Return from the Stars
Location: Nar Shaddaa, Garrek's Workshop
Time: 1 ABY
When Alex's ship emerged from hyperspace near Nar Shaddaa, the first thing he felt was relief. Three years of expedition in unknown regions had come to an end. In regions where hyperspace communication didn't work, where plotting hyperspace routes was a real challenge. He had to fly halfway across the galaxy to get to a neighboring system sometimes.
But in the cargo hold rested the greatest archaeological trophy — an ancient artifact capable of changing the fate of the galaxy.
"Finally home," Verena exhaled, looking at the familiar lights of Nar Shaddaa. "I thought we'd never get out of that cursed place."
Alex nodded, but his mood was mixed. Yes, they had achieved incredible success, but the question of how to safely use the find remained open.
Something else was wrong with the system. Alex couldn't figure out what, but something had changed.
"Verena, activate cloaking. We'll land under it."
"Did something happen?"
"I don't know... Intuition."
Approaching Garrek's workshop landing platform, Alex noticed a strange silence. Usually, there were several ships on the platform, but now there wasn't a single one. Even for a late evening on Nar Shaddaa, the streets seemed suspiciously deserted. Tension hung in the air — Imperial patrols were cruising the main routes, and local residents were hastily hiding in shelters.
"Something is very wrong. The Empire is here," he muttered, performing landing maneuvers.
The workshop greeted them with an unusual silence. Usually, something hummed or sparked here — Garrek rarely stopped working. But now there was an almost deathly silence, broken only by the distant hum of Imperial patrol ships.
Garrek appeared from the depths of the workshop, and Alex immediately understood — something had happened. His uncle's face was grim, his eyes showing a mixture of relief and deep sadness. Scattered holodisks lay on his desk, and news was being broadcast silently on the screen.
"Alex," he said, hugging his nephew. "Thank the Force you're alive. I was afraid I'd never see you again."
"Uncle, what's going on?" Alex asked. "Has the situation escalated?"
Garrek sighed heavily and turned on the sound on the news screen.
"It's escalated greatly. Mon Mothma fled Coruscant after a speech denouncing the entire galaxy. She openly joined the rebellion. There are purges on Nar Shaddaa, but they're not fighting criminals — they're looking for rebels and resistance agents."
Disturbing reports flashed on the screen — mass arrests, raids in industrial sectors, Imperial stormtroopers sweeping through neighborhoods. The announcer announced a curfew and increased patrols.
"The planet is effectively blockaded," Garrek continued. "The Imperial fleet has blocked all major hyperspace routes. They're checking every ship. Letting them in, but not out."
"What about the Hutts?" Verena asked. "How did they let the Empire run rampant on their territory?"
Garrek gave a bitter chuckle.
"The Hutts are silent. Most likely, they made a deal with them. Or they're pretending they made a deal. The Empire doesn't stand on ceremony with anyone anymore."
Alex quickly glanced at his ship, where the artifact lay in the cargo hold. Staying here was extremely dangerous.
"We need to evacuate, Uncle. And take you too. I have a place where we can hide. I was going to fly there anyway."
"Where?" Garrek asked.
"My base on a planet. There are many good people there. Your experience will be useful."
Garrek hesitated.
"No, Alex. I've already promised people. I'm flying somewhere else. They need my help there."
"Where?" Alex asked, surprised.
"To Yavin 4."
Alex laughed. "What, Uncle? Has even your cynicism cracked, and you've decided to become a rebel in your old age?"
"I've always been a rebel!" Uncle Garrek pretended to be offended and struck a proud pose at the same time.
***
Dock "Star Anchor" was located in the industrial sector of Nar Shaddaa, amidst warehouses and repair workshops. Alex had spent eighteen years of his life here, turning a small workshop into a thriving enterprise. Beneath an inconspicuous building with the sign "Corellian Systems Technical Maintenance" were modern laboratories, workshops, and docks.
Alex sent a signal to the dock that he would be arriving soon. Droids loaded Garrek's equipment onto Alex's ship, and they flew to the dock.
Alex noticed that the security droids at the entrance were on high alert. His people already knew about the situation and were preparing for evacuation. There were many new people here.
As they disembarked from the ship, Alex noticed a woman standing directly in front of him, looking expectantly.
Alex asked the managing droid in a low voice, "Who is this?"
"This is Rina Cass, Master Alex. She is serving as chief engineer. Master Luthen recommended her."
