Maren ran.

At that precise moment, there were two options: run, or die. The forests that fringed the edge of Lake Paonga were not meant to be sprinted through. Though the surface of Naboo was home to few predatory beasts, the terrain itself made for a tireless opponent. Vines ensnared her steps and every now and then she would step and stumble into the hollow of a tree trunk, its roots hidden beneath the thick undergrowth. Every misstep lasted only a second, in spite of her near certainty that she had fractured her left leg, but one second became two became five became ten and soon the forest was eating up what little time she had.

They would have seen her shuttle crash. How could they not? It's brief flight from Theed City had lasted only a matter of minutes before planetary defence forces had mobilised, with typical Imperial efficiency, and shot her down. The navigation console shot sparks as a warning siren cried out in protest at the ship's perilously steep angle of descent. With both hands on the steering yoke, Maren's knuckles went white with the effort and pulling on the controls – yet no matter how tight she gripped them, the nose would not lift from its dive.

The ship hit the jungle canopy at a jarring angle, colliding with thick tree limbs. The collision threw Maren against the wall of the cockpit, as her craft ricocheted like deflected blaster-shot to the right. Near-burning with light, its meteoric fall carved a scar of burned and broken foliage through the forest before finally crashing to a halt in the swampy terrain, impaled like a dagger in the breast of the sodden earth. It was far behind her now, but smoke rose from the battered hull like a beacon. Although she had survived the crash, the only way she would survive Naboo was to put as much distance between herself and what had been, minutes ago, her only viable means of getting offworld.

So, Maren ran, and she didn't look back.