A/N: This is based off my families role playing game. In one scene, we were chased down by the local Imperial police, the Inquisitors. I took the flight scene and twisted it to your point of view. On the planet you're on, it's a system completed inhabited by children until they have children. Then their children are carried off to start a new world. All of this is run by the Imperials, but know on the planets know that. I hope it makes sense.


Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. I'd i did, Jar Jar would have died twelve seconds into the 1st episode, and the prequels would be better. Aside from that, Star Wars is perfect.

Today has been a good day for you. You've completed your to-do list, cooked your lunch, and managed not to get interrogated by the Inquisitors about those two psychopath kids running around.

You saunter down the stairs of your little apartment, subconsciously wondering what your parents are doing. Last you saw them was eight, long years ago, before you were ripped from them by the government, and shoved onto Acolton XI. Now you've finished school, and you're officially on your own. You live in your own little apartment, by yourself, earning your wages and making your food, with no family to call your own.

And you're only fourteen years old.

Shaking off those thoughts, you grab your hat off its hook by the door, planning to go for a refreshing walk before the day is over. You step outside and take a deep breath. Walking relaxes you, takes your mind off the stressful things in life. You decide to take the West Loop, as you call it, through 49th Pass and 55th Straight. You take a left, whistling a tune to yourself.

As you turn down 50th Road, you hear screaming. You jerk your head in the direction of the sound, wishing regulations allowed you to keep a blaster on hand. Your jaw drops.

Coming around the bend, racing through a busy intersection, is a small hovercraft. Behind it, two Inquisitor vehicles rush after it. Blaster fire rained from the Inquisitors craft. A man—a full grown man—stands in the back of the retreating hovercraft, using a personal blaster to ward off the Inquisitors.

You feel almost inspired. This man is singlehandedly taking on the Inquisitors. But terrified too. What did this mean? Then you notice something:

There is a kid driving the hovercraft.

A kid.

You stand in shock as the hovercraft hurtles closer. You see the kid in the hovercraft struggling to keep the craft on whatever course she had planned. You catch a glimpse of two other kids, both older than the one driving, a boy and a girl, yelling in terror as they—forgive the pun—scream down the road. Then you see the man on the back jolt backward, by way of a blaster bolt, and the boy lurch out and grab him before he can topple free of the hovercraft.

Then you notice exactly how close that hovercraft is.

You give a yelp and do a rolling dodge out of the way as the craft zips past you and into the building behind you.

You curl into a ball at the resounding crash, and a chunk of debris smacks your arm as you cover your head. You curl tighter, wishing to whatever deity runs this universe that you could be at home.

Silence falls, and you hear the sounds of struggling. You look up and peek between your fingers.

The boy – around your own age you can see – is hacking desperately at the mangled hovercraft with a kind of sword. The older girl, the one who wasn't driving, is helping the man stagger into the shattered building. She doesn't look injured, besides from a few cuts and bruises. The man is obviously wounded. But the second girl, the one who was driving, is nowhere to be seen.

You wonder if she's dead. You hear the sound of the Inquisitors sirens and scramble away from the scene, hiding behind a dumpster. You suppose you'll have to report the kids, as you recognize that the two girls are the ones the government has been looking for—the two dangerous fugitives. You now see why they say, "dangerous".

The boy is still hacking at the craft. His face his red with effort, and he's gritting his teeth in determination. His eyes are wide and terrified. You realize what he's doing.

He's digging for the second girl.

Finally the metal gives, and the boy wrenches aside the scrap with his left hand and quickly clips the sword to his belt with his right. Then he reaches down into the smashed hovercraft and pulls the girl out by her armpits. She looks really bad, covered from head to toe in small gashes and scrapes, dents and bruises, and it looks to you as though she's unconscious. The boy cradles her in his arms and looks quickly in the direction of the oncoming sirens. The older girl beckons urgently from the wrecked building, and the boy sneaks in. The older girl begins to get out a med-pack, but the man shushes her as the sirens come yet closer.

The Inquisitors come to a stop outside the the building and rush to examine the vehicle. You duck behind your dumpster and try to become invisible. You don't want to report those kids. But If you don't, and the Inquisitors see you this close to the wreck and hiding, they'll take you in for weeks of questioning. But then, if you do, those other kids will be left at the mercy of the Inquisitors. And really, you don't care for the government all that much. You decide to keep silent, and continue to cower behind the trash can.

Suddenly, you hear a sickening thwack and a thud. Then blaster shots and yelling.

"Hey, you lousy son of a bantha!" you hear. "Can't catch me, ya losers! Ain't got the brains to!"

Your eyes widen. Who is the Maker's name would be so flippant with the Inquisitors? You take a quick peak as more blaster fire erupts. You see the man who had been injured running away from the building where he'd been hiding, swearing profusely at the Inquisitors, who immediately give chase. The man hops inside one of the Inquisitors' vehicles and speeds off, turning the sirens on and yelling out the window. You glance back inside the broken building, just in time to the see the retreating forms of the three kids.

You grin as you hear the sirens fading in the distance. You wonder if the man will make it out. You give a sorry salute in the direction of the fleeing adolescents and mutter an old saying you heard long ago, amid the chatter of your family.

"May the Force be with you."