This is just a short little slideshow I did as a graphic representation of a quest that was being discussed at the time. According to the files this was in March of 2021, so literally just after I joined.
It would have been based around the Abandoned Koro area, as discussed in my previous post HERE. Basically there would have been this little brakas monkey guy who would lightly harass you throughout the demo.
You'd see him right at the start. At this point the demo would have started with Tahu meditating in a clearing.
His plot was that he was in search of a mask, so later on in the demo you'd think you were about to get a ruru only for him to take it and run in to a dark cave.
Then deep in the cave you would see him being menaced by some rahi. After defeating the rahi he'd give you the mask and run away.
And then tragedy, just as you were going towards the end of the demo, where the sanctuary was, you would meet him again, only now he's unfortunately found an infected mask.
You would have to fight him in a little midboss fight, just a simple thing, running around, jumping at you, throwing rocks, etc. It would have been in the marsh in front of the big Miru gate.
Then you defeat him and its very sad.
BUT! This would tie in to a seemingly unconnected quest earlier in the Koro, if you've read my document HERE it details a side quest mirroring the main quest in QFTT, having to collect 4 gears to open the top of the tree.
Within the tree would be a shiny copper mask.
So if you had the mask with you when you got to the monkey encounter you got a happy end!
Final Verdict:
Rejected for being too much like twilight princess.
Oh well...
I was quite happy with how the infected mahiki came out. I think the mask really fits well with the brakas.
Sorry about using the old build though. I was ignorant please be kind. The mahiki works so well with the new design too.
Unfortunately, the ultimate tragedy, the komau doesn't fit.
So monkey will rest in peace, maskless, forevermore.
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last chapter:
âThatâs what we were talking about,â added Zekheret. âI canât believe you didnât hear. Darth Vader is on the Death Star, right now. He captured the princess and brought her here.â
Efrah dismissed this with a wave of her hand. âOh, that was hours ago. Iâm sure heâs already questioned her.â
this chapter:
Princess Leia might be held elsewhere, and of course, they might be completely untrustworthy. But their information coincided with Bodhiâs, and certainly with the level of chaos around the princess. It seemed most probable by far that she was here, in this very quadrant.
Being tortured.
I canât do anything about that, Jyn told herself, even her mental voice thin. I canât do anything.
chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven
The comlink went so utterly silent that Bodhi worried heâd lost the connection. Several seconds passed. Then:
âYes,â Cassian said. âThis is Captain Willix of robotic research and development. Identify yourself.â
His voice was subtly different than usual. A little in the accent, mostly in tone. Colder, Bodhi thought, yet not as cold as he could sometimes get.
âRK-1301,â he replied.
âRK?â said Cassian. Something that might be amusement bled through the altered voice. âVery well. State your purpose.â
âI had a message for Sergeant Lyr. I ⊠er, Iâm not sure what happened that it went to your com, instead.â
âThis is hers.â Now he definitely seemed amused. âShe appears to have forgotten it. What message?â
Bodhiâs brain caught up with his relief. The last time he talked to Jyn, Cassian had just woken up. She said he was coherent, but exhausted. He didnât sound itâwell, of course coherent, but also clear and strong and careful, not tired. Then again, he could probably sound like anything if he felt like it. And if he was still recovering, he shouldnât hear bad news.
âTrooper?â Cassian prompted him.
âUh,â he said. âIâIâm in the fresher. I donât think anyone else is here.â
It was so bald a tangent that even Bodhi winced. And with Cassian, of all people? He remembered the sabacc games during their long hours in hyperspace; the only time they managed to drag Cassian into one, heâd crushed them all. Even Jyn, who cheated.
âThat does not matter,â said Cassian, which genuinely startled him.
Bodhi blinked at his wrist. âIt doesnât? Are all transmissions âŠ?â
âUnlikely,â Cassian said. âBut if you constantly switch between one way of thinking and another, it is more difficult to hold to what you must be. Do you understand?â
Now he sounded like a cross between Bodhiâs strictest Academy instructor and his favourite uncle.
âYes, sir.â
It made for a very strange cross, Bodhi decided. But Cassian seemed to fall into it naturally. This must be how he talked to his other recruits, his real ones.
Though it didnât get much more real than this.
After another pause, Cassian said patiently, âLyrâs message?â
âOh ⊠well, I âŠâ He knew he was babbling. âWhere is she?â
âThe mess hall,â said Cassian. âI take it Lord Vader has arrived with his prisoners.â
Relief whipped through him. His knees might have buckled with it, had he been standing. As it was, Bodhi leaned against the nearest wall.
âThatâs what theyâre saying down here.â He gulped. âItâs Princess Leia and her crew. I donât know if you heardââ
âI have,â Cassian replied. He didnât sound dismayed. He didnât sound anything, really. Somehow, that cold, even tone comforted him more than open sympathy could have. âAre you familiar with Lord Vader?â
âI donât think anyone is,â said Bodhi. âI know about him. In a general way.â
âHe is a Jedi,â Cassian said.
âWhat?â Bodhiâs mind flew back to Jedha, to the temple, the old stories. Chirrut and Baze, everything. âThatâs ⊠thatâs illegal. Isnât it?â
âNothing is illegal for the Emperorâs agents,â Cassian told him. âStay away from him. Do not take risks.â
Distantly, Bodhi felt his nails digging into his wrist. He was so useless, really. If not for Jyn, theyâd all have died, or been imprisonedâheâd be questioned all over again, worse than Gerrera by far. But he had saved Jyn and Cassian, Bodhi reminded himself. All their brains and nerve wouldnât have protected them if theyâd been on the surface when the Death Star razed Scarif. Heâd done his part in the mission and heâd saved them and ⊠and even now, he could do something. He just didnât know what.
