Excerpt from Hope, by Leia Organa (later executed):

I was on Coruscant when I learned of Yavin's destruction. I heard it first from Imperial

propaganda, only afterwards from a source in the Rebel Alliance, who was captured and executed that same day. The Imperials had caught us by surprise, and deployed their newest, most powerful weapon against us. There were no survivors; the moon itself became rubble.

Was there any way we could have stopped that horror, after it was built? Some technological or human weakness we could have exploited? Maybe Yavin might have remained hidden for another couple of years, had the Empire not tracked one of our fighters straight to it. Or maybe we could have decentralized our assets, instead of having so many of our people destroyed by one shot from the Death Star. The counterfactuals are endless.

But it's too late, now.

All we can do is pass hope forward from generation to generation, until finally, perhaps a thousand years in the future, the long dark night of the Empire comes to an end.

Kryos Installation, 2.12 AVY:

Looking out at the Kryos Installation, Orson Krennic almost didn't mind having the Death Star stolen from under his feet. Almost.

The Death Star destroyed worlds. This opened them up. It revealed new vistas and new civilizations to conquer, vital for an Empire that, in its own galaxy, had already won. Challenge bred strength. Complacency bred weakness. Hundreds of years down the line, it was possible that posterity would remember the metal rings of Kryos more than the green flash of the superlaser.

But, it wasn't his. He hadn't slaved over this project for decades like he had the Death Star, he hadn't worked to convince and coerce the brightest minds of the Galaxy to help him—he'd just taken over, months before the breakthrough that propelled it from a technological boondoggle to the next frontier of Imperial expansion.

"Lord Vader has arrived, sir," announced an orderly at the back of the control room. He was dark-skinned, young, part of the generation that had grown up entirely in the Imperial era. Not like Krennic, a relic of the Clone Wars, or, for that matter, Vader, who had appeared so suddenly at the dawn of the Empire.

Krennic looked over his shoulder and nodded. "Excellent, lieutenant. Bring him in."

He looked back out, folding his hands behind his back. He still wore a white uniform and cape, much as he had on the Death Star, and he still displayed the rank plaque of an admiral—six red rectangles above six blue ones. Nevertheless, he was a disappointment in the eyes of the Emperor, a fool who had nearly allowed the destruction of the Empire's greatest weapon.

It was all because of Galen Erso.

The brightest of Krennic's bright minds, Galen Erso had turned out to be a traitor. He'd been caught conspiring with a pilot to reveal technical secrets to the Rebellion. After an investigation, and no small amount of torture, it became clear that not only had Erso planned to collaborate with the enemy, he had also sabotaged the Death Star itself, adding in a thermal exhaust port that could have been used to obliterate the whole station. Hasty redesigns fixed the problem, but the damage to Krennic's prestige was done.

Tarkin had proclaimed it a grave lapse of security. At least, that was his excuse to boot Krennic from the Death Star project and seize command for himself. So Wilhuff Tarkin ruled at the right-hand side of the Emperor, claiming the glory of destroying the Rebellion once and for all, and Krennic had been reassigned to a fanciful, dead-end dimensional gateway project—something nobody expected to come to fruition in a million years.

Now look where he was.

The door behind him hissed open, followed by the deep, rhythmic rasp of Vader's respirator. Heels clicked as officers stood at attention.

"Director Krennic."

Krennic turned. "Lord Vader."

Flanking Vader were four stormtroopers, two on each side, and a pair of officers—he recognized them as Captain Tersif, of Vanquisher, and Captain Pryde, of Steadfast. They were two of a handful of Imperial Navy commanders who had been briefed about this project; Tersif was short, with a bushy red mustache, while Pryde had a tall face and jet-black hair.

"The test vessel is ready?"

"It is, my lord." Krennic gestured out the window. The command center was in a small tower on the side of one of the installation's rings, of which there were three—forming a spherical cage—and in the center of the sphere hovered a tiny wedge-shaped starship, Raider-class. It was a mere 150 meters long, with a crew of ninety-two brave souls. It looked very much like a miniature Star Destroyer with the bridge shaved off. In just a few minutes, Director Krennic would send it into another universe.

