Author's Note: Hello everyone, this is C.S. Skywalker bringing you a Rogue One rewrite with another OC. I thought about writing this ever since I watched the movie last December, but I never got around to it, as I had a bad case of writer's block. Hope you guys enjoy it, and please leave a review -it really helps a insecure writer out, and it helps drive my motivation for the next chapters. And if you liked it enough, make sure to smash that follow/favorite button and check out my other fics, where I rewrite the new trilogy with other OCs.
Thanks,
C.S. Skywalker
Prologue
"Demoted!" His father roared as he swept his arm over his desk.
The remaining items that had been left flew off the flat surface in almost beautiful bits of chaos mixed with shards of crystal and debris.
"Orson!" His mother rushed out from behind him.
The woman clung to her husband's arm, frightened and hurt -she had never seen him like this, the man that was always so cool and collected, in such a rage like this. It frightened her to watch him change over the past few months, crazing himself over his projects and tearing Galen Erso away from his family. At times, she even wondered if he remembered that he had a family too.
"Quiet!"
The boy flinched as he watched his father slap his mother across the face. She fell limply to the ground, long brown hair covering her tearstained face.
Krennic realized his mistake. He immediately dropped to the floor next to her as she nursed her swollen, now bleeding, lip.
"Raena, my love, I apologize," he murmured, holding his silently sobbing wife.
The young boy held the doorway with his small hands, barely old enough to be in primary school, blue eyes round with panic at the sight before him. He had never seen his father hit his mother, much less shout at him as he had earlier when he had come to his father for some blue milk before bed.
His father had rarely been home as of late. He knew he had been off working on a project of his that his mother had told him about. She told him that they needed to support his busy father at a time like this. He knew his father came home late at night and he heard him tell his mother that he just needed more time, then he would be promoted, and they would live in the Emperor's good grace.
Jyn had told him the same. Her father was working with his father on the project, and she would often be alone with her mother when they weren't out exploring. They would sometimes watch holodramas like The Octave Staircase before bed together, each wondering where their own father was.
"Arsin," his name shook him out of his thoughts. Krennic waved a hand, beckoning his son to come to him.
The boy quietly tread over to his father, half fearful, half reluctant.
"Arsin, my boy," Orson smiled up at his son as the boy gazed at his grief stricken mother. "I'm going to need your help these next few years."
Arsin looked back at his father, confusion in his eyes.
"You were friends with his child, yes?"
He nodded, not understanding where this was going.
"Good," the father drew his son close. "They've left, you know."
"What?"
"Yes, Galen Erso and his family have left Coruscant. You'll never see them again."
The boy's eyes fell downward.
"If you help me, we can find them. Together," Orson whispered. The boy met his gaze. "Would you like that?"
The boy nodded.
"Good," Krennic smiled. "You're a good boy."
Four years later...
A dark shuttle flew almost silently in the planet Lah'mu's orbit, making it's way down to the planet's surface.
Lah'mu was a ringed agrarian planet in the Raioballo sector of the Outer Rim Territories, far from major hyperspace routes. The planet itself was lush and tranquil, dark green and brown in color. Many large mountain peaks and geysers peppered the area, in addition to volcanoes and black sand beaches.
The shuttle landed in one of these areas of black sand, a few paces away from a small, white homestead set in the valley of two mountains. From the shuttle, emerged a man wearing an all white uniform of the Empire, with his Lieutenant Commander tags shining smartly, and a gray cap. The Lieutenant Commander was followed by six tall death troopers, all in black, wielding variations of SE-14 light repeating blasters and E-11Ds.
Another man, garbed in dark clothing, long, graying hair tied in a top knot, stepped out of the homestead, and quickly walked down the hill to meet the other, stopping short.
The wind screamed around the both of them, the Lieutenant Commander's cape whipping in the wind around his body. Neither of them spoke, only watching the other.
"You're a hard man to find Galen," the man in white finally said. "But farming," he raised his hands mockingly and smiled. "Really? A man of your talents?"
"It's a peaceful life," the man named Galen replied.
"Lonely, I imagine."
Galen swallowed and his eyes went downcast. "Since Lyra died, yes."
"Oh. Oh," the man shook his head and walked closer to Galen. He sighed regretfully. "My condolences."
He shook his head once more and paused.
"Search the house!" He ordered, turning to the squad of death troopers.
Galen shifted nervously and watched as the troopers moved forward onto his homestead. He knew the man had not come only just to visit. He had purposely sought them out. Lah'mu was a remote planet, the man would have had to go through an extensive search to find them. "What is it you want?"
