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anghrainetitle: per ardua ad astra (22/?)
verse: Death Star
characters: Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Chewbacca, Bodhi Rook; Jyn/Cassian, Han/Leia, Jyn & Cassian & Bodhi, Jyn & Han
stuff that happens: Feelings are had as Jyn, Cassian, Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, and Bodhi escape the Death Star at last.
previous chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one
Jyn never knew that joy could consume her mind as wholly as fear, burning everything in its path until she could feel nothing else. Her entire body ached with it, not just the ribs caught within Bodhi’s crushing embrace, nor the skin pinched under Cassian’s grip, first at her shoulder and then her waist. They were all going to bruise, but who cared about that when they lived, they’d all lived, and now stood there like one many-limbed creature, together and free, jackets and armour cast aside.
She laughed wildly and cried wildly and couldn’t tell the difference. Bodhi mumbled a few words between choked sobs, no more comprehensible than Cassian, who talked because of course he talked, bright strings of Alderaanian that made even Princess Leia smile at them.
In that moment, all other dangers, all other troubles faded to ash. Nothing existed except living—the reality and mutuality of survival.
Then Han Solo came running around the corner.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re not out of this yet! Any of you have experience with aerial combat? Get to the second gunport!”
“I have,” Cassian said, and launched himself up the ladder so quickly that Solo jerked back.
“Two of you, go help Chewie keep an eye on things,” he ordered, and raced up after Cassian.
Leia was off and running before he’d finished talking. Luke scrambled to his feet beside Jyn, but before he could do more, Bodhi shook his head.
“I know their patterns, I’ll help.”
“What patterns?” said Luke, his voice rising, but Bodhi was already skidding around the corner.
“Flight patterns,” Jyn told him. “He was an Imperial pilot before he defected. Let’s go.”
“We’re all going to die. See if we don’t,” said the protocol droid in despairing tones. Threepio, Jyn remembered. He turned about and stalked towards the cockpit, accompanied by his astromech friend. Jyn followed them, gesturing at Luke to come with her. Unnecessarily: he seemed relieved at the chance to do something. She knew the feeling.
A sudden shot rocked the whole ship. Threepio, despite his completely rigid casing, staggered backwards, while Jyn and Luke barely managed to hang onto the wall. The R2 unit sped into the cockpit, angrily whistling.
By the time the three of them managed to stumble into the back end of the cockpit, Jyn saw why. Things were on fire up there. Literally on fire: a clump of exposed wires had gone up in flames. The R2 shot a cloud of something that extinguished it—useful for an astromech, she supposed—but a single droid could hardly hold the entire ship together.
The ship shuddered again and Threepio, plainly terrified, tottered with it. He’d have tipped right into another pile of hot wires if Luke and Jyn hadn’t grabbed him. They half-supported, half-dragged him into one of the extra seats at the back of the cockpit, and belted him in while he spouted statistics like some incompetent cousin of Kay’s. While Leia and Bodhi called out directives to Han and Cassian, Jyn and Luke hung onto the last chair, neither opting to sit down.
“You have many days this exciting?” he managed to say, his smile sickly.
“No,” said Jyn, with perfect honesty. “It’s mostly a lot of waiting.”
Like now. She’d just take up space at the viewscreen, already crowded with three, and the ship had no more gunports. Jyn supposed it was lucky, in a way, that she’d learned to wait; otherwise, passively staring down another potential death would have eaten at her. Even now, it seemed difficult to believe that, after everything, a handful of damn TIE fighters could bring them down.
But of course it was possible. She might die with this collection of strangers and Bodhi. And without Cassian—well, they’d burst into flame at the same time, so together in that sense, but it didn’t feel like it. Even with Bodhi, she felt very alone.
“That’s another down,” Cassian said, voice calm through the intercom.
Leia replied, “There are still two more of them out there!”
“They’re going to swerve back, make a lateral shot,” said Bodhi, and Chewbacca managed to evade the strike.
“So,” Luke whispered to Jyn, “do you know if the Rebellion has much in the way of credits? I sort of promised Han a huge reward for helping the princess escape.”
“Sort of?” said Jyn.
He shrugged, the gesture somewhere between bashful and insouciant. “Okay, just promised.”
Jyn, trying to think of anything but possible impending death, said, “I don’t know.” She remembered all those senators in their fine robes, sneering at her father and her and the idea of dirtying their hands with anything, while people like Saw and Cassian tore their souls apart for the cause. “Probably. Some people seem to have plenty.”
“Oh, good.”
Adjusting her grip on the chair, Jyn asked, “When did you have to promise this?”
“On the Death Star,” mumbled Luke. He dropped his voice still further, barely audible to Jyn herself. “We took the route to Alderaan, but it was in pieces, and then the tractor beam dragged us in.”
She felt very cold. “I see.”
Another TIE fighter exploded—that’d be Cassian's work. But little more than a second or two passed before they heard a triumphant shout from Solo.
“We did it!” cried Leia, hugging Chewbacca and a stunned Bodhi. It was something to see Bodhi smile, after everything.
She wasn’t smiling, herself.
When Luke made his way forward to peer through the screen in person, Leia caught him in a close embrace, too. He was still hugging her back, laughing and repeating that’s it! you did it! to her and Bodhi and Chewbacca, when Solo came through the back.
“Looks like a party in here,” he said, gaze narrowing in on Luke and Leia.
“This has not been my idea of a celebration,” Threepio informed him. He was still belted into his chair and showed not the slightest inclination of moving.
“I’ll give you that,” said Solo.
“Don’t worry,” said Jyn, “we were just going.”
Beside her, Luke fidgeted. Solo was his friend, she remembered.
There were really too many people in here. She felt almost suffocated—but when Cassian slipped in, she turned to him in relief. Being alone in a crowd felt even worse than being alone in solitude.
“All right,” Solo said, “I’ll need coordinates for the hyperspace jump.”
“I can do it,” said Cassian.
Luke, surprisingly quiet, moved aside to let the two of them through, while Chewbacca growled something under his breath and made his own way past them, nearly bowling over Bodhi on the way there.
“No way are you screwing around with her navicomputer,” said Solo.
