The still silence of space filled the cramped cockpit of the TIE fighter. Pilot Cassen worked with the controls, trying to bring some semblance of life back into his damaged craft. Main power was out, and because his ship currently drifted on the night side of a planet, the light of the nearby star couldn't reach the solar panels on the wings of his fighter. The only good thing he could think of at the moment was that his sealed flight suit protected him from the cold.

He tried to avoid looking out the cockpit window since he knew what was out there. His was the last of the defense fleet in the system; the rest had been destroyed. The second Death Star had been destroyed less than a year ago, and the Rebellion, now the New Republic, had been gaining strength and momentum ever since, taking down Imperial worlds and appropriating whatever weapons and technology they could find to become even stronger.

In the early days of the Rebellion, the Empire had won every battle, and the sustained engagements were utter routs that turned into a slaughter of the rebel scum. The tide had shifted, and the Republic became the one smashing through defenses and laying waste to any who tried to hold the line. Cassen's forces were a prime example of how things had changed. They'd tried to maintain a hold on the Imperial shipyard in orbit, but the Republic outnumbered them three to one. His forces had been decimated, and Cassen himself hung on by only the slimmest of margins, his powerless fighter ignored by the departing Republic fleet.

A bright light washed across the cockpit, and Cassen looked up to see his ship had drifted out from behind the planet. As sunlight touched the solar panels on the wings of his TIE fighter, the controls and display screens flickered back to life.

Running a diagnostic program revealed the engines were damaged, but he speculated he might be able to cannibalize parts from other components to get them operational again, at least enough for him to reach the planet's surface.

Taking the tools he needed, Cassen connected a safety line to his belt before he unsealed the cockpit hatch and ventured outside the ship to make repairs. He moved carefully in the weightless environment, constantly looking for potential dangers. Cassen wasn't worried about more Republic ships showing up, it was the debris from destroyed vessels. Flying through space, the jagged pieces of glass and metal could shred through his flight suit with relative ease. Larger pieces of debris might even be able to crush his small fighter on contact. Pushing aside the fear as much as he was able to, and it wasn't much, he concentrated on making the needed repairs.

   ***   

Fixing the ship took him longer than he'd expected, but after two hours, the engines were working again. Climbing back into the cockpit, Cassen made sure the hatch was locked down and sealed. While the engines powered up, he checked the diagnostic software and discovered the repairs had only been partially successful. Cassen estimated he could reach the planet surface, but he wasn't sure the engines would be able to slow him down before he crashed into it like a meteor.

Refusing to simply sit back and wait for death, he pushed the throttle forward and adjusted his course for the smoothest terrain on the planet below. He contemplated heading toward the ocean, but when he remembered the giant aquatic predators capable of swallowing his fighter whole, he decided the land was much safer, even if the native tribes were hostile.

The twin ion engines of his fighters screamed noisily as Cassen dropped from the skies. When he tried to pull up and angle his approach, the response was sluggish. Wrapping both hands around the flight stick, he leaned back with all his strength. The terrain outside the cockpit was a blur of speed, and he barely had time to notice forest ahead of him before his fighter crashed through the low hanging branches in a hailstorm of impacts and scattered leaves.

   ***   

Cassen awoke with a start, jerking upright and looking around. His pilot seat had been ripped out of the cockpit and thrown into a small but deep pool where he'd landed, the water cushioning the majority of his impact. Twisted metal and sparking circuits left scattered in a trail of destruction through the forest was all that remained of his fighter.

Wading to shore, Cassen climbed one of the trees for a better look at the surrounding world. The damage done to its rusty orange bark made for perfect handholds, allowing him to quickly scale the tree to the top.

A fair distance away, he saw a small ribbon of smoke rising from a tribal village of primitive huts. It seemed unlikely he'd be able to find a way off the planet from them, but there was always the possibility of an exploratory vessel looking for new worlds or smugglers searching for an out of the way spot to stash their illegal goods. Cassen knew his opportunity to rejoin the galaxy would come in due time.

The natives were primitive compared to the technology he was used to, but Cassen was undaunted. The Rebels had been inferior to the Empire, and he knew very well how that conflict had ended. He would take these primitives and shape them into something more, something stronger. From this beginning, Cassen would forge a new Empire, and when the opportunity to leave this place presented itself, he'd be ready.

The Republic wouldn't last; Cassen felt certain of it. They'd go back to bickering amongst themselves like the old Republic had done. The cry for a strong and unified order would be raised, and Cassen would be ready to answer that call and spread the reach of his new Empire to the furthest reaches of the galaxy.