Taa C'tas was lucky to be alive. She escaped the destruction of Hosnian Prime quite by accident - saved by a well-timed visit to Ratia IV for the swearing-in of her great-grandson as provincial governor.

Though she survived, her academy had not. In addition, most of her former students and their families were dead. The rest were scattered across the galaxy. Most of her records had been at the school, so she'd spent the last several months trying to piece together a list of contacts. A list so tiny she could count them on her (twelve) fingers. And here she thought it had been a good thing that so many of her former students had followed their parents into a political career. Her list of presumed dead - just counting the beings she knew or knew of - numbered in the thousands. It was a small thing, considering the magnitude of the tragedy, but she was grateful her personal journals and other important documents had been backed up in the archives at her family estates on Ratia III.

Having worked as a clerk in the Senate through the Clone Wars and Emperor Palpatine's ascension, she thought she understood the chaos of a regime change. But she could already see that these past few months would be absolute hell for future historians. She could picture a university professor, three hundred years in the future snobbishly claiming that the historical record would have been much more clear had HE been around to write it.

Today she was focused on the Anoat sector. She was filling out a public record requisition form, attempting to discover if young Vus Garrine, one of her students who was serving as an intern to Nalbro Beloc had been on Hosnian Prime the day of the cataclysm. She was startled from her work by the chime of her comm. It was an unidentifiable frequency, but she answered anyway.

"This is Taa C'tas. How may I help you?"

"Dr. C'tas. I'm relieved to hear you've survived." The voice was human, adult, male. Nervous.

"Why thank you. I'm sorry, but I believe you have the advantage of me. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"Sorry. This is, well, Ben Solo." There was a reluctance to his voice that reminded her of a schoolboy in her office trying to hide something. Considering that the last time she had seen him, he had been just that, she supposed the hesitance in his voice was warranted.

"Ben Solo. This is a surprise." That was an understatement. He'd been her student years ago, but had left a few years before he finished. Sena- General Organa had been so tight-lipped about her son in recent years that Taa had hypothesized he was dead. Taa continued, "I haven't heard from you in nearly two decades. Where has your path through life taken you?"

"It-well - I work for the First Order now," Ben replied.

Taa hoped she could hide the shock in her voice as she replied, "I see. A perilous job indeed."

"I'm not in their armed forces anymore. My role is largely, um, administrative."

"All the more dangerous."

"No, you see, I'm the - well - I'm in a position of influence."

"Young Mr. Solo, do you remember nothing from your studies? Your organization has just undergone a sudden, and, if the rumors are to be believed, violent, regime change." She scoffed, "I'd say the stormtroopers are safer than the bureaucrats right now. The danger increases the farther up the hierarchy you go. Especially given the volatility of this new leader."

The line was silent for a long time. Then he asked, "How do you know all that?"

"Patterns," Taa patiently explained, "History follows the same patterns."

"But we've never published the identity of the Supreme Leader, let alone indicated that it has changed. How could you possibly -"

"With a change in tactics that abrupt, it could only mean one thing. And you've just confirmed my guess. But I'm sure you didn't go to all the trouble of digging up my comm frequency just for a political theory lecture. How may I help you today?"

"Actually, I did call you with a political question."

"Oh?"

"If you were in a position of power over the Dtar system, what would you do about it?"

"Sorry, I haven't had much time to follow individual current events. I've been working on another project. Last I heard about them was the solar storms six months ago. Are they still having trouble getting their energy infrastructure back on line?"

"I'm more concerned about the rioting. They were among the First Order's earliest supporters, but now they're on the brink of openly supporting the Resistance."

"I see." She considered for a moment, not the solution to his problem, which was fairly simple, but about whether to help him. While her home system had been another early supporter of the First Order, her own opinions were more, well, complicated. Finally, she asked, "How is their economy?"

"They're in the middle of a food shortage. Also, inflation seems to be an issue."

She shook her head. Not that he could see it over the audio-only connection, so she chided him, "Ben, you always were prone to daydreaming in my class, but I didn't realize it was this bad. The Dtarans likely want one thing right now: economic stability. They want to know where their next meal is coming from. The core of the Centrist worldview is that a strong central government will provide stability and security. So provide it, or they'll start looking elsewhere for a government."

"Oh," he said after a brief pause. "That makes sense. Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, Ben. It was nice to talk with you again, but I imagine you have some work to do, so I'll leave you to it."

She ended the call. She opened her list of surviving former students and carefully wrote Ben Solo.