It occurred to him that he might be making things too complicated. His sister always said that he did. Probably the veteran intelligence officer on the other end of the call would say the same thing.
Bodhi asked, âWhat should I do?â
He half-expected to hear nothing.
âNote everything that you can,â said Cassian. âLearn the routines, and pay attention to any changes. Listen to what the other troopers say, particularly those higher up the ranks, but remember that rumours are not always reliable.â
âDonât get excited and donât panic?â he said, his heart still thudding.
âYes.â There was a pause, and then an odd sound, a sort of shallow hiss he wouldnât have thought possible from Cassian.
âIs something wrong?â
âRibs,â Cassian said succinctly. âRemember, also, that nothing is worth endangering your position. If you must choose between information and your safety, choose safety. Every time.â
That did not sound very much like him.
âReally?â
âWe cannot achieve anything from the grave,â said Cassian. âFor now, our work is to learn and to wait for opportunity.â
Okay, that sounded like him.
âYes, sir. I understand,â said Bodhi.
âGood.â Cassianâs voice shifted again, to something that wasnât so much Captain Willix or Captain Andor as the fellow prisoner in Gerreraâs cells. The man whoâd freed him when he couldnât do much more than gibber, and in a peculiar way, seemed teammate as much as leader afterwards. âDo not forget. Be careful.â
Despite the dread and fear that clung to him, for himself and the others, despite the memories of battle and the nightmare of the Death Star, the horror that nearly swallowed him when he had to leave Jyn and Cassian in Imperial hands, the one worn and the other bleeding to deathâdespite it all, Bodhi felt something like hope. And courage, too. He mustered up his nerve.
âYou, too.â
Jyn thought she would finally be free once they left the mess hall. Instead, Efrah hesitated as they walked into the corridor, locking her hands behind her back.
âHave you been given any sort of orientation?â she asked.
âNo,â said Jyn, already bracing herself. âCaptain Willix went straight into bacta, and Iâve been dealing with requisitions and the doctors andâall of that. I donât think heâs even been assigned a commander yet.â
Efrah said, âCan he walk?â
âYes,â she replied. âItâs the ribs. Theyâre broken and he had a punctured lung, so heâs on strict bed rest. It was all I could do to get him discharged to his quarters, last night.â Jyn saw another chance, and seized it. With her best attempt at a wry look, she said, âPerhaps you could tell me which hoop I should jump through next.â
âCertainly,â said Efrah. âIn fact, I can show you. I have two hours until my next shift, and Iâm in logistics.â
Jyn felt immediately suspicious. The great Imperial sisterhood, orâ? But she couldnât see an easy way to refuse, or a particular reason to do so.
âThank you,â she said, her bare wrist itching. âI need to check on my captain before I leave the floor, though. Weâre in F1813, but Iâd be grateful, Â unless thatâs too much trouble.â
âF1813? That should be on the way,â said Efrah instantly.
Jyn, unsure whether sheâd stumbled into a lucky break or a trap, just nodded. They walked the short distanceâcomparatively short distanceâto Cassianâs quarters in near silence, for which Jyn could only feel grateful. Sheâd half-expected further interrogation. Then again, nobody talked much in the halls. Cassian hadnât, either. Another regulation?
At the quarters, Efrah remained a few feet behind as Jyn typed in the code. Some other protocol, no doubt, but it might give her a moment to make sure Cassian didnât give anything away. If heâd ever given anything away in his life.
When the door whooshed up, however, she found the room empty. Apart from its very cleanliness, it looked like Cassian had never been there at all. Jynâs heart jolted.
âCaptain?â
She didnât hear anything, except Efrah moving towards her.
âIs there a problem, Lyr?â
A trap, Jyn thought wildly, yet when she turned around, Efrah betrayed nothing but bewilderment. Although sheâd moved to the doorway, beside Jyn, she made no attempt to do anything but glance inside. Nothing like a formal inspection, but thank the Force for Cassianâs paranoia, anyway.
âItâs Captain Willix,â she said, only then remembering that she stood right where the door would normally crash down. Nothing happened. It must be some sort of sensorâbut why the hell was she thinking about the wiring when ...
Cassian stalked into the room from the opposite direction. At the sight of them, he came to an immediate halt.
The fresher. Jyn almost laughed, all the more as his blank face somehow went blanker. She just remembered to salute.
âCaptain.â
âSir!â said Efrah, all but vibrating with deference.
Cassianâs glance flicked from Jyn, to Efrah, to Jyn. Nothing about his face changed at all, but that meant nothing. For all she knew, he might find the whole situation entertaining. Her eyes narrowed.
âAt ease, sergeants,â he said, walking over to them. âIs there an emergency?â
âNo, sir,â said Jyn. âSergeant Efrah, here, offered to help us navigate the bureaucracy. If I have your leave, sir, I will go with her.â
âYou do,â he said, without a trace of gratitude. Or anything.
âAnd if you are well enough to manage on your own,â she pressed.
Cassianâs brows lifted, his expression transforming in some indistinct way from neutral to haughty. âAs you see.â
He did look better, in fact. His posture was straight as ever but less stiff, his complexion completely back to usual, his face devoid of the strain sheâd already grown accustomed to. Some of it would be the analgesics, butâ
âYes, sir,â muttered Efrah. Though her manner remained as professional as ever, colour crept up her neck.
Jyn rested her hand against her pocket and prayed for patience.
âDo you need anything before I go?â
âYes,â he said. âEither you or the quartermaster missed some basic necessities. I have placed a full list of what I require in your datapad. Take it to Requisitions and do not leave without a satisfactory affirmation.â
She bit the inside of her cheek. âIt will be hours before I return, in that case.â
âVery well,â said Cassian indifferently. He moved aside and gestured at her dresser. âYour datapad is that way, Lyr.â
While Jyn felt reasonably sure he was running at maximum Imperial bastard for Efrahâs sakeânothing she hadnât done with Esten, reallyâshe couldnât escape a sense of annoyance as she walked past. She also couldnât escape a sense that something else was going on.
