Hello! I apologize for the long wait for this work. Fatherhood, farmwork, and full-time work has a funny way of sapping free time for editing and proofreading. I am still hard at work on adapting more of the stories from the Star Wars universe into this fantasy world. Publicly visible progress updates are posted every other Wednesday on my along with the raw chapters of the Great War/Clone Wars for the $5 USD tier the Wednesday after completion. Once a season is finished and proofread, I will start uploading the chapters here as normal.

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Ah, hello, my friends. Welcome back once more. If I may, I would like to tell you a story near and dear to me of a swashbuckler whose adventures have sparked my imagination since I first heard them so long ago. For someone as storied as he, so many tales of life and exploits must be taken with a grain of salt as legends and truths can become indistinguishable. That having been said, what I bring you this time - as incredible as some of the feats may seem - is no less than the true story of Han Solo.

It is a time of lawlessness in Corellia. Crime syndicates compete for resources - food, medicine, and coaxium. In the sprawling slums outside of Coronet City's vast shipyards, the foul Lady Proxima forces runaways into a life of crime in exchange for shelter and protection. On these mean streets, a young man fights for survival but yearns for a life on the freedom of the sea.

With hands shaking from excitement, Han scraped a flint across the spine of his knife. "Come on..." He tried again. "Come on!" Finally, on the third strike, the shower of sparks ignited the pilot light and the engine thrummed to life.

Han slammed the autocart's cowling closed and vaulted into the driver's seat. This was far from the first motorized vehicle that the young criminal had commandeered, but if the engine didn't heat up in time he worried it would be his last. He impatiently watched the steam gauge creep up as the sound of pounding feet grew louder.

Han glanced back up the street in time to see his pursuers come around the corner. The ugly one leading them snarled and pointed. "There's the bastard! Don't let him get away!"

Han swore and looked back to the gauge. Just hot enough. He opened the throttle and heard his wheels squeal on the wet cobblestones. The threats and insults of Han's pursuers faded away as he sped through the empty streets of the capital's slums.

All around, the warm yellow glow of the few working street lamps reflected off the puddles, giving the foggy predawn darkness a cozy aura. Han blew out his cheeks and followed the twists and turns leading to the waterfront. As he neared one of the bridges over the Mesia River, he pulled a pair of gold dice on a chain from his pocket and hung them around one of the steering wheel's spokes.

By far the oldest and largest district, the slums of Coronet City were home to the countless workers that kept the shipyards operational. Few buildings were younger than a century and plainly displayed their age. Most were rife with infestations of all types.

Cranes and ships in varying stages of completion loomed over it all. Their presence along with the sounds of machines and colliding metal served as indelible reminders of the thankless work. For those that would not or could not toil in the Santhe Shipyards, the alternative was a life of crime. Ultimately the only means of escape for either life was death.

This was all Han had ever known but as he slowly drove between the tall buildings of the slums, he renewed his vow to himself that he would not be stuck like everyone else. What eyes looked up to see Han pass did not express any surprise at the sight of him behind the wheel of the autocart. They knew full well it was stolen.

Han hid his pilfered vehicle in a side alley and headed back towards the Den of the White Worms he called home. The sun was just starting to rise and as he neared the drainage tunnel that formed the entrance, he could hear Lady Proxima's enforcers berating the returning White Worms scrumrats for their tardiness. Han waited until the enforcers weren't looking and dashed in with his fellow Worms.

The circular brick tunnels that made up the Den were much like the rest of Coronet City's old sewers. Though structurally sound, they looked and smelled vile. Duckboards to either side of the flowing sludge formed the walkways that many scrumrats would spend much of their lives traversing. Stringy phosphorescent algaes provided the only light aside from the occasional small cooking fire.

In the main cistern, a returning group of children opened their bindles to brag of their ill-gotten wares. "Look what I stole! Proxima'll give me an extra portion for this!"

One of the other children grabbed the trinket in question. "I think shes going to give that extra portion to me!"

"Hey! Give it back!"

