I heard them coming.
The stormtroopers.
The faceless.
The harbingers of death.
Three of the First Order Transporters landed on the nameless planet in rapid succession, their disembarkation ramps lowering to reveal two squads of stormtroopers, while a fourth vessel — dark and winged, like a bat out of hell — gradually made its way to the surface of the planet we'd recently called home.
We were refugees. Victims of the war between the First Order and the Resistance, we'd lost our homes, our lives, our very souls in the madness, and — like watching shadows in the dark — we had no idea that the hope to which we desperately clung had already abandoned us to our fates.
The sound of blaster fire hit my ears, and I ducked as an explosion rattled the frame of the ramshackle house where I'd lived for the past few weeks. My home on Hosnian Prime was destroyed by an attack on the First Order, and I'd watched as the light of my homeland burned brightly in the sky.
I was away on Corellia visiting my uncle and his family when it happened. Myself and some three billion inhabitants of the planet looked to the sky as it turned crimson in the light of the weapon streaking through the galaxy until it erupted. In an instant, my world was turned to ash. My parents gone. My sister as well. My friends, my future, my past.
All destroyed.
In the aftermath, I found myself staring at the spot in the Corellian sky where Hosnian Prime previously occupied. Both planets on the Corellian Trade Spine, travel between the neighboring systems was frequent and flourishing. Luxury items were imported from Hosnian Prime where alcohol, starships, and agricultural items were sent back from Corellia, allowing both planets to prosper in their proximity.
The Hosnian Cataclysm, as they were calling it, changed all of that.
Word of the First Order's growing might spread throughout the galaxy as terror replaced the tentative peace that had formed under the New Republic. Many turned to the Resistance, uncertain under the looming threat of imminent destruction, while others reverted to that with which they were most comfortable. Corellia had long been inhabited by pirates and smugglers, and it was with these that I found myself now.
Frightened after the destruction of Hosnian Prime, my uncle herded his burgeoning family onto a CR90 corvette bound for an unknown planet in the southwest reaches of the Outer Rim. Along with some six hundred passengers, we purchased passage on the Numa and prayed to escape the reaches of the First Order before it was too late.
Some on the ship were members of the Rebellion seeking safe passage to Mon Gazza, a planet in the Mid Rim, from which point they could travel back to their base. Others were diplomats who survived the Hosnian Cataclysm, much like myself, by being off-world and sought to protect themselves from further destruction. Many, like my uncle, were simply afraid.
The galaxy had seen enough war, enough bloodshed, he would tell me at night, almost every night. Mark my words, the attack on Hosnian Prime was only the beginning.
He simply wanted the opportunity to raise his children in a semblance of peace, and he would not risk getting entangled in another costly conflict. We had no way of knowing all of our efforts would be for nothing.
"Stand down," a mechanical voice ripped through the air, amplified unnaturally through the white helmet masking its owner. "We're searching for Rebel spies, and those who hinder our investigation will be brought up on charges of conspiracy against the First Order and executed."
I could hear my uncle whispering to his wife and two daughters, no doubt urging them to remain quiet and calm despite the chaos erupting around us. He'd shoved me under a table in the back of the small building, shrouded in darkness, and I could feel my spine press against the ridges of the corrugated metal.
Stay here, he urged me. Stay hidden. No matter what happens, do you understand?
I nodded at him. He pushed a pile of scrap metal in front of the table, remnants from the aimless tinkering he'd been doing over the last few weeks in his spare time, and I pushed myself further against the wall. If only I could will myself to disappear. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and tried to block out everything — the crying, the shouts of fear, the heavy boots crunching against the dirt.
The door to our temporary home swung open with a bang, and my eyes flew open at the sound. I watched through the cracks as a pair of stormtroopers armed with blasters grabbed my uncle and dragged him outside, my aunt crying as my two cousins began to scream for their father.
My family had been torn apart by the First Order's reign of terror, and I watched helplessly as the rest of them were ripped away from me as well.
They were all I had left.
My heart ached to do something — anything — to help them, but my uncle's urgent words played over and over again in my head.
No matter what happens.
If I was brave, I'd disregard his orders. If I was strong, I'd fight for my family. For our last chance at freedom. For hope.
Instead, I was curled into a ball praying for the darkness to take me. My heartbeat slammed against my ribcage, the pounding of my blood ringing in my ears, and I gritted my teeth as tears trickle down my face. My right hand gripped the necklace dangling from my throat — a single crystal hanging on a leather cord — while my left clutched at my ribcage on the opposite side of my body in a wasted effort to hold myself together.
