For some reason, Galen Erso had decided to retire on the agrarian planet of Lah'mu in a remarkably simple residence. I'd once heard a rumor that he tried to take up farming while in hiding from the Empire, and wondered if he'd discovered a fondness for the life during that time. On a certain level, I could relate. There was something satisfying in the farmer's life, something I myself experienced from time to time. No, the life never made me… happy, exactly. But I had experienced moments of contentment and joy that I could help people with lower water prices than stingy Jabba and some of the other profiteering farmers charged.

As I walked along in the semidarkness, tall grasses waved around me. A pale moon was creeping out from the cover of clouds, giving silvery light to the coming night. The air was cool, unlike Tatooine. The sole source of noise besides the whistling of the wind within the grass and the soft occasional hoots of animals came from my boots crunching beneath me as I traversed the land.

After taking a transport to the farming world, I'd rented a speeder bike under an assumed name with a dash of helpful hand-waving, and then parked the speeder bike in a cave an hour out from the aged scientist's home. This made it both hard to detect and hard to trace. Not that anyone should suspect someone coming here. But… you never knew.

I had meant what I said to Leia: we had to be so careful. Otherwise… well. So, if being extremely careful meant a touch of paranoia and a few long walks here or there, then so be it.

Galen Erso's residence reminded me, quite startlingly, of my own. Not in the sense of looks alone. But it carried a similar rustic, simplistic feeling. For an Imperial scientist responsible for the Death Star and so many other creations of the Imperial war machine, a man surely worth millions (minimum) of credits, it was a surprising choice.

Or maybe not. Maybe he simply wanted the peaceful life always denied him prior.

I snuck into the house, feeling like a ghost. I touched nothing. I felt everything. Grief and guilt were punctuated by terrible loneliness and yearning to make amends. Anger, also, but of an old, weary kind. All of these sensations added to the haunting, creeping ones taking shape within me.

And then, I arrived at the elderly man's bedside. His eyes were shut, his breathing even. (I was glad to note he was, in fact, still breathing.) For a moment, I thought I might need to wake him. That'll go over well, I mused. A complete stranger shaking him to life—I mean, to cogence.

But then, suddenly, Erso rasped out, "You've come, then?" The pale gooseberry eyes opened, regarding me with curiosity, age, and a hint of unmistakable hope.

"Yes, yes, sir. My name is—"

"It's highly likely, you know, that we're being recorded." Stating that didn't make much sense until he added, "Which is why I installed this." He nodded to what I realized was a sonic neutralizer cleverly concealed by a nondescript holonet transponder.

In reply, I offered my own sonic neutralizer with a lopsided smile; mine had been tucked into the folds of my tunic. "Luke Skywalker. Farmer."

"Well—clearly not any—longer." When Erso coughed, it was a terrible, wretched thing. I winced, unable to help it.

"You've come to help me?" he asked when the fit concluded.

"I hope we can work together for the help of everyone. Leia Organa sent me. She said that you have something for us." Leia and I had agreed I shouldn't mention her as my sister. That information must be closely guarded.

"Have—something?" Cough. "I may. What about Jyn?"

"Jyn?"

"My daughter. Where is she?"

Unexpected though this was, I kept my calm. "…I can't say that I know, sir. Last we were aware, Jyn disappeared after getting your message to the remnants of us left."

Erso said, "But that was the deal."

The deal? "I'm afraid I'm confused, sir," I confessed.

Erso's sadness was so profound that I felt it in the Force. "So much gets lost… in message passing. I'm sorry, son, but I don't have the plans with me right now."

It was like being punched by a Gammorean—by a rancor. All of this… my choices… Leia's hope… the agreement to re-found the Alliance… it all hinged on getting the plans. Which Erso didn't have? How could that get lost in message passing?

"You don't?"

"How could I?" Cough, cough. "There is only… one way to get them."

"With all due respect," I said, maintaining my steady voice with effort through my shock, "there's only two of this in this. No theft from Scarif would be possible."

"That isn't the plan. I have a plan. But I can only… do it… if I see Jyn first."

I recognized something in that moment. Erso might execute whatever plan he had in mind to get the plans regardless—or he might not. While the man clearly felt guilt, I didn't get an entirely moral feel off of him. But he wanted to see his daughter, one last time. If Jyn Erso was even still alive. It wasn't like any of us had kept touch after everything.

Compassion, not anger, suddenly filled me. Was this not the last bargaining chip Galen Erso had in his possession? Would Han not do the same thing if in this position? Ask to see Padmé one last time?

I asked, "Tell me your plan, and then we can discuss Jyn."

"I don't want to discuss it! I want to see her!" A pleading note had entered the man's virulent voice.

"You will," I replied evenly. "I promise." I only hoped I wasn't lying. "I'll track her down myself. But first, we have to discuss how you think you can get the plans. Because we ought to both agree it is as secure—and as helpful—an idea as possible."

Galen's eyes crinkled at the corners. "And who are you to promise you can find my daughter and to order me around?"

"I am a Jedi, like my father before me."

OOO

The very next day, my transport landed on the desert planet of Jedah. Though the once-capital of the world, Jedah city, had long been strafed by the Death Star for "test," parts of the planet still held settlements. Not many. Most beings were too scared to settle on a world they considered forever cursed after the events there. But some had no choice. Others were brave.

Hopefully these latter types could help a desperate Jedi on his quest. Though they couldn't know of the Jedi part. Galen's knowledge of Jyn's whereabouts were far and few between, though they were better than my own knowledge of them. Last I knew, Jyn had successfully carried her father's message to the straggling remnants of rebellion Leia had attempted to cobble together, only to be disappointed and furious that we could take no action about her warnings. After that, we completely lost contact.

Galen's knowledge only went a little further: Jyn had returned to Jedah, possibly to fight with Saw Guerra. Though Guerra was long dead, executed soon after the destruction of Chandrila, some possibility remained that I could find one escapee from his group to help me in my search. If I didn't… well, then I'd just have to pray and search the currents of the Force.

I gave no quarter in my thoughts to the possibility of failure. I would succeed. I must succeed. The very fate of the galaxy hung in the balance. Galen Erso's plot to get the Death Star plans in his hands—literally—was radical, but so radical I thought it just might work, for it played to the very arrogance and hubris for which the Empire's upper-ranks was famous.

But none of that would matter if I couldn't find Jyn Erso. As always in dire situations (though I hadn't faced a situation so dire as this one in a long time, perhaps ever), the words of my wise old teacher Yoda came back to me. "Do or do not. There is no try."

Well, amen to that. So let it be. I would do.

OOO

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