—Real Footage of Actual Shooting Star:
"Bor Gullet can feel your thoughts," Saw Gerrera says. He is watching. Outside the cave, the cell where Bodhi is. Safe, but watching.
The shadows on the cave seem to be moving; writhing and alive. Bodhi tries to bring a tendril of darkness into light, but it seems to get more out of focus the more he tries. He sees nothing but the lanterns that light his peripheral vision.
Saw Gerrera is a ghost. Bodhi's vision blurs. Saw doesn't move his lips, but Bodhi hears his voice, "The Alliance has sent to kill me, and you use Galen Erso's name to do it."
"Don't do this," Bodhi says, barely loud enough to hear, "Please don't." He mumbles, pleads, as if he's once again the Imperial pilot he once was. He is afraid of pain, of course he is; but that thing in the shadows, he finds fear itself staring at him within the dark.
It crawls towards him now, swirling around him. The shadows smell sweet, like poisoned honey. Bodhi wretches within his bonds.
"Bor Gullet will know the truth."
Bodhi feels a feather-light touch at his shoulders, a smooth caress at his neck. He shivers, trembles, and suddenly the gentle touch becomes painful. He tries to scream, he feels like he's screaming, but he doesn't hear a sound.
The tendrils find his forehead. Bodhi closes his eyes, and he erupts in a cold seat. His body becomes cold, but little pricks of heat and fire pin his temples.
He sees his mother in the wisps of dark, she's teaching to handle a knife. She's never let him handle a knife. His teacher and copilot Misurno drunkenly calling Bodhi his best and only friend. Galen Erso, wrapping Bodhi in his embrace and sending him to find the Alliance. In his pocket was the holochip Galen told him was for Saw Gerrera.
Bodhi isn't sure what is a memory and what it is the shadows are making for him. He can no longer remember how to breathe. All he knows, sees and feels are the wisps of darkness and the silence of his own screaming.
"The unfortunate side effect," the ghost says within the gloom of Bodhi's mind, "is that one tends to lose one's mind."
Ninety-seven percent of the troops on Jedha were taken out. 97% percent of the troops stationed at Jedha would be safe. It is enough. A 3 percent loss is nothing compared to a victory even the Emperor will take note of.
"I hope it's as ready as you say it is, Director." The voice comes form the turbolift. Krennic turns on his heel and smiled a broad, respectful smile at Wilhuff Tarkin. "I assure you, it is," Krennic says. "But given the event, one would have hoped that the Emperor and Lord Vader might have been here."
"They're awaiting my report, Director," Tarkin retorts as he crosses around, eyeing the bustle of officers and technicians. His voice drips irritation, "And I thought it prudent to save you from any potential embarrassment."
Krennic wonders if it's his own embarrassment, or perhaps Tarkin's. He sees through Tarkin. The man believes that a demonstration on Jedha will ruin Krennic. Or, if Krennic succeeds in annihilating Jedha, Tarkin will try to take credit in the eyes of the Emperor.
If Krennic fails, well, all the better.
But he will not fail. The Death Star is ready. "Your concern is unsolicited," he looks to Tarkin. "The finest scientists and engineers of the Empire dedicated their lives to this project. I assure you, the Death Star is ready."
"If only saying something would make it true," he hears Tarkin mutter.
Krennic turns away. "All Imperial forces," he announces, "have been evacuated, and we stand ready to destroy the entire—"
"Unnecessary," Tarkin interrupts. "We're making a statement, not an entire document."
He doesn't bother to hide the grimace his face makes. "What exactly is it," he asks, "that you suggest?"
Tarkin shrugs. "The Holy City will be enough for the day."
So Krennic's assessment of Tarkin's motives has been incomplete. The old man is banking on both a success and a failure, ensuring that even a perfect performance will be unspectacular at its best.
"Target Jedha City," he snaps, "Prepare single reactor ignition."
This isn't how he'd imagined the finalization of twenty years' work. Not the underestimation, or even just the diminishing, of all he's put into work.
