Requiem
Mon Mothma was not, by any means, a Jedi. She could not perform any mind tricks, nor was she able to manipulate objects. She had never even held a light saber before. But the force was as strong with her as any Jedi. And so, in the precise moment when the Death Star struck, condemning the last remnants of Rogue One, she knew. With startling clarity, Mothma understood the outcome of their mission. They all perished. Not a single one made it out.
The weight of their sacrifice struck her so hard she had to sit down. If asked about what had happened, she would have been too shocked to respond. All of them.
As the rebels around her began to celebrate the recovered plans, faces flashed before her eyes. Bodhi Rook, the Imperial pilot turned friend. The two from Jedha, Chirrut and Baze, whom she had only met once but heard of in abundance. Captain Cassian Andor, one of her best soldiers and a profound leader. Even the droid, K-2S0. And Jyn Erso, whose fierce eyes and strong words had inspired Mothma herself. Gone.
And, she realized as the party surrounding her grew larger, unknown. Tears silently formed in the corners of her eyes at the thought. These brilliant heroes, without whom, victory would be impossible. They would die unnoticed by the rest of the world. No moment of silence, no memorial. No medal for their brave deeds. No one will ever know their sacrifice.
But as it turned out, she was wrong.
Far away, on a peaceful planet of mountains, a senator bolted upright out of bed. It was nearly midnight on Alderran, but suddenly he could not sleep. It was not until morning when he realized the cause of his uneasiness; one of his attendants told him over breakfast the fate of those on Scarif. Later that night, clothed in black, Bail Organa lit an empty funeral pyre.
Even farther, separated by thousands of light years, two Jedi grieved in their own way. They were on different planets, and one is not even human. But the force was with them too. Obi-Wan's head lowered while Yoda raised his to the stars. They reached out to each other with their minds, reflecting.
These four souls, all connected by the force, wordlessly made a promise; their sacrifice would not be taken for granted, and they would never forget the bravery of Rogue One's last stand. Separately, but not completely alone, they mourned, composing a silent requiem for lost rebels.