Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney, George Lucas, and all the men and women that created the Star Wars movies, books, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
Rating: T for violence, disturbing imagery, and dark themes
Chapter 2
Outer Rim Territories, Unknown Sector, Scarif System, 1 BBY
My footsteps echo loudly in the white corridors. My heart is racing wildly; so wildly, in fact, that I fear it may beat right of of my chest.
If they catch me - no, if he catches me - I cannot even bear to think of what he might do. All the horrors I've seen over the past three years cannot even compare to what waits ahead of me if I fail.
Three years of searching, of planning, of plotting. Three years of serving "faithfully" to my Commanding Officer and to the Imperial Army. Three years could all be wasted, or I could be free.
I have a head start. I have enough supplies in the bag at my side to get me to a planet. I have the element of surprise. I am the best pilot in the galaxy. I have a plan.
And I have a will.
There's a noise ahead of me, and I dive sideways into a side passage, quickly scrambling to my feet once I'm out of sight and pressing my back against the cool metal wall.
There are voices. Yelling. Most of the voices are just random officers, and I sag in relief, but then I hear his voice. It's cold and stern and cuts right through me, sending chills down my spine and causing my muscles to tense up. Panic thuds it's way through me, and tears sting in my eyes.
Not him. Anyone but him.
"What are you doing?" he yells. "Search the whole base! Find her! She can't be too far!"
Uniform boots echo through the hallways as they run past. I'm afraid the sound of my beating heart will betray me, but they pass without a glance. I know they'll find me soon, though. I need to get out of here. Hiding won't help me.
I peer out to make sure none of them are in immediate sight, and then I slip out of the side passage and make my way towards the exit. We're on a base in Scariff, a jungle and water-filled planet in the Abrion Sector in the Outer Rim Territories. It's about as far from my old home in Coruscant as you can get, but I don't need to get that far.
I just need to get out of this Sector. Then it's free-flying around the galaxy until I can re-invent myself and escape the grasp of the Empire for good.
But first, this building. I just need to make it out of here.
The hall is empty, but it won't be like that forever. I use the opportunity I have to sprint down, my eyes scanning the area so no stormtrooper or fellow Imperial pilot can catch sight of me.
The advantage I have over them is that I've spent hours exploring this base, watching the guard changes, checking out the doorways and hallways. Entire nights have been spent using a flashlight to examine maps and blueprints of this base.
Two and a half years I've been searching for a way out.
You can learn a lot in two and a half years. It took me two years to figure out that there even was a chance of getting out. The last six months were spent running through every option and calculating the risk. Trying things. Asking questions (in a non-suspicious way, of course).
And now, finally, the moment. Although I'm terrified, there's a kind of peace to my soul. If I make it out, I'm free. And if they catch, they'll kill me, and I'll still be free.
Unless he makes an exception. The thought chills my blood, and my legs pick up speed.
He won't make an exception for me. Not after this stunt. It doesn't matter that I'm the best pilot, or the quickest learner. It doesn't matter that I've never failed a mission. If they catch me trying to defect, it's instant death. The thought reassures me, though I don't slow down. I still can't risk it.
You know he can convince them, the voice taunts. He'll do anything to keep you.
Deep down, I know it to be true. And therefore I know that escaping is my only option.
Already I've made a huge mistake. My original plan was to sneak out of the base to the hangar without notice and hopefully hijack a TIE fighter, which I'd fly through the open Shield Gate. By that time, it would be too late for the others to catch up to me as I shifted into light speed and headed to another sector of space.
But someone had noticed I was missing, and they must have pieced together that it means only one thing. So now the alarms are blazing and I'm struggling to make it to the hangar without being seen.
I hear the synchronized pattern of stormtrooper feet jogging my way, and I duck into a side passage right before they turn the corner. It's a place much more exposed than preferable, but I have no choice.