"Fire when ready." His voice is steady and his chin is held high. No matter the outcome, Krennic has earned this pride.
Saw looks out his window to see a Star Destroyer escaping orbit. They're evacuating. It makes no sense to him. Since Jyn came to the hideout, nothing's made much sense. He's watched the holomessage, two, three, four times. It makes no sense.
Saw knows why she came back. Jyn's lived too much of her life alone. Saw knows how much she wants not to feel alone, how much she wants to feel safe. It's why he left her in Onderon. He wants her to be safe too.
She's angry. Saw can see it. There is a fire in her eyes, as she stares at him in melancholy. She's angry, but she's also lost. She's lost and looking for home.
"The pilot brought a message, Jyn." Saw looks at her, "A message from your father."
He sees that face of hers, the one he saw in every face in Onderon when Steela died for them all. It's hope, and fear, and uncertainty, all at once. And Jyn's eyebrows scrunch. Denial.
Galen's name saved her life, Saw knows. His rebels, the ones he trained and led and fought with, were about to kill her. Galen's name saved her life.
Jyn's eyes don't leave his. "What's in it?"
"I would rather you see it for yourself, my child."
He takes her deeper into the caverns, where mounds of wires lead to a single holoprojector. The chip is still there, from the last time Saw watched it. He pauses to inhale through his aid before starting up the projector.
He hopes that perhaps this time, it might start to make sense to him. "For what it's worth, the pilot believed it to be real."
Jyn only watches, as a blue figure stands right over the projector. Even in blue monochrome, Jyn can see the blazing imprint of the Empire's symbol over the man's chest.
This man can't be her father. This is a man who looks tired, but isn't haggard. It's the image of a man dying in the gentlest of care. No matter how gaunt or sleepless or still Galen Erso has ever been, he has always looked alive.
Jyn kneels to the ground; because this is still her father. This is still Galen Erso, no matter how he's lived or how old he's gotten. "Papa," she says under her breath.
His eyes look beyond the recorder instead of at it. Her mother always told her how she had her father's eyes. Jyn doesn't see her eyes. These eyes that she looks into now, they're empty and shallow; little embers remain of the passion she remembers her father always had.
"Saw."
His voice hasn't changed.
"I would have sent this to the Rebellion, but I haven't the slightest idea how to contact them," the image of Galen Erso says. He pauses, thinking for words. "It has been eight years since Lah'mu. They took her, Lyra's body. She's among the dead in Coruscant." He pauses and looks around at something Jyn can't see. "This isn't why I'm sending this message."
Jyn fights herself again. To look at her father or the cave in Lah'mu. She has never felt more alone.
"I don't know if there are any rumors. What you've heard might be true. They're building a planet killer, Saw. It's happening. I let it happen. They're going to turn it onto rebelling planets. I should've stopped it. I think it's cowardice that prevented me, or the knowledge that Orson will still be able to build it without me.
"We call it the Death Star. There is no better name. Wherever you are, Saw, keep running. Go one place and go another. And if Jyn is with you…"
He trails off, or maybe Jyn just shuts down. She hasn't heard her name from her father's lips in years. It's enough to overwhelm her.
"If Jyn is with you," he picks up again, "Let her know that now a day has gone by without my thinking of her, and of Lyra. That my love for her has never faded. That I only try to think of her, and her mother, our family, when I'm strong. It's just so hard not to think of them. I want her to know… that—
"I think, logically, rationally, that you are with the rebellion. If you are with Saw, it's the only direction I think he'll steer you in. It makes me proud to think that you will fight when I cannot. That you are somewhere working to oppose the injustice in the galaxy. But if you are with the rebellion, you too should run. Once the station is built, our name will not save us now."
My father's name is not what saved me. It's these people. I am one of them. They saved me.
"But Jyn, even if you're not with the rebellion, and still this message finds you, I am no less proud and no less happy. If you're somewhere in the galaxy, untouched by war, maybe with a new family to call you theirs, then it's more than enough."