Walking over to the dresser, she risked a glance over her shoulder. Cassian had moved back into place, standing in the middle of the doorway and saying something in a quiet voice. She couldnât make out the words, but she recognized the warm, easy tone from the elevator. He probably had that horrible smile plastered on, too.
Turning past the bed to her dresser did improve her mood, however. The datapad itself looked exactly as sheâd left it; she wouldnât have known heâd touched it. But her comlink, which she knew she'd left on the bed, sat neatly beside the datapad. Jyn dared another look at the doorâCassian had stepped closer to Efrah, effectively blotting her out. He was still talking to her, saying something that provoked a low laugh.
Hastily, Jyn bound the comlink around her wrist, just visible under the sleeve. She didnât know how peculiar it would seem for an Imperial soldier to forget basic equipment, but she didnât feel like finding out.
Datapad in hand, she headed back.
ââmust have been extremely difficult, sir.â
âAnything for the Empire,â said Cassian.
Jyn cleared her throat.
âAh, Lyr.â He moved again. âIâll expect you to take note of everything. We have a great deal to learn.â
âYes, captain,â she said, striding past. âMake sure you rest.â
Both women saluted him, and headed out together, Jyn doing her best to keep the grinding of her teeth inaudible. Even with her near-certainty of the gameâif this could at all be termed a gameâher hands itched to punch something.
âCaptain Willix said Rebels shot him in the attack,â said Efrah, sounding impressed. Evidently the hall regulations only applied to the other halls. Or not at all. Hell if she knew.
âYes,â said Jyn. âHe dropped right off the archives and down to one of the platforms. Hit a few beams on the way down.â
âSo thatâs why you spent the battle looking for him. I wondered.â
She hadnât asked. And Jyn hadnât seen any trace of curiosityânothing to dilute her relief as Efrah appeared to accept the explanation and return her attention to Zekheret. More suspicious than ever, she gave a short nod.
âHeâs my captain.â
Efrah cast a quick glance at her, unreadable except a very slight, very knowing smile.
âWell, now I can see why youâd stick around that deathtrap for your captain.â
âOh?â Her fingers tingled. Puzzled for a moment, Jyn realized she was gripping her datapad so tightly that sheâd cut off blood from her fingertips. She forced herself to relax her grip.
Very solemnly, Efrah said, âHis cheekbones would be a great loss to the galaxy. Youâre a true hero, Lyr.â
Jyn snorted. âJust doing my part for the Empire.â
She didnât even look at the requisition list until Efrah had led her through a labyrinth of departments and officials and questionnaires. At every other turn, Jyn expected it all to turn into some complex trap. After all, Lyr had no data trail, beyond what little her errands had grafted onto Willixâs. If anyone started digging around, theyâd turn up that dangerous nothing. But nobody seemed to care about Lyr at all, except as proxy for an officer.
Maybe it helped that the officer in question had been a triple agent. Or quadrupleâshe lost count somewhere in there.
At any rate, she emerged an hour and a half later with a commanding officer for Cassian and a sketchy map of their quadrant in her head. Once Efrah headed off to her shift, borderline-friendly as ever, Jyn prayed she hadnât signed any inadvertent death warrants and headed back to Requisitions. This time, at least, the lines didnât look so miserably long.
Still, she had an hourâs wait, two hours after she left Cassian. And before that, Efrah had said that itâd been hours since Princess Leiaâs arrival. By now, she must have been questioned. No, Jyn thought. Tortured. No point in polishing it up. She might have cracked, given up the plans or the base or the whole damn Rebellion. She might have held firm, even against a JediâCassian believed she had it in her, and he certainly wasnât one to overestimate people. Or she might be dead. They didnât know, and they had no way of knowing.
Jyn checked her comlink. Nothing from either Cassian or Bodhi. Though it wouldnât be safe here, anyway. She sighed, nevertheless, and switched on her datapad.
Jyn instantly programmed Cassianâs comlink code into her own com, fixing the other three into memory. Sure enough, the message vanished before sheâd finished typing.
She suppressed a burst of sheer excitement. Enigmatic messages with secret codes were much more her idea of spying than gossiping with a boyish flirt and pretending to bond with an inscrutable sergeant. Orânot her idea of it, not at all, but an idea, like something from a good holodrama.
She knew it was silly. No doubt heâd have just told her the codes directly if sheâd come back alone. Unless he had fallen asleep, which was ⊠a very real possibility, in fact, and probably the reason he left the message in the first place. He couldnât know whoâd be around when she read it. It made perfect sense to be cryptic.
Still.
The childish pleasure lasted no more than a few moments. Jynâs mind returned to Princess Leia, the flawed but dauntless spy locked somewhere in this place. Maybe near, maybe distant, butâno, it had to be near, didnât it? If she could trust Efrah and Zekheret that far, his reassignment to the prison was part of a general reshuffling to increase security, on account of the new captives. Of course, Princess Leia might be held elsewhere, and of course, they might be completely untrustworthy. But their information coincided with Bodhiâs, and certainly with the level of chaos around the princess. It seemed most probable by far that she was here, in this very quadrant.
Being tortured.
I canât do anything about that, Jyn told herself, even her mental voice thin. I canât do anything.
Sheâd help if she could do somethingâshe would, now. But with only a vague guess at a location and no way to escape, anything they might do would only throw away what little advantage they had. Best case, itâd get Jyn and Bodhi killed, and Cassian left to fend for himself when he could hardly walk.
