Chapter Text
10BBY - Somewhere in the Outer Rim
The city wasn’t much—just dust-coated buildings and rusted scrap stacked high enough to pretend it was civilization. The Empire rarely came here. It wasn’t important enough. That’s why she chose it.
She kept her hood low as she moved through the winding market stalls, a small satchel slung over her shoulder, filled with salvaged parts and a few ration bars she’d traded for earlier. Her boots made soft crunches in the sand, but no one looked up. That was the key: don’t stand out. Don’t speak unless necessary. Don’t linger.
And especially: don’t use the Force.
The planet—Cymorrah, or something like it—was a place people came to disappear. Smugglers, exiles, survivors. She was just another face among the ghosts, trying to keep her head down and her ship hidden beneath the rocky outcrop a few kilometers outside the city.
She didn’t make friends. Didn’t share her name. If someone asked, she lied. If someone got close, she vanished. It wasn’t a life, but it was safer than the alternative.
Today, the air was thick with heat. Twin suns beat down from above, warping the view of the city’s edge in a hazy shimmer. The usual crowd filled the square: barkers yelling over each other, children weaving through stalls, guards lazing around like they had nothing better to do.
She moved with practiced ease, slipping between people, always keeping an eye on the shadows. Always listening for that shift in the air—that pull—that might signal danger.
But today, everything seemed…normal.
And that, in itself, was unsettling.
The merchant's stall was shaded by a stretched canvas tarp, its corners held down by old engine parts and bits of rebar. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of oil, dust, and sun-warmed metal.
She laid the broken transmitter on the crate between them.
“Doesn’t look like much,” the merchant grunted, turning the device over in his hands. He was a squat man with a datapad tucked into one sleeve and a cracked cybernetic eye that clicked every time it refocused.
“It’s worth more than it looks,” she replied calmly, not meeting his gaze. “Pull the power core, strip the wiring—you’ll triple what I’m asking.”
He scratched at his chin. “You scavved this off the ridge?”
“Does it matter?”
He gave her a sideways look but shrugged. “Fair enough.” He rummaged beneath the counter and set down a small sack of ration cubes, a water canister, and a folded thermal blanket. “Deal?”
She nodded once. “Deal.”
She took the supplies quickly and slipped them into her satchel, her fingers brushing the hidden pouch stitched into the lining. Her lightsaber—barely functional, always hidden—remained untouched. She only carried it because she didn’t know how to let it go.
As she stepped back into the street, the suns were climbing higher, making the metal rooftops shimmer with heat. She moved along the crowded road, keeping to the edges, letting the tide of bodies sweep her forward.
A young girl darted past, chasing a balloon. Two vendors shouted over each other about coolant prices. A droid limped by with one leg dragging slightly behind.
It was loud, colorful, chaotic.
She hated how much she liked it.
But she didn’t smile. She didn’t slow down.
Eyes forward. Head down.
Don’t get attached. Don’t be seen.
And above all… don’t draw attention.
It happened faster than she could think.
A scuffle broke out near the edge of the market—two armored thugs, not quite stormtroopers, but clearly loyal to someone with power, had cornered a boy no older than ten. He was clutching a half-eaten piece of fruit, shaking as one of the men shoved him against a crate.
"Thief," one growled. "Think you can steal from the supply crates and get away with it?"
The boy whimpered. No one intervened. The crowd pretended not to see.
She clenched her fists, turning away. Not your problem. Not your fight. Keep walking.
But the boy cried out as the man raised his blaster.
She moved without thinking.
With a flick of her hand—barely a twitch—the crate behind them exploded in a burst of motion, crashing into the two guards and knocking them to the ground. Startled gasps erupted from the onlookers. Someone screamed. The boy scrambled away into the crowd, vanishing.
She didn’t wait. She ducked her head and slipped into the nearest alley, heart racing. That was too much. Too reckless. Too Force-driven.
Her breathing came fast, shallow. Maybe no one noticed. Maybe they’d think it was an accident.
Maybe she still had time.
She darted through the maze of alleys until she reached the crumbling outskirts of the city and disappeared into the scrubland beyond, heading toward the familiar ridge where her hideout sat nestled in the rocks.
The suns were dipping lower now, casting long shadows.
And far above—on a quiet balcony overlooking the market square—a lone figure stood still, blending into the crowd with practiced ease. No one looked at him. No one knew his name.
But he had felt it.
Just for a second—a tremor, like a breath held too long then gasped out into the world. Faint. Unfocused. Raw.
A smile ghosted across his lips, hidden beneath his hood.
“Found you.”
The sun had dropped halfway below the horizon by the time she reached the outer hills. A burnt orange glow stretched across the ridgeline, casting long shadows across the sand-crusted rock. Her boots crunched against dry gravel as she climbed, heart still beating faster than she liked.
She kept glancing over her shoulder, even though no one had followed her. At least, not that she could see.
The wind howled low between the rocks as she ducked beneath the ledge marking the edge of her hideout. It wasn’t much—just a narrow cave tucked into the base of a jagged cliff, invisible unless you knew where to look. A tarp pinned over the entrance blended it into the rock face, and a loose panel of metal served as a door she dragged into place behind her.
Inside, the shadows swallowed her. It was quiet. Safe.
Almost.
She dropped the satchel onto the ground, leaned back against the cold stone wall, and let out a shaky breath.