“A direct route is too dangerous,” Cassian told him.
Leia nodded. “They let us go. It’s the only explanation for the ease of our escape.”
“Easy?” echoed Solo incredulously. “You call that easy?”
“Yes,” said Cassian.
The astromech droid gave a few short beeps, and Threepio lifted his head.
“He says—”
“They’re tracking us,” Leia insisted.
Solo shook his head, more at Leia than Cassian. “Not this ship.”
“Anything can be tracked,” said Jyn. “It doesn’t matter how special you think your ship is.”
He finally appeared to notice that people other than the princess existed. Spinning his chair about, he glowered at Jyn.
“She’s a lot more than special, and I don’t have the fuel, anyway. You know much about ships?”
“I know about tracking devices,” Jyn said.
Cassian’s arm slightly brushed hers, though it didn’t seem to mean anything. But very little meant nothing, with him, and she felt—not lonely. Just annoyed.
“Well—”
“Vanimas vi t’alaçialta,” Cassian told Leia.
“Toçè min terimpo,” she returned. “Kanimas pelì quiladha.”
Jyn didn’t understand, of course, but she didn’t really feel like she needed to. “Right. We need to get out of here now. Just get us into hyperspace, someone.”
“Dantooine,” said Leia, with a firm nod at Cassian. “We’ll need to be careful coming out of hyperspace, but there’s a base on Dantooine.”
Solo, clearly suspicious, stared at her. But Leia just lifted her chin, and grumbling, he turned around to punch the numbers into the navicomputer. The ship creaked alarmingly—Cassian eyed the various clumps of wires in alarm—but launched ahead nevertheless, black fading to familiar blue-white streaks.
“We’re safe,” Bodhi breathed.
The nearest thing to safe, Jyn privately amended. Nobody was really—
Solo scoffed. “In this galaxy? Nobody’s safe.”
“As safe as anyone’s going to get under the Empire,” she said, hating that she almost liked him.
“That’s right,” said Leia, twisting around to take everyone in. Her gaze focused on Cassian. “Okay, we’ve got three of you. How many made it out?”
“Three,” he said.
She flinched. Luke, on the other hand, looked admiring. Bodhi just seemed tired.
“Damn,” said Solo, actually sounding impressed. “How long have you people been in this fight?”
“Six weeks,” Jyn replied, just as Cassian said,
“Nineteen years.”
Solo squinted at him. “You can’t be much older than me. You mean—fighting-fighting, or just throwing things at stormtroopers?”
“I’m twenty-six,” said Cassian. He and Jyn exchanged a long glance, one child soldier to another. “And I mean fighting.”
Jyn, Cassian, Bodhi, and Luke escaped the cockpit as quickly as they could, leaving Solo and the princess to their mating dance.
Bodhi, for all his confidence earlier, trembled. “I think—I think I need to sit down. It’s been … I need. To sit down.”
“Me too,” said Luke cheerfully. With that, he swivelled and marched back down the hall, while Bodhi paused and glanced uncertainly at Jyn and Cassian.
“It’s fine,” Cassian said. Jyn nodded.
Plainly relieved, Bodhi ran ahead to keep up with Luke, who wasn’t any taller, but lacked anything like Bodhi’s tentativeness. As far as Jyn could tell, he abandoned all hesitation once he set his mind on something. Probably someone good for Bodhi to have around just now.
She and Cassian waited until Luke’s and Bodhi’s footsteps completely receded. Once everyone seemed to be out of hearing, she said,
“Dantooine?”
“There’s a base there,” he replied, the lines about his eyes suspiciously crinkled. “Not a lot of people on it anymore.”
“As in …?” Jyn was pretty sure she already knew.
Cassian smiled. “None.”
She couldn’t help but smile back. “I think I like her.”
“So do I.”
Despite the stale air, they both inhaled deeply. The Death Star’s had been cool and evenly cycled and utterly inescapable. Now, they breathed in their escape. Standing there in their Imperial boots and trousers and shirts (and weapons), Jyn’s mind fell pleasantly blank. Not even the earlier ecstasy filled it, just—relief. Relief from fear and danger and choking desperation, from even the urgent sanctuary they’d formed about themselves. They didn’t need it now: not as it had been.
She forced herself to stir. “We’d better find that tracking device.”
“I’m not sure we should,” said Cassian, frowning down at her. Or, not at her, just near her. Even with the others dispersed, they’d instinctively stayed close. She supposed she could pretend to be surprised.
Instead, she tilted her head. “That’s one way to bring the Death Star into range. Throw everything we’ve got at it.”
“I’m not sure how much we’ve got at this point,” he admitted. “Not after Scarif.”
“We can only fight with what we have,” said Jyn. “And the Rebellion is doomed anyway if we don’t take that thing down. It has to be now.”
Jyn and Cassian headed back to the hold, unsure if Leia would have returned or not. They didn’t see her, but they did nearly slam into the two droids as they turned a corner. The astromech gave a friendly beep.
“Greetings,” Threepio said. “We have not been properly introduced. I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations and protocol. This”—he kicked in the R2 unit’s direction—“is my counterpart, R2-D2. Don’t mind Artoo’s appearance. He can be very useful when he puts his processors to it, and very troublesome too.”
Artoo beeped something that made Cassian smile.
“Really, Artoo!”
“It’s nice to meet you,” said Jyn.
Threepio considered her, his optical lenses flickering. In a more cheerful tone, he said, “Thank you, ma’am.”
Together, the four of them made their way to the hold, Cassian asking a startled but pleased Threepio about his probability mechanisms. Once there, they found Luke and Bodhi at the dejarik table, the former lost in thought, the latter—Jyn smiled—asleep. He deserved it.
“Hey,” said Luke. “I wondered where you’d gone off to.”
He clearly spoke to Jyn, or maybe Cassian. Nevertheless, Threepio instantly replied,
“I was on my way back here, Master Luke, but Artoo slowed me down.”
Artoo gave a screech that needed no interpretation. Luke laughed.
