Before Hope: Chapter 1 (Written by Kyra Organa)

Kyra’s parents were dead.
‘It wasn't just the Empire who killed my parents, it was the Rebels,’ she thought bitterly, ‘They were the ones who dragged my family into this “saving the galaxy" nonsense.’ Then she realized she was beginning to sound like every other brainwashed Imperial citizen in the galaxy. Her parents didn’t die a worthless death; they sacrificed themselves for the lives of others, not just for the Phoenix Squadron but for every family in the galaxy. For every man, woman, and child; human and alien. Her parents served and died for others. She knew if they’ve had a chance, they would gladly do it over again. Kyra would never forget what they’ve done for her and what they’ve taught her. She smiled slightly. She didn’t sympathize for the rebels and unwittingly, she blamed the Rebellion for the murder of her parents. Kyra was torn between what she truly thought and what she was told to think; never completely loyal to the Rebels, but not to the Empire either.


It had been 6 weeks after the Massacre of Aldera. Kyra’s face was projected on every holo-screen for affiliation with the Rebellion, but now seemingly less often. She was living on the run, being wanted by the Empire and all. More than a month ago, Kyra was forced to sell her speeder for food. But she’d already exhausted all her credits, and was now eating out of dumpsters and sleeping in trash compactors in the small, run-down refugee city of the Sanctuary Coast.
Kyra once believed that Alderaan was the most beautiful, serene, and artistically inclined planet in the galaxy, but now this round green-blue orb drifting aimlessly in the infinite darkness of space hosted no appeal to her.
She sat in an alley-way, half-buried in filth and half-starved. As she groped for food in a dumpster, she saw two pilots conversing about their departure to the outer-rim.
Her mother told Kyra about the outer-rim; she said that it housed the largest collection of scum with some not-so-legal professions and checkered pasts. Many were trying to lay low. Jaelyn grew up on Florrum, which was a pirate planet where the notorious Clone Wars pirate— Hondo Ohnaka—reigned. She had seen her fair share of smugglers, bounty-hunters, pilots, crime-lords, pirates, war-criminals, and rebels on her home planet. With her ties with the outer-rim, Jaelyn helped rebels to retire and hide on the scum hives that dotted the outer-rim territories.
The two pilots conversing about the outer-rim backed into the mouth of the alley and continued talking in hushed tones. One was a tall, shaggy Wookiee with mahogany fur, blue mournful eyes, and a leather bandolier slung over his broad shoulders. The other was a handsome human man in his mid-twenties with hazel-green eyes that sat under thick brows. His tousled scruffy-looking hair was the color of mud and was desperately in need of a trim. He was a head and a half shorter than the Wookiee, but seemed taller than he should by his over-confident ego that shone from his lop-sided smile. He was dressed in navy pants with a blood-stripe along the side and a leather gun holster strapped below the waist. His hand cautiously sat on a DL-44 blaster. He wore a sand-colored shirt unbuttoned a few buttons too many with a black pocketed vest slovenly thrown on top.
He talked to the Wookiee calmly, “Listen Chewie, you know I enjoy a good drink as much as anyone, but at this rate we’ll be up till midnight fixing that blasted hyperdrive motivator.” The Wookiee let out a long howl and lectured the importance of rest. The man didn’t fight hard for it was obvious that he agreed with the Wookiee’s theology. “Fine,” The man growled irritably, even though his crooked grin said otherwise, “but you owe me a game of Sabaac.” The couple swaggered off to the nearest cantina as a genius idea popped into Kyra’s head: to stowaway on a ship!