"What's the status of the charging sequence?" he asked.

There were two banks of consoles dominating the command center, set at an angle to each other, and easily three dozen officers labored away at their armies of buttons and switches.

"99.4 percent, sir," answered a lieutenant. "Six minutes to full power level."

"Currently, the charging period is about twenty-five hours," Krennic said to Vader and the two captains. "We will bring it down to three hours, once the new superconductors are installed."

"And when will that be?" Vader asked.

Krennic nodded deferentially. "Four months, my lord."

"And can we recall the ship at any time?" asked Pryde.

"I'm afraid not. Once we establish the portal, and the Pursuer goes through, the crew will not be able to return home until this installation has charged again."

"Some transportation system," Captain Tersif muttered to Pryde. "Twenty-five hours each way, one ship at a time… no way to launch an invasion."

"Shorter charging times and multi-ship capability will come soon enough, captain," Krennic said. "We are already able to accomplish much with our limited technology, and without yet sending any people through. Have you seen the maps we have compiled?"

"We have not had that privilege, director," said Vader.

Krennic grinned. "They're truly something to behold. If you'll follow me this way…" He approached a nearby table, and tapped a button to activate the holoprojector. The flickering image that appeared over the table was of a galaxy, viewed face-on—but it was not their galaxy.

"A month ago we sent a stripped-down freighter through the portal. It had an automated crew and carried a cargo of six hundred Viper probe droids, along with sixty mobile hyperwave relays. These were distributed throughout the enemy galaxy to create a rudimentary sensor network."

He pressed another button, and lines branched out across the map, showing the paths the probe droids had taken.

"How many communicated back?" Tersif asked.

"103."

"That makes no sense. The reliability of a Viper probe droid is—"

"Hyperspace seems to work… differently in the other world. It is far more turbulent than we are used to."

That wasn't the half of it. Some of the probes—there had been 107 successes, not 103—had transmitted back rather troubling data, which Krennic's scientists were even now puzzling over, and which Darth Vader certainly did not need to be made aware of at this time.

"I see," said Captain Tersif. "What did we learn from the ones that did report back?"

"There, things get interesting."

He manipulated the controls, scrolled through reams of data. There appeared newly discovered planets, moons, even the vast pink nebula that had swallowed up every probe sent into it. Finally the holoprojector settled on a view from a planetary surface. There was a patch of rocky ground, and a figure standing in the middle.

A human figure. Vader showed no reaction, of course, but Pryde and Tersif both dropped their jaws a little.

While the human was bundled up in cloth and wore a mask, he was recognizably of the same species. It was clear from the eyes. He had a firearm at his hip, and carried a disorganized bundle of objects on his back.

"One of our probes encountered this man on a desert moon. He opened fire with what appears to be a laser weapon, disabling several cameras, but the droid escaped otherwise unharmed."

"What is he?" asked Pryde.

Krennic shrugged. "Scavenger, I suppose. Like one of the savages on Tatooine."

Vader stepped closer to the hologram, and tilted his head. "Have you found any other human worlds, Director Krennic?"

"Yes, Lord Vader. There have been similar sightings across the galaxy. This… mirror of our species is not confined to one planet, as we have discovered."

He showed them another holographic still. It was of a primitive farming world, where locals had gathered around the probe that had descended into their midst. They carried pitchforks as if they'd come straight from some bucolic idyll, though the four-legged reptilian beasts they used as pack animals were something quite new, as were the metal talismans several of them held up at arm's length—perhaps in an effort to ward off whatever evil the probe had brought.

"Note this symbol," Krennic said, pointing at one of the talismans and magnifying the hologram. It was silver, fashioned in the shape of a double-headed eagle, with stylized geometric wings. "It appears on buildings, trinkets, starships—"

"Hold on," Tersif said. "Tell us more about these starships. Are they armed?"

"We only got a good look at one, orbiting the third and final inhabited planet we discovered. And yes, it was armed— very much so." Krennic pulled up a view of it. There was a pause, as the captains processed exactly what they were seeing.