“I’m sure that was it.” With a more ambiguous expression than usual, he turned directly to Jyn and Cassian, and lowered his voice. “Have you seen the princess? I know nothing could have happened yet, but …”
“No,” said Jyn. She headed towards the table, keeping an eye on Bodhi. Behind her, she felt more than saw Cassian follow. “She might be fighting with Solo again.”
“Right,” Luke said. When she sat down, he forged on, “So, um. Where do you come from? It’s got to be more interesting than Tatooine.”
Tatooine. An obscure planet, but she’d been there. Lots of opportunities, so to speak, if you knew where to find them. In any case, it wasn’t so obscure that she wouldn’t recognize the nearest system to Scarif.
“I’m not sure,” she told him, recognizing the distraction for what it was. “I’ve lived in a lot of places. I was originally from Coruscant, though.”
He straightened up so far that he nearly bounced. “Coruscant? Wow! That’s definitely more interesting. Probably in a bad way, but still. Imperial City?”
Jyn nodded.
“You sound like it,” he said thoughtfully. Dark blond hair flopped as he tilted his head back to peer up at Cassian. “And you, captain? Are you from Coruscant, too?”
She couldn’t help but stiffen, turning her head to check up on him. But Cassian appeared as agreeable and unconcerned as Willix at his best, and gentler. He said,
“No, I’m not. You said you’re from Tatooine?”
But Luke’s eyes had already widened. “Oh, I—I’m sorry. I forgot that—sorry.”
Artoo gave an interrogative beep. Threepio said,
“You don’t understand six million forms of communication.” He turned to Cassian. “Tanain, pela n’elenças.”
“Thank you,” said Cassian, still impenetrably pleasant. Jyn bit the inside of her cheek, not knowing what to do and hating it.
“I really am sorry,” Luke told him. “We hoped, we were trying to get the plans to Alderaan before anything happened.”
“The plans?” Jyn scrambled to her feet, pressure ringing in her ears as Cassian’s face went from distant warmth to shock.
“Where?” he said urgently. “Where are they? You never got to Alderaan, did you?”
“No,” said Luke, blinking up at them. He pointed just past them, at the droids. “Leia hid them in Artoo. They’re right here.”
Right here. Right here.
Everything seemed slow and blurry, like hyperspace in reverse. At Artoo’s soft beep, Jyn took one tentative step forward, and then another. She laid her palm on the top of its casing.
“You haven’t … haven’t lost them?”
“I should think not,” Threepio said. “Artoo insisted, absolutely insisted, on taking them to an Obi-Wan Kenobi. Then we followed General Kenobi and Master Luke to this absolutely dreadful city full of dust and grime and sand—you would not believe how much sand I have in my joints—and then we escaped onto this ship. But then we had to hide in that awful Death Star. Master Luke convinced Captain Solo that the Rebellion would reward him if he helped, which of course they will, and the two of them came up with their plan. I managed to fool Imperial soldiers, not that it was very difficult, and here we are.”
Jyn didn’t even try to follow all of that. Luke said something, but she had no idea what, her attention fixed on Artoo. He whirred, the sound more curious than anything else.
Cassian was already on his knees before the little droid, looking him right in the … well, dome. “We’re the ones who transmitted the plans. Jyn and Bodhi and I. You’ve saved the Rebellion, R2-D2. The whole galaxy, if we’re lucky.”
Jyn couldn’t believe she was going to fucking cry again.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice cracking. Even with Luke there, and Bodhi in an exhausted heap beside them, and the droids, she couldn’t bear any more separation. She reached out, closed her fingers over Cassian’s shoulder, felt the slope and tangible reality of him. Him, and her, and this.
Artoo gave a softer whirr.
“He says,” Threepio told them, “that he doesn’t need thanks. He says it was an honour to serve the Rebellion.”
“I know what he said,” replied Cassian, and it was almost a relief that his voice broke, too, that his shoulder relaxed into the sudden grip of her hand. “I know.”
Eventually, Jyn had to escape it all. Something other than the ecstasy of escape from the Death Star and gasping relief of the plans' recovery, but some quiet space where she could settle her own mind. She would have remained, were it Cassian alone, but between Luke, the two droids, and the plans: no. Cassian gave her a sympathetic smile and nodded towards the hall.
She’d only just turned the corner, pausing to consider which route would offer the most solitude, when Princess Leia came stalking towards her in a fury. She nearly jumped.
“Did Solo do something?” asked Jyn.
“He’s an utter mercenary,” Leia snarled, with a furious gesture at the cockpit. “I don’t think he cares about anything—or anyone!”
Jyn blinked. At this point, she couldn’t say that she deeply cared for Han Solo one way or the other, but neither did she consider him heartless. A bit callous, yes. Not this. But people said all kinds of things in rages; she knew that perfectly well.
If Jyn could endure no further joy, she certainly had no space in her mind for rage.
“I don’t know,” she said vaguely, then realized she did need to chance Leia’s anger. She’d meant to tell her, just—they’d had larger concerns. “Princess?”
Leia had already turned to storm the rest of the way through the hall. “Yes?”
“We wanted to help you earlier,” said Jyn, eyes fixed on Leia’s face. It bore no signs of her captivity; neither did any other part of her, even her wrists. With the Empire, Jyn felt sure that meant nothing good. “I’m sorry we couldn’t.”
Leia frowned, some of the fury clearing from her face. Then she gave a shrug.
“There was no point,” she said. “It would have just gotten us all killed.”
All right, now Jyn could see Cassian’s protégée in her. She gave an uneasy nod.
“Anyway,” said Leia, “it’s all over now.” She cast a glance back towards the cockpit, and frowned again. “Are you headed in there? Maybe he’ll pick up some decency.”
Jyn seized her opportunity.
“We’ll see,” she replied, and headed straight for the cockpit. Maybe Chewbacca had returned from whatever he was doing in the control room by now, and they could just talk at each other. She darted inside—but no such luck. Solo sat alone at the controls, sulking at space.
“What do you want now?” he demanded, not bothering to turn around.
“Some peace and quiet,” said Jyn. She felt a certain relief in being able to say it without concern for anyone else. Solo wouldn’t care, and had no ground for judging her in any case. It was almost soothing.
“Oh.” He still didn’t bother facing her. “Fine.”
