A/N; I'm currently on a flight and just watched two very happy animated movies- now I'm taking on Rogue One and then I'm watching another happy movie. I'll find out soon enough and let you know if this method works to make R1 a little less emotionally maddening.

Edit: Flight nausea struck about that time and I only got to watch half of the movie, the half that isn't mentally traumatic. Meanwhile my dad woke up to find R1 playing on my screen and he sighs going, "GEE how many times, child?" To which I snapped, "SHH DARTH'S PUN IS COMING UP!" and I was grinning so maniacally knowing what to expect that I'm sure I drew a few stares.

Chapter Five: Extraction Team Undecided

In Jyn Erso's experience, waking up on-board a flying ship had never before felt like not waking up on-board a flying ship.

There was always the occasional lurch, the jittery paneling of either the ceiling or the floors and the unwelcome bursts of speed by an inconsiderate pilot, not to mention the horrendously uncomfortable angle in your neck when you woke. She liked to think that years of experience had dulled these sensations for her, made them much less irritable, but. Well. The human body wasn't meant to take that kind of abuse.

So when Jyn opened her eyes while on the bottom bunk of the new ship, she assumed she was in her own bed at wherever she'd chosen to call home for the time being.

Then her brain registered the vacant overhead bunk, the gray ceiling and blinking comms wall in the small room, and she sat up in disbelief.

A couple of minutes later she had showered, changed into slightly cleaner but nonetheless worse-for-wear clothing and walked into the common area with a cup of sim-caf that oddly didn't taste like recycled fuel.

Everyone else was already gathered around a circular table that had been retracted from the ceiling overhead, in the middle of what sounded like a heated discussion. All conversation came to an abrupt halt the moment she emerged into visibility.

"Here's one more person to vote for you, Cassian," grumbled Sefla in greeting.

"I don't even want to be voting on this," growled Cassian, before looking her way and saying, "Good morning, Jyn."

Sefla looked aghast. "How come I didn't get a good morning?"

"What are we voting about?" asked Jyn.

"Extraction Team Rogue One doesn't have a particularly great ring to it, does it?"

"Children, if you wouldn't mind," cut in Melshi exhasperatedly. "We have the high-stakes mission of breaking into an Imperial prison facility ahead of us and we're still delaying its planning process."

Sefla's expression turned serious, and he looked down at the blueprints Cassian held pinned to the table. Bodhi had been reading them all along, and shifted uneasily on his feet at many of the things he discerned. He only noticed her presence when she stood beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"This...this isn't going to be easy," he said, crease lines drawn tight together.

"That's probably why they assigned us," she replied, trying for a wry smile.

The blueprints depicted the layout of a building that wasn't just large, but extremely complicated. Doors opened to corridors that winded in mazes, cell blocks were placed great distances apart and in random, uncoordinated spots, and scattered around the central building were smaller blocks, squat boxes that couldn't house much. But those were also places to search, and their placement promised a challenge or several.

"What are we supposed to get done?"

Cassian looked up from where his focus was intensified, appearing for some reason disoriented. It was an odd look for him. She decided it didn't spell good news.

"Yesterday we received a distress call from a ship manned by a middle-ranked pilot and two Alliance spies returning with valuable intel," he explained, looking back down at the building's layout like he'd already told everyone else the story and only repeated it now. "This was just before they were taken prisoner. Fortunately the Imps took the ship with them and that allowed us to trace them..." He jabbed a finger at the central building. "Dimoran Imprisonment and Interrogation Facility."

"Which should be our primary concern, and exactly why we're running out of time," added Melshi. "This place is meant to break people and get information out of them. It'll be a miracle if they're in there for longer than three days without the Empire learning the location of our new Base, among other things."

"And the standard protocol for a situation like this isn't going to work," said Sefla. "None of them had lullaby pills."

Jyn frowned, processing this last statement. "You mean...?"