She’d lost control.
Just for a second. Just long enough to help a kid who no one else would’ve cared about. It was worth it. It had to be worth it.
But the Force didn’t care about good intentions.
And neither did the Empire.
She moved to the back of the hideout, where her gear was stashed. A few tools. A rusted water dispenser.
Her ship wasn’t here—not directly. She’d hidden it further out, on the other side of the nearby ruins, tucked beneath a tangle of debris and old camouflage netting. If someone found this place, she could still run. That was the plan. Always have an exit.
She flicked a switch on the wall panel to power the old sensor relay—faint signal, barely working. No lights. No alerts.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
A shadow swept across the cave mouth.
Then came the shriek—the unmistakable scream of TIE fighter engines cutting through the silence like a knife. It wasn’t passing by. It was descending.
Her pulse jumped.
The sound hit the ridge above, echoed against the rocks, and seconds later, the ground trembled. Dust rained from the ceiling. Something heavy had landed nearby.
She didn’t breathe. Didn’t move.
They’d found her.
No time to think. No time to question how.
She grabbed her emergency bag, slung it over her shoulder, and threw the back exit open. Cool air hit her face as she launched into motion, sprinting into the gathering dusk.
She didn’t look back.
She knew the terrain by heart. The ruins weren’t far—stone walls, broken pillars, the skeletons of buildings long lost to time. Her ship was hidden just beyond them, out of sight unless you knew where to search.
If she could reach it, she might have a chance.
But as her boots pounded against the hard earth, a presence stirred behind her. Not just following.
Hunting.
She darted through the jagged arch of a crumbled gate, lungs burning, cloak snapping behind her. The ruins wrapped around her like a maze—ancient stone and collapsed towers casting long shadows in the rising dusk. Somewhere behind her, too distant to see but too close to forget, a predator followed.
Her ship was ahead. Hidden just beyond the far edge of the ruins. If she could reach it, she could vanish.
She vaulted over a fallen wall, boots scraping sandstone—and froze.
A figure stood there.
Not armored. Not stormtrooper. Just a tall man in dark robes, half-shadowed by the crumbling remains of a spire. Hands clasped loosely behind his back. Hood drawn low.
Something in her gut turned cold.
He hadn’t come from the city.
He’d come from the TIE.
She didn’t draw her weapon. Not yet. Her fingers hovered near the edge of her cloak. Her stance shifted slightly—ready to bolt, or strike.
“Don’t come any closer,” she warned.
The figure tilted his head slightly, like a curious animal.
“Relax,” he said, voice smooth, almost amused. “I’m not here to hurt you. Not yet.”
“Who are you?”
He stepped forward slowly, deliberately. Not threatening—but not harmless.
“Let’s just say… I felt your little ripple earlier. Kind of hard to ignore.” His tone was casual, like they were discussing the weather. “And since I was already on patrol, I thought I’d introduce myself.”
She didn’t move. Every nerve screamed danger.
“You’re with the Empire,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
He smiled faintly.
“I’m an Inquisitor,” he said. “One of the better ones, I like to think.”
Her hand shot to her belt.
“Ah,” he said, cocking his head. “Now, now. Don’t draw unless you want to dance.”
A sharp hum split the air—his crimson lightsaber igniting in a single, fluid motion. He didn’t raise it. Just held it at his side, the red blade casting eerie light against the stone.
She lit hers in response, her blade flickering to life with an unstable pulse. Her grip was tense, her stance shaky—but defiant.
He grinned, finally raising his weapon.
“Good. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She charged. He met her halfway.
The clash of sabers rang out through the ruins—brief, intense, uneven. She struck high, then low, testing his defenses with quick, panicked blows. He deflected them all with ease, barely moving, his saber spinning effortlessly in his hand.
“Sloppy,” he said mildly. “You lead with your shoulder. You hesitate. And you’re too emotional.”
She snarled and struck again.
He blocked, pivoted, and sent her stumbling with a sharp parry. “Don’t take it personally,” he added, his voice low and close. “Most people don’t last this long.”
She lunged again—more desperate this time. He let her tire herself out, spinning around her, never once fully attacking. Just… circling.
Toying.
“You really thought you could just… vanish?” he said, circling behind her. “Out here in the dust, hoping no one would ever feel you?”
She spun, swinging wildly. He stepped back just out of reach.
“Keep this up, and you’re going to drop that saber before I even need to touch you.”
She panted, muscles aching, vision blurring slightly.
He stopped moving.
Then, just as quickly as it had started, he deactivated his blade and clipped it to his belt.
“What—?” she started.
But he was already turning away.
“That’s enough for tonight,” he said, voice light. “Besides… watching you scramble is more fun when you think you’ve gotten away.”
And with that, he vanished into the shadows.
She didn’t wait. She turned and ran, tearing through the ruins until her ship came into view. The camo netting still held, the hatch still shut. She punched in the access code with shaking fingers, slipped inside, and slammed the door behind her.
Her heart thundered in her ears.
She sagged against the wall, forcing herself to breathe.
You got away. You got away.
Then her comlink crackled.
Static flared.
And his voice slithered through the channel, smooth and amused:
“Next time, try not to run in circles. You’re making it too easy.”
The line went dead.
And for the first time in a long time—
She realized she wasn’t just hiding anymore.
She was being hunted.