My father always told me there was strength in silence, but I've never felt weaker.
"Where is it?"
Another mechanical voice, this time softer, spoke into the night. The troopers had long since stopped their assault, likely having found all of the inhabitants of our refugee camp, and the only sounds I could hear were muffled cries and the gentle whir of engines waiting in the distance.
"We know it's here," the voice continued. "Give it to me, and you shall find mercy. Deny me, and you'll have none."
More silence. I didn't know what the voice spoke of, what the First Order wanted with a ragtag band of refugees hiding in the outskirts of the galaxy, but I prayed to the Force that someone would give it to them.
"No? Well then, take the children."
I inhaled sharply, my heart twisting in agony as screams of horror erupted. I couldn't see what was happening, I could only hear the voices of children crying out to their parents who watched them being dragged away by stormtroopers. A struggle ensued, that much I could hear even if I couldn't see what was happening, until blaster fire tore through the air in that sharp staccato that can only mark death.
Please, I thought to myself. Please save them.
"Have you searched the huts?"
A tremor of fear shot up my spine at the sudden question, and another voice answered the first.
"Yes sir."
"Search again."
Less than a minute passes before the door to our temporary home is kicked open once more, and the warm orange glow of fires burning outside brings a burst of light into the tiny room. My hand still clamped around my crystal, I use my other hand to cover my mouth in an attempt to muffle my breathing. I can barely see through the blur of my tears, but I watch as a stormtrooper begins to kick through our few belongings in his methodical search of the room.
In a second, he'd find me, so I made a spur of the moment decision while his back is turned. Scrambling to my feet, I pushed over the pile of rusted metal and sprinted toward the door. My shin scraped against a sharp edge, pain shooting up my leg, but I forced myself to stay upright as I reached the doorway.
"Stop!"
The trooper shouted, pulling out his blaster as he began his pursuit, but I ignored him. If I was going to die, I wanted to die running. I wanted to die free. I couldn't fight, but heavens would I flee.
My whole body froze mid-stride, the sensation of arrested momentum literally taking my breath away, as my muscles screamed in protest. I couldn't move, I couldn't think, but I could hear footsteps behind me as two stormtroopers grab my arms tightly. The hold on my body disappears in an instant, and I slump against my restraints momentarily before struggling against their grips.
They were too strong for me, however, and I was promptly thrown to my hands and knees on the dirt. Warm liquid squished between my fingers, and I lifted my palm in horror at the sight of crimson painting my skin. It was then that I noticed the bodies surrounding me, all of them sightless — unmoving — with their limbs twisted unnaturally around them.
It was a bloodbath, and I was the sole survivor. Next to me, my uncle's eyes stared into mine without seeing anything. A look of anguish painted his features in death, and I vomited up the meager contents of my stomach.
"Who are you?"
My shoulders shook as I sobbed, a silent mourning for the last of my kin, and I gasped for oxygen. I ignored the mechanical voice, staring at the swirl of blood and dirt beneath my fingertips until a pair of heavy black boots stepped into my field of vision.
A gloved hand wrenched beneath my chin, jerking my face upright, and I gasped in pain as I saw it.
Him.
I'd heard rumors of a masked man, a vengeful wraith shrouded in black, who brought destruction to the galaxy. Few had seen him and lived to tell the tale, so there was no accurate description that could've prepared me for what I saw in front of me.
He crouched down, his fingers gripping my jaw tightly, and I blinked back another onslaught tears.
"I give you the same choice I gave them," the altered voice spoke in a way that was deceptively soft. "Give me what I want, and perhaps you'll find a different fate."
When I didn't speak, his hand shifted to clutch my throat. He rose slowly — dragging me upright with him — until my toes dangled above the ground, and I gasped desperately for air. In a single motion, he drew me closer to him and I couldn't help but wonder if the face of this demon would be the last I'd see as darkness began to swirl around the edges of my vision.
Suddenly, he dropped me. My feet buckled beneath me, my kneecaps slamming into the ground, and I collapsed forward on all fours. I squeezed my eyes shut as I massaged my throat, coughing and crying as oxygen flooded my lungs before I hazarded a glance up at him.
He was still watching me as he spoke.
"Bring the girl."
So. Hi. Hello. Welcome.
Thoughts?
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