"You've never asked how we found you."

Ophelia blinked, lifted her head up off her arms; she'd been resting — half dozing, half thinking — and she'd barely heard him say anything. She stretched, caught his eye, frowned.

"I don't need to ask."

Krennic raised an eyebrow. "Because you already know?" But his eyes suggested a yearning, a curiosity.

She shook her head, took to twirling a strand of her hair around and around and around her finger. It was one way to pass the time. She didn't like to talk to him; she found that she always had to think — and then rethink — before she spoke, and wasn't sure how long she could keep that up for.

"Because I don't care to know." She did care. Very much.

"Why not?"

Another question. She sighed. "Because I don't think you'd tell me anyway."

Krennic looked offended, and she couldn't tell if he was or not. He was the sort of person to get offended, of course. Surely not by the likes of her?

He leant forwards in his chair, crossed his legs, and she watched his blue eyes. "I have no reason to lie, do I?"

"Don't you?"

"You made it quite clear that you don't trust your associates. Or whoever those people were who stole your data pad."

"So they turned me in?" She scoffed. "That's not exactly the interesting information I was hoping for. I'm not an idiot. I know they turned me in. Why wouldn't they? I was trading Imperial secrets; they knew I would be a valuable hostage."

Krennic nodded, considered. "What kind of Imperial secrets?"

"No, no, no," she said emphatically. "That's not what we're talking about. You're meant to be telling me how you found me."

He nodded again.

"So. Tell me. How?"

And with a dramatic sigh, he told her.

"We has been monitoring signals on Tatooine for some time. A couple of months. There had been a spike in off-world traffic." He caught her gaze, held it. "Of course, people try and leave Tatooine all the time. That's not exactly unusual."

"I don't think you can blame them," she murmured.

"Maybe not," he conceded. "But they don't often go back and forth. We realised these were supply runs."

"You want me to apologise for giving food to slaves?"

Krennic looked away, sighed. "No. What would be the point in that?" A pause. "Besides, we know it wasn't food."

"It wasn't?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Ophelia."

"Fine. Weapons."

"Exactly." He grinned, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "You were running shipments of weapons to and from Tatooine, shipments which contained explosives and munitions. Shipments which claimed the lives of Imperial soldiers. And officers."

"And you're overseeing a regime which has claimed the lives of many more slaves."

Krennic shrugged, and she burned. But he still looked curious, expectant.

She groaned. "You've already given me the truth serum. I've told you all about that deal, about how wrong it all went. What else do you need to know about me? About my life? About who I am?"

Krennic shifted in his seat, eyes wandering briefly over to the blaster, which had since resumed its place in the dash. "It'll be at least a day before we're found by an Imperial scout. I suggest we try not to bicker."

She snorted. The Stormtroopers who'd guarded her for that week on the star destroyer might've ignored her but they did not ignore one another. She'd often heard them talk about Director Krennic, and his fits of rage, and his self-importance, and his self-doubt.

All things considered, he seemed like the kind of person — an Imperial, after all — who would enjoy bickering.

"These associates of mine, as you called them, they left me with nothing. They left me for dead. Yes, they had been providing me with weapons to give to the Rebellion of Tatooine. Yes, the Empire has suffered because of me." A beat, and then she glared at him, furiously. "But they left me, they abandoned me. They have made me suffer. If they hadn't turned me in, I wouldn't have been in your stupid interrogation chamber. I wouldn't be stuck on yet another godforsaken planet with someone I'm beginning to despise."

He watched her, was silent.

The sun was getting low now, and the orange hue was slowly fading into darkness.

She looked away from him, and at the distant sun.

"I know they revealed my location to the Empire." She scoffed. "A loth rat would have more of a conscience."

"I've found that having a conscience doesn't get you very far."

"Then why join the Empire?" The question was, in retrospect, flippant. No, they were not on the star destroyer anymore. No, she was no longer in that cell. But she would soon be his prisoner again, and she resented saying anything at all. She shouldn't have asked that.

"The Empire recruits you," he said shortly. "It's not the other way around."

She sighed. At least he answered.

"What I am interested in," he began, and his tone was forbidding, dangerous, and she began to shiver. "Is how you came to be in this situation."

"You captured me."

He grinned. "Not that. Further back. In the past. What were you doing on Tatooine?"

For a moment, she could feel the searing heat of Tatooine's twin suns, could sense the the softness of the sand underfoot, could hear the stillness in the sweltering air.

And then she was back in the coldness, the dampness, the darkness, of the crashed shuttle.

"I lived — live — there."

"You were a slave?"

"I was," she said shortly, knowing it would do neither of them any good to lie. "I bought my freedom."

"But why stay on that backwater world?"

"Because it was my home. And because it was good for business. I was desperate, and so were lots of other people. Desperation can really drive up prices, you know." Purposefully, she caught his eye. "You really don't get this, so you?"

Krennic shrugged, as if he didn't want to get it anyway. But there was an odd curiosity, an intensity, in his blue eyes, that made her wonder.

"You take orders from the Emperor, don't you?" she asked.

He nodded. He had never spoken to the Emperor, had never seen him but for the briefest glimpse on a holo-recording. A blurry haze of blue and static; a cloaked figure with a hooked nose and snarling teeth. But he was happy to have her think he did.

