The air is recycled and sterile, carrying the faint scent of ozone and polished metal.

I press my face to the viewport, watching the swirling blues and greens of a planet growing larger with each passing second.

Below me, Naboo.

Beautiful. Untouched. Unaware of the storm brewing in the Trade Federation's blockade.

I turn to find a man in Jedi robes, his brown hair streaked with gray at the temples. He looks at me with calm, knowing eyes—the kind that feel like they're seeing past my face and into something deeper.