I thought it was a little sad not to have Galen's point of view, so here it is. It will make the scenario a little more understandable as well. We could do without it, it would be more correct, from a writer's point of view. But I'm curious to know what he thinks. How about you ?

She was scrunching her nose whenever she allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts. From my office, I watched Elya, her greenish gaze lost into space, imagining the Force knew what. A cute expression for a very dangerous woman.

How long would it take her to go beyond our current predicament? To understand that, aside from faceting the crystals, we could force it to realign the lattices…

All would be lost then. For I knew Elya, by now. After a few months working by her side, I had no doubt she would unlock every little secret of those crystals, and unleash their potential. She had been on the verge of finding the path … to the dark side? If Krennic had been a little more patient, or perhaps, if she had been nudged in the right direction – the Force – they wouldn't have needed me in the first place.

And I cursed, and blessed her at the same time. For this little woman was so bright that I couldn't help but admire how much she knew, already, at such a young age. She reminded me so much of myself, ten years ago. Naïve, carried away in her research, embedded so deeply in it that nothing else mattered. She blended with the subject, delved so deep within that I knew it was only a matter of time before she found the solution. Then, all would be lost.

At the same time, I was looking forward to it. Yes, the empire would have supremacy over the galaxy, but I was so close to giving up. Perhaps once the weapon complete, they would let me go, and I could gather my broken child, and carry her away. If only Krennic had been more patient, Lyra would still be alive, with me, in the farm. Lyra was dead, killed be her own foolishness. Grief still mingled with anger; if she had stuck to the plan, Jyn would still have a mother to take care of her. But no, she had to turn on her heels to attempt to rescue me. So foolishly pointing a blaster at Krennic, knowing his death troopers wouldn't miss her. Why had she choosen me, over Jyn? Why, why … why? I'd yelled to the sky too many times to count, shed too many tears, yet the answer wouldn't come. Had Lyra thought me so uncapable of taking care of myself that she had to shed the plans carefully laid?

Now she had left me, and Jyn, without any hope of reunion. Two orphans that struggled in the harsh world.

I oscillated between the need for revenge, and the urge to run back to Jyn to be a father.

Now that I had a proper status on the research advancement, I didn't know what to do. Killing myself wouldn't prevent them from creating the most destructive, the worst weapon the galaxy had ever withstood. And I needed to find a way back to Jyn. She was safe if emotionally scarred for the moment. But I couldn't lose this from sight; Lyra had left, it was up to me to fill the void as soon as possible. This time, I wouldn't shy away from my responsibilities this time, I would not revert to the absent father I had been in the past, wouldn't disappear into the research to the detriment of my own daughter.

A great sigh came from the main desk as Elya pushed the datapad away, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her long reddish hair was tightly braided, her cheekbones flushed from too many caffs. Then, as if she had sensed my scrutiny, she cocked her head aside and gave me a discreet smile. My eyes met her greenish ones for a moment, then my gaze unfocused. I was so dead tired, and those Kyber crystals tended to make sleep elusive. As if I needed it!

What could I do? What should I do?

Two choices were led before me.

I could stall the research, learn to mislead Elya and pray she wouldn't fight me tooth and nails on every single circonvolution. Praying that she wouldn't pick up on my many, many incoming lies. Perhaps I would be able to delay the work for a decade … and until then, I would find a solution to embed a major flaw in the design. Yes, that could work. But Jyn… Jyn would have to grow up without me. She was strong, and spirited, like her mother. Yet, the idea of leaving my little girl alone in the middle of a war tore at my insides. I was used to separation; in the past, Lyra had left for a few months with our little girl to explore Alpinn's cave system. Yet, they were always a Holocall away. Today, I had no idea if Jyn still breathed, or if she cried her mother's death. If anyone was with her, and if she had toys to occupy her mind with. If she was cold at night. Who hugged my daughter when she cried?

The other option was a gamble like no other. To trust in Elya's good sense, and bring her to see the truth. With her as an ally, we would be powerful. But it was a dangerous plan. Krennic had her wrapped around his little finger; I could nearly see the stars in her eyes when she talked about him. I didn't blame her; at the time, Krennic had fooled me enough. Despite Lyra's warning, I had been so sure to be working in renewable energy so that the empire could provide peace. My old friend had pushed all the right buttons; guilt, success, giving me the ideal environment on a plate, manipulating my mind so skilfully that I had bought it all.