"We need perimeter scouts," interrupted Cassian importantly, looking up from the table. "Sefla, Melshi, take the extra guns and find your vantage points. Bodhi, you're our ticket out of here. Main building has three exits on different sides- be prepared to drop by any one of them on short notice, though we'll try to keep you informed throughout. The three of you will have to pay a lot of attention and watch each other's backs. Myself, Jyn and Kay will breach the facility and look for our three personnel under the aliases of Captain Willix and his aide-de-camp; best case scenario the three prisoners walk out free, establish contact with you and unsuspectingly make it out of the region before their absence is noticed. We hang back for a couple of days afterwards so as not to link ourselves with the escapees."

"Worst case scenario?" asked Bodhi.

"Worst case, Jyn, Kay and I will have to make it out with the prisoners, in the process sacrificing the Imperial alias I painstakingly built over the past five years."

Sefla winced. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"No, let's hope not," agreed Jyn.

"And am I the only one who sees the major practicality flaw in this plan?" asked Melshi, but his words were only directed at Cassian with a sideways-frown, like he wasn't talking to anyone else.

The Captain closed his eyes in an exasperated manner. "It's not going to be a problem."

"I beg to differ. Halfway into the operation it's going to become a pretty big kriffing problem."

Cassian glanced his way almost pleadingly. Almost. The creases on his brow and weariness of expression suddenly carried more intensity, more prominence. "We discussed this."

"Yeah. Before I heard the plan."

"Something you aren't telling us?" asked Jyn pointedly, annoyed now about being kept in the dark. She preferred open, loud and even messy discussions to cornered, cryptic whispering.

If any change came over Cassian, it didn't show. The only notable difference was the slight increase in rigidity around his shoulders, but that was probably because of the automatic brace latched to his back that kicked in when it had to. "No," he looked at her. "Just administrative issues and Melshi being pre-operation paranoid."

Sefla coughed. "I'm sorry, but Melshi isn't the only one who's paranoid about it."

Cassian treated him to a look. "If it comes to it, I'll deal with it. How many times have I told you?"

"You'll deal with it. Sure."

"I am an experienced hostage negotiator, a spy, and a multiple times undercover operative so I assure you-"

A spot of turbulence the ship hit prevented the further progression of their argument, rocking the table from its retractors. The two rebels settled for exchanged glares instead, but nothing more was said about the administrative issue in question. Jyn spared a glance at Bodhi, gratified to note that he was just as out-of-place as she was.

"Any other questions?" asked Melshi, specifically addressing the two of them this time.

"Er, yeah...they'll be expecting us, though, right? The Interrogation Facility?" asked Bodhi, his nerves on a tethering edge.

"Of course they will be," affirmed Melshi. "Which is why the three of us have the hardest part of the operation. The ship's inbuilt ghosting mechanism will help you to some degree, but get picked by a sensor and they'll know who you are, no questions asked. This won't be the ship that delivers Captain Willix to them either. If things go according to plan this ship will never be spotted."

"Ghosting mechanism?"

"It can avoid getting picked up by sensors, radar or scans for a limited period of time at a moment. Detect a sensor or one of the routine scans- Cassian will get that for you- switch on ghosting, get out of range before it turns off on its own. Anything other than a routine scan, you've got to confuse the hell out of them."

"Be there one moment, ghost the next?"

"Look like a kriffing glitch on their radar, yes. It's a busy facility- with a dignitary like Captain Willix visiting, they won't have the time for glitches."

Jyn raised an eyebrow. "Dignitary?"

"Born into a family that served the Empire even before its formation, served under every historical name there is," explained Cassian. "A new aide-de-camp every visit doesn't even look suspicious considering my penchant for perfect operation wherever I'm assigned. Willix is to say the least a nuisance to any Imperial running a facility, but they don't lose sight of his authority. I'll leave the file at your door. You have fifteen hours to catch up, but you're only going to need three."

"And the role of aide-de-camp? How much of reading is that going to take?"

"Not so much of reading as posture practice. The rest you watch and follow."

Jyn sniggered.

Cassian furrowed his brow, apprehensive there was an issue. "What?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing, just...how did Willix the perfectionist ever look convincing with a droid that slouched all the time?"

Cassian actually coughed back a laugh. "You'll be amazed with what the Imps keep telling themselves to explain that one."

