0 BBY
RING OF KAFRENE
Cassian Andor stepped off the shuttle and into the stifling sounds and smells of gross overpopulation. This was the central trade point in the Ring of Kafrene. Nice and crowded, he thought, any intelligence officer's first choice for a meet. His informant would be waiting.
"Entering the hub now," he said softly, and lost himself in the confusion of buying and selling and haggling.
He eyed the tops of the buildings as he walked. Easily accessible. Good vantage point.
"Hmmm. Rooftops are pretty high."
He noticed then that he was attracting a few puzzled glances from those in closest proximity to him. Whatever planet one hailed from, talking to oneself was not usually a sign of mental soundness. But Cassian was not in fact talking to himself.
"Don't even think about it."
A familiar voice filled his right ear. The Basic was accented like his own, and exasperated in a way he could never achieve.
"About what?"
"What you were just thinking of doing."
Some way or another, she was perpetually aware of his thoughts, particularly those that proved just plain foolish. He huffed into the comlink with all the feigned innocence he could muster.
A pause. "Let me see, how many times has it been that you nearly miscarried an operation?"
"Those were all a long time ago."
She wasn't listening. "Maybe the time on Raada you ran yourself into a corner with an army of troopers on you tail. Or the time on Blackfel you almost blew yourself to pieces, with you own bomb. Oh, and my personal favorite, the time on Geonosis you nearly got captured by the droid that—"
"Alright," he hissed. "Enough." Her silence was fraught with self-satisfaction.
Another pause as he wound his way down the bustling street. "Turn to your left."
Cassian turned right.
"You are a load Bantha fodder is what you are."
"And you're a Moof-milker," was his immediate response. The bustle of the previous street fell suddenly away and his voice bounced eerily off the hard surfaces. Years earlier, he might have had to fight to keep from laughing. Now, however, he was familiar with her quips and quite adept at controlling his impulses. He contented himself with a smirk. "I know what I'm doing," he muttered through is teeth as he turned another corner, past an old gray Twi'lek jangling a bowl of coins. A few steps later his statement was proved woefully inaccurate. He caught only a glimpse of shiny white at the next intersection before squeezing himself into a nearby doorway, the smile slipping from his face like melted blue butter.
"You really should have listened to me."
He was listening now, poking his face just out of the shadow, hearing as the uniform footsteps began to fade up the street.
"Fulcrum, what is your status?" Per her custom, she used the rebel title bestowed upon him ages back like some coveted family heirloom. He had laid it to rest after his recruiting years, only to have her resurrect it on their first mission. It had caught him rather off guard upon hearing it spoken again for the first time in so long.
Cassian opened his mouth to respond when a rustle behind him seized his attention. He turned briefly and peered into the darkness. Nothing.
"Respond with your status."
"I'm fine," he whispered. "They didn't see—"
"OY!" Cassian fought the urge to fling himself back out into the street. He twisted around, finding a pair of murderous orange eyes leering at him out of the darkness. The fading steps down the other street halted. He could hear confused and garbled voices, could almost see them glancing around.
"Fulcrum?"
"WOT DO YOU THINK YER DOIN'?" Cassian laid a finger on his lips, silently pleading with the pair of eyes. He imagined the troopers pointing to his street, heard the distant steps growing louder. "GET THE BLAZES OU' OF 'ERE!" Something slimy and warm wrapped itself around his abdomen and hurled him back out of the doorway.
He sailed a few feet through the air before crashing into a small fruit cart on the other side of the street and rolling to the ground. He looked up in time to see the door slam shut behind him. The footsteps were rounding the corner at the far end. Hardly bothering to stand all the way up, Cassian slithered back around the way he had come. The old Twi'lek was now on his feet. He caught Cassian by the shoulder, clutching at the front of his jacket.
"Please," he wheezed. "A few coins. Just a couple of credits!" The footsteps were coming fast, no more than a few seconds away.
