Inej shoved her fist in her mouth and strangled a scream. Why does this keep happening?

"I don't see why you're so wound up," said a voice from the doorway to her bunkroom. Inej let her head thump onto the pillow. Kaz again. "We got out, didn't we?"

"But Jedha was destroyed. Because of me." There was a sort of bleakness to the words. There was a bleakness inside of her. There was a bleakness everywhere.

Will we ever win?

"Because of the Empire," Kaz corrected, coming in to take a seat at the end of her bunk. "You've always been good at assigning blame where blame is due; don't break that habit now. Not over them."

"If we hadn't been on Eadu-"

"Then no one would know why Alderaan blew up," Kaz finished. "No one would be around to warn your precious Rebellion about what's coming for them. Hey," he went on when she didn't respond, "if you're really intent on blaming someone other than the Empire, blame me. I'm the one who set off those thermal detonators. I'm the one who alerted the Empire we were there."

"It wasn't your fault, Kaz," Inej muttered into her pillow. "You didn't know."

She felt the hesitation in his hand as he reached for her shoulders and rolled her onto her back. She sat up and looked at him, dark eyes blurry, studying the tightness at his mouth, the creases carved into his brow.

"If it wasn't my fault," he said gently - he was never this gentle, she'd noticed, only with her - "then it wasn't yours. You can't blame yourself for everything that goes wrong."

Her hands slip into her lap and clasped his. They sat there in silence for a moment.

"That little girl I saved earlier," Inej whispered, "she's dead now, isn't she?"

Kaz nodded.

Inej took a deep breath. There was a hollowness in her chest; her heart was a bell. She could feel the winds of hyperspace blowing through to ring it. "Why does everyone have to die?" she rasped on a stray breath of air.

"You can't save everyone."

"Well I should be able to!" She wasn't shouting, precisely, but her throat hurt anyway. "What's the point in the Rebellion if we can't save people?" Her voice quieted again. "What's the point in anything?"

Kaz said nothing. And so Inej uttered the words she never thought she'd say:

"Sometimes I want to leave the Rebellion. Sometimes I want to leave the Rebellion, the death, the cause - leave it all behind and be safe." She squeezed his hands tighter. "And be happy."

She could feel the tension in his hands, see it in his shoulders, hear it in how he held his breath.

"But I won't." All the breath was released from both their bodies, then, a coil unwound. A string had snapped. "Because that's not the right thing to do."

Even after she admitted it, Kaz didn't leave. They sat together in silence for a very long time, and only their breaths were heard.


The woman in the silver armour stood on the bridge of the battle station DS-1, known colloquially as the Death Star, and watched the ruin of Jedha beneath her.

"The homing beacon is still transmitting?" she asked - no, demanded of - her aide.

"The one on the ship from Eadu was knocked out," he said, "so I believe they were killed in the destruction of Jedha. But the one on the Rebel transport is still functioning, and we have their position."

"What homing beacon?" snapped the high-class accent of Vasily Lantsov, the underling the Emperor had assigned command of the battle station to. The woman still balked at the idea of serving under him - lingering opinions from a previous life prevented her from granting him anything close to respect - and hated that she had to explain herself to this imbecile.

But it was as the Emperor had ordered, so it would be so.

"During the battle over Dantooine, I planted a homing beacon on the hull of the leader's transport," she bit out. She was glad that not only did her vocoder convey her irritation well, but the Force also made the temperature drop several degrees - even a Force-blind rat like Lantsov could sense it. He took a nervous step back. "It should lead us right to whatever new base they scurry to, which we can then target with this battle station."

"You didn't kill them." It wasn't a question. Lantsov spat the next word: "Mercy. I had thought it was a concept you weren't familiar with, Lady Koroleva."

"Careful, Lantsov," she said silkily, taking a petty pleasure from the way he stiffened at her change of tone. "This assignment is your chance at redemption. The Emperor is still undecided on whether Naboo will be punished for its errant Senator's - your brother's - betrayal. As Regional Governor, surely you should make your people's wellbeing a number one priority? I do have sway with His Highness, after all."

That seemed to take the wind out of his sails - reminding certain officers that their relatives were traitors generally encouraged them to reinforce their loyalty to the Empire. "Yes, my lady." His voice was sullen.

But Lantsov's bravado couldn't be culled for long. "Even so, you made the decision to let the Rebel leadership live on the off chance they could be of some use to us?"

"Most of the Rebels had already escaped through the hole in the blockade - the hole that your ships failed to fill, might I add," she said viciously. Old hatred meant she took entirely too much satisfaction in verbally eviscerating him - again. "I am nothing if not thorough. When I put the Rebellion down, it will be permanent. I will have no stray terrorists around to threaten the peace of our Empire. That, Governor, is why while you may have this battle station, I am the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet. I will crush the Rebellion-"

Alina, the voice had said. She gritted her teeth.

"-and if it means letting a few insignificant insurgents go. . ."

Please.

"So be it."

His face was pale now.

"So, Governor," she said pleasantly. "It wasn't mercy I offered them."

Nebulae swirled beyond the viewport; it was hard to keep her attention on the here and now. Somewhere out there. . .

No. It didn't matter.

Everything that mattered - that had ever mattered - was right here.

"All I gave them," she finished with all the finality of a death sentence, "was a few more days to live."


Yavin IV was a moon hidden away in the shadow of the scarlet gas giant Yavin, its surface dominated by a hot, humid jungle. Inej and Jesper were the only ones in the cockpit when they first entered the star system, but by the time they'd breached the atmosphere and the full flora of the moon was on display, the door opened and Kaz slipped in - unacknowledged, save for the knowing glances the pilots shot each other.