They pass, their heads focused forward. That's one downside to those big-ass helmets: tunnel freakin' vision. It's why they can't shoot worth beans. But that's a secret of the Empire I'm not supposed to divulge.
When my pulse calms down and the sound of their boots fade away, I press forward. I can still hear yelling echoing in the hallways, but I'm so close to the hangar that I can almost feel freedom.
Of course they'll have tons of guards there, though. They know me too well. So when I sneak in, I hide behind stacks of food and weapon supplies waiting to be sent to the various Imperial outposts.
He's here. Standing right in front of the TIE starships. Those are my expertise. He knows it. He knows me.
Standing there, in his stark white uniform, the colored pins a shot of red and yellow and green over his collarbone - it's all I can do to force myself to look away. The memories threaten to rush back, but I can't let them. I might change my mind about leaving.
Truth is, I'm scared to leave. Terrified. I remember all too well my life before being drafted. Hunger and poverty and despair were mainstays. Death and uncertainty was all around me. Claustrophobia from the crowded city threatened to suffocate me.
I learned true freedom here. Sure, there were tons of rules, but those rules allowed me to realize my full potential. They fed me, taught me, clothed me, sustained me. Those rules let me fly around the galaxy.
The only problem was him. Six months into my enlistment, he came. And he held the key to lock me up.
He's the reason I have to leave. The only reason.
But he's still dangling that key in front of me like a bone to a starving dog. And I'm tempted to let him bribe me into submission.
I've come too far to let that happen. I know he'll sit there until they find me, so I can't just wait this out. All my strategies - he knows them like he knows me. He taught me most of what I've learned, in fact. So I can't use any of them. He'll have a plan to counter those.
If I want to get out, I need to do something completely unexpected. Something he would never guess I would do.
The cargo crates in front of me catch my eye. Blasters. I raise a trembling hand to open the lid quietly and carefully. Rows of the black guns are laid to rest in the wooden box.
He knows that I would never use a blaster. He knows my past experiences with them. The way my heart races and panic takes over at the thought of touching one. How my hand is shaking so badly I can't see any definite lines.
So he won't expect me to touch one, let alone use one.
The thought sickens me, and I feel the need to throw up, but I won't. I can't. This is it. My moment. The cards have all played out, and this is the ace I'm left with. It's perfect.
Only I have to be willing to play it.
My heart is nearly thudding out of my chest as I lower my arm and wrap my fingers around the cool metal of one of the weapons. I hate the feeling of it. I hate the way it fits perfectly in my hand, as if it's meant to be there. As if I'm meant to hold it.
Swallowing back my aversion, I pick one up in each hand, checking to make sure the safety switch is off. I take a deep breath, pop up my head above the cargo crates to scan the hangar, then crouch back down and take another deep breath.
The TIE fighters are all tethered down, and they are the heavily guarded ones. There are shuttle starcraft to the right, and cargo starships to my left, both of those not so heavily guarded. I've flown the shuttles on a few occasions, but never a cargo ship.
Once again, he would never expect me to go after one of those. And, after all, how hard can it be to pilot? I'll just have to keep in mind the extra weight and the lack of arms onboard. It's a risky endeavour, but I am the best pilot the Empire has. No one can outmaneuver me once I get into deep space.
And they don't know where I'm going.
Honestly, even I don't know where I'm going. Just somewhere far, far away.
Everything I have planned hinges on their expectations of me, which is a huge risk in itself, but I have no other options that I can think of within a short timeframe. It's now or never. It's this crappy plan or I'm either executed or thrown back into the army.
Even if I'm not killed for my treason - and there's a very good chance of me not being destroyed - I couldn't survive knowing I didn't even try to make it out. The torture I'll have to survive every day is enough to bring me down on its own. I had only survived before knowing that I was working towards escaping. This truly is my last chance.
With my mind now completely made up and all doubts shoved aside, I take in a deep breath, hoist the blasters up, one in each hand, and stand, releasing the breath. At first, none of them notice. It's only when I step out and start firing randomly, my pointer fingers pumping the triggers, that all hell breaks loose.