"It belongs to whoever's holding it and that's not you!"

Such scenes were commonplace down here. Han had been on both sides more times than he cared to remember. He paid them no mind as he headed further in, passing by other children playing Sabacc.

Upon entering an offshoot tunnel, Han heard a feminine voice excitedly call his name. He hadn't even seen the speaker before a pair of hands firmly but gently pinned him to the brick wall. Han leaned forward to meet the incoming kiss and felt the restraining hands move into an embrace.

Though not much time had separated them, in a lifestyle as dangerous as theirs every reunion was celebrated. The two lovers swayed side to side until finally they released their embrace.

"You were gone too long," said Qi'ra. "I thought something must have gone wrong." She frowned at the bruises and abrasions on Han's cheek and reached her hand up.

Han caught her wrist. "This is nothing. You should see them."

"Look down here," echoed an angry voice from the direction of the cistern.

Han led Qi'ra deeper into the tunnels. "All right, listen. I was in the middle of the exchange, I'm handing over the coaxium and his goons jumped me. But I showed them."

"How?"

"I ran away. Then I boosted their autocart." Han flashed a smirk.

"What, are we going somewhere?"

"Yeah, anywhere we want." Han reached into his pocket and withdrew a glass tube filled with a viscous translucent silver liquid that gave off the faintest bit of light.

Coaxium, also known as the waters of Hyperius, is an exceptionally rare liquid found in places where the barriers between our reality and the plane of Hyperius are weak. Though the reason and mechanics as to why coaxium leaks into the world are unknown, its discovery has been an invaluable boon for travel. Though catastrophically unstable when coaxium's raw form is removed from a source, cold temperatures and ships equipped with stabilizing flywheels allow for safe transport to refineries. From there, the more stable refined coaxium can be sent off for anyone with a seed crystal to grow a complete Hyperion crystal, though this process can take many months depending on the size of the ship for which it is intended.

Qi'ra stared slack-jawed as Han placed the coaxium into her hand. "You held onto one of the vials?!"

"Han's back!" A group of older children ran past. Han waved to them, trying to not appear suspicious.

Qi'ra blinked as she stared at the coaxium vial. "This... This is worth..."

"I know, five, six thousand Thalers. That's more than you said we'd need."

Qi'ra turned the vial over in her hand. "Escaping the slums... Escaping Corellia..." She looked up to her lover and smiled. "Han... This could be it. This could work."

"This is going to work. " Han gently held her chin. "Qi'ra, you've always said that one day we were going to get out of here. This is it."

Qi'ra's smile widened. "Well what are we waiting for?"

The two wrapped their arms around one another and kissed deeply. Hope was a rare commodity in the slums of Corellia and in that moment, Han and Qi'ra were likely the richest in the whole of Coronet City for it.

A few minutes later, the pair strolled hand in hand towards one of the T junctions. Ask they turned left, Han in spite of the darkness recognized a duo of Proxima's foot soldiers. One of them pointed. "There he is. Hey, you two!"

Han and Qi'ra turned and attempted to run, only to nearly collide with an armored fleshy centipede standing upright to Han's height. "(Look who we have here.)"

Han's heart sank upon seeing Proxima's chief enforcer. "Moloch! Hi, how are you doing? I was just on my way to see Lady Proxima." He tried to push past only for the Grindalid to stop him.

Unfamiliar to much of the world because of their reclusive, sun-averse lifestyles, Grindalids found their homes in the undergrounds of Corellia's great cities. It was they who did the work of constructing and maintaining the elaborate sewer systems. So too would they ultimately fill much of the power vacuum left by the wealthy fleeing the old city during the economic boom of the High Republic era.

"(You have our money?)"

Han stepped back and forced a chuckle. "What a night I had. You're not going to believe it. Well, you're going to believe it but, uh..."

Moloch waved forward the duo of foot soldiers that had since moved behind Han and Qi'ra. "(Search him.)"

One of the gangsters wrapped his arm around Han's neck. "Hold still, scrumrat."

