re-checked her radar. No one was near her. In fact, it was like she had the skies to herself. That didn't do anything to relax her, however.

She found and landed on a rocky area that overlooked a small village. The ship landed well enough and she even considered getting out one of the large camping tarps to cover the ship with. But she was tired. She fell back against the pilot seat, biting her lip in thought. There was little she could do here now that she thought about it. Imperials wouldn't respect galactic territory. Her eyes fell back to the lightsaber on her hip. Jedi were hunted down anywhere they were.

Obi-Wan said she should take Anakin's lightsaber for her own protection in the rare situation a blaster wouldn't suffice. She had used it only once before and that was to learn basic techniques from Kenobi a long time ago. Not that she was any good at it. She was a good shot with a blaster but the lightsaber was an intimidating, unforgiving weapon to possess. This saber, in particular, was an uncomfortable thing to carry with her. Anakin had used this the night the Old Republic was overthrown and she wondered daily how many people he had betrayed with this lightsaber. She knew he had killed children with this. It wasn't a weapon of the Jedi anymore but now an instrument of terror from a not too distant time in history. Padme would have to be a better owner of this saber to make things right.

She tried the radio again. Out here, with little to no infrastructure on Ryloth itself, there was no one to reach. It was only static. Cursing under her breath, she figured that this would happen. She had to find a better place to contact Rana at the rebel base. If she didn't contact them soon, they could pack up and find another place to stay without her knowledge. Only Bail Organa or Kenobi would be slightly easier to track down in the case she was cut off from everyone but -if she was being tracked- she couldn't expose their location or ties to the alliance. Her eyes began to get heavy. She needed rest.