The thought only twisted the knives in her chest further. Cassein Willix could be as much of an ass as he liked; if anything happened to Cassian Andor because she took a pointless risk, sheâd ⊠Jyn didnât know what sheâd do. But abandoning her team for something not just dangerous, but utterly futile, that would be more than stupid. Itâd be wrong. Lyra, Saw, the Rebel leaders, they all ran through her mind. You had to look after your own in this galaxy. Cassian was hersâCassian and Bodhi were. Sheâd led them here and sheâd get them out, if there was any way to do it.
Jyn understood Leia Organaâs value, she heartily pitied her, but she couldnât help her, and she wasnât about to risk Cassian for her. She didnât even know what the woman looked like. Hell, she didnât know what Alderaan looked like.
She considered the line still winding ahead of her and then her datapad. Well, she could fix one of those.
Jyn swiped the screen to the standard database and typed out A L D E R A A N. Immediately, a long page of statistics and descriptions appeared on her pad, alongside a picture of a vast, icy mountain range, its jagged peaks beautiful and terrifying. That wouldn't be the whole planet, of course, but she remembered Cassian saying my world was white. As she shuffled forward in the line, Jyn touched the picture.
A data entry scrolled down. The Anduçelos Mountains, a large mountain range surrounding the planetary capital of Aldera.
Cassianâs home. It felt unreal.
She flipped back to the main entry. Most of it didnât much interest herâa radius of some four thousand miles, high water content, plenty of nitrogen and oxygen, an average temperature on the cold end of temperate. Population of seven billion. Five thousand known languages. One of seven planets in the larger system, but the only one to independently support life, and home to the vast bulk of the systemâs residents.
Without much better to do, she kept skimming downwards, examining the pictures that flickered along the sides as she went. All right, now she knew what Alderaan looked like. She could read something more interesting. Or ⊠talk to someone.
Jyn paused, and stifled the impulse to glance over her shoulder and to her sides, make sure nobody watched her. It wouldnât mean anything to them if they did, but she still felt hunted. Ignoring the feeling, she selected Districts.
The list that rolled down, Aldera to Zyxei, was longer than she expected. It didnât matter; she almost immediately saw the only one she cared about, towards the end. Not that she expected much accuracy from an Imperial database, but you never knew.
Vaes District showed no images except a smaller picture of the mountains, focused enough for her to make out a grey and unattractive town nestled into a crag. Even the description told her little that she hadnât guessed from Cassian, except that the district had no unified government, but instead operated as a loose confederacy of small, independent cities. Each city used a different dialect of standard Alderaanian; unlike the people in the capital beneath them, few Vaes residents spoke Basic at all. They had a subarctic climate, scarce resources beyond the deposits of ilum, et cetera et cetera. Still not interesting, but rather to her surprise, the official list of settlements did include a Vaesda.
She hesitated again, longer, but pressed down a last time.
The entry for Vaesda contained no pictures at all, no statistics, no descriptions. It consisted of three sentences:
Vaesda was one of the principal sources of ilum during the Clone Wars. His Imperial Highness the Emperor Palpatine, then Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, sent a company of clonetroopers to Vaesda in order to defend the city and the mines from Separatist sympathizers, but to no avail. Though the troopers bravely defended Vaesda, either Separatists or Vaesdi collaborators ignited the mines, and the resulting blast reduced the city to rubble.
Biting her tongue, Jyn closed out the entire database. She didnât know what had actually happened, but sheâd seen plenty of Imperial propaganda in her time. Separatists raiding remote cities on Alderaan? Right, when nerfs flew. But she didnât imagine Imperial propagandists would take the trouble to concoct an entirely fictitious story for a brief databank entry on an obscure mining town. Anyway, Cassian had mentioned clonetroopers. No doubt Palpatine really did send them there. No doubt the place really had been wiped off the map.
And, she thought, no doubt this was what Cassian meant when he said heâd lost everything at six. He was twenty-six now, so twenty years ago. The year before the Empire. Something must have happened that year, something to do with Alderaan, but she had no idea what it was. Sheâd never paid much attention to Republic history; she couldnât even remember the Republic.
Jynâs thoughts swerved back to Princess Leia. Born into the Rebellion, she remembered Cassian saying. She hadnât put it together at the time, butâexactly how old was Leia Organa? Even with her father as a founder, she couldnât be much over ⊠what, seventeen or eighteen? All their hopes rested in the strength of an adolescent girl?
Older than she was when Saw left, Jyn reminded herself, and stepped up to the front of the line.
The quartermaster glared at her, though less ferociously than he did at everyone else.
âYou again,â he grunted.
âYouâre good with faces,â she said, doing her best to strip any overt flattery from her voice. Bringing up Cassianâs list on the datapad, she handed it over and sighed. âMy captain woke up.â
âHappens to the best of us,â said Brakas. He scanned the datapad. âKit 2X97NE4? What the hell is that?â
âI have no idea,â Jyn told him, and winced. âCaptain Willix just said that either you or I donât understand basic necessities.â
âFucking officers.â
Jyn gave him a look of intense sympathy. âHeâs usually not this bad. I think itâs the bed rest getting to him.â
Brakas, typing into his tech station, muttered something she didnât recognize. Then he said, âAh. Droid repair tools. Fine, Iâm running it through. Whatâs the ID?â
Droid repairâshe almost grinned as she rattled off the code. Cassian must have found Kaytoo.
âRight. Willix, here he is.â Brakas slid something on the screen. âThere, all in. Heâll have his supplies by morning.â
âThank you,â she said emphatically.
âIf you dare, tell him he can cheer up now,â he added.
Jyn, more at ease with the rough quartermaster than any of the others, scoffed outright. âWhat for? The supplies?â
âThe Starâs on the move again. Heâs going home.â
All restraint dried in her mouth. âHeâs what?â
âYou havenât heard?â Brakas handed the datapad back to her. âWeâre headed to Alderaan.â
At his side, blood soaked her bandage. Every breath he took whistled and shuddered. She hadnât even begun to look at whatever he might have done to his legs, under those Imperial trousers.