"I'm sorry," Cassian whispered, and pulled the Twi'lek to him. He turned and shoved the miserable creature out into the street, where he stumbled and fell within full view of the stormtroopers. Cassian heard them shout in surprise, then turned and dashed back to the bustle of the main street, praying fervently he had not hurt the Twi'lek too badly. As it turned out, he was more than alright. The troopers, realizing he was not the cause of commotion, left him in the street unharmed. Later the Twi'lek found a credit chip mysteriously tucked into the folds of his clothes.
Back in the masses, Cassian walked quickly, glancing repeatedly over his shoulder. He kept catching flashes of white in the crowd of bodies. All nearby stormtroopers would be alerted to suspicious activity. This was not how it was supposed to go.
"Easy," came the voice soothingly. "You're attracting attention." Cassian was never quite sure how she always seemed to know his mental state. He had a theory that she counted the number of exhales he made every minute, or somehow had found a way to monitor his heartrate.
"Let's just get this done," he breathed. "Tell me where to go."
She led him on a twisting path to a remote alleyway. He thought at least in this labyrinth it would take the troopers a while to find him. When he arrived, his contact was there. He emerged from the shadows as Cassian rounded the corner.
"I was about to leave." Flinty eyes. Wounded arm. Sweaty—everything. Tivik.
"I came as fast as I could."
"Not entirely true."
"I have to get back on board." The big man glanced to the opening of the alleyway. "Walk with me."
"Don't let him leave," the voice said in his ear. "There are stormtroopers everywhere."
Cassian tried to stall, but Tivik would have none of it. With a word, the bigger man tried to shove past. Cassian moved to block his escape.
"Easy." Tivik was large, but he was also malleable, and Cassian knew exactly which buttons to push. Direct eye contact, square shoulders, maybe a twitch of the hand to the concealed blaster in his jacket. "You have news from Jedha?" He injected earnest into his tone and added, "I came across the galaxy for this."
After a moment, Tivik began to speak, his information spurting out with each hot breath. "An Imperial pilot. One of the cargo drivers on the Jedha run. He defected yesterday."
"So?"
"This pilot, he says he knows what the Jedha mining operation is all about. He's telling people they're making a weapon." Another glance to the alleyway opening. "The kyber crystals," he hissed, trying to remain below a certain decibel despite his distress. "That's what they're for! He's brought a message, says he's got proof."
"What kind of weapon?"
"They're getting closer," said the voice. "Just down the street."
Tivik couldn't hear her, but it was almost like he sensed her words. "Look, I have to go."
"You called me," Cassian reminded him. "You knew this was important."
"You shouldn't've come late," Tivik shot back. His nerves were fraying, Cassian could see it in the beady eyes. But he was not ready to leave it be. He took hold of the man, making sure to squeeze his injured arm.
"What kind of weapon?" he asked again.
"A planet killer," the man gasped after a pause, slapping Cassian's hands away. "That's what he called it." A bead of cold sweat slid down Cassian's spine. He kept himself from shivering.
"A planet killer?" said the voice.
Cassian slowly released Tivik. "A planet killer?" he echoed, matching her despondent tone.
"Someone named Erso sent him, some old friend of Saw's."
Something clicked in Cassian's mind, some distant file he had read long ago. "Galen Erso?"
"Was it? I don't know!"
"The stormtroopers are closing in on your location," said the voice over Tivik's stammers. "You need to move." But Cassian's thoughts were elsewhere, far away from the immediate situation. He could feel the other man growing edgier by the second, knew there wasn't enough time for anything resembling a proper debrief.
"Who else knows this?" It was all he could think to ask.
"You need to move now."
"I have no idea! It's all falling apart. Saw's right. You guys keep talking and stalling and dealing, and we're all on fumes out there! There are spies everywhere…" Tivik trailed off, his eyes once more fixed on the opening to the alleyway.