The stormtroopers assume defensive positions, their blasters pivoting to try and find the source of the rogue shots. I can hear him yelling above the fray, but I ignore it all. My feet have never moved faster as I run, trying not to let the momentum from the firing of the guns throw off my balance.
My heart is racing in my chest and my hands are trembling and my vision blurred and bathed in red. Everything is happening all at once, all so fast. It's all I can do to keep my eyes focused on my destination: the cargo ships.
One of them is untethered and in the process of being loaded - or, at least, it was in the process of being loaded - so I head for that one, racing up the cargo bay ramp and hiding behind crates of various products. I'm just in time; even as I crouch, blaster shots splinter the wood where I had just been.
I use of series of jumps and quick, low, runs to make it up the ship and out of the cargo hold. As the door to the cockpit automatically slides forward for me, I slam my hand into the manual switch on the wall to close the cargo ramp.
The metal sheet shudders for a long moment, straining against the heavy, half-loaded cargo. It finally wins out, and the ramp begins to slowly close. The sound of gunfire and shouting is muted.
I slam myself into the pilot's chair, not bothering to buckle the harness as my fingers feel over the buttons and levers and switches. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before, but the basics of flying are similar for all starships. Once I locate the hyperdrive and the take-off/landing controls, I feel comfortable enough to start up the ship.
The engine stalls for a moment, and panic sets in, but I force myself to remain calm. A particularly hard hit rocks the entire ship, and I know the stormtroopers have broken out the heavy weapons, but, ironically, that hit was exactly what the engine needed to get it going. It kicks on and I feel the whole control panel thrumming under my fingertips.
I pull forward on the steering mechanism, and the cargo ship inches out on its wheels. Too slowly, I fear. Two more hard hits and we're done for.
I slam my foot on the accelerating pedal, and the ships lurches forward. Because I didn't buckle in right, my whole torso is thrown forward, over the control panel. My hands, gripped tightly around the steering, pulls the bars forward, which causes the ship to start going backwards. There's a large crashing sound as the back of the starship hits all the crates that had been waiting to get loaded in.
I take a split second to pull the harness over my shoulder and strap myself in before easing the cargo ship forward at a quick but manageable pace. All around, I can see the stormtroopers and my fellow pilots racing around, untethering the fighter ships and setting up a barrier at the door of the hanger. They're trying to trap me in.
Ignoring all the people in my path, I roll my foot down, causing the cargo ship to shoot forward again, this time not releasing until it barrels over the opposition. Within seconds I'm free of the building, and I fire up the thrusters, pulling the wheels up and into their separate holds. The ship takes to the air, and I speed it up as fast as the engine can take.
Right on time, the bomb I had placed in the main floor of the communications tower blows. The tower doesn't topple over, but it shakes, and the windows of that floor blow outwards. Hopefully the people there haven't had time to send a message up to the personal at the Shield Gate to stop me from going through.
The complex of bases and barracks on the tropical planet fall into the backdrop as I fly towards the Shield Gate and towards my freedom. The stars are so close now, I can almost reach out and touch them. If I get through the Shield Gate, I can outmaneuver the TIE fighters and the other pilots relatively easily. Just one last obstacle.
"Cargo Ship 27A, please report in," the radio crackles. "You are not authorized to leave yet."
"Communications tower was compromised, sir," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. "I have important equipment aboard that must get to the space carriers. The order is from General Albion himself."
"Before the tower was targeted we received a message that the base was locked down. No one is to leave or enter."
"General Albion himself commanded my mission." I stress the name, although it tastes bitter in my mouth. "He will be very unhappy if this equipment doesn't get through. That's why he sent the best pilot in the Empire, Artemis Nyra, to fly it in personally. This is of the utmost importance."
There's a long silence. Although there is no clock aboard the starship I can almost hear a faint, nonexistent ticking noise. Am I going mad?