The other set to work turning out Han's pockets and patting him down while ignoring his halfhearted protests. Qi'ra watched on from the nearby shadows and slipped the as yet unnoticed vial of coaxium into one of her coat's deep pockets.

His cohort having found nothing, the foot soldier released Han's neck. "All right. Let's go see Lady Proxima."

Moloch shoved Han to get him moving. The Grindalid eyed Qi'ra for a moment before heading on himself.

Lady Proxima's audience chamber occupied the upper old sump station in which she had herself been spawned several centuries prior. A dim blue glow from the solitary skylight bathed the chamber and reflected off the water that trickled down the walls.

Moloch and his men led Han into the chamber. A great many of Han's fellow White Worms scrumrats ringed the flooded sump at the chamber's center in which Proxima awaited. Despite half of her body being submerged in the murky water, she still towered over the tallest human in the audience by a head.

The Grindalid matriarch craned her worm-like upper body down to Han's level, her many gold chains jingling as she did. "Well," she said in crowing Basic. "What happened?"

"I'll tell you what happened," Han said. "They double-crossed you and tried to kill me."

"The money?"

"They kept it."

"And my coaxium?"

"They kept that too. But we learned a very valuable lesson. We cannot trust those guys."

Proxima narrowed her many beady eyes. "You expect me to believe that you walked away with nothing?!"

Han shrugged. "I walked away with my life. I think that's something. To me that's a lot."

Qi'ra pushed her way through the scrumrats to better observe the proceedings. She kept nervously fidgeting with the vial in her pocket.

"I trusted you with a simple task and all I'm hearing is excuses." Proxima shot out one of her arms and punched Han in his gut. "There must be consequences for disobedience or else you never learn."

Han pulled himself to his knees only for one of Moloch's foot soldiers to strike him in the back with a pipe, knocking him back to all fours.

"You know what?" Han asked breathing heavily. "I don't think I'm ever going to learn."

Proxima reared back, enraged at Han's insolence. "What did you say?"

The foot soldier swung as the scrumrat stood, only for Han to grab the pipe. "I said, next time somebody hits me..." He jabbed the gangster in the chest hard enough to push him away. "...I hit them back."

"(Not if I shoot you,)" Moloch said levelling his pistol.

The foot soldier recovered his pipe. Moloch thumbed back the cock on his gun.

Qi'ra ran between the pistol and Han. "Moloch! No, wait!"

"Qi'ra," Proxima crooned. "Remember the Silo? We pulled you out of that horror and gave you a home. Don't throw it away for Han. He's not worth it."

"Whatever he lost on the deal, we'll earn it back double! We will make it up to you!"

"(Coaxium is precious,)" Moloch said. "(Scrumrats like you come cheap.)" He took aim.

Han suddenly pulled a round object from a pocket and held it aloft. "Everybody stand back!"

Cries of surprise exploded from the assembled scrumrats. Proxima on the other hand was totally unfazed. "...What's that supposed to be?"

Han stared Proxima down. "This is a fragmentation petard..." The click of the safety lever being depressed echoed through the chamber, prompting terrified gasps. "...with my thumb over the fuze rune."

"...That's a rock," said Proxima, wholly unamused.

Han smirked smugly. "No, it's not."

"Yes it is! And you just made that clicking sound with your mouth!"

Qi'ra had a look of total horror on her face. "Please tell me this isn't your plan."

"No," Han replied. "This is." He hurled the stone as hard as he could towards the dark blue glass of the skylight.

A shaft of sunlight pierced the darkness. Proxima howled in agony as great blisters erupted across her scorched flesh. She retreated back into her pool.

The enraged Moloch shielded those of his eyes still able to see and glanced around. Han and Qi'ra were nowhere to be seen.

Han and Qi'ra sprinted out of the drainage tunnel, knocking down the guard on the way. The pair dashed into a dark alleyway and Han led the way towards the stashed autocart.

Han lifted the motor cowling and pulled out his flint and steel. "Get in!"

"A Mobquet?"

Han smirked. "Nice, right?"

