Rowan's melancholy had come back in a single wave, and she was actively doing her best to suppress it. One look to his left, watching her stand between his and K's chair in the cockpit, biting hard down upon her trembling lip, staring determinedly at the endless sea of stars slipping wildly past them, was enough to confirm that she was fighting a battle she could not win.
Hesitantly, Cassian slipped past her into the hall and reached for the radio. Luckily during their escape from Jedha, the communication lines had not been damaged. He could not promise he could say the same for the rest of the ship; he had a feeling it would not hold out well during this next trip, and he could only hope there would be a way to fix the damages when they arrived at Eadu.
Cassian swallowed painfully as he radioed the Rebellion, his eyes closing for one moment in despair as he recalled the destruction of the Holy City. There was no way to estimate how many had died in that moment, how many lives extinguished as if they were nothing.
Leaning against the wall, supporting herself with the back of K's chair as the ship rocked and rolled a little more than usual, something Rowan could only attribute to damage to the stabilizers, Rowan watched Cassian closely.
He would be forced to go through with this mission. Once Draven heard about the massacre of Jedha City, there would be no chance that he would let Galen Erso live, and the slump, barely perceptible, in Cassian's shoulders revealed as much. Pity shifted to the surface in Rowan's heart, but Cassian didn't meet her eyes when he turned back to the cockpit. It was conversation behind him that arrested his steps. He froze solemnly as Chirrut spoke. Rowan looked to the ground, wrenching despair surging forth in her heart.
"Baze, tell me," the blind man begged, "All of it? The whole city?"
Baze seemed reluctant to answer. Rowan had never seen the soldier so despondent, so uncertain of himself.
"Tell me." In Chirrut's voice, she heard a pain she herself could not comprehend for the city, and she realized that Chirrut would have known many, if not all of the inhabitants of the city. He had lost more than his home.
"All of it," Baze forced the words from his lips, the anger and helplessness of his grief taking control.
Cassian tensed his shoulders against the conversation behind him and moved to stand beside Rowan and behind K, staring out at the stars streaking past. Rowan watched him, attempting to read his expression despite his efforts not to meet her eyes. He was steeling himself for the mission ahead, steeling himself to kill Galen Erso.
"Set a course for Eadu," he commanded K, his voice low, harsh.
"Setting course for Eadu," K confirmed, loud enough for the rest of the ship to hear. Cassian winced at the volume.
"Is that where my father is?" Jyn's voice broke through the silence as she stood, moving toward the cockpit, excitement alight in her eyes. Rowan didn't miss the way Bohdi sat straighter in his seat in the corner, now watching the conversation unfold with interest, the listlessness receding from his eyes.
"I think so," Cassian answered gruffly, turning about to face her and the others. He barely caught Rowan's eyes when he did so, and there was a brief moment of shared understanding, shared regret, shared guilt.
"So you're Galen's daughter?" Bohdi shifted as he asked, and Jyn turned back to him, her eyes brightening even more.
"You know him?" Her voice was unsteady.
"I'm Bohdi, the pilot," he returned.
"You brought the message," Jyn breathed, wonder in her expression.
"Yes, your father..." Bohdi's voice was soft, hesitant, some deep emotion barely contained surfacing. "He- he said I could get right by myself. He said I could make it right, if I was brave enough and listened to what was in my heart," the last words were whispered, but not lost on Cassian, who tensed defensively, "Do something about it..." There was a pause as Bohdi's sorrow surfaced. "Guess it was too late," he shrugged helplessly.
"It wasn't too late," Jyn fired back, hope spurning her words forward.
"Seems pretty late to me," Baze muttered in return, bitterness seething deep within.
"No," and Jyn turned about, meeting the eyes of all in the room. Cassian flinched imperceptibly when she met his. Rowan simply looked to the ground. "We can beat the people who did this. My father's message, I've seen it," she paused to breathe. "They call it the Death Star, but they have no idea there's a way to defeat it." She swung about to face Cassian, and he looked up, startled. "You're wrong about my father."
Anger burned in Cassian's eyes at this affront, and he took a step forward, meeting her gaze. "He did build it," he hissed.
"Because he knew they'd do it without him," Jyn fired back. "My father made a choice," she explained, again taking in the expressions of the others in the ship. "He sacrificed himself for the Rebellion. He's rigged a trap inside it. That's why he sent you," she gestured to Bohdi, "to bring that message."
Hope slipped into Cassian's voice. "Where is it? Where's the message?"