Inej knew very little about Kaz's past, why he'd taken up smuggling, but she knew that he'd been raised on the sun-scorched, sand-scoured desert planet Tatooine. And she remembered this habit of his, a link to his past he couldn't sever: his unabashed delight at anything green. Although he did his best to hide it, Inej recognised the reverential silence that gripped him as they cruised about the trees.

Inej couldn't fathom it, spending one's formative years on a bland rock like that. Her parents had been travellers, traders: she'd grown up to the sight of mottled blue hyperspace, and the worn interior of her parents' ship. She'd learned the theory behind flying almost before she could walk - the theory behind secrecy and clandestine interactions as well while the Clone Wars had raged on until the birth of the Empire and her parents had had to turn to more. . . lucrative. . . means of survival.

No wonder she'd made such a good smuggler; it was in her blood.

They'd spent their lives running on luck, until their luck ran out.

These days, it seemed like Inej's fortunes were headed the same way.

"Transmitting clearance codes now," she said into the ship's comlink before the Rebel on guard duty could even ask. The person grunted; apparently, they didn't share Anika's goodwill.

But their codes checked out, so the grumbling guard let them through without firing and they landed inside one of the open hangars unmolested. When the ramp descended, Inej stately got out of her seat and headed outside, to where General Kir-Bataar was already waiting.

"Inej," she greeted warmly. The captain smiled in response. Tamar could revert between ice and fire as easily as breathing, Inej had found, and she was glad to see her superior was in a welcoming mood. "Glad to see you managed to escape. We lost too many people in that battle." There was nothing warm about that last part: just cold, hard facts. "I'm still surprised we're alive as it is."

"Did you have trouble leaving?" Inej asked as they fell into step - presumably towards Senator Lantsov's new office, where they'd get their next assignment. "I figured you'd have still been on the ground when that pilot jumped right through the Destroyer."

The General's tan face went pale at Inej's words. "We weren't," she said. "We'd just taken off, and our hyperdrive was damaged. Alina-" She caught herself. "Koroleva's TIEs were coming at us in hordes. Nikolai was muttering to himself - never seen him pray before," she added thoughtfully. "Don't know what that was about." She pressed her lips together. "I thought we were going to die." She took a deep breath. "Then they were called off. I still don't understand why."

"It doesn't seem to make any sense," Inej agreed, "but at least you're alive. That has to count for something."

"Perhaps," Kir-Bataar capitulated as they came to a stop outside the door, "but as far as the Empire is concerned, alive just means breathing. And why kill one Rebel when you can kill them all?"

"What do you mean?" Inej barely managed to get out before the door swung inward and Senator Lantsov was silhouetted in the frame.

"Captain Ghafa." He smiled at her, but there was rings around his eyes and the smile was strained. "Ready to give another report on the increasingly dire situation?" Despite his cheerful tone, Inej didn't think he was joking.

She appreciated the effort though, and let her mouth curve into a smile, despite the weight of Jedha hanging off the edges and trying to drag it into a frown. "Looking forward to it, sir."

The conversation was short and depressing; before long, even the famously cheerful Nikolai Lantsov had stopped smirking. He took a deep breath that sounded suspiciously like a sigh, and steepled his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

"Jedha," he murmured. He didn't finish the thought.

Then he glanced up again. "You'd better go get some rest, Captain; you've had a stressful experience, and it's not healthy to keep running on adrenaline. Send Kuwei Yul-Bo to me as soon as we can, and we'll begin evaluating our best chances of defeating that thing."

"Yes, sir," she said, and not even Inej could keep the tiredness out of her voice. But first she had to add, "And sir, if you don't mind me asking, could you give me directions to where Anika's staying? I promised her I'd visit more often."

Nikolai glanced up, and his shoulders seemed to sink even lower. "Anika?"

"A pilot from Red Squadron."

"I know." Lantsov straightened up, his brow clouded. "You were friends?"

Inej nodded mutely.

"Then I'm so sorry, Inej," he told her, "but Anika died over Dantooine."

The words took a moment to register.

"What?" Her heart was beating quickly, but her breaths were slow. So slow she might run out of oxygen between each inhale. "But- Anika's the best pilot I know, there's no way she couldn't have survived until that pilot jumped right through that Destroyer- Oh." It all clicked into place, and the completed puzzle was heavy. It sank into Inej's gut, dragging it into oblivion.

When she spoke, her voice was trembling. "Anika was the pilot who jumped through the Destroyer, wasn't she?"

Nikolai nodded. "Yes."

Of course she was.

Of course she was.

Inej clenched her fists, but the pinpricks of her nails against her palms was light - superficial. Sound seemed to echo; her head was floating somewhere far, far away. The only noise she could hear was her own laughter.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

You'll be there in spirit.

See you around, flygirl.

There was a lump in her throat.

See you around, flygirl.

And she would. Anika's face was imprinted on the insides of her retinas; when her vision blurred Lantsov into a mere silhouette, she could superimpose Anika's image over the top of him and pretend she wasn't dead, all was well, they could throw back their heads and laugh again like they had no care in the world. They could plot and plan a hope of a future, a galaxy at peace, a world without war.

Without violence.

Without death.

Inej gritted her teeth. She was mortified when she felt hot tears splash down her cheeks.

She shot her chair back like she'd been burned and lunged to her feet. "I- I'm sorry, sir," she said through her sobs, already making for the door. "I just need-" She left before she had to form her thoughts into a fully coherent sentence.

She didn't remain to see the sorrowful look Lantsov wore as he watched her go. Nor did she hear him murmur, "No apology needed, Captain."

Although he referred to her with his words, his eyes stared somewhere far, far away, like he was thinking of someone else.