"I love it!"

Han only needed to strike the flint once to ignite the pilot light this time. He vaulted into the driver's seat and watched the gauge rise. Just as it reached the minimum steam pressure, Moloch entered the alleyway with his Corellian attack hounds. Han opened the throttle while Moloch cracked off a few poorly aimed shots.

The Grindalid lowered his empty gun as the autocart sped out of sight. The traitors would never be able to escape him for long. He was going to enjoy executing them.

Han drove towards the waterfront, riding a high of adrenaline the likes of which he had scarcely felt before. Qi'ra felt much the same though she had the added lightness of a sense of freedom that she had dreamt about for so long. The couple smiled to one another, their eyes speaking more of their love than words ever could.

Emerging from the oppressive shadows of the slums' streets into the far greater openness of the waterfront brought an elation that neither Han nor Qi'ra could contain. They cheered and hooted, drawing judgemental looks from the dockworkers they sped past. Several children with dead mynocks slung over their shoulders ran alongside shouting their admiration for the vehicle.

They followed the curve of the waterfront, with Qi'ra catching a glimpse of Coronet City's White Harbor in the brief snatches she could see between the ship hulls. "It looks like there's an ocean liner in the port."

Han smiled. "We're going to be on it."

Qi'ra pulled the coaxium from her pocket and turned it over. She could still hardly believe that such a small thing could be so powerful.

Han looked to the vial. "We bribe our way through the checkpoint with that and we're free."

As they crossed the seaward-most bridge over the Mesia River, Han looked out to the various ships heading towards and from the harbor. "I'm going to be a sailor."

Qi'ra nodded. "We could get our own ship."

"I want to see the world. All of it."

"We wouldn't have to take orders or be kicked around by anyone."

"Ever."

Neither of them noticed the large autocart racing up from behind before it rammed into them. Han only just managed to keep control of the vehicle and glanced back.

Moloch stared back at Han with fury from the pursuing autocart's driver's seat. Though his eyes were concealed by smoked goggles, Han could feel the hatred those eyes contained.

Han snapped his gaze back forward and shifted into a higher gear. "Thought we'd have more of a head start."

Moloch too shifted gears and pulled up alongside Han. The caged attack hounds in the rear of the Grindalid's vehicle snapped and snarled, eager to sink their jagged teeth into their prey.

"(You're dead, boy!)" Moloch yelled. He jerked the wheel to the side and slammed into Han's autocart. Qi'ra yelped as the cart veered towards the brick front of a warehouse, but Han steered back just in time.

The two autocarts collided again though this time Han fought back. The two vehicles veered left and right in near tandem while the wood of the carriages and the wheels alike strained under the competing forces. Moloch's heavier cart won out and ground Han's into the side of a building, shearing off the door in the process and badly frightening Qi'ra.

Moloch steered away for a final crush. Han seized the opportunity and fully opened the throttle. The lighter and far more nimble cart sped forward, leaving Moloch to crumple part of his metal clad fore end against the brickwork. Damaged but not defeated, the Grindalid raced after his prey.

The road ahead of the mobile melee forked, with the path inland leading towards the Corellian white oil refinery. A wrought iron gate and security booth lay ahead.

The automaton security guard picked his a clipboard and stepped out of the booth. "This is a secure area," he droned at the oncoming vehicle. "You must have proper clearance."

Han did not slow down. He crashed through the gate at full speed, tearing apart the wood front of the autocart and denting the engine compartment.

The automaton moved to the middle of the road and waved his arms. "Stop at once! You must follow the proper-"

Moloch's autocart obliterated the automaton.

The mangled head watched the intruders speed away. "...protocol."

Han thundered towards the rows of great storage tanks, glancing back every now and again. "Damn, that thing's fast!"

Qi'ra nodded. "Yeah. But we're faster, right?"

"I hope so." Han took the blind turn to follow the refinery's perimeter road only to immediately regret his choice.

A train unloading raw materials sat ahead under the supervision of Imperial troopers. They took immediate notice of the autocart barrelling towards them and readied their carbines.