Imperial trousers. Imperial officerâs trousers.
Jyn turned to look at the cockpit, knowing what sheâd see. A slim man in the uniform of an Imperial pilot. Even part of an Imperial droid.
One last chance.
this chapter:
âCaptain Willix,â said the lieutenant. He returned his gaze to Jyn, eyeing her haphazard gear. Hopefully eyeing her gear. âAnd you are?â
Hallik was too similar. And too wanted in five systems. But after a life spent under dozens of pseudonyms, her mind fell blank of anything but reality. Jyn Erso of Rogue One, daughter of Lyra and Galen Erso.
âLyr,â she said. âSergeant Lyr. Iâm aide-de-camp to Captain Willix.â
chapters: one
Jyn couldnât make out what their audience said. But she heard the voices rise from a murmur to something sharper and sterner, a stolid wall against Bodhiâs babbling. After what couldnât be more than a few sentences, heavy steps clunked up the ramp.
She tried to count the number of newcomers, but the precision of their march muddled her hearing. At least two, probably more.
Waiting a beat, she let Chirrutâs mantra cycle through her thoughts. Her parents had worshipped no gods, nothing but the Force. It was as good as anything.
Then, sinking into this role as she had sunk into so many others, she banished all superstition from her mind. Imperial soldiers did not cling to such things. Not if they wanted anything like a career.
âRaka, hurry!â Jyn shouted. Her voice cracked. âWe need a medic. He hasnât got much time!â
She twisted her head to look back at the ramp, careful not to change the pressure on Cassianâs wound. A single officer strode towards her, flanked by four stormtroopers. Bodhi, looking even filthier against the white armour and pristine grey uniform, trailed after.
âYour pilot said something about a man down,â the officer said, as he stepped on board the shuttle. It brought him within direct sight of Cassian, and he started. She glanced at his rank plaques.
âI beg your pardon, Lieutenant,â Jyn said, thankful for her motherâs accent as sheâd never been before. âIâd get up, butââ
Cassian moaned. It sounded entirely genuine. In his condition, it might even be genuine.
But probably not.
The lieutenant switched on the com at his wrist and held it to his mouth. âWe need another medic in Hangar B! Weâve got an officer here in critical condition. I repeat, a medic in Hangar B, urgent.â
Jyn breathed. As he switched the com back off, she said,
âThank you, sir. My commander would thank you, too, if not for âŠâ
âIndeed,â said the lieutenant. âWho is he? Name and rank?â
She could nearly have screamed. Somehow, she hadnât thought that far. Namesâof course theyâd need to have names! And just hope no one checked them. He had to have counterfeit identities, probably more than she did, but she didnât know any of them. It wasnât like they had talked about it. It wasnât like they had talked that much, period.
Youâre no better than a stormtrooper.
Suddenly the Rebellion is real for you? Some of us live it.
âHeâs a captain,â she said.
âCaptain,â Cassian mumbled. The lieutenantâs attention snapped back to him. âCaptain Cass âŠâ His voice trailed off, slurring the end of his name into mush.
Horror squeezed Jynâs heart, tightened an invisible hand about her throat. Even like this, she never once imagined that he might be the one to give them away. He couldnât be that out of it already, could he? She squeezed his hand as painfully as she could.
âCass ⊠ein Wil ⊠lix,â he said.
âCaptain Willix,â said the lieutenant. He returned his gaze to Jyn, eyeing her haphazard gear. Hopefully eyeing her gear. âAnd you are?â
Hallik was too similar. And too wanted in five systems. But after a life spent under dozens of pseudonyms, her mind fell blank of anything but reality. Jyn Erso of Rogue One, daughter of Lyra and Galen Erso.
âLyr,â she said. âSergeant Lyr. Iâm aide-de-camp to Captain Willix.â
âI see,â said the lieutenant, his neutral voice unreadable.
There was nothing to do but brazen it out. âWe were posted on Scarif, sir. Rebels infiltrated the facility and attacked the base.â
âSo Iâve heard,â he said grimly. âThe three of you are lucky to be alive.â
Cassian coughed up more blood.
Letting her face go blank, Jyn said, âYes, sir.â
The lieutenant looked nearly abashed. He crouched down to consider Cassian.
âWhat happened to him?â
âIâm not entirely sure.â Not daring complacency, she ran a reel of her greatest embarrassments through her mind until she felt blood rise to her cheeks. âThe Rebels knocked me out and stripped me.â
âAh,â said the lieutenant, with another glance at her body. âThat explains it.â
Jyn repressed her instinctive response. âI couldnât have been out for more than a few minutes. When I woke up, I ⊠I found what clothing I could and went looking for the captain. I discovered Captain Willix collapsed in the archive itself. As far as I could guess, he actually climbed up to try and hold off the Rebels. Alone, since his droid had been blown to pieces.â She inclined her head towards Kaytooâs skull.
With only the briefest glance at the decapitated droid, he said, âA brave man.â
Her throat felt tight again. âYes. Very brave.â Where were the damn medics? âHeâd been shot. And fallen, a long way. I donât know how many bones he broke, but definitely his ribs. By then, the Rebels had got away. When I found him, he climbed the wall of the archive until he got to the point where I could help him.â
The lieutenant whistled. âNot a soldier we want to lose.â Turning back towards the ramp, he muttered, âWhere are those damn medics? Ah!â
Despite everything, hope rose in her chest. Jyn followed his glance, and almost cringed. Three Imperials in white, just like ⊠but no. Their uniforms had none of Krennicâs crisp neatness, hanging on them like bags and covered in stains and mended strips. Each carried some sort of analysis device, sticking out of a long-pocketed beltâso long it nearly approached an apron. With them, they wheeled a far more technical-looking cot than this one, its assorted apparatus squeaking and clinking.
