from Alpha to Bechdel

(With apologies to Dorothy Parker.)

The shuttle landed on the pad outside the rebel base. At once it was surrounded by a squad of rebel soldiers. Cassian emerged first, hands held up.

"Didn't Draven get my message saying we were on our way back?" he asked.

"General Draven is otherwise engaged," the lieutenant leading the troop replied. "I'm tasked with taking you to Princess Leia."

"Princess Leia?" Cassian asked. Clearly a lot had been going on since he was last here. "What about Senator Mothma?"

"She's also otherwise engaged."

Cassian's brows drew together into a frown. He signalled to the rest of the team to follow him, and they set off at a smart pace back through the hanger from which they'd set off for Scarif all those weeks ago, and into the rebel base. The Princess was waiting for them in a small meeting room. She seemed in a furious temper.

"Where's Draven," Cassian asked, tersely.

"In heat," came the equally terse reply.

Cassian raised one of his eyebrows. (The other one continued to sketch the frown they'd started on jointly.) He waited for her to continue.

"Draven, as an omega, has come into heat. The alphas Mon Mothma and Han Solo are stalking around outside the door to his quarters hoping one of them will be chosen. For mindless sex, knotting, epic amounts of semen generation, love bites and general crap of that sort. With Draven submitting helplessly but willingly to whatever kinks his alpha puts him through." The venom with which the princess said the new name Han Solo gave Cassian a bit of a clue as to what was going on.

"Hang on," Jyn suddenly interrupted. "I thought we ruled out an alpha-omega fic about 15 chapters back. If this is an alpha-omega fic, how come we've been together for weeks without you going into heat and me being forced to mount you?"

"Well, clearly I haven't come into heat because if this is an alpha-omega fic, I'd be the alpha and you'd be the omega," said Cassian.

"No kriffin way, mate. No way are you outranking me. I'm the alpha round here..."

"The alpha has to be able to produce epic amounts of semen. So clearly has to be male. So has to be me." Cassian was firm on this point.

"Hey, I sliced into the porn collection you thought you'd safely sandboxed on your datapad… Your work datapad, I might note. I know that you know about female ejaculation (and that's not one of those crappy mind reading "I know that you know that I think that you feel that" things – I know from solid, replicable research that you know about squirting.)"

"I was just researching AO3 tags," said Cassian defensively. "Still doesn't change the fact that I'm the alpha round here."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," said Kay. Dead silence enveloped them. It was so rare to hear a droid swear. "I've been with the pair of you for weeks. It's obvious that the odds are at least a thousand to one ON that both of you are betas."

Bodhi was listening to all of this, looking very confused. "So what about Baze and Chirrut. Which of you is which?"

"Our language is written in ideograms rather than using an alphabet, so mercifully, we are spared alpha-omega dynamics," said Chirrut, with an air of profound relief.

Cassian, meanwhile, had recovered sufficiently from his initial outrage at Kay's assessment to give an outraged yelp of "We can't both be betas, that would be boring. Heroes are never betas."

"I dunno," the scientist interjected, "I'm glad I'm a beta."

"And a very pneumatic one at that," said Bodhi, patting her on the arm appreciatively.

"Steady tiger, she could still be the self insert," Chirrut interrupted.

"Yeah, but what a way to go," muttered Bodhi.

"Anyway, to business," said Cassian. He ushered the scientist forward. "This briefcase contains the crucial X-wing part, without which they can't launch any of the missiles into the exhaust port. The external thumbs."

6.626068E-34

It was all hands to the launch bay to get the x-wings readied in time. Jyn found herself working in a team with the scientist and a young woman mechanic. Ines Montoya turned out to be a Festian, with dark curly hair and coal-black flashing eyes, and a fiery temper when anyone didn't jump to it and fetch the stuff she needed fast enough. She had a razor tongue and even sharper wit. In a rare 60 seconds of down-time, she turned out to have a keen interest in gossip too.

"So, rumour has it you've finally melted the icy heart of Captain Andor."

Jyn didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, pretty much every woman on the base would jump in the sack with him given half a chance, but he always seemed too dedicated to the cause to give them the time of day..."

"Montaya!"

"Yes ma'am!" The mechanic snapped to attention. Princess Leia had appeared as if from nowhere.

"What did I hear you just discussing?"

Montoya flushed red. To Jyn's amazement, the sassy woman of a few moments earlier seemed to shrink in size, razor tongue reduced to incoherent babbling noises. The princess seemed to have that effect on people.

"Were you or were you not discussing Erso in connection with her supposed relationship to Captain Andor?"

Montoya nodded, and managed a strangulated "Yes Ma'am."

"What does that make this situation?" The princess's voice was imperious. Montoya mumbled something incoherent, and Leia barked "I didn't hear you..."

"Sorry, Ma'am. It makes the situation a Bechdel fail, Ma'am."

"A Bechdel fail. Quite. You should be ashamed. A battle raging around us, and you divert the dialogue into a Bechdel fail."

The scientist piped up. "I did discuss the best method of clearing x-wing fuel lines a few moments earlier. That's not a Bechdel fail..."

Leia turned to her and fixed her with a stern glare. "Do you have a name?"

The scientist looked utterly nonplussed for a moment or so. "My alter-ego had a name – Dr. Frankenfurter. But she turned out to be a droid intent on assassination."

"I don't care about your alter-ego. What about YOU," snapped the Princess.

The scientists was forced to admit that no, indeed she did not have a name.

"Then it still isn't a Bechdel pass. The female characters must be named female characters, and have a conversation with each other which isn't about a man. Sheesh, it's not like it's setting the bar high. In fact, it's setting the bar so low you could step over it. A Flaa'rian pygmy could step over it. But still films and fics can't manage to pass it."

The three women stood staring at their feet, Jyn feeling a certain degree of guilt by association.

"Now stop gossiping about karking men, and get those external thumbs fitted."