Jyn took a step backward, and defeat glimmered with tears in her eyes. Rowan suddenly knew that there was no hope, not for Cassian.
"It was a hologram," Jyn returned.
Cassian stepped forward, now desperate. "You have that message, right?"
"Everything happened so fast," Jyn muttered, scrambling for an escape from the intensity of Cassian's eyes.
"Did you see it?" Cassian persisted, brokenness in his tone.
"You don't believe me." Again, Jyn looked defeated.
Cassian shrugged helplessly. "I'm not the one you've gotta convince."
"I believe her," Chirrut put in, sitting up in his seat, fixing his milky eyes upon where Cassian's voice came from. Rowan also looked to him, recognizing the despair that ravaged his mind.
"That's good to know," Cassian shot toward him, hopelessness taking hold.
"What kind of trap?" Baze suddenly spoke up, and all eyes fell to him, forcing him to elaborate. "You said your father made a trap."
Stunned at his interjection to the tense flow of conversation, it was a moment before Jyn could respond. "The reactor," she answered. "He's placed a weakness there. He's been hiding it for years." Jyn's voice grew more and more passionate with each word. "He said if you can blow the reactor- the module- the whole system goes down. You need to send word to the Alliance." Again, she directed her words harshly toward Cassian.
"I've done that," Cassian shot back.
"They have to know that there's a way to destroy this thing. They have to go to Scarif to get the plans."
"I can't risk sending that. We're in the heart of Imperial territory." And both him and Rowan knew that Draven would not believe such a statement. The message itself had been Cassian's only hope. Without it, there was nothing to prevent Erso's death.
"Then we'll find him. And bring him back, and he can tell them himself," Jyn returned, her voice loud and hopeful, childishly proud.
Cassian did not meet Rowan's eyes as he turned to the cockpit and slid in beside K-2.
- - -
The rebels had been kind enough to give Romulus all of their healing materials not in use before they lowered him and his companions into a deep pit- the closest thing they had to a prison- with armed guards roaming the perimeter. Clover was anxious to discover that they were not the only ones captured by the rebels, and suddenly understood the danger of his claim that they had once lived there. Jakku was small; every citizen knew one another, and none of them knew Clover or Romulus. They could only hope that during Luke's short stay upon the desert planet, he'd come to know enough residents to make a lasting impression.
As Clover stood guard over the efforts of Romulus to heal Luke, he fiddled with a tattered portion of his sleeve and stared in compassion upon their fellow inhabitants of the pit. With the harsh sun beating down upon them, some had taken to hiding beneath blankets and shreds of clothing they had managed to extract from their homes before the rebellion destroyed what was left of their possessions. The ones that had not were staring listlessly at the walls, their faces emotionless, dead.
Sand and dust covered the majority of them, marring their features, caking their limbs, discoloring the rags draped upon their frail and starved bodies. Much of the population of Jakku appeared to be human. Only a few alien species interspersed the collection of homeless prisoners packed together. The view slowly cut away at the hope in Clover's heart, and he urged himself to keep his cool.
Not that he was cool. Sweat was running in rivulets down each and every limb and pouring from his hair line. His lips were parched, much like the survivors about him, and he could feel the sun's beating rays, as if they were slowly eating away at his skin. He could only hope these conditions would not hinder Luke's recovery, so it was with extensive relief that he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Where's Clover?" Luke groaned, and there was the shuffling of fabric as the demigod pushed himself to a seated position. Clover resisted the urge to exclaim in joy as he turned to see Luke resting against the dirt wall.
"He's here, Luke," Romulus answered soothingly, and looked back the satyr, who was now toying even more with the stressed fabric of his sleeve.
Luke smiled in relief at the sight of his friend, and leaned his head exhaustedly against the wall, taking one moment to breathe as his eyes slid closed and he relished in his life. And then he met the world once more with their shocking blue. "Where are we?" His voice was weak.
"A...," Romulus searched for the word, "prison."
"Ah...," Luke nodded, and then met Clover's eyes. He was taken aback by the compassion there, the ravaging worry that was finally receding, the relief glimmering there, and Luke's heart was stung by the affection of one he had never expected to call friend.
"Sorry 'bout all that," Luke apologized, gesturing to the torn fabric that indicated where the manticore's tail had gashed him.
Clover shook his head, ridding himself of the sentimentality of the moment with a rather comedic effort that brought a small smile to Luke's parched lips. "It's alright, mate. Just don't do it again. We coulda gotten outta here already."