"On the file?"

"Word of mouth. Legend. Willix is as black-and-white as Imperial can get; nothing save for a public declaration by the man himself can convince people he's a rebel infiltration of the system."

Jyn pursed her lips. "That must be the strongest alias I've heard of, then, and I've been in the field awhile."

The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly. "Tell me about it. Tracking down a Jyn Erso under all those alibis was almost a learning experience."

Sefla nudged him pointedly in the ribs in a way that years of mutual experience hinted was suggestive.

Cassian's good mood faded, but he maintained his expression and only swiped a discrete kick at his comrade sideways under the table to get his disdain across.

"Sometimes I feel I should be ranked higher than the two of you put together," muttered Melshi, trying and failing to keep the disappointment from his voice while he marked potential vantage points around the central building.

Imperial Imprisonment and Interrogation Facility, Dimoran.

"That one's apparently very far from breaking," commented TR-4325 as they crossed to corridor F-3 for the second time that round.

"Maybe he doesn't really know anything and they won't believe it," replied TR-5679, holding back a grimace as the muffled sound of grunting escaped the soundproof door. The stormtroopers halted a moment, more out of curiosity than anything else, but proceeded on their rounds when the noises started up again.

Elies took another hard knee to the ribs, gargled a steady stream of blood down the front of his shirt, but held onto his resolve to stay conscious. He was seeing in doubles, triples now- his interrogating officer's face swam in a dizzy haze before his eyes, the edges of his vision blurred, black.

Another solid kick, another surge of blood. Some small coherent part of his brain supposed that after three more blows he wouldn't have anything left to throw up.

"The Rebel Base."

It had ceased to be a question a long time ago; it was an order now, coming from a person who had every power to kill him.

Elies couldn't form words. He was glad for it, really. This way he wouldn't be able to blurt out the single syllable Hoth even if he lost the will to live.

The officer seemed to consider another kick, just for good measure, but it was pretty clear the detainee couldn't talk. He'd be wasting his time and probably sacrificing this information source for good.

Elies didn't even look up to watch the officer head for the exit- a long way from where he was cuffed, behind a preventive glass wall- strap out of his rugged metal kneecaps and swipe his card across the door with one last disgusted look down the front of his own shirt, splattered in the detainee's vomit and blood. Elies exhaled a long, shuddering breath after he heard the door click shut, letting loose the pressure that held his shoulders in place.

He would die here, if the Alliance didn't send someone to rescue him. But he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

He wasn't going to bite at the thread fixing the patch that held his suicide pill to the inside of his shirt collar.

Elies had just managed to regularise his breath- in and out, laboured, painful, smelling blood and vomit and otherwise sterile Imperial room- when the familiar click of the door rang in his ears.

He looked up through sweat-strung lashes, every ounce of energy left in him chanelled into a single murderous glare. It was a different Imperial who walked in this time. They'd been introduced before. The director of the Dimoran Facility.

"Corporal Recken Elies, ex-navigator, pilot and rebel scum," Descon slid his minimalist identification placard and Alliance insignia across the white tabletop at his side. "The strip team conjured up the identification you refused to give, a cleverly hidden comm device and a lovely picture of your...daughter, is it?"

Niece, thought Elies, but didn't think beyond that. The girl was spirited, nine years old and had only him and his half-brother to call family. She would be the first- and only- one to cry if he died here and the outside world learnt about it.

Descon grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him forward painfully, paying no attention to the ribs that creaked or the blood that was still liquid on his shirt. "But the morons who went through your belongings were new to the job, so don't mind me if I have to complete it for them."

Somehow the director knew exactly what he was talking about.

Elies bit back a scream as Descon ripped his shirt from the rim, searing over bruised skin and battered bone. The director looked the cloth over and found the patch. He pulled at a string and it came loose, the white pill rolling seamlessly into his palm.

"Is a single planet's name really worth burning up your insides for?" Descon wondered in mock amazement. He grabbed the Corporal's front locks again and brought his sneer as close as it could get, completely unperturbed by the stench of blood and bile. "I'll be taking up your Interrogation personally. Don't expect to live much longer."