Han made a sharp turn onto the rail access road and sped towards the open gate. Moloch followed, his cart's rear momentarily swinging wide with a shriek of rubber. One of the troopers mounted his steamhorse and tore after them.

The road ran parallel to the railway to the point when the line went under the Iron Wall. Here the road split with one way leading to the railyard. Han took the other path heading back towards the dockyards.

Even with the thin profile of the autocart, Han had difficulty navigating the narrow alleys between the warehouses at speed. Qi'ra gripped her seat with white knuckles. She trusted Han, but every survival instinct screamed their protest at his decisions.

Moloch had long run out of patience and had no concern for the damage dealt to or by his vehicle. He plowed through anything in his way, inanimate or otherwise.

The trooper saw a chance to pull up alongside the pursuing autocart and drew his pistol. "You there! Pull over!"

Moloch sideswiped him, toppling the steamhorse and rider. The trooper fell free and watched his mechanical mount skid off and explode upon crashing into a wall.

Han made one more turn and found himself confronted with a virtual dead end. The only way out ahead of them was the pedestrian alleyway up ahead that lead to the waterfront.

"We're trapped!" Qi'ra cried.

"No we're not," Han said, speeding up again.

Qi'ra went cold at the realization of Han's plan. "Han, no! We're never going to make that!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Han, I'm telling you it's too tight!"

Han wrapped an arm around Qi'ra's shoulder and pulled her towards him. "Hold on!"

Qi'ra clamped her eyes shut.

The autocart crashed into the alleyway. The sides of the wooden body tore completely away in a shower of splinters. Behind them, Moloch skidded his autocart to a stop.

Han's ruined vehicle continued down the length of the alley, slowing all the while. Qi'ra slowly opened an eye as she felt the cart finally come to a stop. They had not quite cleared the entirety of the alley and the bricks of the walls were too close for comfort.

Han and Qi'ra looked to one another, neither quite believing that Han's plan had worked as well as it had. A gunshot from behind along with the barking of the attack hounds reminded them that they had to get moving. Han took his gold dice from the wheel and helped Qi'ra out of the autocart. The pair took off running up the waterfront.

Encircling the Coronet City slums, dockyards, and industrial center was an imposing ironclad double wall specifically created to prevent the escape of the labor force. Interspersed guard towers and tangles of barbed wire sat on the inner wall forming an effective physical and psychological escape deterrent. The area between the walls was a barren stretch of glass shard sand that formed a perfect killing ground for anyone who had braved the inner wall. Corpses of those who had failed their crossing lay left in the sand where they had died as a reminder of the futility of escape.

Checkpoint Cresh sat where the Iron Wall met the waterfront. It was one of the few means of passage through to the port for those who had the credentials. Those caught trying to pass through illegally risked a hefty prison sentence, or worse.

This knowledge weighed heavily on Han and Qi'ra as they entered the checkpoint atrium. Featureless oppressive grey concrete comprised much of the material on display with black metal being the alternative. Disorganized clusters of people from many differing races moved about in slow murmurations, flowing towards the turnstile gates. Most appeared to be skilled tradesmen or dockworkers.

"Do not join the line unless you have a transit pass," a voice announced over a broadcast crystal. "Please have your transit pass and your identification booklet ready. All automata must be registered."

Han and Qi'ra strolled across the rutted floor as though they belonged. Their hearts pounded with their nerves and sweat ran down their backs despite the chill. Though perhaps only a result of their paranoia, Han and Qi'ra felt as though every eye was on them - particularly those of the patrolling military police troopers.

To one side of the atrium, a trooper approached a human family resting on their luggage while waving for them to move along. Elsewhere, a woman with a young child nervously rechecked her documentation. In one of the lines, three humans and a Duros in matching red oilskin uniforms chatted. On the catwalks above, armed guards kept watchful eyes over everything.

Sudden shouting badly startled the couple and they turned to look at what the commotion could be. A pair of military police troopers had dragged a man out of one of the lines. One of them had a two-handed grip on one of the man's arms and relentlessly barked out orders. "Stand still! Do not resist!"