There is an intelligible sound from behind. A gruff yell Jyn can't make out. Suddenly, life is back in Galen Erso's eyes. "There can't be a way to stop it, it's improbable while it's in construction and impossible when it's done. Saw, Jyn, run."
With that, the message dies.
Jyn looks at Saw. For once, there is really nothing left in her. Not even embers. She tries to say something to Saw, anything.
"That's the fifth time I've watched it," he tells her. "The message is years old. If your father is anything to go by, then… you should run."
She notices how he fails to say we. It's as if he doesn't plan to join her. As if he's given up…
"You're not going to run?"
"My child," he looks at her, "I ran to keep you safe, and still you found me. This weapon of the Empire, your father's Death Star, it will find me just as you did. My running now won't keep you safe, Jyn. Save the rebellion. Save the dream."
Suddenly the cavern rumbles. They turn towards the light and hope not to see a shadow in the sky.
They're handled like animals. The rebels tear his hood off with such roughness, Cassian's sure his head will come out. He blinks furiously to adjust his eyes to the dark lighting. He turns around in time to watch the shadow of a cell door close on him.
"It appears Jyn Erso is not with us," the familiar voice of the blind pilgrim says from somewhere behind him. Cassian turns around to see him, sitting on the dirt legs crossed. His partner hovers over him…
No. He has a name. Chirrut, he remembers Lianna said. A Guardian of the Whills, a dangerous combatant, a blind man. She called Chirrut's name while they treaded sand slowly. "Chirrut?" Lianna had said. "Cassian?"
Cassian heard no other reply but Chirrut's repetitive chanting, muffled by the hood. (The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force…) Perhaps that was all she really wanted to know, that the people who were in the mess with her were still alive.
The cold was unrelenting. He assumed it was early into the night. Beside him, Cassian recognized the heavy tread of Chirrut's partner. He risked a whisper. "We're almost half a day out. A shrine?"
A deep voice answered him. "The Catacombs of Cadera. A monastery."
The name meant nothing to Cassian.
Names. Names.
Lianna isn't her name.
Her name is Jyn Erso.
Jyn Erso, daughter of Galen and Lyra Erso. Born on Vallt, raised on Coruscant and Lokori. Died 3264 LY on Lah'mu.
This is the story that Galen knows and tells, that the Alliance knows and tells. That Jyn Erso is dead.
But she isn't dead. It's exactly what Chirrut just said. She's somewhere else, alive and not in a cell and alive—
How did Chirrut know her name?
"Are you a Jedi?"
Chirrut's partner laughs. It's a strange sound, ugly and loud. "No Jedi left anymore. Just dreamers like this one."
"He's bothered," Chirrut says, "Because he was a dreamer once. A believer, too." He shrugs, "Baze Malbus was once the most dedicated Guardian of us all."
Baze Malbus. Cassian registers the name into his mind, filing it into his mental database—seeing as so far the name brought up nothing.
Cassian runs his hand over his face, scratching at his beard. He's in the Partisan base. Now there is only the matter of finding Bodhi. He goes over to the lock. It's mechanical, but wired into the systems of their rebel hideout. He can reach it definitely, most likely pick it, but not without setting off some alarm. He's about to try— before he's interrupted by Chirrut's chanting.
"After all this, you pray?" Baze asks his partner.
Without looking, Cassian is sure that the blind man is smiling. "You pray. The captain is praying for that door to open."
They bicker like an old married couple. In a fight, they're formidable; and Chirrut, Jedi or not, zealot or sincere, there is something to is preternatural awareness.
He turns to look at the still-chanting Chirrut, "Why did you save us?"
"Maybe I only saved her." Chirrut pauses his chant and only shrugs. Cassian grunts at his response.
"Relax, Captain," he replies, "We've been in worse cages."
"No." He says this as if it should have been obvious. "This is a first for me."
