Chapter One: Exile
She ran on through the woods of her home planet, fear growing as she fled; she fought down the panic and kept running… Her leg burned and hurt her, but she dared not stop, dared not look back…
Aliana Calion woke with a start, remembering where she was when her feet hit the rough floor of her room. 'Room' was something of an overstatement: the thing was barely the size of a closet. She didn't complain, though; anything was better that the cockpit of a fighter. Looking out the window, she saw the two moons of the desert world she'd had to call home for the past year and a half. Tatooine, she thought. No Imperial would ever think to find me here. Be that as it may, I've stayed here for longer than is safe. She had hired herself out to one of the moisture farmers on the planet, a man named Lars, and worked for wages no Denevan worker would have thought enough to subsist on. It was enough for her, though, since they also provided her shelter in exchange for her mechanical services. On Deneva she'd often built things for the fun of it, and for other reasons as well, but here she merely assisted in repair work. There were so many ways she could have improved the working of the tiny farm, but the last thing Aliana wanted was for her employer to ask awkward questions. She had even changed her name to avoid questions that might expose her: now she was simply Coriana, which on her world meant exile.
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of movement outside her door; a male voice called from the other side.
"Coriana, are you awake?"
"Yes, Mr. Lars," she replied, opening the door. Her employer stood on the other side, seeming surprised to find her alert.
"Did you sleep at all, Coriana?"
"Yes sir, I just happened to wake up early this morning. Is it time to start?"
"We need to head to Anchorhead today. Will you be able to manage on your own?" Lars knew she was perfectly capable of working alone, but there was something odd about this young woman.
"I'll manage quite well, sir. There's nothing to worry about." She exited the room, nodded briefly as she passed his nephew, and entered the kitchen area: again, not much, but she didn't complain.
"Good morning, Coriana. Did you sleep well?"
"Well enough, ma'am." Aliana glanced briefly at the others sitting down at the table, and gave her attention to the simple meal in front of her. As she ate, she listened to the conversation around her.
"Last time we were in Anchorhead, there was talk of an escaped fugitive," her employer was saying; a chill crept up Aliana's spine, but outwardly she was unchanged.
"Escaped fugitive?" Mrs. Lars asked, eyes wide.
"Yes, from a planet called Deneva. According to the gossip, he's charged with treason against the Empire." Lars paused in his meal. "Funny thing is, I'd never heard of the place up to now. Apparently he was looking for someone named Aliana."
Aliana felt three pairs of eyes fix on her, and looked up.
"You know anything about this person, Coriana?" How much does he know?
"I assume you ask because I'm not a native to this world," she replied quietly.
"That, and the fact that you've never once mentioned your home planet in all the time you've been here."
"I didn't want to talk about it."
"Perhaps you should. I won't be harboring a fugitive on my farm."
She sighed. "Aliana was one of the nobles on my home planet of Deneva. I've been told I look something like her. She was falsely accused of treason. Shortly after she died, a number of Denevans left the planet; she was one of the few people we would follow loyally." Aliana smiled lightly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "If you fear I'm a fugitive, I'm not. I am just another Denevan in exile." Finishing her meal, Aliana headed out to check on the various machines on the farm. She'd told no lies, which eased her mind, but not all of the truth. If someone's been asking about me, someone from Deneva, it means the Empire won't be far behind. The thought chilled her in spite of the desert air. She'd wait until the end of the year, then leave. A desert wind played through her close-cropped hair, which had faded from dark brown to pale brown under the desert sun. Part of her would miss this desert world, but she knew she couldn't stay. At the end of the year I must leave. Tatooine is no longer safe. With a sigh, she went about her day's duties.