"It's hideous," said Pryde, grimacing.

It was, indeed, hideous. Not at all like the sober, clean lines of a Star Destroyer. This ship was a bulky thing, conveying the appearance of a cathedral uprooted and launched into space, and every surface on its hull was decorated in a way that could only be described as baroque, with spires and golden filigree predominating—alongside gun batteries to tear any foe to shreds. The same double-headed eagle from earlier appeared again, at a vast scale. And at the front of the craft, a sharp prow jutted into space, as if it had been designed with ramming other vessels in mind.

"How large is this ship?" asked Vader.

"4.5 kilometers long," Krennic replied.

The two captains exchanged glances, and Tersif whistled. "Not exactly a corvette," he said. "Do we reckon this is one of their battleships?"

Krennic rotated the hologram, giving them a view from several additional angles. "It must be, given the size. Strange, however, that there were no escorts with it."

"I wonder how it stacks up against our own designs," Captain Pryde said. "Would we need three Star Destroyers to take it down? Ten?"

"Hopefully we have more Star Destroyers than they have battleships," Krennic said.

"And we have the Death Star," Vader said. "A significant advantage, in my estimation. How long until the second portal is complete?"

Another set of rings were under construction in this system, much larger, intended to allow passage of the Death Star into the other universe. Krennic had deliberately stalled its progress. There was glory to be had out there, in the parallel universe, and he didn't want Tarkin to swoop in with his superweapon and seize all of it for himself. That hollow-cheeked bastard had already taken enough from him.

"Not long now, Lord Vader. But there are certain... technical difficulties surrounding a facility of that size."

Krennic felt a tightening around his throat. Floating around the halls of the Imperial high command were many rumors surrounding this mysterious power of Vader's. Some officers, it was said, had died this way.

"See that these 'technical difficulties' do not pose a problem for much longer, director."

"Sir," an officer spoke up. The tightness released as Vader turned his attention away. "The installation is fully charged."

"Excellent." Krennic reached a hand up to his neck, glanced at Darth Vader, then stepped forward until he was almost up against the glass. The starscape beyond was drowned out by light from this system's sun, leaving a field of inky black punctuated only by a scattering of starships and the installation's three perpendicular rings. Said rings were about twenty-five kilometers in diameter, ascending in size from innermost to outermost, and even the smallest was more than wide enough for an Executor-class dreadnought to fit through; the Raider-class corvette, Pursuer, dwindled to insignificance amidst such technological ambition.

The ring they were standing on was about half a kilometer thick and one kilometer wide. In either direction it diminished and curved inwards, until on the far side it was a thin band running opposite the command tower. Within each ring ran a blue strip that pulsed faintly with light—these were particle accelerators, collecting untold magnetic and kinetic energy to tear the very fabric of space asunder.

"Gentlemen," Krennic said, turning back to face Vader, Pryde, and Tersif. "In just a few moments now, we are going to make history. A crew of ninety-two will cross over into another universe, make their observations, and pave the way for conquests we can only now dream of. Imagine it!" He held out his hand towards the window. "A whole galaxy for the taking!"

"Sir," said one of his officers, "Pursuer reports all systems ready."

Another spoke up: "Particle accelerators are operating at full capacity, sir. Tachyon field is fluctuating within parameters."

Krennic folded his arms, and looked over at Vader.

"You may proceed, director."

"Very well," Krennic said. "Station control… send them through."

"Right away, sir," reported a functionary. "Activating distortion field."

At once, the blue strip inside each ring brightened, pulsing faster and faster, and the miniscule ship within was bathed in a blue glow far overpowering the light of the nearby sun.

"Target locked, sir."

"Field at sixty percent discharge."

The very structure of the space station began to hum. The sound built in pitch, like that of a speeder engine just starting up, and light fixtures rattled on the ceiling.

"Field at eighty percent discharge."

Krennic did not move his gaze from the corvette. Particles were swirling around it, now, little motes of blue and green that danced like bubbles in hot water.

"Field at ninety percent discharge. Prepare for transition."

There was a flash, and the Pursuer was in another universe. Only empty space remained in its wake.