"Fulcrum—" Cassian turned to see the way out blocked by two troopers, weapons raised. Shit.
"What's all this?" The voice was distorted and muffled in static.
"Fulcrum?"
Cassian raised his hands coolly, fixing a hapless smile on his face. "Just me and my friend. If we're bothering someone, we'll get out of the way." The trooper mask stared blankly at him, hard and shiny. Emotionless.
"You're not leaving," it barked. "Come on, let's see some scandocs."
"Do something. You need to get out."
"Yeah, of course." His face was smiling, but his mind was racing with possibilities. He selected one. "My gloves?" The stormtroopers showed no indication of opposition. He reached his hand casually into his jacket, his fingers finding the hard grip of his blaster. He didn't give himself time to think. His body acted on reflex, on years of necessary experience. In his profession, being fast meant you got to live a few more days. It was dirty line of work, but he knew nothing else.
A heartbeat later, he was staring down at two still white forms on the filthy concrete. A pulse was racing in his ears.
"No…" Tivik's voice came from behind him. "What have you done?"
What was necessary, he answered in his head. Despite the muffler Cassian had installed on his blaster, the sound of two bodies dropping would be enough for any buckethead to come and investigate.
"There will be more coming from the same way." Even as she said it he heard a garbled voice from a few blocks over. "Troopers down," it said. "Section 9."
"You need to find another way out."
Cassian glanced all around him. His eyes flew from the three filthy walls that confined them to the opening of the alleyway to the bodies on the ground, and then upwards. A network of rusty pipes. Plenty of handholds. They needed to climb.
He started to pull Tivik in the direction of the nearest wall, but when his intentions became clear, the larger man began to struggle.
"Are you crazy?" He pulled himself from Cassian's grip. "I'll never climb out of here. My arm!" His arm. Cassian had forgotten.
"They're almost there, Fulcrum." The voice was losing its professional calm.
What do to?
She hesitated and so did he. Cassian couldn't leave Tivik here. It wasn't a matter of conscience; they could not risk an informant falling into Imperial hands. Both knew they were fast running out of options. Both were quickly coming to the same conclusion. The pause dragged on for an eternity.
"Terminate him," said the voice finally. All emotion had gone from it. "Just do it and get out."
Tivik was fast approaching hysteria. Cassian could hear footsteps bouncing off the next street over.
"Move!" they were yelling. "Move!"
"Do it now."
Tivik had his back to him, facing the alleyway opening. He didn't turn when Cassian stepped up close. He could hear the desperate gasps of air as they shuddered through the man's body.
"Hey, calm down." He kept his voice low and soothing. He imagined this was quite what it would be like trying to pacify a Nerf before slaughter. "Calm down. You did good. Everything you told me, it's real?"
"It's real."
"Fulcrum."
He gripped the blaster tightly, set it against Tivik's back. "We'll be alright," he murmured.
"Cassi—" The blaster went off in his hand. The big man slumped to the ground, leaving the smell of burning flesh hanging in the air. It was humane. It was necessary. Cassian stared down at him for a moment, then turned and began to climb. There was nothing on the other end. No comfort from the voice in his ear.
"Lieutenant Andor," he heard a much deeper voice say. There was a burst of static as a hand covered the mic. Faintly, he heard the deeper voice rumble something, words indiscernible, then a distant "yes sir".
Another smaller static burst as the hand was removed. "Fulcrum, you are instructed to return to headquarters," she said. "The General has urgent business for you. They have a new contact they think will help us find out more about this planet killer."
Cassian hoisted himself breathlessly up onto the roof. Below, a stream of stormtroopers filled the little alley. He watched them as they tried to make sense of what had happened. Tivik would surely be blamed for the murder of the two stormtroopers. A hero's death. It was better this way, he tried to assure himself.
"Understood." He turned from the scene and set off across the rooftop, back in the direction of the shuttle bay. "See you soon, Ben."
There was nothing but static on the other end.