"The work has stalled," the opposing man answered immediately, getting right to business. "I need you to come back."
"I won't do it Krennic," Galen replied.
"We're on the verge of greatness, we were this close," Krennic held up his hand to demonstrate. "To providing peace, security for the galaxy."
"You're confusing peace with terror."
"Well, you have to start somewhere," Krennic said simply.
"My mind just isn't where it was," Galen murmered. "I have trouble remembering even the simple things."
"Galen," Krennic smirked. "You're an inspired scientist but a terrible liar."
From behind Galen, a woman came rushing from the hills behind the homestead.
"Oh look, here's Lyra, back from the dead," he said flatly. "It's a miracle."
The remaining death troopers in Krennic's squad held up their blasters, all trained on the woman.
"Stop!" Galen cried.
The woman was holding a bundle of clothing in her hands, her brown hair tied loosely behind her, and was wearing a set of light colored robes.
"Oh Lyra, troublesome as ever." Krennic had had problems with the woman earlier in his life. She was the one that convinced Galen that he needed to leave the safety of the Galactic Empire. He had never believed Galen from the start of their conversation that she had died -the woman was too tough to do so.
"You're not taking him," Lyra said.
"No, of course I'm not," Krennic looked appalled. "I'm taking you all. You'll all come -you, your child. You'll all live in comfort."
"As hostages," Lyra added.
"As heroes of the Empire," Krennic corrected.
Lyra watched Krennic disbelievingly. She refused to go back to the life she had once lived as a slave to the Empire on Coruscant. She was not going to make her family go through that again.
The bundle she was carrying slipped off her hands, revealing a hidden blaster pistol in her hands that she had carried with her if the time called for it. This was certainly the moment to bring it out -it was the last time she would allow Krennic to destroy her family.
The death troopers brought up their own blasters once more, three barrels versus her one.
"Lyra," Galen said, trying to be calm. "Put it down."
"Think very carefully," Krennic said, looking hard.
Lyra paused, knowing she could not do anything, knowing that her last words would seal her fate, but she would not go down without a fight.
"You will never win," she said.
"Do it," Krennic said.
"Lyra!" Galen roared.
A trooper shot Lyra in the chest and she dropped suddenly, like a doll. As Lyra fell, she managed to pull the trigger of her own blaster, landing a glancing blow on Krennic's chest. Galen caught his wife before she hit the ground, grief-stricken.
But Krennic didn't have time for that.
"They have a child," he barked, voice tight with pain. "Find it!"
XXX
"Father!" A ten year old boy slipped off the medical table as he greeted Orson Krennic who rubbing his chest in pain. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine son," Krennic smiled, brushing off his son's concern. "Just a glancing blow."
"Did you fight against Rebels, father?" Arsin asked.
"Not exactly," Krennic laughed. "Do you remember Galen Erso? The man we're trying to find."
"Yes," Arsin eyes lit up as he remembered Galen's daughter, Jyn. "Did you find his family?"
"We were only able to retrieve Galen," Krennic replied.
Arsin's face fell. He thought he would be able to have a playmate once more in Jyn Erso.
"Chin up son," Krennic said. "I told you we would find them together, didn't I?
The boy nodded.
"Well it's your turn now to find Jyn," Krennic touched his son's shoulder lightly. "Do you think you could do that for me?"
He nodded with the vigor only a child could muster.
"Good. You're a good boy," Krennic murmured, thinking back to only four years ago when he spoke the exact same words.
His son had grown since then, looking more and more like his mother, and less and less like himself. His wife had told him that Arsin had his eyes, and although it was difficult for him to look past his wife's features, if he looked hard enough, he could see himself reflected in the boy's bright blue eyes. Those were the eyes of a worker, a persister. Hard work, Krennic knew, would bring any lowlife to the top. He knew it more than anyone else.
Orson Krennic would see to it that he would rise to the top of the Empire -and he would do whatever it took, even using his prized creation, his son, to get himself there.
Krennic turned to the 2-1B surgical droid that stood silently by the operating table. "How are his vitals?"
"Perfect, sir," the droid replied monotonously. "He will be in prime condition."
"Good," Krennic smiled as he looked down on his innocent, but loyal son. The boy would understand what needed to be done. The boy knew it was all for the cause. Arsin Krennic would be the key to his father's ascension, to etch their family name into the archives of the Empire forever. Orson would see to that personally.