"There are different cages beyond what we see, Captain."
At this, Baze laughs. There is nothing boisterous to it. It's only a rough and hollow sound.
Cassian frowns and turns back to the lock and the problem at hand. It takes him some minutes before he realizes that no one ever told Chirrut he is a captain.
Just as Cassian's sure he's about to start some sort of fire, the gate swings open. He feels ready to celebrate, before he sees another prisoner kicked into the cell. And just like that, it's closed again. The guards return to their game of dejarik.
"Who is it?" Chirrut says.
The man doesn't turn to face any of them.
Chirrut's voice is less than a whisper. "What's wrong with him?"
Cassian takes their new cellmate by the shoulders. Then he realizes that he knows the face.
"Bodhi." His voice comes out as a breath. "Bodhi, it's me. Cassian."
Bodhi's eyes roll up, so Cassian can only see the whites of his eyes. It's as if he's trying to look into his own mind. He mutters deliriously. "Cassian. I brought the message. I brought it." He shrinks back.
He's broken.
"Cassian Andor," he tries, "It's Cassian Andor. You know that name?"
Bodhi's eyes close and he hisses, as his breath picks up, swift and loud like a dog losing its life. Cassian holds him still. Come on…
Bodhi opens his eyes again and his breathing slows.
"I brought the message," he says again. "Galen's message. I brought it. I'm sorry I lied."
His eyes lock straight into Cassian's. "I'm sorry."
Cassian tries asking about the message, but Bodhi has since then refused to look at him. He mumbles an apology every now and then, but little else.
This has to be worth it. That message, that Bodhi has gone so far to send, it has to be worth its cost.
He turns back to the lock, probing the edges of the tamper alarm. He takes out the picks in his boot, finding which will be best for the situation.
Cassian holds the picks to the lock. It's a basic barrier lock, if not for the alarm in it. He begins to fidget with it, playing care with the wired alarm.
Then the catacombs begin to rumbles, and his arms are thrown forward. The picks shift exactly where Cassian doesn't want them to be. The next thing he does is press himself to the ground.
It's too late when he discovers it isn't an alarm. It's a trigger. A line of wired mines must be ringing the cell door. When he turns back up, Baze's hair is on fire. The man is quick to put it out.
The explosion seems to have rung Bodhi from his stupor.
"At least's it's open," Baze wipes sweat from his brow and ushers Chirrut to stand. He smiles at Cassian, and he finds himself returning that smile.
Bodhi is alert, turning his head everywhere with his eyes wide. Cassian hauls him up and has Bodhi lean on him. They turn for the nonexistent cell door.
Jyn Erso is standing there, surprise lining her eyes. They all stand there, staring at each other.
"Let's go!" Baze snaps. She makes for the table where their gear has been stashed, tossing Cassian his blaster and his comlink. He fumbles with it for a while, and signals, "Kay-Tu? Kay-Tu!"
He hopes the droid is at the ship. He hopes that the droid hasn't followed them again.
They begin running. It's Jyn Erso they're following. She seems to know where they're going, how to get out. They run out of the catacombs, up the ancient steps worn down to smooth stone.
"There you are." The comlink crackles with static, to the point where Cassian can't comprehend the voice. "I'm standing by as you ordered. Though there is a problem on the horizon."
"What problem?" Cassian spits. Once they make it out, his eyes have to adjust to the light. That can't be. It was night when they were brought in. He staggers to a stop behind Baze and Chirrut, standing on a broad mountain ledge overlooking the valley.
"There is no horizon. On a more positive note, I believe this is what Galen Erso has been doing."
Jyn points up to the sky. "What's that?"
His mouth goes dry. It's not until his vision comes back to normal that he understands what the droid is talking about.
There is no sun in the sky, only a glowing gray eclipse. He knows what it is by looking at it.
"That's the planet killer," he tells her, before facing her directly, "Your father made it."
Her bloodshot eyes meet Cassian's. "The Death Star," she agrees bitterly. Cassian doesn't know where she heard the name.