âFinally,â the lieutenant called down. âDid you stop in the mess hall on the way here?â
The medic who appeared to be chief, a spare, middle-aged woman with fly-away hair, only shook her head. âI take that to mean that this is our man.â
All three of them rushed up the ramp. After one glance at Cassian, the chief medic snapped, âOut of my way, all of you.â
Cassian had stopped his periodic groaning and gasps, and lay quietly enough, blinking like a sleepy child. No doubt he was sleepy, but Jyn had seen too many quiet deaths to grant that. Every time he closed his eyes, she dug her nails into his wrist until he winced, the slow beat of his pulse continuing under her fingers. If felt as if her own life somehow sustained his, spilled from skin to skin. Like he would die if she lifted her hand from that terrible wound, even for a moment.
âI said all of you.â
Reluctantly, Jyn squeezed his limp fingers one last time and stepped back. There, she could do nothing but stand there, rinsing Cassianâs blood off her skin while the medics transferred him to the medical cot. Helpless, she picked up Kaytooâs head, ignoring the othersâ puzzled expressions.
âCareful, now,â warned the woman, while the two male medics hoisted up the furthest end of the gurney to keep Cassian even as they went down the ramp. Jyn hurried with them, the lieutenant keeping pace with her while Bodhi and the troopers trailed after. At least it looked less like open insubordination this way.
Jyn barely paused to look around the hangar. They werenât the only ones arriving in bad shape; she saw at least a dozen other men being carried in stretchers, some protesting and others no better than corpses. Cassian, to her horror, much more closely resembled the latter. Otherwise the hangar was large, the usual bleak grey, and filled with Imperial ships and Imperial soldiers. She didnât need to know more than that.
Not yet.
She almost had to run to keep up with the medics, one running some beeping remote over Cassianâs body even as they rushed him to med bay. They chattered at each other in near-incomprehensible medical babble, only a few familiar words popping up here and there. Contusion and punctured and compound fracture.
The lieutenant, easily keeping pace, said, âYou managed to escape the facility with him like ⊠this?â He gestured ahead of them.
âBarely. It was madness,â replied Jyn. âHe was in better shape before we had to jump into the shuttle. This pilot came looking for survivors and found us.â
âLaudable,â said the lieutenant, apparently allergic to full sentences. âI had been under the impression that Captain Willix was his commander?â
Jyn allowed a note of disdain to touch her voice. âHeâs a cargo pilot. He thinks all officers are his commanders.â
The lieutenant snorted. âRightly so.â He cast a brief look at the stormtroopers and Bodhi, and gave a sniff.
âThank you for your service, Raka,â said Jyn. âNow clean yourself up and report for duty.â
âUh,â Bodhi said. âBut the captainââ
The lieutenantâs brows drew together. Jyn, glancing back, said sharply,
âThat was not a request.â She dared not apologize, even silently, but she thought one as fiercely as she could.
âRightâof courseâI beg your pardon, sir. Maâam.â He saluted and jogged away, back to the hangar. Hopefully, the uniformity of Imperial architecture would provide some direction. He could make it, as long as he didnât get recognized, or reveal anything, or lose his nerve, or fall into any of the disasters that her ready imagination provided.
May the Force be with you.
âHow long have you been assigned to Captain Willix?â the lieutenant asked.
âSix years,â said Jyn. Six years ago, sheâd been waiting for Saw. But she always passed for older. âHe more or less inherited me, to be truthful. My father was one of his fatherâs engineers, and âŠâ Everyone knew that Imperial Starfleet ran on personal favours and obligations mixed in with nepotism. Whether he disapproved, participated, or anything else, it would be likely enough. And maybe she wouldnât have to manufacture an easily questioned narrative this way.
âAh,â he said. âThen I commend you, Sergeant. You might have saved yourself with none any the wiser. Not everyone shows as much loyalty and discipline in the midst of disaster.â
Jyn held her head high. âHe is my captain, sir.â
In the hall, dozens of officers, troopers, and droids made their way in both directions. All gave the medics a wide berth, paying little attention to Jyn beyond the occasional bemused glance. Still, she knew she passed her death with every single one of them, hers and Cassianâs both. By the time they reached the med-bay, Jyn felt like sheâd never been so exhausted or neurotic in her life.
Their three medics rushed him through. A fourth, posted at the door, peered over his spectacles at them and lifted his datapad.
âPatient?â
âHeâs a Captain Willix,â said the lieutenant. âAnother one out of Scarif.â
The medicâs lip curled. âThis fucking planet. I never want to see it again.â
Who knew? She could agree with the Imperials about something.
âNo oneâs going to disagree with you there. This is his aide, here,â the lieutenant went on. âSheâll tell you everything you need to know. I have to get back to the hangar.â
âThank you for your assistance, Lieutenant,â said Jyn, saluting him.
The lieutenant gave a crisp nod, then turned on his heel and strode away with his troopers.
And that was that.
Before she could relish her survival of the first obstacle, though, she had a new nameless Imperial to deal with. He tapped his datapad. âCaptain, he said?â
âYes,â said Jyn.
âFull name?â
âCassein Willix.â She could only hope it wasnât some nonsense that heâd come up with in the moment. The bloody, barely conscious moment.
âHeight?â
âA hundred and seventy-eight centimeters,â she said, grateful that sheâd looked him up in the Alliance databank. There wasnât much there, of course, but Jyn didnât follow dangerous blaster-toting men into warzones without digging up everything she could find about them. Even if follow might be putting it strongly. And if sheâd paid more attention to the none under spouse and children than his weight and birthdate.
She didnât dare provide the latter. If Cassein had developed any real identity, it wouldnât be identical to Cassianâs. Though with that awful name, who knew?