"Might...as well...die with my secret," grunted Elies, the words a herculean effort for his throbbing lungs.

"Oh, that doesn't happen here," the director cracked the slightest of grins, exposing the colour of teeth. Stark white like the rest of the room. "Not under my care, rebel."

Jyn slumped on her bottom bunk and felt the day's physical strain weave through muscles she hadn't even previously been aware of. Her shoulders were unrelenting, refusing to curl out of a defensive slouch, and her sides and hamstrings and calves felt like they'd been stretched around the landscape of a small moon. Her neck ached, her shoulders ached, the skin under her chin was ready to look up and stay that way for good. Posture practice for an Imperial role was apparently vital enough that the team of Cassian and Melshi had taken turns in instructing her for four hours without break. Most of Melshi's coaching had been verbal grilling and ear-splitting barks of motivation while Cassian had taken the time to stop her and fix it when something was even slightly amiss. In the end they'd both looked reasonably satisfied, but her relief had vapourised the moment she'd been handed a file as thick as her knuckles on Willix that she was required to study in three hours.

She glared at the file sitting on her bedside box and it smiled innocently back.

A knock on the door surprised her, however, and she answered with an invitation before considering the possibility of it being Cassian or Melshi with another set of exercises.

Jyn breathed a sigh of quiet thanks when it only turned out to be Bodhi, a fresh cup of sim-caf in his free hand.

"Thought I'd get you something to drink," he explained, handing her the cup. The radiating warmth was instantly welcoming. "You had a tougher day than I did."

"Thanks," said Jyn, taking a grateful sip. "Where were you the entire time, actually?"

At her gesture Bodhi sat down beside her, hunching the slightest bit not because of muscle fatigue but because sitting up straight would guarantee his head a knock on the top bunk. "Getting familiar with the ship's features. According to Kaytoo it's a model that wasn't reaching mass production in most systems so they stopped the make entirely. This is a rare specimen, I guess? It's as versatile as an X-Wing and as compact as a heavy-duty frieghter. Pretty amazing."

Jyn had the good grace to look only a little confused.

Bodhi laughed. "Basically it can get knocked around a lot and still keep flying, and it can fly fast and maneuver between spaces without a problem. There's also a gliding function- you saw that on Leton- and the ghosting function Melshi talked about earlier. And the dynamics on this thing-"

"Okay, that's enough," laughed Jyn, waving a dismissive hand. "You want to talk about ships, talk to Kay or someone who spends his days in a cockpit. I've never even flown a ship."

Bodhi mock-blanched. "Never?"

She swatted his arm. "No, never. You ever driven a tank?"

The pilot huffed. "You can do more with piloting than tank-driving."

"You ever taken on more than one opponent at a time in a cantina brawl?"

"Jyn, I don't think I even want to know what else is in your weird skill-set."

Jyn lowered her voice to a challenging whisper. "Can you stab between your fingers with a knife?"

Bodhi covered his eyes in a gesture that suggested he didn't know whether to laugh or cry or both. "Because that is so useful."

"You'd be surprised," smirked Jyn, knocking back the last of her sim-caf. She glanced down at the empty cup and the tiredness was back, but in a lesser force than moments before. "And today I learnt how to keep my neck and shoulders at different regulation angles. Actual angles, Bodhi."

"That's how the Empire works," shrugged the pilot sympathetically. "They have rules about hair, fingernails, laundry, right down to the creases of your uniform, and sometimes it's not the same in two different systems. I wouldn't be surprised if it was another reason for the influx of defectors these days."

Jyn furrowed her brow. "I heard. What about that again?"

Bodhi bit down his lip apprehensively, but then answered carefully, "Ever since Jedha, Alderaan, Scarif...people are realizing what the Empire is really about, you know? It's not order and peace, it's terror. Base hasn't signed anyone up yet, but the defectors are being given a chance. The Alliance is busy dealing with the influx and picking people whom they can trust, turning the others back, but the numbers are definitely a good thing for the long run."

