WAR BORN

espionage wasn’t innate. it wasn’t a skill that all sentients were capable of, only a select few, but the speaker didn’t have much choice. the only other option was to hide out aboard the ship and hope that the resistance could intercept them at some point along the way. perhaps he should have given the stranger the option, but cassian didn’t care to help anyone that refused to help themselves.

“you don’t have much choice,” cassian spoke plainly, “if i don’t know where the ship is going, i can’t send anyone to help you.” and besides, cassian wanted to know what the first order was up to. sure, he was intelligence gathering, but he was trying to help the poor soul that had been trapped aboard the ship. it didn’t pay to be cowardly. to hide away and hope, could only work for so long. eventually, the first order would realize that something was amiss, especially if the stranger continued to make radio calls. 

cassian narrowed his eyes slightly in consideration. “shouldn’t be too hard to get ahold of a uniform, there’s a weakness in their armor just beneath where their helmets meet the chest cavity. you should be able to knock ‘em out if you hit hard enough… tell me you know how to fight?” cassian’s voice remained calm, neutral, but this would be a whole kriffing lot easier if the kid knew how to land a punch.

To say violence was a weak point for Noah would be a lie. They spent years on their home world of Corellia, fighting other kids on the street. When they were taken to the temple, they were taught control and to let go of emotions-- but also to fight with a lightsaber. Which they did not have. Some cruel twist of fate, resurrecting them without the weapon they were most familiar with. 

“I know, I’ll see what I can do,” Noah murmured. There wasn’t much else Noah could do. They couldn’t sit around waiting for someone to get them. They couldn’t very well escape without being noticed, and while they were an okay pilot ; they weren’t that great and flying and shooting at the same time. 

ever since cassian had gotten jyn to iego in time and given her the cure, she had been restless. it was nice, not having a war to fight or something to do while she focused on healing, but she wasn’t very good at resting––and they both knew it. as far as she was concerned, so long as she didn’t leave the ship, she was doing just that. the voice on the comms meant nothing to her, wasn’t someone she recognized, but when she heard the word “resistance,” her head snapped right to the speaker. “what the hell are you doing?” she hissed, stalking forward and snatching the device off the table. “are you trying to get yourself killed?” did the rebels even bother training their new spies these days, or did intelligence just throw green soldiers into undercover missions? 

still too frail to go back to fighting, brynn found herself sitting in the cockpit of a grounded ship, getting a feel for the technological advancements and redesigns that had occurred since her death and playing with comms. as she lazily ran her hand along the console, her fingers picking up dust as they went, the sound of static suddenly came through. then, a voice that said they were from the resistance. brynn wasn’t sure if she could trust them, but she replied anyways. “j? this is the resistance. we hear you. i’m… hermia.”

cassian knew these stars. despite his prolonged training on yavin four and years navigating the coruscant system, the vast skies of the outer rim felt most like home. he had spent his childhood peering up at the stars, bundled in a too big coat, and dreaming of the day that he would go on his own adventure. 

far, far beyond the reaches of the galaxy were his old friends. yatu, igten, and wireek, twinkling in the distance as if to welcome him home. but this was not a homecoming. 

any moment now, iego would come into view and the cure would be that much closer. cassian pushed the ship onward, daring to jam on the throttle just a little bit harder until there was an ugly rattling noise and a sensor screamed to life. he hissed under his breath and pulled back a bit. this would very likely be the old freighter’s last mission, and he needed to make damn sure that it actually got to iego. 

in truth, he thought little of the voice on the other side of the comm. as far as he was concerned, the first order fleet was trying to check in on the resistance forces, to gauge their position, and to blast them from the sky if given the opportunity. the truce was off, after all, and he knew that whichever side landed on iego first would have the advantage. this, he thought, was simply a first order operative trying to glean a bit of information. 

his opinion changed, however, when the speaker gave him more information. cassian glanced at the comm, dark eyes narrowing slightly as he considered. his gut told him that this was the truth. “mierda,” he hissed to himself. it was just their luck that some resistance kid ended up on the wrong ship. 

“the ship you’re on,” cassian started, speaking into the comm with his usual, official candor, “where is it going?” cassian wanted to help. he couldn’t simply leave one of his own to die at the first order, but he didn’t trust the other person enough to tell them more about himself or his position, the people he carried aboard the freighter were far too important to risk. “if you don’t know, switch channels and find out. and in the meantime? make sure that you’re well hidden.” 

Noah hissed in a breath. To do that, they would have to remain on the ship for some time and gather information. They did not know where the ship was heading-- they didn’t know anyone on the ship. Noah closed their eyes, rubbing at their temple as they thought to figure out a plan. Something to help them survive on a First Order ship. 

“I can try to find out,” Noah affirmed. “I’ve never...” They’ve never been a spy. They’ve never been undercover. The last thing the kid remembered was training with Luke to become a jedi. They weren’t a great liar, they were halfway decent at being hidden, and they didn’t know how bad the First Order had become since their death.