"You always hurt the one you love—the one you shouldn't hurt at all. You always take the sweetest rose, and crush it 'till the petals fall. You always break the kindest heart, with a hasty word you can't recall. So if I broke your heart last night, it's because I love you most of all."

—Allan Roberts and Doris Fisher

Episode II: THE REIGN

Two Weeks Later

The break from hyperspace was wonderful. The stars in their distant systems were suspended peacefully against the backdrop of space. I manned the helm of our small runabout vessel, glancing at the blinking autopilot light every few minutes. I was immersed in a holonovel on my datapad while a tranquil music collection played in the background. A New Republic news broadcast was also running on another screen. After so many months of zero access to the holonet, I had some catching up to do.

A lot had happened in the Galaxy in two weeks. In a daring raid, the Resistance had managed to destroy Starkiller Base. In retaliation, the First Order had cornered their fleet, decimated it, and ran the stragglers into hiding, all while their bloody campaign across the Outer Rim continued.

"At this time, we'd like to replay for you General Organa's final message from Crait," the stereotypical news broadcaster said.

My eyes unfocused as I listened to an elderly female's voice.

"'Friends of the New Republic. This is General Leia Organa, the leader of the Resistance. We call upon you for help in our hour of need. The First Order not only bears down on us, but on all of us. Their tyrannical rule will bring death and destruction to the Galaxy, as many of you have already witnessed firsthand. Stand with us, and together we will defeat this evil once and for all.'"

I shook my head at the heavy-handed propaganda.

"No further transmission has been sent," the broadcaster continued. "New Republic Chancellor Lanever Villecham said in an announcement that Organa has since escaped from Crait unharmed. Though no peace talks have commenced, Chancellor Villecham remains extremely optimistic for a peaceful resolution with Supreme Leader Snoke."

"Idiot," I scoffed under my breath.

"We'll keep you updated, folks. Now, here are the top ten hottest hits from the Core Worlds. First up, 'Shaken Not Stirred.'"

I irritably changed the frequency to avoid the low-quality music.

With each passing day, more clarity came to my mind. The war and the small role I had played in it sickened me. It needed to end, and someone needed to end it. Without the Resistance, the New Republic didn't stand a chance—the First Order's ultimate victory was simply a matter of time. The sooner it happened, the better.

But at the slow rate they were invading and occupying planets, it was guaranteed to last several years and cost many millions of lives. Perhaps billions.

A glint of light from the front viewport caught my eye, causing me to lower my datapad. My eyes narrowed at the strange repetitive flashing directly ahead. It was growing larger. Rotating space debris? Suddenly, I realized it was getting much too close, much too fast.

"John!"

I grabbed the control sticks and pulled up hard and fast, triggering all sorts of alarm signals and flashing lights. The runabout lurched upwards, revealing a massive debris field above us. My eyes widened in fear.

Right on cue, Vegas pitched himself into the copilot seat and took the controls. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were crusted with sleep. He expertly evened us out and dodged another piece of debris. Throwing on the reverse thrusters, he brought the runabout to a virtual stop.

I caught my breath as my heart continued to beat wildly.

"Kriff," Vegas cursed hoarsely.

"I—It just came out of nowhere," I stuttered, dazed.

He ran a hand over his face as his bloodshot eyes went to my datapad. I flipped it over to hide the screen from him. Between his rusty piloting skills and my rusty mathematician skills, intergalactic navigation was possible but incredibly difficult.

"I haven't started the jump calculations yet," I mumbled. "Sorry."

"We only have enough hyperfuel for one jump," he reminded me. "We need to make it count."

"I know." I pressed a button to pull up the two-dimensional star chart on the viewport. Its old-fashioned design made it hard to read. "So we need to go to a trading world. Cheap and easy fuel."

Vegas pointed at a large blue dot. "What about Nar…Kaaga?"

"No. That's in Hutt space." I pointed to a smaller blue dot. "Rishi is a much safer bet."

"No. That's in the Outer Rim."

In the awkward silence, we looked at each other. I read the annoyance on Vegas' face even though he tried to conceal it. Living in such close quarters, stressing about the First Order, and not sleeping much was catching up with us. He abruptly leaned back and crossed his arms.

"I think we should contact your Fleet."

I clenched my jaw. "I already told you. I'm not going back."

"But why?" he pressed. "I would kill to be able to find my family."

"There's a saying in the Fleet," I said, leaning forward adamantly. "'Better to be dead than a deserter.' My dad would disown me."

His eyes slid away from me.

"Better to be disowned than dead," he mumbled.

I closed my eyes and balled my hands, resisting the urge to raise my voice and scold him. I can't get into an argument with him. He unceremoniously fired up the engines to navigate around the debris field, and I stood up to leave.

There were three rooms onboard—the cockpit, the bunkroom, and the engine "room," which was more like an engine closet. The bunkroom was dark and cramped, epitomizing the suffocating nature of the ship. I lay on my uncomfortable bunk and closed my eyes.

A pair of brown eyes appeared.

The numbing effect of my imaginary oblivion had worn off, leaving me prey to my own thoughts and memories. The shame and anger I had felt since that night seemed to never fade. Churning nausea drew my hand to my abdomen. The discomfort was a nice distraction for my mind.

"Lucy," I heard from the other side of the door.

When I didn't respond, it slid open and cast a sliver of light into the room.

"We can go to Rishi."

I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"Alright…," I said absently. "I'll do the calculations in the morning."