Jyn slumped into the co-pilot’s chair, reaching for her pocket. The datapad and Kay’s chip remained in her discarded jacket, but she’d kept the kyber crystal at her side. Now, at last, she could afford to hold it in plain sight, concentrating her attention on its planes and points. Here, it grew into a rough edge; there, it’d been worn smooth, by Jyn or her mother before her. Hyperspace caught inside its rugged facets, illuminating the whole.
If Solo recognized its value, he gave no sign of it. For a few blessed minutes, he did leave her in silence. It was not a peaceful one; he kept glancing back at the entrance, features drawn into irritation or guilt, or maybe both at once. Eventually, Jyn heaved an unsubtle sigh.
Solo slouched deeper into his chair. “Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Wasn’t going to say anything,” returned Jyn. It struck her that she sat in the exact same pose as him—legs stretched out, torso tilted back into the chair. She straightened, but didn’t bother moving her legs; they were comfortable. “Do I really seem like the lecturing type?”
Solo barked out a short laugh. “You’ve got me there. So. You’re Alliance, right? Is there seriously going to be a reward for all this?”
“I’m … Alliance-adjacent,” said Jyn. “And I don’t know. Maybe we’ll all get locked up. Or promoted. Or paid.”
“Right, you’ve only been in it a few weeks.” Solo eyed her curiously. “Look, the kid’s in this for the usual. Wants to be a hero.”
Waiting, Jyn realized that she’d started slouching back again. Oh, who cared?
He waved his hand in the general direction of the cockpit’s entrance. “The princess and the captain, though? They’re true believers.”
She couldn’t disagree. Nearly all of them believed in the Rebellion—maybe even Solo, in his way. But there was belief, and then there was belief that drowned every breath and particle, swallowed up any possibility of another life.
“They are,” she said, emphatic.
Solo shook his head. “People like that, they’re dangerous for you and me.”
Her eyes narrowing, Jyn demanded, “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Solo, with a tap of his fingers on the control panel, “that those two aren’t in it for glory. I know the type. They’ll do anything for their cause and take everyone else down with them.”
She couldn’t disagree with that, either.
“They already have,” she replied. “Done just about everything, that is.”
Jyn thought of Zekheret. So have I.
Solo’s sharp gaze turned intent, focused. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for it, though.”
It wasn’t any of his business. Not really. Nevertheless, she found herself saying,
“I’m not. Or I wasn’t, at first. The Rebellion offered me something I wanted.”
His brows rose. “Yeah? What was it?”
“Freedom,” said Jyn.
Solo gave a short laugh; as if in sympathy, a panel beeped behind him. “Sure.”
“I was in a labour camp,” she said impatiently. “Twenty-year sentence. They busted me out and offered to set me up with a new identity in exchange for help from some contacts of mine.” Something in her twisted at the easy dismissal of Saw, but she wasn’t about to get into that with Solo, of all people.
The burst of skepticism faded from his face. “Oh, that kind of freedom. Okay.” He paused, shifting back to face the main control panel. He still seemed tense, unsure. “And that’s it? ”
She hesitated too, trying to fix on the reasons that would register the most heavily.
“You’re in this for real now,” he said. “Something must have changed your mind.”
He wanted to be recruited, Jyn thought. Maybe not consciously. But he obviously saw himself in her as much as she did the reverse, and needed to understand. Someone else who closed his eyes to the Imperial insignia stamped over the galaxy, and someone else who pretended that it didn’t bother him, that there was no hope for anything better.
In bright colours, Jyn remembered Cassian leaning down to her just a few weeks ago. His dark eyes had been intense, and his voice matter-of-fact. Rebellions are built on hope.
She jerked her head towards the doorway. “They’ve got some convincing people. You’ll find out if you keep sniffing after the princess.”
“Sniffing—!” He didn’t look nearly as offended as he sounded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sniffing. Are you joking? I’ve never … well—” He scowled at her. “Where’d you even get the idea of me liking her? I don’t!”
“Sure,” said Jyn.
He grumbled to himself.
“You shouldn’t keep your feelings back like that,” she added. “Tell people what you really think about her.”
“I'm trying not to think about her,” he muttered. He’d gone back to tapping his fingers on the main panel, the patter of his nails scraping her nerves. Jyn got up. She’d find somewhere else quiet.
“I—”
“Still, she’s got spirit,” said Solo, a crooked smile on his lips as he swung his chair slightly towards her. “What do you think? A princess and a guy like me …?”
Sympathy reared its uncomfortable head again.
“A guy who stays out of her fight?” Jyn said. “No.”
With that, she left.
Alderaanian:
Cassian: Vanimas vi t’alaçialta. [We have to get into hyperspace.]
Leia: Toçè min terimpo. Kanimas pelì quiladha. [Then it doesn't matter. We can say anything.]
Later, Threepio: Tanain, pela n’elenças. [Captain, I express my sympathies.]
verse: Death Star
characters: Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Chewbacca, Bodhi Rook; Jyn/Cassian, Han/Leia, Jyn & Cassian & Bodhi, Jyn & Han
stuff that happens: Feelings are had as Jyn, Cassian, Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, and Bodhi escape the Death Star at last.
previous chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one
“There are still two more of them out there!”
“They’re going to swerve back, make a lateral shot,” said Bodhi, and Chewbacca managed to evade the strike.
“So,” Luke whispered to Jyn, “do you know if the Rebellion has much in the way of credits? I sort of promised Han a huge reward for helping the princess escape.”
“Sort of?” said Jyn.
“They’re going to swerve back, make a lateral shot,” said Bodhi, and Chewbacca managed to evade the strike.
“So,” Luke whispered to Jyn, “do you know if the Rebellion has much in the way of credits? I sort of promised Han a huge reward for helping the princess escape.”
“Sort of?” said Jyn.
Jyn never knew that joy could consume her mind as wholly as fear, burning everything in its path until she could feel nothing else. Her entire body ached with it, not just the ribs caught within Bodhi’s crushing embrace, nor the skin pinched under Cassian’s grip, first at her shoulder and then her waist. They were all going to bruise, but who cared about that when they lived, they’d all lived, and now stood there like one many-limbed creature, together and free, jackets and armour cast aside.