"Boss!" said the woman with short dark hair. "I'm Rina Cass."
Alex examined her more closely. "If Luthen recommended you, I'm glad to see you among my people," Alex smiled.
"What's the situation?" he asked, surveying the workshop.
"Imperial patrols have increased their activity in the industrial sector. Four raids in the last day. They haven't bothered us yet, but it's only a matter of time," Rina replied. "Everyone is ready for evacuation. Families have already packed their belongings."
Inside the dock, there was controlled bustle. Twenty engineers and technicians were working on packing equipment, but Alex could see that they were all ready for immediate departure. Backpacks stood by the workstations, important data was being copied onto portable drives.
"Activate Plan 'Exodus'," Alex ordered. "Load everything essential onto the 'Wanderer' and let's go. It'll be tight, but we'll fit."
Over the years, Alex had transformed his ship into a true technological masterpiece. Reinforced shields, powerful engines, a cloaking system, and, most importantly, an automated defense system of his own design.
Loading was in full swing. Repair droids were dismantling particularly valuable equipment, technicians were packing tools and spare parts. The employees' families — wives, children, elderly parents — waited in an adjacent room, ready for departure.
Alex went to the dock's central console and activated the remote surveillance system. Hidden cameras throughout the industrial sector showed a disturbing picture — Imperial patrols were methodically sweeping through the area block by block.
"How much time do we need?" he asked Rina.
"Another half hour to load the essentials," the chief engineer replied.
Suddenly, one of the cameras showed an approaching Imperial patrol. Four stormtroopers and an officer in black uniform were heading directly for the dock.
"Damn it," Rina cursed. "They're early."
"Calm down," Alex said. "Continue loading."
He quickly activated the security system. Hidden turrets could quickly emerge from concealed niches. If anything went wrong, they would be enough to take down even several companies of stormtroopers.
The Imperial patrol stopped at the entrance. The lieutenant looked bored — another routine check. Alex opened the door, trying to appear as normal as possible.
"Enterprise documents," the officer demanded.
"Of course," Alex replied, pulling out a tablet with licenses. "How can I help the Empire?"
The lieutenant scanned the documents. Everything was in order — Alex had spent a lot of credits on a flawless cover story.
"Just a routine inspection," the officer said. "There were reports of suspicious activity in this area."
"We're working the night shift," Alex explained. "Urgent order from the Corellian Trade Company."
Behind him, the sound of working loaders could be heard. One of the stormtroopers tensed, but the lieutenant merely waved his hand irritably.
"Show me the dock," he ordered.
Alex led the patrol inside, praying that all the people had hidden. In the main hall of the dock, everything looked like a normal repair workshop — ships on lifts, scattered tools, working technicians.
"What are you repairing?" the lieutenant asked, pointing at a transport.
"Hyperdrive power problems," Rina replied, approaching them. "A classic malfunction of this series."
The officer nodded, clearly not interested in technical details. He walked around the dock, peeked into a few side rooms, checked the droid documentation. Everything looked legitimate.
"Good," he said finally. "Continue your work."
When the patrol left, everyone in the workshop breathed a sigh of relief. But there was no time to relax.
"Speed it up," Alex ordered.
He had already moved all the valuable equipment from his laboratory to Tarsic before the expedition.
The last crates of equipment were being loaded into the 'Wanderer' when the early warning systems sounded an alarm. Imperial cruiser images appeared on the monitors, entering the planet's atmosphere.
"The blockade has begun," Rina said grimly.
"Everyone on board!" Alex commanded. "Let's go immediately!"
The dock was emptied in minutes. Alex stayed behind to activate the final destruction system. Thermite charges had been placed at all key points — in a few minutes, the work of his life would be reduced to nothing.
Verena took the helm of the 'Wanderer'. Her lekku twitched nervously as she started the engines.
"Ready for takeoff," she reported. "But there are Imperials all over the sky."
"We have trump cards," Alex replied, taking the co-pilot's seat.
The 'Wanderer' lifted off just in time. On the monitors, Alex saw the Imperial patrol returning to the dock with reinforcements. Stormtroopers surrounded the building, the officer shouting something into his communicator.
"Activating cloaking system," Alex announced, pressing a series of buttons on the control panel.
A shimmering field enveloped the ship. It was the best cloaking system that could be obtained on the black market, further modified by Alex. It concealed the ship well, even in the optical spectrum.