"Stop struggling," a second trooper ordered while trying to seize the man's other arm.

"Let me go," the man yelled. "Let me go!"

As the man was dragged away, Han and Qi'ra took advantage of the distraction and snuck into the middle of the line behind three Abednedo fishermen. Another trooper stepped over to the line and waved for them to keep moving. For several minutes, Han and Qi'ra slowly shuffled forward.

Qi'ra heard the barking of a Corellian hound from somewhere behind. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the unmistakable shape of Moloch's helmet over the top of the crowd. "Han. He's here."

The throng parted around the Grindalid and his hounds as he passed. A pair of the military police approached to ascertain the cause of the disturbance. Upon seeing Moloch, one held up his hand. "Hey, hold up. What are you-"

Moloch stared the Imperial down. "(We're looking for strays.)"

Han faced front again. "We're almost there. Just hold onto my hand." He took a deep breath. "Don't look back."

Qi'ra took a firm hold of Han's hand. The line moved ahead by a full stride. "Once we're through, we've got to be smart. Figure out where we're going."

"Anywhere the Empire isn't," Han said with a bitter edge. "Wherever we go, it can't be worse than where we've been."

Qi'ra shook her head. "Yes, it can. Out there, we've got no protection. We could be snatched up by traffickers and sold to Crimson Dawn or the Hutt Cartel."

Han looked Qi'ra in the eye with a spirit of determination. "That's not going to happen. I won't let it." He took Qi'ra's other hand and wrapped something on a small chain around her finger.

Qi'ra smiled as she rolled Han's gold dice around in her palm. "For luck?"

Han smirked. "Damn right."

Moloch finished explaining his mission to the police troopers. One nodded to the other. "Let's go."

The woman in the booth finished processing the trio of Abednedo and let them pass through the turnstile gate. "Next."

Han and Qi'ra stepped up to the booth. The woman regarded the pair from behind her window with boredom. "Identification booklets and passes."

"Funny thing," said Han, "we don't have them."

Qi'ra withdrew the vial from her pocket and held it up. "We have this. Pure coaxium. It's worth at least eight thousand Thalers, maybe more."

"You could be detained just for having that."

Han shrugged. "What good would that do anybody? Let us through, it's all yours."

The woman stared at the translucent silver liquid. That vial was worth almost a year's wages. After several seconds, she looked around and content that her actions would go unseen slid open her receiving drawer. "The coaxium, now."

Qi'ra looked her in the eye with steel resolve even as the hand holding the vial over the drawer shook. "As we're going through, not before."

The woman quietly scoffed.

Han heard Moloch's voice much closer than he had expected it to be by now. "Do it," he told Qi'ra. "Just do it."

Qi'ra hesitated, then placed the vial down. The woman held her thumb against the rune to unlock the turnstile gate. Han took Qi'ra's hand and jogged through, making sure that they stayed connected through the gate's slats.

Qi'ra began to push the turnstile to follow when Moloch suddenly grabbed her around the waist. "(Not so fast, Qi'ra!)"

Han whipped back around at both hearing the exclamation and feeling Qi'ra's hand wrenched from his own. He tried to push the turnstile back around to no avail. "Wait! Open the gate!"

The woman in the booth looked at him with something approaching pity. She tapped her broadcast crystal. "Security! There has been a breach!"

Qi'ra ripped herself free from Moloch's grip and ran back to the gate. "Run, Han! Run!"

"Qi'ra!" Han watched as Moloch closed in again. "Don't you touch her! Get your hands off her! Qi'ra!"

"Run, Han! Please!" As Qi'ra reached out to him one last time, Han could still see his gold dice wrapped around her finger. Moloch grabbed her more firmly this time and carried her away.

The pair of troopers watched the Grindalid and his captive moving through the onlooking crowd. One of the Imperials tapped his comm crystal. "Culprit has been apprehended."

Han yelled Qi'ra's name at the top of his lungs. "I'll come back! I'll come back for you! I promise!"

