Chapter Text
You wake early in the morning to the sound of birds chirping outside your window. The pretty tinkling sound, along with the feeling of warm sunlight on your face make you smile, the idea of another early spring day bringing you joy. You stretch and sigh, looking around your bright bedroom before getting up to begin your day.
With the kettle boiling and your breakfast prepared, you lazily scroll through your datapad. The usual tabloids praising the resistance and mocking the newly dismantled First Order are fleeting images as you skip past them to view agriculture exchange rates on your system's main planet. A beeping sound comes from your nearby holocom, and you groan as you see that it's your parents calling.
"Morning." You sigh the word out, already knowing where the conversation will go.
"Good morning, sweetie." Your mum's blue image appears before you. She beams at you. "You look as beautiful as ever.
"Mhm." You say, giving her a look as you pour yourself some tea. "What do you want, mum?"
The older woman scoffs in mock offense. "I don't want anything! I was just gonna say that it's a shame you don't live near any handsome men who could appreciate that beauty."
"Please lay it on thicker, mum." You say, rolling your eyes. "I can't quite tell what you mean."
"Don't get snarky with me." She pouts. "When you moved out to the middle of nowhere, I thought it was just to... you know... 'find yourself'." She frowns "But now it's been three years and instead of getting married and settling down, you've been bio farming like a peasant."
You sigh, having had this same argument a hundred times before.
"I don't need a husband, mum. I have my farming droids and my animals and my plants. I also happen to like farming, as homely and dirty as it may seem to you."
Before she can continue protesting, you rush forward with the conversation.
"Speaking of which, it's almost time to feed and water. Thanks for calling, always nice catching up. Say hi to Dad. Love you byyyyyyyeeee."
You blow her a kiss before quickly hanging up, then rub your face in exasperation before pouring the rest of your tea down the sink. You hadn’t lied about loving your mum and dad, they are good parents. They’re just... exhausting sometimes.
You reach for a small remote, pressing the on button, and soft music floods the house as you walk back up the stairs to your bedroom. You dress quickly in your work clothes, reaching for your watch on the bedside table last. You hesitate then, looking at the picture frame that sits on top of it. The smiling faces of your friends hold your gaze for a moment but you look away hastily, shaking off the uncomfortable feelings.
"I don't need to find someone." You say to yourself, fastening the watch and heading down to the front door.
“Because people on average are the worst.”
The music follows you outside along multiple outdoor speakers as you move about the farm. You spend most of the morning tending to your Shaaks and Banthas, brushing them and filling their troughs with water before letting them out to graze. You walk among them, making sure that the calves aren’t straying too close to the edge of the mesa that your house and farm sit on. A soft spring breeze blows your hair into your eyes and you brush it away with two fingers, looking up at the fluffy clouds as they float across the sky. You smile serenely at the view, wanting to stay in this moment forever.
A loud bang to your right snaps you out of your trance, and you turn to squint in the direction. Not many people come and go from this planet, and even fewer of them use lightspeed to get here, which is the sound you had heard. You stare at the upper atmosphere, waiting for something to come into view. Suddenly you spot it; a small spherical craft is hurdling toward the ground. You panic for a moment, as it appears to be coming straight for you, but relax when you realize that it is veering to the right and will simply land nearby.
“Crash nearby, actually.” You correct yourself, when you note the trail of smoke coming from what you now see is an escape pod. “Better get ready to head over.”
There is no one else around for miles, so you resign yourself to go and help or welcome the occupants of the pod. You can hear your mum’s panicked voice in your mind, warning you that it could be a resistance fugitive or sith monster in there. She had always been a worrier. You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less if it was a clown with three arms in there, you just know that whomever they are, they'll be stranded for days in dangerous terrain without you.
You shrug on a leather jacket and goggles, hopping onto your T-85 speeder bike and starting it up with a rev before speeding off just as the boom of the pod's impact sounds. You follow the line of smoke for almost 20 minutes before finally finding the crash site. Twisted metal litters the ground, and a rut has been slashed into the terrain where the pod scraped the ground before coming to a stop. Luckily, there is no fire, though you had packed a fire extinguisher just in case. The smoke is probably from electrical overload, you guess as you walk slowly towards the wreckage. You can’t shake your mother's paranoid warnings, and a hand falls subconsciously to the knife strapped to your belt. You approach the escape pod, examining it until you see a hatch handle. You have to brace one leg against the craft to heave it open, almost falling back when the heavy door detaches completely from the pod.
You huff, recovering before climbing up to see who might be inside. There had been more smoke inside the pod that outside and you fear the worst as it clears to reveal one unconscious person. You cough, waving an arm to clear the air and get a better look. It’s a human man, sprawled across the bottom of the escape pod with a few possessions scattered around him. You fear the worst initially but, after climbing into the pod to check, note that his chest is rising and falling shallowly from what you can see in the clearing haze. The first thing you notice is the makeshift bandages around his torso. He had been injured before escaping and the wound may be severe. You lean forwards to lift him when he shoots upright, turning to grab a blaster that was near his body. You yelp in shock, scrambling away from him as you pull out your knife. You know it’s useless against a blaster but it’s all you have.
“Get away from me, you resistance scum!” The man speaks with surprising authority despite the fact that his bloody, dirt caked hands are shaking.
You are about to tell him that you know nothing about the resistance when his eyes flash with pain and he blacks out again.
“Well,” you say incredulously, “he was nice.” You try to take a deep calming breath but cough when the lingering smoke invades your lungs.
“Let’s get you the hell outta here, sunshine.” You say, grunting as you carefully drag the man’s dead weight. “Maybe you’ll even live to see tomorrow.”