On the monitor screen, Alex watched as stormtroopers burst into his dock. At the same moment, the destruction system activated. A blinding flash illuminated the industrial sector, and the building where he had spent eighteen years of his life turned into a fireball. The blast wave destroyed neighboring structures, and the underground laboratories collapsed, burying all their secrets beneath them.
"Farewell," Alex whispered, looking at the burning ruins.
The 'Wanderer' ascended to orbit under the cover of the cloaking field. Verena was performing real magic at the helm, skillfully evading Imperial patrols. Her hands danced over the controls, and the ship responded to every movement as if alive.
"Cloaking systems are stable," R4-K9 reported. "We are not detected in the atmosphere."
But as they reached the upper layers of the atmosphere, the situation changed. Space military sensors proved more sensitive.
"We've been detected," Rina said, studying the instrument readings. "Five fighters are approaching from astern."
"How did they find us?" one of the technicians wondered.
"The cloaking system is good, but not perfect," Alex explained. "Military space sensors work on different principles."
The fighters were rapidly approaching. Verena began to maneuver, but Alex stopped her.
"No need. We have something better."
"Activating automated defense system," he said, pressing a red button on the panel.
The 'Wanderer's' hull parted with panels, revealing hidden turrets. This was Alex's own design — twelve automatic laser cannons with artificial intelligence targeting. Each turret could independently track and engage targets.
"Incredible," Rina whispered. "Where did you get that?"
"I made it myself," Alex replied curtly. "You can't buy this for money."
The first fighter exploded before it could even open fire. Laser beams pierced its hull with surgical precision. The second and third followed a few seconds later. The remaining two pilots attempted to maneuver, but the defense system calculated their trajectories faster than they could think.
A minute later, only debris drifted in space.
"Prepare for hyperspace jump," Alex ordered.
***
Garrek's transfer to rebel agents occurred in an unnamed system on the border of the Mid and Outer Rim. Alex didn't want to compromise Tarsic's location, so he chose a neutral meeting point. He trusted Garrek, but he had decided to join the rebels. He could have been captured... Who knew what could happen... Alex had long realized that you should never give out extra information.
The rebel ship — a battered Consular-class transport — awaited them in the shadow of a large asteroid. On board were three agents, including a man Alex knew by the codename "The Guide."
"Your uncle is in good hands," The Guide assured him when Garrek transferred to their ship. "He's expected on Yavin."
"Take care of yourself," Alex said, bidding his uncle farewell. "And don't do anything too heroic."
When the rebel ship disappeared into hyperspace, the 'Wanderer' set course for Tarsic. Alex felt relief — his uncle was safe, and the location of his sanctuary remained a secret.
***
Tarsic greeted them with a contrast that never ceased to amaze Alex. One half of the planet was covered in dense forests with crystal-clear lakes — untouched nature in all its glory.
"Every time, it's like the first," Alex muttered, observing the landing.
His base was located in the forest part of the planet. But it wasn't just a refuge — over five years, Alex had turned Tarsic into a real center for helping refugees and the foundation for a completely autonomous community.
The system was secured in a special way — navigation computers only received coordinates with a special access code. Without it, plotting a safe hyperspace route was practically impossible. This made Tarsic an ideal sanctuary for those hiding from the Empire.
***
A few days after arriving on Tarsic, Alex received an encrypted message that shook him to the core. One of the surviving agents transmitted terrible news — Luthen Rael had committed suicide during his arrest in his antique shop "Galactic Antiquities."
Alex exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. Luthen — his comrade, a man with whom they had gone through so many dangers. He was no more.
He stood up and walked to the laboratory window. Through the holographic camouflage, the night forest of Tarsic was visible. Quiet and peaceful — the complete opposite of the chaos that was unfolding in the galaxy.
That same day, he discovered that one of his communication channels had been compromised. Imperial intelligence had found a lead, but fortunately, only on one channel out of many.
"Good thing it's only one," he said to R4-K9. "I knew it would be discovered sooner or later."
Two days later, news came that Klyu had managed to escape. Captain Cassian Andor had managed to get her off Coruscant. At least someone survived.
***
That evening, Alex sat with Verena in a small lounge room on the upper level of the base. A bottle of Corellian whiskey stood on the table.
"To Luthen," Alex said, raising his glass.
"To Luthen," Verena responded.
They drank in silence. The whiskey burned their throats, but it was a good pain — the pain of remembering a friend.
"He was a good man," Verena said quietly.
"Yes," Alex nodded. "And now there's one less good man."
"What now?" she asked.