When Galen told him they were building a planet killer, he thought a weapon to kill everyone on the planet. He didn't think a weapon that could kill an actual planet. A chill worked its way down his back.
"Locate our position," he yells into the comlink, "Bring that ship here now!"
"Five minutes," the droid replies, as if he's someone being awoken from a nap and not one responsible for their survival today.
Cassian glances at Baze, and Chirrut, and Bodhi, then finally at Jyn Erso. Five minutes. It isn't fast enough, and still it's too fast.
"What do you see?" Chirrut asks Baze.
They all look out.
"What do you see?" Chirrut asks again.
A storm of dust. Then nothing. Emptiness. The land where the Holy City had been.
Bodhi mumbles against Cassian's shoulder. "This wasn't supposed to happen yet."
Beyond his whispers is another noise: a resounding clap separate from the rumble of the storm and the dust making way for them.
It's his ship. The painted-on Imperial symbol is dusted and scraping off the sides. It dips around the mountain, trying to match the ledge.
Baze and Chirrut start toward the ship. "Okay, let's go!"
They run for the boarding ramp, the window within the storm. "I'm sorry," Bodhi mutters to Cassian. It's as if he's given up. Cassian doesn't allow it. He pulls Bodhi tighter to him as he feels the younger man's knees give way.
"You need to run," he presses him palm between Bodhi's shoulder, some sort of push.
They do.
Jyn is still quaking. She still hears Saw bellow within her ears, against the storm. The first tremor, Jyn realizes, was from the blast at the cells. His last words to her are suddenly screams.
"Save the Rebellion, my daughter! Save the dream!"
His dream or hers? His dream or hers?
The final jump is ahead. She leaps, but still the window is above. She doesn't reach. The darkness of the cave swallows her up. She isn't falling, only becoming nothing.
A hand catches her, yanking her violently forward an instant before the door of the ship shuts. Is it Cassian? She wonders if it is.
"Get us out of here!" A voice yells. Its accent thick. The Alliance Captain. "Punch it!"
She takes a seat and clutches to it. She observes the cabin blankly, hoping to find something that will tear away the blue image of Galen Erso, or the silver ghost of Saw Gerrera. Her eyes are bloodshot and her state no more than catatonic. She hates herself for this weakness.
Jyn feels hard eyes watching her. It's the new one. The pilot, probably. He stares at her with wild eyes.
"You're Galen's daughter," he mutters. "Galen Erso."
Galen. Her father. She's an orphan again, like the three years on Lah'mu. Her father is alive, always has been. They know him. Perhaps she has never been orphaned at all.
Only alone.
The ship lurches forward, and the pilot leaves her for the cockpit. The ride is choppy, but Jyn recognizes the moment they go for lightspeed. Which is very soon, too soon for a normal flight.
Jyn feels a hand grasp hers, a consoling figure. It's Chirrut's.
"I am sorry, about Saw Gerrera," he says. "I know he meant a lot to you."
Jyn nods, smiling sadly. "I'm sorry, about Jedha."
"Baze, tell me." Chirrut says and faces his partner. "All of it? The whole city?"
Baze. Chirrut's partner has a name. He sits beside the blind man. The bright lines of hyperspace splash on his darkening face as he says, "All of it."
All of it. Jedha city is gone. The death of Jedha City is the death of Saw. His last words echo in her ears. Save the Rebellion! Save the dream!
His dream or hers? His dream or hers?
Cassian Andor joins them in the back after a while. He sits down in front of her. They don't look at each other, or anything else but the lights of the dead and empty space between the stars.
"So," she begins by looking at him, but he doesn't face her. "You knew my father."
There is silence for a while.
Cassian presses his palms together, then sits up straighter. His brown eyes burrow into hers, sneaking into her mind, breaking her down into whatever little pieces remain of her since seeing her father again.
"You have his eyes."
And deep down, Jyn can't help but smile.