Luke smirked as he shifted to get to his feet, his limbs weak. Romulus, seeing his intent, offered the demigod his shoulder, and the two rose with some effort. Luke muttered a "thanks" before examining the pit closely. The walls were sheer, and should they even be capable of climbing to the top, which was far, far up, they would be incapable of making it past the armed guards standing tall against the afternoon sun. The only way out would be with the help of their captors, which was unlikely. Luke's shoulders slumped with despair.
It was likely that they would be presented to the leaders of the rebellion, but unlikely it would be soon, and Luke was anxious to get to his sister. The prophecy still rang in his ears, foretelling doom, and Romulus's revelation that Rowan was currently with the son of Kronos, a man that undoubtedly had a target on his back, only furthered his urgency.
Suddenly, a whisper ran through the crowds of survivors, moving like a breeze through the trees till it reached Romulus's perked ears.
He grabbed hold of Clover's arm and dragged him to stand beside him, gripping Luke's arm in the same abrupt moment. Both the demigod and the satyr spasmed in fright, causing Romulus to hiss for their silence.
"The lieutenant's coming," the werewolf explained beneath his breath. Alarm seemed to radiate from him, causing the hair on the back of both Luke and Clover's necks to stand straight. Luke wished he were a strong as he once was, and armed. They'd taken every weapon the three had possessed from them before lowering them into their prison.
There was a shuffling above them, and the entire mass of prisoners turned their dead eyes, fear flickering to life, above. The armed guards had leveled their blasters at the population as a precaution, for one man was being let down upon a rope ladder into the midst of the survivors. In one movement, their gazes followed him slowly, agonizingly, to the ground. Luke noticed the sweat beading on the man's brow. He was in far more danger than any of them, even with the armed men standing guard.
His feet hit the ground in a plume of dust, and his eyes searched through the masses with a practiced air. He slipped between men and women, all still, all threatening. Restrained rage burned like an unseen fire between them all. The air seemed charged with energy not yet released. The man was well aware of it as he moved about the pit.
He came to a stop before the three of them. Luke, Romulus, and Clover didn't move, didn't blink. Each breath was of a forced calm, repressed and deathly quiet.
"You three," the man gestured, forcing discipline into his voice, though his hand trembled ever so slightly as he pointed to them, "come with me."
He turned abruptly, and the three shuffled after him, the eyes of the masses now boring into them. As Luke leaned heavily on the satyr, repaying him for their journey through the tunnels with Maz Kanata, he felt their gazes, like deadweights on his shoulders, and he knew that this was a wrong that would not be forgotten for many years after.
The man began to scale the rope ladder with skill and a little too much haste, in Luke's opinion, and they followed closely, Romulus electing to go first, and Clover silently commanding Luke to follow. Forcing as much strength into his limbs as he could, Luke took the ropes beneath his already calloused hands and heaved himself higher and higher, till the stifling air of the pit was replaced with the hot but free air of the plains above. Behind him, Clover looked back down as they reached the top. The survivors had turned their gazes back to the walls, but no longer listless, they held a bitterness seething beneath the surface.
The sunlight enveloped them with brilliant light as their unsteady feet reached the sandy surface, and they stumbled forward, following the man that had brought them up. He seemed far more calm now, walking with a commanding firmness through the soldiers surrounding the pit. Romulus paid the guards little mind, but Luke and Clover found themselves glancing about uncertainly as they passed each loaded blaster. Soon enough, they moved out of the ranks and were met with the sight of a collection of raggedly dressed, relatively wounded Rebellion commanders, ranks worn proudly on their uniforms.
One in particular emerged from the council, moving through the sand with a troubled expression upon his once-wretched features. He seemed a skeleton slowly restored to life, and his skin still bore the marks of starvation, if now a little less stretched across his bone. As they approached, he held out a welcoming, weakly trembling hand in greeting.
Confused, they each took it in turn as he spoke.
"Welcome, friends," he said calmly, and then apologetically, "I'm sorry for what you have suffered."
Clover only nodded and mumbled some acceptance. Romulus chose silence. Luke's eyebrows knit together in confusion.
"Why us?" His voice was harsh. He resisted the urge to point out the pit of other suffering survivors behind them, but the man seemed to understand.
"We will care for them later," he explained, "but you are far more important at this moment."
"Why?" Luke's curiosity piqued, and he focused instead on the strange intelligence glittering in the man's eyes.