"Now we continue his work," Alex Korren replied. "In our own way, but we continue."
***
The next day, a message arrived from Garrek. His uncle had safely reached Yavin 4 and had already started working. The secret rebel base had made a strong impression on him.
"Alex, this is an incredible place. A temple in the middle of the jungle, turned into a military base. Hundreds of fighters, thousands of people ready to fight for freedom. They are preparing for something big. My experience with droids has come in handy — there's a lot of equipment here that needs maintenance. I hope you'll join us soon."
***
Garrek
Location: Yavin 4
In the technical bay of the base on Yavin 4, Garrek was working on restoring an Imperial droid, K-2SO, brought by Captain Cassian Andor. The tall black droid was securely fixed in the repair frame after thorough repairs.
Garrek took out his portable computer with an integrated module — a device they had once created with Alex based on a failed experiment. Over the years, he had learned to use it correctly for reprogramming droids.
"Well, either it works, or it doesn't!" he said, adjusting the parameters. "Once it's stable, we'll refine the firmware. The main thing is to find out if the core will reject the new code." He walked over to the droid and connected the cable.
"Everyone constantly talks about reprogramming, as if the problem can be solved with one console, but that's complete nonsense!" he explained to those gathered. "The main trick is suppressing the impulses, and that's already the job of specialist engineers."
He looked at Andor.
"So, we have protective goggles for you," he said, handing them to Andor.
"Give me a blaster instead!" Andor retorted.
One of the soldiers handed him a weapon.
Silence hung in the air. After a pause, the captain took the rifle and aimed it at the droid.
"Probably should step back a bit..." Garrek suggested.
"Turn it on!" Andor barked.
"I'm not sure it's safe..." Garrek said.
"Press the button!" Andor ordered, raising his rifle.
"All right! If everyone is ready... Three, two, one!"
Garrek turned the switch. The droid twitched from an internal struggle of programs, sparks flew from its chassis. Then it froze abruptly.
"Hello!" K-2SO said in a polite tone. "If I have offended you — I apologize! If not, please aim somewhere else..."
Garrek heard the familiar intonations of Alex's old droid and smiled. The reprogramming was successful.
***
That evening, Alex sat in his office for a long time, contemplating the events. Luthen's death, the evacuation from Nar Shaddaa, the intensification of Imperial repression — all of this demanded a response. Not just a military one, but an ideological one.
Outside the window stretched the night forest of Tarsic. Here, on this forgotten planet, he had created something unique — a community of free people, proof that it was possible to live differently. But this was not enough. As long as the Empire was suffocating the galaxy, one refuge was not enough.
Alex opened a folder on his computer where the most secret documents were stored. Protocols of Imperial meetings, plans for "optimizing" star systems, recordings of conversations of high-ranking officials — all that he had collected over the years. Evidence of how a small group of people decided the fates of billions.
"R4, activate the secure recording channel with the resistance leaders," he told the droid. "Maximum encryption."
"Yes, for transmission across resistance networks. It's time to tell the truth."
Alex sat down at the table, spread out the documents in front of him, and turned on the holographic projector. Images of destroyed worlds, Imperial camps, and endless queues of refugees appeared on it. All that he had seen with his own eyes over the years of his work. Plans to reduce access to technology for eighty percent of the systems.
He thought of Luthien, who had chosen death. Of the thousands of resistance agents who risked their lives for freedom. Of ordinary people who made a choice every day between security and conscience.
"They must know," he whispered. "Everyone must know what we are fighting against and for what."
First, he prepared the most important documents for transfer to the resistance leaders. Protocols of secret meetings of the Imperial Council, plans of military operations against peaceful worlds, lists of "undesirable" systems slated for "reorganization." This information could save billions of lives by warning of impending strikes.
"R4, send this data packet via channel 'Alpha-Seven'," he ordered, uploading the files to a secure transmitter. "Recipients are the rebel command on Yavin and resistance cells in the sectors of Corellia and Alderaan."
The droid emitted a series of confirmation signals. Within minutes, the Empire's most secret documents were sent to those who could use them correctly.
Now it was time for another message—not strategic, but spiritual. Alex intended to broadcast it through hyperspace stations across the galaxy. What he was about to send was meant for the entire population of the galaxy. He had recently come into possession of a manifesto by Kerik Nemik. One of Luthien's people. He was a talented man, a pity he died.
Alex turned on the recording and simultaneous transmission to every inhabitant of the galaxy. It was necessary for sentient beings to cast off those who wished them death.
