I lived by myself, all alone and without anyone else.
I'd grown up to be a star pilot and spent many years flying all over the galaxy, meeting people of countless worlds until I crashed on a desert planet.
Without passengers or astromech, I took about repairing the ship myself. After a day without much success, I went to sleep. Mind you, I was on a vast and arid world, thousands of miles from any settlement and light years from any galactic trade routes. So you can imagine my surprise when I was awakened the next morning by a small, sweet voice, saying "Help me, you're my only hope."
I quickly rose to me feet in astonishment.
It was a little girl, dressed in a white robe, with tight brown buns of hair on either side of her head, and also she was being projected by a robot.
I rubbed my eyes to make sure the desert heat had not caused me to see apparitions, but she remained.
The shirt here represents my best effort to capture her, but I was never an artist and am sure I've excluded some important detail.
"You're my only hope," she repeated.
"How ..." I stammered, "How did you get here?"
"I fell from the sky." She explained how she had come from another world, having crashed in the desert—much as I had—but in a small, round pod, no bigger than a house. Given the situation, this did not seem unusual.
"Would you like me to tell you the tale of my coming here?"
I nodded soundlessly, and, admittedly, somewhat oafishly.
"Long, long ago ..." she began.
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