She laughed wildly and cried wildly and couldn’t tell the difference. Bodhi mumbled a few words between choked sobs, no more comprehensible than Cassian, who talked because of course he talked, bright strings of Alderaanian that made even Princess Leia smile at them.
In that moment, all other dangers, all other troubles faded to ash. Nothing existed except living—the reality and mutuality of survival.
Then Han Solo came running around the corner.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re not out of this yet! Any of you have experience with aerial combat? Get to the second gunport!”
“I have,” Cassian said, and launched himself up the ladder so quickly that Solo jerked back.
“Two of you, go help Chewie keep an eye on things,” he ordered, and raced up after Cassian.
Leia was off and running before he’d finished talking. Luke scrambled to his feet beside Jyn, but before he could do more, Bodhi shook his head.
“I know their patterns, I’ll help.”
“What patterns?” said Luke, his voice rising, but Bodhi was already skidding around the corner.
“Flight patterns,” Jyn told him. “He was an Imperial pilot before he defected. Let’s go.”
“We’re all going to die. See if we don’t,” said the protocol droid in despairing tones. Threepio, Jyn remembered. He turned about and stalked towards the cockpit, accompanied by his astromech friend. Jyn followed them, gesturing at Luke to come with her. Unnecessarily: he seemed relieved at the chance to do something. She knew the feeling.
A sudden shot rocked the whole ship. Threepio, despite his completely rigid casing, staggered backwards, while Jyn and Luke barely managed to hang onto the wall. The R2 unit sped into the cockpit, angrily whistling.
By the time the three of them managed to stumble into the back end of the cockpit, Jyn saw why. Things were on fire up there. Literally on fire: a clump of exposed wires had gone up in flames. The R2 shot a cloud of something that extinguished it—useful for an astromech, she supposed—but a single droid could hardly hold the entire ship together.
The ship shuddered again and Threepio, plainly terrified, tottered with it. He’d have tipped right into another pile of hot wires if Luke and Jyn hadn’t grabbed him. They half-supported, half-dragged him into one of the extra seats at the back of the cockpit, and belted him in while he spouted statistics like some incompetent cousin of Kay’s. While Leia and Bodhi called out directives to Han and Cassian, Jyn and Luke hung onto the last chair, neither opting to sit down.
“You have many days this exciting?” he managed to say, his smile sickly.
“No,” said Jyn, with perfect honesty. “It’s mostly a lot of waiting.”
Like now. She’d just take up space at the viewscreen, already crowded with three, and the ship had no more gunports. Jyn supposed it was lucky, in a way, that she’d learned to wait; otherwise, passively staring down another potential death would have eaten at her. Even now, it seemed difficult to believe that, after everything, a handful of damn TIE fighters could bring them down.
But of course it was possible. She might die with this collection of strangers and Bodhi. And without Cassian—well, they’d burst into flame at the same time, so together in that sense, but it didn’t feel like it. Even with Bodhi, she felt very alone.
“That’s another down,” Cassian said, voice calm through the intercom.
Leia replied, “There are still two more of them out there!”
“They’re going to swerve back, make a lateral shot,” said Bodhi, and Chewbacca managed to evade the strike.
“So,” Luke whispered to Jyn, “do you know if the Rebellion has much in the way of credits? I sort of promised Han a huge reward for helping the princess escape.”
“Sort of?” said Jyn.
He shrugged, the gesture somewhere between bashful and insouciant. “Okay, just promised.”
Jyn, trying to think of anything but possible impending death, said, “I don’t know.” She remembered all those senators in their fine robes, sneering at her father and her and the idea of dirtying their hands with anything, while people like Saw and Cassian tore their souls apart for the cause. “Probably. Some people seem to have plenty.”
“Oh, good.”
Adjusting her grip on the chair, Jyn asked, “When did you have to promise this?”
“On the Death Star,” mumbled Luke. He dropped his voice still further, barely audible to Jyn herself. “We took the route to Alderaan, but it was in pieces, and then the tractor beam dragged us in.”
She felt very cold. “I see.”
Another TIE fighter exploded—that’d be Cassian's work. But little more than a second or two passed before they heard a triumphant shout from Solo.
“We did it!” cried Leia, hugging Chewbacca and a stunned Bodhi. It was something to see Bodhi smile, after everything.
She wasn’t smiling, herself.
When Luke made his way forward to peer through the screen in person, Leia caught him in a close embrace, too. He was still hugging her back, laughing and repeating that’s it! you did it! to her and Bodhi and Chewbacca, when Solo came through the back.
“Looks like a party in here,” he said, gaze narrowing in on Luke and Leia.
“This has not been my idea of a celebration,” Threepio informed him. He was still belted into his chair and showed not the slightest inclination of moving.
“I’ll give you that,” said Solo.
“Don’t worry,” said Jyn, “we were just going.”
Beside her, Luke fidgeted. Solo was his friend, she remembered.
There were really too many people in here. She felt almost suffocated—but when Cassian slipped in, she turned to him in relief. Being alone in a crowd felt even worse than being alone in solitude.
“All right,” Solo said, “I’ll need coordinates for the hyperspace jump.”
“I can do it,” said Cassian.
Luke, surprisingly quiet, moved aside to let the two of them through, while Chewbacca growled something under his breath and made his own way past them, nearly bowling over Bodhi on the way there.
“No way are you screwing around with her navicomputer,” said Solo.
“A direct route is too dangerous,” Cassian told him.
Leia nodded. “They let us go. It’s the only explanation for the ease of our escape.”
“Easy?” echoed Solo incredulously. “You call that easy?”
“Yes,” said Cassian.
The astromech droid gave a few short beeps, and Threepio lifted his head.
“He says—”
“They’re tracking us,” Leia insisted.
Solo shook his head, more at Leia than Cassian. “Not this ship.”
“Anything can be tracked,” said Jyn. “It doesn’t matter how special you think your ship is.”
He finally appeared to notice that people other than the princess existed. Spinning his chair about, he glowered at Jyn.
“She’s a lot more than special, and I don’t have the fuel, anyway. You know much about ships?”
