Twenty-three year old Frea Jorad stood in the freezing Hoth winds, sheltered from falling snow by the rebel base's overhang. She huddled in her thick, fur-lined coat; the familiar green cloth provided needed comfort.

She had been given orders for her first away mission by Princess Organa herself.

She felt scared, insecure. She was afraid that she'd somehow blow the rebellion's cover and disappoint the Princess.

Moreover, she was afraid of being alone.

She counted herself lucky in life; nothing catastrophic- besides the war- had happened to her. Her parents were still living: both of them there on Hoth, both of them allied against the Empire. She'd evacuated her home planet months in advance to escape invasion.

She'd lost nothing but her spunk.

One of the doors behind her clanked open, and she turned to find a red astromech droid rolling out, followed closely by the two people she loved the most.

"Mom. Dad."

Hya Jorad pulled her daughter in close, and her husband, Kull, wrapped them both up in his arms. After a bit, the hug disintegrated into the freezing air.

"Oh," Hya murmured, whisking some of Frea's hair back into the hood of her coat. "Look at you."

"Mom, come on," Frea said, rolling her eyes to hide the evident fright in them. "Dad." She plunged deep into his grasp again, not wanting to let go this time.

He stood there and held her until the doors banged open again. Out walked Princess Leia herself, her head held high, her hair wrapped up in braids, and her cream vest protecting her from the outside temperatures. She looked at the three, her lips curving upwards in a bittersweet understanding, but she didn't comment on the love obviously emanating from the group.

"This will be your droid." She patted the astromech, who moved around excitedly. "Its name is Arthree-jaysix."

She came closer to Frea, her voice low as the wind whipped at the escaped hair around her face. "Remember, Frea- this Han Solo is not to be trusted. He is not a friend of the Rebellion. His problems with the Hutts have caused them to threaten us. They think he's a Rebel."

The young Frea's eyes pulled down. "I know, General."

"From our profiling of him, we know he's a smooth talker. Don't let him make you forget why you left your family." She tilted her head curiously, her brown eyes searching Frea's own. "You're a brave young woman," she said at length. "There is no doubt in my mind that you will return safely. You don't need to worry."

Frea nodded a faint thank you and obeyed the Princess's orders to go.

Hopping in the pilot's seat, she punched a few buttons that allowed R3-J6 to be pulled into position just in front of her capsule. She took one last look at her parents, nodded a goodbye, and looked for clearance from a Rebel landing guide.

A few other pilots, some retrieving a few things from their ships, some others having just come in from a mission, waved their helmets and gloved hands in a collectively respectful goodbye. In return, she waved too.

The landing guide gave her an all-clear signal, and she pulled the smallish craft airborne. It hovered for about three seconds before she punched it into pre-hyperspace and went shooting up into the snowy atmosphere.

In an instant, her parents, the Princess, and all the pilots and their ships were mere ants. She shivered continually, for the air in her capsule was still cold.

Her ship passed hurriedly through the planet's open defense shield after she confirmed her identity with the monitors, and it was then that she was finally free from the endless snow of Hoth.

As the two traveled the dark, starry expanse, Frea grew weary of passing unfamiliar systems. She admitted to herself that she should have asked what the timing would be, or at the very least she should have asked for a faster route.

"Arthree, how long until we reach Tatooine?"

The astromech beeped out a few words that she was able to hear through her headset.

"Are you kidding me?" She kept a stiff back in her seat, the reassuring words Leia left her with quickly draining.

What if I don't make it back?

Hours floated by lazily like passing asteroids. There wasn't a single Imperial spacecraft, and, for that, she thanked the Force.

Soon, but not soon enough for Frea, a medium-sized tan planet came into view. Frea had no memory of what system she was in, but the coordinates, according to what the Princess had given her, were correct, so Frea lowered the ship towards the atmospheric barrier protected by monitors.

Reaching the dusty surface, Frea was overcome with a sense of doom as she realized how much frexing sand there was. She hadn't known anything but mild earthy terrain and heavy snow, and this was not the beach vacation she'd been hoping for.

"Arthree, do a heat scan for nearby ships. All this sand is blocking my view." Ferocious winds knocked the grainy beige stuff all over, and she couldn't tell who- or what- she might face without a proper scan of her chosen landing area.

Quickly, the droid gave a response- nothing in sight. Frea pulled the ship down carefully and was just feet from grounding when the winds stopped momentarily, revealing a Rebel craft similar to hers. A man with dark hair hopped out of the pilot's seat, looking up at her.

"Woah, woah, woah, woah!" He screamed, waving his arms like a lunatic until she got so low he was forced to duck for cover.

It was too late. The nose of her ship delved into his, giving his astromech- and the bottom of her craft- a good scraping.

She managed to pull it up and settled just next to his ship. She powered down, then jumped out to see if he was okay.

He didn't answer when asked, but he seemed unhurt to her. The man ejected his droid, which floated unevenly on one pair of blue jets on one of its legs, and inspected it, mentally making notes of what repairs were needed. He didn't looked scared, just shaken.

"Who are you?" He didn't make eye contact, and he didn't look like he wanted to. "You're obviously a Rebel."

"I really oughta ask you the same thing. Your ship has a Rebel sign on it too. And why the hell didn't your ship give off a heat signal? If the dust hadn't settled, we could've died!"

He didn't look like he cared. But since he was relatively calm, she figured she could be the same.

"My name's Alia." Frea stuck out a hand that was never going to get shaken. "I was sent here on a bounty for Han Solo."

He looked over at her. Something flickered across his brown eyes, but he didn't say much about it. "That's not your name," was all he said before he rolled his eyes. He returned his gaze to his droid, looking over its multiple dents and scratches. "Your jacket has a badge with the initials FJ."

The man was careful, damnit, and she could see that she wasn't going to get anything past him.

"Look, girl, if it makes you feel safer, my real name's Cassian. I was given the same mission as you."

Frea said nothing. She must've looked bewildered, she thought to herself, but she simply stood there, neither of them giving up their pride, until he finished his inspection and spoke again.

"Well, let's get on with it. Clear up this smuggler mess once and for all."

He stalked off towards the city of Mos Eisley. She followed suit, wondering who would kill her first- the Rebel or the Smuggler.