"Alright," the soldier finally acquiesces. "Opening up the Shield Gate."
Releasing a long, pent-up breath, I reply, "Thank you. The General will be pleased with your cooperation."
I speed through the gate as soon as the opening is big enough. It's just closing behind me again when the TIE fighters try to exit. I turn on the radio to hear their communications.
" - demand you let us through!" someone shouts.
"I can't do that, private. The base is on lockdown."
"You let her through!"
"She's on a secret mission, sir. From the General himself."
"She lied to you." Instead of a young, frantic voice, this belongs to someone older. Someone more mature. Someone I know all too well. And that voice sends shivers down my spine. "I know you're listening, Private Nyra."
I can't respond. Fear trickles through my blood, although I'm already free. I just have to pull the hyperdrive and I can be far away -
But my hands refuse to move. For some reason, I can't find the will to keep going.
"You don't really want to leave," the voice continues. "You had everything here. You were moving up the ranks so quickly. Why would you leave? So you got your moment of attention. Where are you going? You have no home except for here."
There's a click, and I know he switched to a private channel. With shaking hands, I reach over and switch to it, too.
His voice greets me. "I'll protect you if you stay. But if you leave this system, if you leave this planet, I can't protect you. You'll be on your own. Back to the days of stealing and scrounging and fighting for every crumb of bread and every scrap of money. What will you do? You can't hold a job. I can protect you here. Just come back."
No. I can't go back. I'll find something to do, some way to make a living. Besides, I'd rather beg on the streets than go back to serving the Empire.
"I don't want your protection," I reply, my voice shaking. "I don't need it."
"You know how much I care about you." His tone is softer now, and it hits me where it hurts. "I want to help you. I want you to achieve the best you can. I know you love flying. I taught you how to fly well. I can teach you so much more if you just stay."
No. I've made it this far. I'm not going back. His silver tongue can't talk me into anything more.
"I don't need to learn anything more." The words struggle out of my mouth because they are not true.
He knows it. He can see through my lies. He has always been able to.
"You are the best pilot, but even the best can still learn. Within a few weeks you will be promoted! Imagine how many doors that will open for you. You can go anywhere you want, engage in more battles, have more control. I know you want independence more than anything."
Independence. Freedom. The words sound so sweet in my mind, and my heart longs for them. Can he really give me all of that? I left because I had no freedom, but now he's offering it…
"Imagine all the new kinds of ships you can use. Maybe you can even be a test pilot for brand new models. You can go as fast as you want, anywhere you want. Just stay."
The idea is so tempting. But I raise my eyes from the radio to the stars, and my heart hardens. This is where I truly want to go. "Goodbye, Lehvan."
"Please don't - "
I switch off the radio and floor the accelerator, racing away from that horrid base and the horrid memories and the luring temptation of power. When I get far enough away, I switch on the hyperdrive and take off, going somewhere far, far away.
Core Worlds Region, Coruscant Subsector, Corusca Sector, Unknown System, 14 BBY
"But what happens if I do get caught, and I get thrown in prison?" I insist, tugging on Dad's hand.
"Like I said before. You don't get caught. We Nyras are too good. We're smart enough to avoid that terrible situation." He ruffles the top of my hair, messing it all up. "Don't worry about it."
"But what if it happens? Hypothetically?" I follow him as he heads out on the skywalk. "What should I do?"
He keeps walking for a few steps, then halts with a sigh. He kneels down, in the middle of the sidewalk, and grabs my shoulders lightly, looking straight into my eyes with a serious expression. "If you get caught, I will come for you. No matter what. As long as I breathe, I will come for you."
"So I should just wait?" I press, making sure to cover everything. I like being prepared, even if Daddy says I worry too much.
He nods. "Just sit tight. I'll get you."
"Are you gonna break into the prison?" My voice lights with enthusiasm. "Are you going to pilot a ship and take out all the stormtrooper guards, like the old Jedi did in the old days?"