“I know about tracking devices,” Jyn said.
Cassian’s arm slightly brushed hers, though it didn’t seem to mean anything. But very little meant nothing, with him, and she felt—not lonely. Just annoyed.
“Well—”
“Vanimas vi t’alaçialta,” Cassian told Leia.
“Toçè min terimpo,” she returned. “Kanimas pelì quiladha.”
Jyn didn’t understand, of course, but she didn’t really feel like she needed to. “Right. We need to get out of here now. Just get us into hyperspace, someone.”
“Dantooine,” said Leia, with a firm nod at Cassian. “We’ll need to be careful coming out of hyperspace, but there’s a base on Dantooine.”
Solo, clearly suspicious, stared at her. But Leia just lifted her chin, and grumbling, he turned around to punch the numbers into the navicomputer. The ship creaked alarmingly—Cassian eyed the various clumps of wires in alarm—but launched ahead nevertheless, black fading to familiar blue-white streaks.
“We’re safe,” Bodhi breathed.
The nearest thing to safe, Jyn privately amended. Nobody was really—
Solo scoffed. “In this galaxy? Nobody’s safe.”
“As safe as anyone’s going to get under the Empire,” she said, hating that she almost liked him.
“That’s right,” said Leia, twisting around to take everyone in. Her gaze focused on Cassian. “Okay, we’ve got three of you. How many made it out?”
“Three,” he said.
She flinched. Luke, on the other hand, looked admiring. Bodhi just seemed tired.
“Damn,” said Solo, actually sounding impressed. “How long have you people been in this fight?”
“Six weeks,” Jyn replied, just as Cassian said,
“Nineteen years.”
Solo squinted at him. “You can’t be much older than me. You mean—fighting-fighting, or just throwing things at stormtroopers?”
“I’m twenty-six,” said Cassian. He and Jyn exchanged a long glance, one child soldier to another. “And I mean fighting.”
Jyn, Cassian, Bodhi, and Luke escaped the cockpit as quickly as they could, leaving Solo and the princess to their mating dance.
Bodhi, for all his confidence earlier, trembled. “I think—I think I need to sit down. It’s been … I need. To sit down.”
“Me too,” said Luke cheerfully. With that, he swivelled and marched back down the hall, while Bodhi paused and glanced uncertainly at Jyn and Cassian.
“It’s fine,” Cassian said. Jyn nodded.
Plainly relieved, Bodhi ran ahead to keep up with Luke, who wasn’t any taller, but lacked anything like Bodhi’s tentativeness. As far as Jyn could tell, he abandoned all hesitation once he set his mind on something. Probably someone good for Bodhi to have around just now.
She and Cassian waited until Luke’s and Bodhi’s footsteps completely receded. Once everyone seemed to be out of hearing, she said,
“Dantooine?”
“There’s a base there,” he replied, the lines about his eyes suspiciously crinkled. “Not a lot of people on it anymore.”
“As in …?” Jyn was pretty sure she already knew.
Cassian smiled. “None.”
She couldn’t help but smile back. “I think I like her.”
“So do I.”
Despite the stale air, they both inhaled deeply. The Death Star’s had been cool and evenly cycled and utterly inescapable. Now, they breathed in their escape. Standing there in their Imperial boots and trousers and shirts (and weapons), Jyn’s mind fell pleasantly blank. Not even the earlier ecstasy filled it, just—relief. Relief from fear and danger and choking desperation, from even the urgent sanctuary they’d formed about themselves. They didn’t need it now: not as it had been.
She forced herself to stir. “We’d better find that tracking device.”
“I’m not sure we should,” said Cassian, frowning down at her. Or, not at her, just near her. Even with the others dispersed, they’d instinctively stayed close. She supposed she could pretend to be surprised.
Instead, she tilted her head. “That’s one way to bring the Death Star into range. Throw everything we’ve got at it.”
“I’m not sure how much we’ve got at this point,” he admitted. “Not after Scarif.”
“We can only fight with what we have,” said Jyn. “And the Rebellion is doomed anyway if we don’t take that thing down. It has to be now.”
Jyn and Cassian headed back to the hold, unsure if Leia would have returned or not. They didn’t see her, but they did nearly slam into the two droids as they turned a corner. The astromech gave a friendly beep.
“Greetings,” Threepio said. “We have not been properly introduced. I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations and protocol. This”—he kicked in the R2 unit’s direction—“is my counterpart, R2-D2. Don’t mind Artoo’s appearance. He can be very useful when he puts his processors to it, and very troublesome too.”
Artoo beeped something that made Cassian smile.
“Really, Artoo!”
“It’s nice to meet you,” said Jyn.
Threepio considered her, his optical lenses flickering. In a more cheerful tone, he said, “Thank you, ma’am.”
Together, the four of them made their way to the hold, Cassian asking a startled but pleased Threepio about his probability mechanisms. Once there, they found Luke and Bodhi at the dejarik table, the former lost in thought, the latter—Jyn smiled—asleep. He deserved it.
“Hey,” said Luke. “I wondered where you’d gone off to.”
He clearly spoke to Jyn, or maybe Cassian. Nevertheless, Threepio instantly replied,
“I was on my way back here, Master Luke, but Artoo slowed me down.”
Artoo gave a screech that needed no interpretation. Luke laughed.
“I’m sure that was it.” With a more ambiguous expression than usual, he turned directly to Jyn and Cassian, and lowered his voice. “Have you seen the princess? I know nothing could have happened yet, but …”
“No,” said Jyn. She headed towards the table, keeping an eye on Bodhi. Behind her, she felt more than saw Cassian follow. “She might be fighting with Solo again.”
“Right,” Luke said. When she sat down, he forged on, “So, um. Where do you come from? It’s got to be more interesting than Tatooine.”
Tatooine. An obscure planet, but she’d been there. Lots of opportunities, so to speak, if you knew where to find them. In any case, it wasn’t so obscure that she wouldn’t recognize the nearest system to Scarif.
“I’m not sure,” she told him, recognizing the distraction for what it was. “I’ve lived in a lot of places. I was originally from Coruscant, though.”