"And you take orders from — what was it? Tarkin?"

His lip curled.

She took that as a yes.

"I had chores to do," she continued, once again caught in the vicious heat of Tatooine. "I would clean mechanical parts, fix up the odd droid, sell spare parts. And you've seen for yourself how easy it was for me to break out of that cell, and to commandeer this shuttle." She faltered, caught herself, lowered her lashes. "I've worked in other, uh, industries, too."

He frowned.

"But I'm free now. It took long enough."

Only to be captured by the Empire, she thought ruefully. Then again — Krennic seemed to be listening. His façade of arrogance and self-confidence might have been cracking — the mentions of the Emperor and Tarkin had visibly unnerved him.

"It must've taken you a while to buy your freedom," he eventually said, speaking in a way that made her think he was unpicking her story.

But she would not let it unravel. "I was a good worker. I'm more than a pretty face."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning," she began. "Can the Empire use another good mechanic?"

"Probably," he said pointedly. "Not any good thieves though."

Ophelia blew air through her lips, considered. And then she leant forwards, held him in her gaze. "We're all slaves to some regime or another, right?"

Warily — but understandingly — he nodded. "Yes?"

"Then let me choose who I want to work for."

They hadn't said anything else to one another after that.

Then let me choose who I want to work for.

Krennic snorted, shook his head, gave a quiet laugh. Let her choose? Who was she to start making demands? To demand something of him? The Director in charge of Project Stardust?

She was nobody, would remain nobody, unless he changed that. He had the authority. One message, one order, one command, and it would be done. And Krennic was not a stupid man. He could be impetuous, could be arrogant; he was not stupid.

He realised Ophelia would know that. She would know that it was all down to him. He could free her from that cycle of tyranny and servitude, could cut her loose from the dust and heat and monotony of Tatooine.

Couldn't he?

Krennic gazed over towards the back of the shuttle. He was looking at the small sleeping cabin. She slept through that door.

She was vulnerable, unaware.

He still had his blaster; he could stun her. That would be easy. Less than a day, and reinforcements would arrive, and he would be back on a star destroyer. She would be his prisoner once again, and he would be able to turn her over to Tarkin.

Then he realised he was yawning, held a hand to his mouth. More time had passed. Perhaps a few hours.

The sky was now black, and Krennic could see nothing but the reflection of rain droplets on the windows.

There were no stars.

His hand hovered over the blaster. What with Project Stardust encountering so many delays — not to mention Tarkin's insufferable impatience — Krennic knew he was running out of time.

Turning in such a high ranking prisoner would reward him. Handsomely.

And when he opened his eyes again, Ophelia was standing over him. He jerked upright, blinked, spoke soundlessly. He glanced around desperately for his blaster; it was still on the dashboard. He sighed.

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "What? You don't trust me?"

Krennic swallowed, fingers curling around the blaster. "You shouldn't have startled me like that."

"Startled you?" she echoed, already shaking her head. "I didn't do anything."

"You stood over me," he said shortly. "Regardless, I can hear an engine, can't you?"

Ophelia frowned, lips parted. "Uh — if I listen very, very closely."

"The Empire's here," he said with relief.

She sunk back down into her seat. "I can't wait to get thrown back into a cell."

"You will be useful," Krennic said bluntly, catching her eye.

"Useful? Great."

"You told me yourself. You have good contacts with these flea markets back on Tatooine. And besides, the Hutts would be a good business partner for the Empire."

"The Hutts?" She laughed. "I don't know who you think I was dealing with but I can tell you now that it wasn't the Hutts.

He didn't seem to be listening, and he waved a hand in dismissal. "You're handy with droids."

Ophelia smiled. At least she had some redeeming features. "So I won't be tossed into some cell?"

Krennic looked down at his hands. "I will have to speak to Moff Tarkin," he said; she searched for bitterness or resentment in his tone but she could find none.

A moment passed. "The Empire recruits you," she said quietly, thinking back to what he'd said before.

He raised an eyebrow.

"How did it choose you?"

That, it seemed, had taken him unawares. For all his posturing and arrogance, he had not expected that question. Perhaps he still saw her as that small, frightened enslaved girl on Tatooine. Perhaps he still saw her as a potential prisoner or criminal.

Then again. Perhaps not. She was courageous and determined and brave, and he noted her intelligent beauty. She had not cried, had not screamed, had not given in. No, she was bold, and he was reminded of himself.

He caught himself before he could begin admiring her.

"I was a good student," he eventually said, and she found that answer more than a little bit underwhelming. "I won a place in the Futures Program. This was in the times of the Republic."

"I remember."

"I joined the Corps of Engineers, and I focused on weapons design."

She smiled. "And now you're Darth Vader's right hand man?"

A day ago, a week ago, and he would've scolded her for her own arrogance. But no reprimand came. Instead he shrugged. "Not quite."

"Or not yet?"

"And, Ophelia—" he began, catching her eye purposefully. "I will speak to Governor Tarkin. I cannot guarantee anything."

"You know I can be useful. I will be useful, Krennic."

"It is not me you have to convince."