"I guess so," agreed Jyn warily, the bundled memories of Jedha and Scarif and the news of Alderaan returning to her mind. Not that they'd ever been gone in the first place. Not that they'd been buried much deeper than the surface. But comebacks, resurfaces, were always strong and always struck hard.

"I knew a guy who defected because there were too many rules to follow," said Bodhi lightly, a gentle diversion from a topic that would cause pain to them both.

Jyn half-smiled, grateful for the ruse. "What kind of rules?"

"Breeches an inch from the boots, tags pinned at regulation angles and specific folds, nails clipped twice a week-"

"Force, it's a wonder the Empire has lasted this long," exclaimed Jyn. "But today was not a fair day, Bodhi Rook. It sounds like you enjoyed yourselfwhile I pushed my body to its limits over posture practice."

Bodhi smirked just slightly. "Oh, I'm sure you did enjoy some of it."

Jyn snorted. "Which part? Melshi's barking or Cassian's fixing?"

The pilot pulled his knees to his chest and feigned an innocent look. "Mm...Cassian's fixing?"

Jyn frowned. "What do you...oh. Oh. You are a dead man, Rook."

"I'm not suggesting anything," shrugged Bodhi, but his pained expression from suppressing a laugh more than gave it away.

He entirely missed the rock-solid pillow that came swinging at his face.

"Ouch!"

"I can fight with any object in this room, too."

"Jyn, stop- stop!"

Jyn drew her weapon of choice back again. "What was that? Can't hear you over the ship's versatility and compactness."

Bodhi groaned, both hands raised over his head in defense. "I was kidding!"

"Not the magic words."

"Ahh-hey- I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Jyn made a false advance, making him flinch again in terror, then tossed the pillow aside, unable to keep her laughter.

Bodhi shook out the fear from his eyes and glared straight and hard at her, unappreciative.

"I've seen enough of your weird skill-set for a lifetime, thank you."

Jyn wiped a tear of mirth out of the corner of an eye. It had been too long since she'd got to actually laugh. She dared not think of the specifics. "Fat load of good your piloting did you though, did it?"

Bodhi huffed. "Ha ha. You're a riot, Jyn Erso."

Jyn sat back against the wall and relaxed, only minutely reminding herself there were still postures she had to get used to, a thick file to be read through. Still she allowed herself to be glad for this break and the easy company Bodhi brought with him. Where the others would advice breathing exercises for her dour mood, the pilot would come up with a moment like this and cure the stress and pain and anger all in one go. Perhaps in another life where attachment wasn't a loose trigger, she'd consider him a brother, a best friend. The inexplicable and mutual gravitation she felt towards Cassian she shared with Bodhi as an automatic bond, as if they'd always known each other, and the rest of the Rogue One crew as the first group since Saw's rebels that she wanted to throw herself in with, the consequences of being left behind or betrayed barely considered. Attachment was a dangerous thing in a galactic warzone, definitely, but in this case the fear was not about being left to strive on her own. Cassian had welcomed her home, and she knew she was; attachment was dangerous now because loss was eminent at any time.

And so they weren't friends, family. They were a good team at best.

"What happened to Aren and Iowa?" she asked.

Bodhi shrugged. "They're too junior to be assigned a task force, apparently. Didn't do too well on the aptitude tests- it was also partially their choice. They don't specialise in this area and they didn't want to be liabilities."

Jyn nodded. "Makes sense."

Bodhi placed a light hand on her shoulder, his eyes warm and smiling. "Back on Base they speak highly of you. Well, pretty much everyone does. The Council thought it would be a serious de-motivator if we weren't assigned our own task force."

Jyn pursed her lips dryly. "Things have changed, huh?"

The pilot shook his head. "More than you can imagine."

"A good change?"

Bodhi picked up the Willix file and dropped it in her lap. "Our old ship is an exhibit and Rogue One are heroes of the rebellion, Jyn. You'd better start reading up. Tomorrow is our first time following orders."

I may have taken the Jyn/Bodhi Adorable Space Siblings TM thing to a whole new level with a pillowfight, but we all deserved this.

Reviews are love!