This outburst caught the attention of the troopers. They moved in. "Attention all units, another unauthorized traveller may have made it through the gate!"

Han swore in frustration and pushed himself away from the gate. He stole a hat and coat from a nearby spilled trunk and disappeared into the crowd around him. Intrigued whispers of how anyone could have gotten through floated around, but he didn't register them. His mind kept replaying what had happened over and over as he wandered towards the sunlight.

The Coronet City on the other side of the Iron Wall was far, far different to what Han had just left. Though discolored by soot from the countless ships that sailed its waters, the tan and rich brown stone of the harbor may as well have been gleaming gold. The brightness of everything was more than Han had ever seen in the slums even on the sunniest of days. The air smelled clean.

Even with as much as he had dreamt of this moment, none of it could penetrate his shroud of melancholy. Every plan for the future Han had made had Qi'ra beside him. She was meant to experience these wonders with him.

What would he do without her? How would he make good on his promise? How long would it take?

Over the sounds of the crowd around him, Han could hear the voices of military police as they rushed out of the checkpoint. Small pockets of turmoil erupted as pairs of troopers cornered and questioned anyone they deemed suspicious. Anyone displaying even the slightest resistance found themselves in shackles.

Troopers passed him by only a scant few strides away. "He's still out here. Keep looking."

Han's heart beat as fast as an autocart's engine. He felt as though his world was spiralling in on itself. Everything had gone wrong. It would only be a matter of time until the Imperials found him. Once they did he would rot away in a prison cell and Qi'ra would have no hope of rescue.

Han collapsed onto a bench and hung his head. The depth of his situation settled over him. He had no money, no plans, and nowhere to go.

"Hey! You there!"

Han gasped and looked up.

The voice had not been directed at him, but instead at an old man.

"Show me some identification," one of the troopers barked.

"No, please," the old man pleaded.

"You're coming with us. Do not resist." The military police led him away, ignoring his requests to retrieve his cane.

Not too far beyond where they had been, Han noticed small passenger ship with people beginning to file down the gangplank. The idea to attempt to stow away entered his mind, but he just as quickly dismissed it. His eyes drifted to the bottom of the gangplank and to the two eager-looking men at the table that had been placed there.

Both of the men were dressed in the uniforms of the Imperial military, but the one standing was in that of an army officer. He pressed a rune on the recording drum player behind him and the Imperial anthem poured forth from the polished brass horn at the top. The man turned back to the disembarking passengers with arms wide and a soulless smile on his face.

"Be a part of something great," the man bellowed. "Join the Empire! Explore new lands! Learn valuable skills! Bring order and unity to our world!"

As his cohort continued his spiel, the navy officer seated at the table smiled hollowly at the approaching young man in the hat and ill-fitting coat.

"This is where I sign up to become a sailor, right?" Han asked, removing his stolen hat.

"If you apply for the Imperial Navy."

"Most recruits choose the Army," said the other officer, pausing his speech.

Han ignored him. "I'm going to be a ship captain. Best on the World Sea."

"You there," called a voice from behind Han. "Come with me."

Han turned.

More military police had stopped a young man who bore a passing resemblance to Han. "Who, me?"

"We have some questions for you."

Han looked back to the recruiter. "How long is it going to take?"

"Depends on how good you are at following orders." The officer's smile faltered. "Why, have you got somewhere to be?"

"Yeah. Back here, soon as I can."

The recruiter chuckled. "Don't hear that much." He straightened his stack of forms and uncapped his inkwell. "So, what's your name, son?"

"Han."

"Han... what? Who are your people?"

Several seconds of thought passed by. "...I don't have people. I'm alone."

"Hmm." The recruiter began to write. "Han... Solo. Age?"

"Nineteen."

The next few minutes of questions flew by. Once the ink had dried, the officer passed Han the filled form. "You're all set. Proceed to transport eighty-three for the Imperial Naval Academy in Carida. Good luck, Han Solo. We'll have you on the water in no time."