He straightened up so far that he nearly bounced. “Coruscant? Wow! That’s definitely more interesting. Probably in a bad way, but still. Imperial City?”
Jyn nodded.
“You sound like it,” he said thoughtfully. Dark blond hair flopped as he tilted his head back to peer up at Cassian. “And you, captain? Are you from Coruscant, too?”
She couldn’t help but stiffen, turning her head to check up on him. But Cassian appeared as agreeable and unconcerned as Willix at his best, and gentler. He said,
“No, I’m not. You said you’re from Tatooine?”
But Luke’s eyes had already widened. “Oh, I—I’m sorry. I forgot that—sorry.”
Artoo gave an interrogative beep. Threepio said,
“You don’t understand six million forms of communication.” He turned to Cassian. “Tanain, pela n’elenças.”
“Thank you,” said Cassian, still impenetrably pleasant. Jyn bit the inside of her cheek, not knowing what to do and hating it.
“I really am sorry,” Luke told him. “We hoped, we were trying to get the plans to Alderaan before anything happened.”
“The plans?” Jyn scrambled to her feet, pressure ringing in her ears as Cassian’s face went from distant warmth to shock.
“Where?” he said urgently. “Where are they? You never got to Alderaan, did you?”
“No,” said Luke, blinking up at them. He pointed just past them, at the droids. “Leia hid them in Artoo. They’re right here.”
Right here. Right here.
Everything seemed slow and blurry, like hyperspace in reverse. At Artoo’s soft beep, Jyn took one tentative step forward, and then another. She laid her palm on the top of its casing.
“You haven’t … haven’t lost them?”
“I should think not,” Threepio said. “Artoo insisted, absolutely insisted, on taking them to an Obi-Wan Kenobi. Then we followed General Kenobi and Master Luke to this absolutely dreadful city full of dust and grime and sand—you would not believe how much sand I have in my joints—and then we escaped onto this ship. But then we had to hide in that awful Death Star. Master Luke convinced Captain Solo that the Rebellion would reward him if he helped, which of course they will, and the two of them came up with their plan. I managed to fool Imperial soldiers, not that it was very difficult, and here we are.”
Jyn didn’t even try to follow all of that. Luke said something, but she had no idea what, her attention fixed on Artoo. He whirred, the sound more curious than anything else.
Cassian was already on his knees before the little droid, looking him right in the … well, dome. “We’re the ones who transmitted the plans. Jyn and Bodhi and I. You’ve saved the Rebellion, R2-D2. The whole galaxy, if we’re lucky.”
Jyn couldn’t believe she was going to fucking cry again.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice cracking. Even with Luke there, and Bodhi in an exhausted heap beside them, and the droids, she couldn’t bear any more separation. She reached out, closed her fingers over Cassian’s shoulder, felt the slope and tangible reality of him. Him, and her, and this.
Artoo gave a softer whirr.
“He says,” Threepio told them, “that he doesn’t need thanks. He says it was an honour to serve the Rebellion.”
“I know what he said,” replied Cassian, and it was almost a relief that his voice broke, too, that his shoulder relaxed into the sudden grip of her hand. “I know.”
Eventually, Jyn had to escape it all. Something other than the ecstasy of escape from the Death Star and gasping relief of the plans' recovery, but some quiet space where she could settle her own mind. She would have remained, were it Cassian alone, but between Luke, the two droids, and the plans: no. Cassian gave her a sympathetic smile and nodded towards the hall.
She’d only just turned the corner, pausing to consider which route would offer the most solitude, when Princess Leia came stalking towards her in a fury. She nearly jumped.
“Did Solo do something?” asked Jyn.
“He’s an utter mercenary,” Leia snarled, with a furious gesture at the cockpit. “I don’t think he cares about anything—or anyone!”
Jyn blinked. At this point, she couldn’t say that she deeply cared for Han Solo one way or the other, but neither did she consider him heartless. A bit callous, yes. Not this. But people said all kinds of things in rages; she knew that perfectly well.
If Jyn could endure no further joy, she certainly had no space in her mind for rage.
“I don’t know,” she said vaguely, then realized she did need to chance Leia’s anger. She’d meant to tell her, just—they’d had larger concerns. “Princess?”
Leia had already turned to storm the rest of the way through the hall. “Yes?”
“We wanted to help you earlier,” said Jyn, eyes fixed on Leia’s face. It bore no signs of her captivity; neither did any other part of her, even her wrists. With the Empire, Jyn felt sure that meant nothing good. “I’m sorry we couldn’t.”
Leia frowned, some of the fury clearing from her face. Then she gave a shrug.
“There was no point,” she said. “It would have just gotten us all killed.”
All right, now Jyn could see Cassian’s protégée in her. She gave an uneasy nod.
“Anyway,” said Leia, “it’s all over now.” She cast a glance back towards the cockpit, and frowned again. “Are you headed in there? Maybe he’ll pick up some decency.”
Jyn seized her opportunity.
“We’ll see,” she replied, and headed straight for the cockpit. Maybe Chewbacca had returned from whatever he was doing in the control room by now, and they could just talk at each other. She darted inside—but no such luck. Solo sat alone at the controls, sulking at space.
“What do you want now?” he demanded, not bothering to turn around.
“Some peace and quiet,” said Jyn. She felt a certain relief in being able to say it without concern for anyone else. Solo wouldn’t care, and had no ground for judging her in any case. It was almost soothing.
“Oh.” He still didn’t bother facing her. “Fine.”
Jyn slumped into the co-pilot’s chair, reaching for her pocket. The datapad and Kay’s chip remained in her discarded jacket, but she’d kept the kyber crystal at her side. Now, at last, she could afford to hold it in plain sight, concentrating her attention on its planes and points. Here, it grew into a rough edge; there, it’d been worn smooth, by Jyn or her mother before her. Hyperspace caught inside its rugged facets, illuminating the whole.
If Solo recognized its value, he gave no sign of it. For a few blessed minutes, he did leave her in silence. It was not a peaceful one; he kept glancing back at the entrance, features drawn into irritation or guilt, or maybe both at once. Eventually, Jyn heaved an unsubtle sigh.