âIâm not sure,â she told the medic. âHis age has a way of changing every time he gives it. I think heâs about thirty-five.â
Almost ten years younger, in fact. She wasnât the only one to wear herself older than her age. And sheâd have known it even without the databank. Iâve been in this fight sinceâ
It was only two decades ago that disaffected senators started whispering and plotting together. Two decades ago that the Republic tottered on its last legs. Two decades ago that Cassian Andor was six years old, and chose his path.
Definitely better that they didnât have the details.
The medic snorted. âOne of those. Well, it should be good enough. Letâs see. â He glanced over his shoulder at the bay.
To Jyn, it wasnât much different than the usual grey expanse, touched by gleaming white, and interrupted by curtains and the occasional glass wall. Medics and their assistants rushed this way and that, while droids drifted about, their toneless voices cutting through the hubbub.
âQuadrant G Northeast,â the medic muttered to himself, tapping. âNot E, G. Seventh floor. Bed âŠâ He checked again. âThirty-one. Good, all linked up in the system.â
Her throat felt raw. âWill he live?â
âPreliminary diagnostics should be coming in. Yes, there they are.â
A good Imperial would stay dispassionate, show nothing but dutiful concern. After sheâd come this far, she couldnât afford to fall apart now. But sheâd never pulled anything on this scale before, and she wasnât a spy, and somehow she couldnât unclench her fists or breathe quite right. Sheâd have to do her best, that was all. And hope that, once more, it might be enough.
âWhatâs his condition?â she demanded.
The medic whistled, scrolling. âLucky to be alive.â
Jyn was already tired of hearing that.
âBlaster took off a chunk of flesh. Thereâs a lung damn near shredded. Did he have a bad fall?â
A bad fall. She nearly laughed. âYes.â
âFigured.â He nodded to himself. âWith that many fractures. Quite a bit of blood loss, too, though thatâs from the blaster ⊠heâll be in full immersion for sure. Looks like theyâve called for the bacta already.â
It wasnât really anything that she hadnât already guessed. Maybe more bone damage. Part of her felt the same lingering horror as before, echoing around and around her mind from the moment she saw him fall. But a rather greater part was relieved. This massive base would have bacta, lots of it. Probably enough to buy a small planet. And he needed it. They couldnât even think about escape until Cassian recovered.
âGood,â she said crisply. âIâd better go see him beforeââ
Sheâd only taken two steps when the medic seized her arm. Pale and weedy as he looked, his grip held her fast.
âI donât think so.â
Force, no. Had something come up in the records? Cassein Willix wanted for something, or proof of his nonexistence, or �
She ignored the pounding in her ears. âI beg your pardon? My commanderââ
âYouâre a contaminant, Sergeant,â said the medic. He gestured at her filthy clothes. Filthy everything.
Jyn winced.
Not unkindly, he said, âHeâll already be under. But if the two of you were on Scarif, youâve got work to do. Have either of you been posted here before?â
She shook her head.
âThen youâd better go to requisitions.â He gave a slight smile. âYour captainâs going to want a place to sleep and halfway decent equipment. You can serve him better waiting in the quartermasterâs line than moping around here. The nearest one is easy to find. Just take the elevator up to Hall M27, hard right, two lefts, and youâre there.â
Peering past him, she thought about refusing. Just sticking around here and insisting I have to see my captain until someone let her. But this wasnât the Rebellion. It wasnât even the Partisans. It was the Empire. The Death Star. There would be no someone here. At best, theyâd probably throw her into a cell for re-conditioning. At worst, well, Cassian himself would be horrified at throwing away their cover over sentiment. It wasnât like she could do anything to help him, anyway. Or Bodhi, or herself.
Just one thing: keep this charade rolling. She might not have ever enlisted, but she was a Rebel agent now. Just like Cassian.
She said, âOh, of course. I should have thought of thatâthe battle rattled me a bit. Elevator to M27 and right, left, left?â
He nodded. âIf he does wake, weâll tell him where youâve gone. Stressors are a liability to recovery.â
Jyn flashed a smile, more confident than she could begin to feel. âIâm sure his lungs will thank you. Iâll be back when Iâve been decontaminated.â
As she walked away, her entire back prickled. She felt like a dozen blasters must be trained on her at once. But she strode through the hall with as much purpose and assurance as she could muster, and nobody so much as lifted a blaster. Just a few eyebrows.
In the elevator, an ensign looked her up and down. âWhat the hell are you wearing?â
âLost my armour on Scarif,â she said curtly.
To her surprise, the bemusement on his face dissolved into sympathy. âDamn. I heard itâs a nightmare down there.â
âIt is,â said Jyn.
âAnd you didnât have armour? Youâre lucky toââ
She fixed her eyes straight ahead. âI know.â
Awkwardly, he shuffled. Neither said another word for the next fifteen minutes, until L14 blinked on the screen.
âThatâs mine,â he said. Jyn, practicing her best sneering Imperial, didnât deign to respond.
Though the ensign towered over herâhe must have been well over six feetâhe seemed actually intimidated. He stared at his feet until the door opened, and bolted out into a long empty hall.
Not someone destined for glory, she thought. They could only hope that the Death Star contained more like that than like Krennic. Possible, but she dared not count on it.
The door closed, and for a wonderful two minutes, she was alone. Jyn nearly slumped against the wall in relief. Or maybe the floor. Her legs ached, thighs to the soles of her feet. Sheâd give just about anything for some rest. Instead, she squinted up at the ceiling. There might be cameras. She didnât see any, but that didnât have to mean anything. She stayed straight as a protocol droid.
M27 flashed over the screen. Jyn inhaled, locked her hands behind her back, and marched through the door.
Another stage cleared.
