During his many years of Imperial service, Director Krennic had learned how to hide his emotions effectively. It was a skill that had more value than many gave it credit for- being able to hide surprise or awe in respect of a fellow officer's achievements or actions was quite the useful asset in a system where one's rise created the downfall of another. The face that greeted him in the mirror, however, hid no emotion. He had not slept well during the journey on the Star Destroyer, and the fine, red lines that dissected the pure white of his eyes made that abundantly clear. Should anyone see him in this state, they would surely sense the nervous energy within Krennic that his face portrayed. It was a strange experience- Krennic did not feel panicked or nervous regularly, even when interacting with Lord Vader, or the Emperor. In the past, however, he had always held the trump card: Galen Erso. Both Vader, and the Emperor, knew that Erso was vital to the Death Star project. Only Krennic's relationship with him kept him with the project, making the Director invaluable. Now, however, he had let Erso slip through his fingers. Weeks of concocting excuses and sidestepping questions had kept him safe until this point, but Krennic knew that his ruse would soon unravel. A test of the weapon was imminent, and all he could do was hope Galen had proceeded far enough with his research that a minor exercise could be conducted, giving Krennic time to either locate the scientist, or deal with the consequences he had evaded thus far.
Convinced that his tumultuous mind, unsettled by these foreign emotions, would prevent any sleep, Krennic did not move toward his bed. Instead, he strode toward the desk placed in the darkened cabin that he had spent the past days in. His hands scoured the surface of the desk until they found their target: a smooth, metal ball that glinted slightly in the weak glow created by a bed-side lamp, which lay behind Krennic's shoulder. The feel of the cold object in the palm of his hand calmed Krennic slightly. He placed it on a thin protrusion of the desk, before stepping back, and allowing a harsh, blue light to conquer the crests and valleys of his face. He now stood within the most updated plans for the Death Star, a creation of unprecedented power and fearsome lethality. Currently, at only 15% capability, the beam created by this behemoth could annihilate the largest cities in the galaxy, and create fear and obedience throughout any sector. Construction was ongoing, and, once the station was complete, Director Krennic would wield the power to eliminate planets, and subjugate entire species through the mere presence of his creation. Of course, as the station began to fill its exoskeleton with habitable compartments, more materials, and more slave labour would be required. This resulted in more ships, more waste, and a greater chance of discovery by rebel elements. At this stage, any information leak would cripple the station before it had a chance to display its true capabilities. Thus, the project had to be relocated, and Scarif had been chosen. A tropical world, it was inhabited solely by indigenous species, which had had no contact with the outside world, and could be efficiently dealt with upon arrival. Located within the inner rim, the planet was close to major hyperspace lanes, but held no resources or benefits that had warranted exploration or exploitation. In many data-sheets of the sector's systems, it appeared merely as a lone dot, and did not receive the privilege of being labelled. Strategists were certain that this would ensure that the Death Star's chances of discovery were minimal. Should their certainties prove false, Krennic would be quick to deal with them- he could not tolerate failure.
Director Krennic strode briskly through the claustrophobic corridors of the Star Destroyer. Recycled air flowed into his lungs, and stark, bright light illuminated the rooms, leaving no indication of the infinite darkness of space which existed mere meters to the side. The ship was approaching Scarif, and Krennic would soon get his first glimpse of the world in reality. The heavy blast doors that guarded the bridge split apart at Krennic's approach. As he stepped through the doorway, Krennic heard ensigns and lieutenants straighten and make themselves look busy. Several men saluted, but Krennic ignored them- he would not acknowledge anyone who could provide no benefit to him. At the far end of the rectangular room, large windows revealed the view in front of the ship. Grand Moff Tarkin stood in front of the glass; his face's reflection mingling with the many stars in the distance, including one shining brighter than all the rest: the Death Star. The exposed reactor that provided this beacon of hope and harbinger of doom, depending on which side of the line demarcating chaos and order one stood, was vulnerable. Any disruption would be catastrophic to the system. As a precaution, at least a dozen other Star Destroyers prowled the area around the station, scanning for any incoming craft. An Interdictor-class destroyer cruised among them, its bulbous protrusion holding a gravity-well generator, that eagerly awaited the opportunity to ensnare any prey which ventured too close. Without any acknowledgement of Krennic's presence, Tarkin simply turned and flatly said, "A shuttle awaits.'