Suddenly, the man threw back his head and laughed. Alarm shot through Luke, and he reached for the sword that wasn't there. Beside him, Romulus tensed, his hands involuntarily clenching into fists. The man was unaware, and laughed still more before he silenced himself.
"This is going to sound mad," he said, the mirth still glimmering in his eyes, "but I know that none of you are human, and none of you are from here. You're from a place called Earth, far outside of this and any galaxies we have contact with, and I know that the mythology of your ancients is somewhat true, and that you three are living representations of that."
Taken aback, Clover stumbled. "What?"
But the man did not respond, focusing instead on Luke. "I also know that your sister was here many days ago with a man touched by a power much like the one you were."
Stunned, Luke took a step forward. "What?" His voice was deadly calm, but the man was not intimidated.
"And I know that all three of you are burdened with the presence of a prophecy you cannot yet comprehend, but a prophecy that could spell the doom of the universe," the man finished, his eyes taking in the reactions of the three travelers. "Would I be correct in saying as much?"
Romulus was the first to break the baffled silence that descended over them all. "How do you know all of this?"
The man smiled proudly. "Now you're asking the right questions. Come with me," and he gestured in the direction of a tent that had been pitched, rather haphazardly, near what was once a drinking fountain.
The trio followed him cautiously, glancing around at the other captains and commanders through which they passed. They were watched, but lazily, as if they were a passing distraction. In each of their eyes, Luke saw the same intelligence of the man they were following, the unsettling wisdom of spectators that observe and understand all that occurs about them. He shuddered and moved closer to Clover, who seemed to be undergoing the same sensations. Romulus, however, was calm, walking with assured strides after the man, curiosity more his expression than dread.
The man pushed through the tent's folds into the stifling, but cooler air of the shaded tent, and the three followed after. It was a simple army tent, a sandy color to match the desert landscape. At its center sat a table, hastily constructed from a few scraps of metal. Scattered across it were maps and canteens, along with the weapons the three had lost. Luke resisted the urge to lunge for Backbiter, stilling his twitching hands by digging his nails into his palms.
"Go ahead," the man nodded kindly, gesturing to the weapons, "they're yours."
Relieved, Luke moved forward, taking hold of the sword, feeling the warm sensation of calm and peace run through his limbs as he beheld his faithful weapon. About him, Romulus and Clover gathered up their various knives and blasters. With reluctance, Luke sheathed his blade and took his blaster from the table, slipping it into his belt.
"Now, what were you saying?" Clover asked, finally.
The man nodded with a smile. "Many months ago, my men and I were sent here on a mission from the Rebellion. We were to root out the presence of the Empire and destroy it. Unfortunately, they learned of our presence before we could do that, and we were chased out into the plains. We should have starved to death, only we didn't. Weekly, food would appear at the entrance to the U-Wing we hid in. We don't know where it came from, or we didn't then, but we ate it. Because of it, people began to go mad, speaking of lights inside of others they met and monsters. The monster was true- on a few missions to the city, some would come across the beast they described. We later lost those men and women to a comatose state, then death."
"The food was ambrosia," Romulus suddenly said, and Luke glanced over to see that his friend's once calm expression had become a mixture of both unease and relief. When he caught Luke's expression, he elaborated. "The U-Wing was mine. When I first arrived here, I needed a ship upon which I could survive for a long period of time with little communication with the outside world. It just so happened that the Rebellion had such a ship. I crashed it here." He suddenly looked to the man. "The ambrosia appeared weekly as emergency protocol that I had set up. But how do you know everything about us?"
The man had been smiling widely as Romulus spoke, and was startled out of his thoughts when he was addressed. "Hm? Oh! As we burrowed further and further into the U-Wing, we came across much of your research; coupled with the dreams many of us received, it explained much of what we were suddenly encountering."
"Dreams?" Luke asked, remembering what Clover had told him of Morpheus's whereabouts.
The man nodded. "Yes, dreams, from Morpheus. He's been in contact with us, told us how we might consume the ambrosia without injuring ourselves, and," he paused for effect, "he's told us of your plight."
"Then will you help us?" Luke's voice revealed more of his desperation than he would have preferred.
"Yes," the man said, "we will. We can get you to the Rebellion and get you the whereabouts of your sister, but we need help in turn."
"What do you need?" Romulus returned, hope bursting forth in his eyes.
"If you can get us off of this planet- all of us- we can get you your U-Wing and your sister," he looked to Luke.
Nearly laughing with anticipation, Luke reached out his hand. "It's a deal," he said, and the man grinned wildly as the two shook hands.