Quartermaster Brakas was considerably taller than the ensign, and had far broader shoulders. With weathered skin and bristly eyebrows over narrow eyes, he seemed perpetually angry, not helped by the fact that he never spoke in anything below a shout, except when he dropped to a hoarse whisper. To her relief, he also spoke in a heavy Rylothian accent. Everyone else had talked like they walked off the HoloNet. However far Cassianâs self-command went, she felt it wouldnât extend to faking an accent under anaesthesia.
In any case, though Brakasâs uniform bore only the vaguest resemblance to regulationâhis jacket open over an oil-stained shirt and floppy trousersânobody appeared to pay attention to it. Jyn had no difficulty guessing why. Both muscular and tending a little to fat, he looked like he could snap anyone in two, and very much wanted to. His assistants scurried anxiously at every barked order.
She noticed all this because she spent three hours waiting for him.
Privately, sheâd doubted the supposed ease of the medicâs instructions. But at the last left, she turned and saw four lines of people waiting beneath a sign that read QUARTERMASTER, the lines extending nearly all the way down the hall. Soldiers chatted with each other. Petty officers grumbled and pointedly checked their chronos. And at least a third looked as battered and filthy as Jyn, most ragged and several in non-regulation gear.
Not the way she would have chosen to buy time, but there it was. As her nerves and muscles screamed at her, Jyn determinedly reminded herself that every moment of escaping attention was a moment Cassian had in the bacta tank. And one for Bodhi, if heâd âŠ
Jyn clasped her motherâs crystal, then shoved it under her shirt. Heâd be fine. He had to be.
In the crook of her arm, Kaytooâs head stared vacantly up at her. She bit her lip and turned the face into her elbow.
She would have waited still longer, her gaze fixed on the quartermasterâs bald head, had not one of the assistants taken it upon themselves to count up the survivors. Two hours in, Brakas abruptly wheeled about.
âAll of you out of Scarif! Over here!â
Several of those nearest Jyn gave her dirty looks. She ignored them and pushed forward with the others. Even then, she ended up at the end of the Scarif line. In most situations, of course, she would have elbowed and fought her way to the front, never mind her size. Now, she reluctantly gave way to necessity and let herself be shoved to the back.
Bastards, she still thought. Cassian had better be grateful.
Then she felt sick, mind alight with the memory of his blood on her hands, on his mouth. She hadnât forgotten. But just for a moment, Cassian had meant the cool-headed spy, somewhere out there glowering at the unworthy, not the man who carved up his own body getting to her.
Soon, she promised herself. Heâd be himself again, preaching about the cause, and she, well, sheâd figure out what she was. Maybe a Rebel. Definitely free.
The minutes ticked by, filled by Brakasâ shouting and the clacks of the machines along the walls, where some of the assistants took lesser requests. Jyn, grasping Kaytooâs head as sheâd once clutched her stormtrooper doll, tried to think of anything but this. The plans had gotten out. The Rebels should be carrying them to the high command at this moment. Maybe those gutless senators would finally do something.
Something, in the best case, would be destroying the Death Star. Even if they were all on it. Though she didnât want to die, itâd be worth it.
But she wasnât going down without trying her damnedest to pull them all through.
âYou!â snarled Brakas.
Jyn nearly jumped.
âWhatâs your identification code?â
Fuck.
âIâm here for my commander,â she said, mind racing.
Brakas rolled his eyes. âThen whatâs his?â
They had nothing to lose now. Jyn hesitated, then took one last leap.
âThree one five jay eight oh ar six one eight five.â
Grumbling to himself, he typed it into the tech station in front of him. His scowl didnât shift, and her whole chest shuddered. She held Kaytoo tighter.
âCaptain Cassein Willix?â Brakas demanded.
In that moment, she could have kissed Cassian Andor. Blood and all.
âYes,â said Jyn. âItâs just the two of us. Iâm his sergeant. The rest of the team didnât make it. No equipment, either.â
âCry to someone who cares,â he said. âAll right. Two quartersââ
âOne,â Jyn said.
Brakas fixed his glare on her. Horrifyingly, she was reminded of Saw.
âI donât know what you all got away with on Scarif. On the Death Star, there is no fraternization.â
âFraternization?â Jyn shook her head violently. âUgh, no, nothing like that. Captain Willix was very severely injured, and he never listens to the medics. Or anyone. Heâll fuâuh, disrupt his recovery if I donât keep a close eye on him.â She dared an exasperated smile. âOfficers, you know how they are.â
Brakas snorted, but he regarded her with something almost like friendliness. âSure do. Damn idiots think theyâre invincible, when half are the brats of some politician or other, and the other half convinced theyâre martyrs.â
âExactly,â said Jyn, in her most long-suffering tone. Turning it conversational, she added, âCaptain Willix is, well, heâs a bit of both. But heâs a good commander when I can keep him in line. Helps that heâs not Coruscanti. Neither of us are.â
He lifted a brow, typing into the station. âSays heâs Alderaanian.â
âRight,â said Jyn. Bail Organaâs planet? An odd choice, but sheâd think about that later. She gestured at her mouth. âAnd me, well, itâs my mother who came out of Imperial City, not me. Iâm from the back-end of nowhere, but I figured out pretty fast that the higher-ups donât need to know that.â
Brakas actually gave a short laugh. âGood for you. Okay, itâs all in. Captainâs quarters for two, F1813. Datapads, comms, so on. Full set of uniformsââ He gestured at one of the assistants. âGive him measurements for both of you. Should be ready within a standard day.â
âThanks,â Jyn said. She glanced at the impatient crowds, and gave him a sympathetic look. âGood luck, Sergeant.â
âIâll need it,â muttered Brakas.
Once again, she walked away unscathed. And this time, as she headed over to the outfitter, she didnât even feel a target painted on her back. Not safeâthatâd be idioticâbut not, at this instant, in danger from the very ordinary people around her. Maybe she was just tired.
Jyn hoped so. She didnât want to like anyone here.