Solo slouched deeper into his chair. “Whatever you’re going to say, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Wasn’t going to say anything,” returned Jyn. It struck her that she sat in the exact same pose as him—legs stretched out, torso tilted back into the chair. She straightened, but didn’t bother moving her legs; they were comfortable. “Do I really seem like the lecturing type?”
Solo barked out a short laugh. “You’ve got me there. So. You’re Alliance, right? Is there seriously going to be a reward for all this?”
“I’m … Alliance-adjacent,” said Jyn. “And I don’t know. Maybe we’ll all get locked up. Or promoted. Or paid.”
“Right, you’ve only been in it a few weeks.” Solo eyed her curiously. “Look, the kid’s in this for the usual. Wants to be a hero.”
Waiting, Jyn realized that she’d started slouching back again. Oh, who cared?
He waved his hand in the general direction of the cockpit’s entrance. “The princess and the captain, though? They’re true believers.”
She couldn’t disagree. Nearly all of them believed in the Rebellion—maybe even Solo, in his way. But there was belief, and then there was belief that drowned every breath and particle, swallowed up any possibility of another life.
“They are,” she said, emphatic.
Solo shook his head. “People like that, they’re dangerous for you and me.”
Her eyes narrowing, Jyn demanded, “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Solo, with a tap of his fingers on the control panel, “that those two aren’t in it for glory. I know the type. They’ll do anything for their cause and take everyone else down with them.”
She couldn’t disagree with that, either.
“They already have,” she replied. “Done just about everything, that is.”
Jyn thought of Zekheret. So have I.
Solo’s sharp gaze turned intent, focused. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for it, though.”
It wasn’t any of his business. Not really. Nevertheless, she found herself saying,
“I’m not. Or I wasn’t, at first. The Rebellion offered me something I wanted.”
His brows rose. “Yeah? What was it?”
“Freedom,” said Jyn.
Solo gave a short laugh; as if in sympathy, a panel beeped behind him. “Sure.”
“I was in a labour camp,” she said impatiently. “Twenty-year sentence. They busted me out and offered to set me up with a new identity in exchange for help from some contacts of mine.” Something in her twisted at the easy dismissal of Saw, but she wasn’t about to get into that with Solo, of all people.
The burst of skepticism faded from his face. “Oh, that kind of freedom. Okay.” He paused, shifting back to face the main control panel. He still seemed tense, unsure. “And that’s it? ”
She hesitated too, trying to fix on the reasons that would register the most heavily.
“You’re in this for real now,” he said. “Something must have changed your mind.”
He wanted to be recruited, Jyn thought. Maybe not consciously. But he obviously saw himself in her as much as she did the reverse, and needed to understand. Someone else who closed his eyes to the Imperial insignia stamped over the galaxy, and someone else who pretended that it didn’t bother him, that there was no hope for anything better.
In bright colours, Jyn remembered Cassian leaning down to her just a few weeks ago. His dark eyes had been intense, and his voice matter-of-fact. Rebellions are built on hope.
She jerked her head towards the doorway. “They’ve got some convincing people. You’ll find out if you keep sniffing after the princess.”
“Sniffing—!” He didn’t look nearly as offended as he sounded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sniffing. Are you joking? I’ve never … well—” He scowled at her. “Where’d you even get the idea of me liking her? I don’t!”
“Sure,” said Jyn.
He grumbled to himself.
“You shouldn’t keep your feelings back like that,” she added. “Tell people what you really think about her.”
“I'm trying not to think about her,” he muttered. He’d gone back to tapping his fingers on the main panel, the patter of his nails scraping her nerves. Jyn got up. She’d find somewhere else quiet.
“I—”
“Still, she’s got spirit,” said Solo, a crooked smile on his lips as he swung his chair slightly towards her. “What do you think? A princess and a guy like me …?”
Sympathy reared its uncomfortable head again.
“A guy who stays out of her fight?” Jyn said. “No.”
With that, she left.
Alderaanian:
Cassian: Vanimas vi t’alaçialta. [We have to get into hyperspace.]
Leia: Toçè min terimpo. Kanimas pelì quiladha. [Then it doesn't matter. We can say anything.]
Later, Threepio: Tanain, pela n’elenças. [Captain, I express my sympathies.]
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on 2018-07-06 02:46 am (UTC)no subject
on 2018-07-06 04:21 am (UTC)And thanks about Threepio! I did like the idea, given Cassian's close bond with Kay, that there'd be a sort of odd affinity there. I agree about him, too; I've got a Skywalker fic floating around where I deliberately included him as one of them just out of ... general resistance, I guess.
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on 2018-07-06 08:13 am (UTC)And on the flip side... speaking of comparisons between Rey and Jyn, I honestly sometimes think their character arcs are flipped a little--- like, Rey the scavenger who just wants to wait for her family and has at best a limited knowledge of the larger picture of galactic realpolitik seems a more natural choice for the Han-esque arc of "this is SO NOT MY CIRCUS OR MY MONKEYS" "why am I being dragged into this shit?", while Jyn who's repeatedly lost everything over this galactic conflict, and, nota bene, it was an Imperial agent who killed her mom and captured her dad (and I almost typed those gender roles in reverse and HOW COOL would it have been if Jyn's MOM had been the genius scientist?), so Jyn being the one who wants to go for broke, maybe in a fashion that's too scarily extreme even for Saw Gererra, would have made sense. As it is, I end up coming up with extensive backstory about Rey reading all the old ships' logs in the Imperial and Alliance ships and coming to her own conclusions about which side she'd rather be a part of, and on the other hand having refugees from First Order worlds fleeing through Jakku, and Rey talking to them (because she'd talk to everyone and learn all the languages she could in the hopes of finding out something about her family, or being able to get word to them) and getting her own ideas about the First Order from that.
(Randomly, I love the bit in a previous chapter where Han compares the structure of his name to the structure of Jyn's name!)
Oh, and I forgot to say--- Threepio as a Skywalker is just YES. And, I mean, thinking about the fact that every time he says "Thank the Maker" he's at least kind of talking about Anakin. (Also get me started on all my feelings about Ben's possible relationship with Threepio.)