Manifesto of Rebellion
Keris Nemik
These words are written not for history, but for those who do not yet know that they are already fighting. For those who feel the weight of chains but do not see them. For those who will one day wake up and understand: resistance is not a choice, but a necessity.
The Imperial need for control is so desperate because tyranny is unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort—it breaks, it leaks. Power is fragile, oppression is a mask of fear.
Look at the Empire. Its fleets patrol the cosmos, its soldiers patrol the streets, its cameras watch every corner. Why? Because they are afraid. Every stormtrooper is an admission of weakness. Every new law is proof that the previous ones do not work.
Tyranny cannot exist without violence, because no one chooses slavery voluntarily. It requires constant suppression, endless vigilance, continuous terror. It is a system that devours itself, that must grow or die, that knows no peace.
And freedom? Freedom is as natural as breathing. It does not require armies to defend it, nor does it need prisons to exist. The idea of freedom is pure. It manifests spontaneously, on its own.
Throughout the galaxy, pockets of defiance constantly erupt. We have entire armies of those who do not yet suspect they are already in formation.
Resistance does not begin with a blaster in hand. It begins with a refusal to believe. With a question that should not have been asked. With a truth spoken in a whisper. With a memory of what came before.
The Emperor and his clique want you to feel alone. They want you to think that you are the only one who doubts, the only one who suffers, the only one who remembers better times. This is a lie. You are surrounded by allies who do not yet know each other.
The battlefield for rebellion is everywhere, and the slightest uprising advances the front line.
There are no insignificant acts of defiance. Each one is a crack in the foundation. Spread information makes ten people think, and one of them acts. A saved life becomes ten saved lives.
Tyranny is built on the illusion of inevitability. They want their victory to seem predetermined, their power eternal, their strength absolute. Every time you prove otherwise, this illusion weakens.
You don't need to be a soldier to matter. You don't need to lead an army. You just need to do what you can, where you are, with what you have.
The factory on Corellia. The mine on Kessel. The port on Jedha. Every place is a front. Every day is a battle. Every choice is a weapon.
They will tell you that resistance is futile. They will show you executions and call them justice. They will destroy entire worlds and call it order.
But silence also has a price. A price paid not by you, but by those who come after you. Every time you look away, the chains become stronger. Every time you accept a lie, the truth becomes weaker.
They want you to believe that survival requires submission. But look at those who submitted. Do they live? Or do they just slowly die, one compromise after another, one betrayal after another, until there is nothing left worth living for?
There are things worse than death. Life on your knees is one of them.
One day, the struggle will seem impossible to you. I can already see it. The enemy's might will breed a sense of hopelessness.
Understand one thing: they have already lost.
Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But their defeat is inherent in the very nature of what they have built. A system based on fear cannot last forever, because fear is exhausting. People get used to it. They adapt. They find courage.
Tyranny is a machine that turns people into numbers, worlds into resources, lives into statistics. But people are not numbers. And one day, they will remember this.
The day will come when all these skirmishes and battles, these moments of defiance will overwhelm the shores of power, and then there will be too many of them. A single thing will break through the siege.
Remember this. Try.
If you hear or read this, perhaps I am no longer here. Perhaps I have become one of those sacrifices on which tyranny paves its way. It doesn't matter.
What matters is that you are here. That you are reading. That somewhere within you, there is still a spark that they could not extinguish.
Do not let them convince you that you are too small to matter. Fires also start with a spark. Avalanches with a single stone. Revolutions with a single word: "no."
Your "no" does not have to be loud. It does not have to be public. It just has to be honest.
Say "no" to lies, even if only to yourself. Say "no" to injustice, even if you cannot stop it. Say "no" to oblivion, by remembering those whom they want to erase.
This is the beginning. The rest will come.
This document is not a theory. It is a call.
Act. To the best of your ability, but act. There is no contribution too small to the cause of freedom.
Connect. Find others. They are there. They are waiting. They are looking for you just as you are looking for them.
Remember. Remember what life was like before. Remember who you were before they tried to break you. Remember those who fell.
Believe. Not in an easy victory. Not in a quick triumph. But in the inevitability of freedom. That tyranny cannot last forever. That every tyranny in history has fallen, and this one will fall too.
And us? We are the inevitability. We are the tide that cannot be stopped. We are the crack in the wall that will become a chasm.
We are the rebellion.
And we have already won. We just need to live to see that day.