61 ABY

Even a year after that terrible night, Hanna woke up smelling smoke. This time, however, she was pretty sure it was because Artoo had zapped her in the pants of her patched-up flight-suit.

"I'm getting up, chill," she said as she hurried to sit up in her bunk, and hit her head on the top. "MOTHER-KRIFFER!"

And Luke said my dialogue was filthy, Artoo remarked.

"Kriff off," Hanna complained as she rubbed her head and swung her head out from the one ragged blanket she owned. "Relax, you rolling trashcan, I'm getting up there."

With a series of shrieks, beeps, and whistles, Artoo started rolling down the narrow hallway of the Stardust. Hanna pulled her ankle boots on, and grabbed her green synth-silk scarf, wrapping it first around her neck and then her shoulder-length dark brown hair.

It never hurt to make herself a little more difficult to recognize. That was how she had survived the past year on her own. With a few fake IDs and a little grease on her face, she looked eighteen, just old enough for the right shady people to hire her to smuggle things or transport someone or another and give her credits for it.

There were several names she used. But Hanna was never one. She saw the HoloNet broadcasts on her datapad she'd kept in the ship in her life Before. Darth Lunala had a bounty out for any and all Jedi— and Hanna was sure that it included her. Never mind that in the span of one year, she had not reconnected with the Force in any way.

She followed Artoo out into the cockpit of the Stardust. Crait, the planet where the battle that turned the tide of the Second Galactic Civil War, loomed ahead. No one who wasn't some tourist had been on the planet since the old Rebellion base was destroyed.

It was the perfect place to camp out and wait for a job.

Hanna began the landing procedures, and entered the atmosphere.

The salt had re-settled over the red dirt that the planet was famous for. Time had wiped away all traces of the Battle of Crait. She saw it ahead— the rebel bunker with the doors blast open. With a little aim and some steady hands, she landed it gently right inside the bunker.

With that, Hanna stood up and turned to find her small maintenance closet in the hallway.

"Might as well clean up," she said. She turned up her HoloPad's radio, where she would hear it if a call came in, but could also play music. It was one of the only parts that made her feel normal.

Every day that she could not connect with the Force, every day that she was out smuggling, all it reminded her that it was not normal. She didn't know who survived the destruction of the Jedi Temple, or her own sister's attack.

In the days that spanned afterwards, Hanna had sat in the Stardust, with transmission signals on, and watched the HoloNet religiously. She'd discovered her sister was in fact Darth Lunala, and that she was gaining traction around the galaxy. So many of the Outer Core worlds had fallen, and she was extending into the Inner Core.

But she never found out who had survived. The First Order had been absorbed into the Lunar Empire, as the Alderaanians called it, and there was no mention as to what had happened to the former Supreme Leader.

Hanna continued sweeping out the small ship. It was a simple thing, with the cockpit up front, a thin curved hallway leading to the living area and the cargo area, and the living area had a bunk, a small kitchenette, and a shower stall. The cargo area was the largest part of the ship, and Hanna had learned how to become more efficient with stacking over the past year.

It was also easy to keep clean, although dirt tracked easily in the small space. But that didn't matter much to Hanna. The important part was keeping her mind occupied, and away from the continuous wondering and guilt.

Who lived? Who died that night?

Is it my fault that she keeps getting stronger?

Part of her kept remembering that her grandmother was her age when she began the fight against the Empire. But she was just a girl. . . And she didn't have any idea how or where to start. Leia wasn't the one who built the Rebel Alliance— many people did, over the course of decades.

And how could only one person stop an empire?

She had just gotten to the back of the ship when she heard Artoo shriek, whistle, and beep wildly.

"Artoo!" she threw her broom to the side and ran into the cockpit to see what the fuss was about. Then she saw it.

An Alderaanian Hammerhead was in the atmosphere of Crait. In pure terror, Hanna watched, frozen to her seat as the large warship soared over the caves.

"We have to get out of here," she whispered.

She knew that Darth Lunala had to be looking for her sister. And she had to have been following Hanna— no one else went anywhere near the desolate planet.

She blindly flicked on switches, and prepped for flight. Within seconds, she was back behind the joystick again, and she punched in coordinates randomly. All she wanted was to get out, that was all she needed.

With a sharp curve upwards, the Stardust flew into the blue skies that matched Hanna's eyes. Immediately, the cannons on the Hammerhead fired at the small cargo ship.

Managing a few artful dodges, Hanna managed just barely to get to the outer atmosphere of Crait.

"Now!" she shouted to herself. The Stardust launched into hyperspace, and Hanna leaned back, relieved. Then she saw the planet she'd punched in— it was some planet called Eliana. . . But she didn't know where that was.

At least she was out of her sister's clutches.