His eyes widen. "Don't talk about such things," he admonishes quietly but sternly. "If the Emperor hears - "
He cuts off abruptly. I've rarely seen my father so strict. "They are just stories, though. Myths. The Jedi weren't good. They messed up everything and corrupted the galaxy."
He stands and continues walking, his pace brisk. "They aren't myths, Art. They're legends."
What does he mean by that? "What's the difference?"
"Myths aren't real. Legends are exaggerations of long-ago people and things."
What? The Empire has always told us that Jedi don't exist. They were a radical religious-like group that tried to take over and control. For a while, they were successful. Then Senator Palpatine - or Lord Sidious, as he goes by now - rose from the masses and defied them, speaking for the people. The Jedi's lies betrayed them and they fell.
"So the stories about Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are all true?" I can't help the awe in my voice. I'd long heard whispered stories or read extremely old and illegal news articles about their heroics. Of course, I'd thought it was just a myth or a good story.
My father nods. "Yes. At least they're based off truth."
An excitement fills me, and a spark of interest lights up my mind. "So they really traveled all over the galaxy fighting injustice?"
He nods again. Although his face is unchanging, my whole world has been turned upside down.
"Tell me stories," I beg. "Tell me about them."
"I shouldn't. If the Empire overhears…" he trails off and stares ahead. A moment later he looks back at me, and his resolve crumbles. "Okay. I'll tell you a few things."
I can't contain my enthusiasm. My hands wring as I listen eagerly.
"They were Jedi, yes, but good ones. You must understand, in every empire - good or bad - there are good people. Anakin and Obi-Wan were good. They fought for justice and peace. Obi-Wan was amazing at diplomacy. He could talk himself out of almost any situation - and for the few he couldn't talk himself out of, he could fight. He was amazing with a lightsaber and with the Force."
I close my eyes and draw up mental pictures in my mind. I have a good idea of him in my mind. "And what of Anakin?"
My father lets out a low chuckle. "He was almost the exact opposite. Obi-Wan would be in the middle of a conversation, only a few seconds from getting everything cleared up, and then Anakin would burst in, his lightsaber fired up and burning through things. He was the younger one, and the two of them were brothers in all but blood. Where Obi-Wan was patient and calm, Anakin was rash and impulsive, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He saved his master's life multiple times."
Again I make an imagine of this younger Jedi in my head. "I wish I had been alive in those days," I admit. "They sound like amazing people."
Dad nods. "They were. And they were the best pilots in the galaxy, too. Ironic though it was, Obi-Wan hated flying, but he was the second best in the universe. Anakin, having grown up a podracer, was the best. The bad guys always knew that if the two of them came, it was a lost cause."
As cool as that information is, I'm still stuck on one point. "Were?" I ask, my forehead creasing. "What happened to them?"
My father's voice is muted when he replies. "Dead. Long dead."
What? And just like that, my amazing mood crashes. "What happened to them?"
He shakes his head. "I am not allowed to speak of it."
My heart sinks into my chest, and a deep bitterness fills me. If only the Empire didn't filter everything…
It was several years later that I learned about Order 66 and the destruction it wrought. Once powerful Jedi being eradicated in the span of only a few days...the remaining Jedi having to flee and hide for the rest of their lives, always in danger of being hunted…
I had been devastated when I learned Obi-Wan had died on Utapau only a few years after the Clone Wars. But that was nothing compared to the anger I felt when I learned Anakin had bought into the lies of the Empire and had betrayed his friends, still dying in the end. He had lost everything, and for what? For nothing, it seems.
After a childhood of learning to obey the Empire without question, I began to have my first doubts. But after my fascination with the two Jedi faded, so did my enmity towards the Empire.
After all, Obi-Wan and Anakin are just legends, exaggerated and told in stories to help inspire hope. Hope, which is just an excuse for insane, rebellious actions.
And so I eventually forgot about the two past heroes who had, in the end, failed.