The empire wanted to pick a world to make an example… Now, I knew that if research succeeded, a planet would probably disappear. But Elya couldn't see it, despite her intelligence. Trapped in Krennic's web… Or perhaps she knew, and just didn't care. None of the team seemed quite privy to the brutal truth; they knew they were building a powerful weapon for the empire, but had not grasped the severity of it, nor the way Palpatine projected to use it. No one but me knew what it meant to "make an example".

To trust, or not to trust? Elya resembled me; when faced with the truth, would she follow the same path?

— "Galen?"

I jerked in my seat, my mind had lost contact with the world for a moment. Elya stood in the doorway, a steaming cup into her hand.

— "I brought you some caf, but I don't think it is going to do the trick. How many sleepless nights?"

Damn, she was blunt. As much as I used to be in my youth. The attention touched me, though, and I grunted a thank you as she set the cup down on the desk. Silence settled as I brought the bitter liquid to his lips, grimacing at the taste.

— "It's the Kyber," I eventually said. "I also couldn't sleep in the facility on Coruscant."

Her eyes turned to the second containment cell where a massive Kyber crystal awaited further testing. Its greenish colour was so deep that I found myself staring into it.

— "Yes, it is affecting us all. They are pretty powerful."

I responded curtly. Elya seemed to catch the hint, for she straightened and fished a twisted orange twig from her uniform. Putting it on the desk, she explained:

— "I use this, a little bite each evening. It eases my mind, and allows for proper sleep."

My eyebrows rose, considering the piece of coral she was offering. I knew the substance, a slight psychotropic that came from her home planet. The empire didn't encourage it, for it created a slight addiction, but they tolerated its use and the resulting black market. Something tightened in my chest, causing my throat to close as I nodded some thanks. Elya turned around without another word, the selfless act leaving me bereft. Unbeknownst to her, that success-oriented woman had reacted like Lyra used to, taking care of me without searching for gratitude. Just because she could make my life easier, she did it.

Swallowing a new wave of grief, I watched her as she resumed her work. Oblivious. I stood then, and walked through the lab in a haze to plunge my eyes in the bottomless well of green of the Kyber crystal. Somehow, the deep emerald reminded me of the flecks in her eyes... The Kyber literally swallowed my mind, welcoming the search for answers. Lyra always said the Kybers were alive, and communicated through the Force with their respective jedis. After all, the light sabers drew their energy from Kyber crystals; a symbiosis that allowed them to cut through any material where they shouldn't have been able to.

Now, the Jedi were gone, but not the force. And perhaps … perhaps I could hear them too.

An idea popped in my mind; Korwin was the key. It all came down to him. Korwin would be the turning point.

Striding to the main desk, I startled Elya who nearly fell off her stool. My hand shot to stabilise her, setting on her back with practiced ease. A gesture I had used with Lyra so often that my mind didn't even register that she wasn't the one I reached for. I grabbed a piece of paper to scribble my question.

Have you heard of Korwin?

Elya shook her head, her posture uneasy as she responded, her lines elegant on the piece of paper. I couldn't help but marvel at the feminine curls she traced on the paper, her long fingers trailing the ink like a drawing.

I'll ask Krennic when I see him.

I nodded; I trod on such thin ice… Had Korwin disappeared like my former colleagues after the fiasco on Malpaz?

How was she going to react? Would she bury her head in the sand like I did when Lyra started doubting about Orson's motives ? Or face it with courage? I certainly hoped she wouldn't be as stubborn as I had been. Affection and naïveté … the same mix I could recognise in Elya. It was no wonder Orson had chosen her to replace me.

But I needed to roll that dice, and trust in … the Force?

So be it.

Four days later…

Galen Erso popped from his office and held his hand out to me. I offered my notebook without a word; our silent communication was getting more and more efficient as time passed. I noticed that the circle beneath his eyes were less pronounced, his features less drawn as he scribbled. Good, perhaps my little coral had granted him more sleep.

Korwin is dead.

My good mood evaporated as blood drained from my face; it couldn't be. Whatever than man thought he knew, he could only be wrong. I'm sure the look I gave him was far from being controlled, but my hand trembled when I wrote in haste.

What happened?

Erso straightened at once; Dr Gubacher was calling out for me. I schooled my features and left him behind, safely hidden above the top desk as he wrote an answer and covered it with more work-related notes. As I forced myself to consider the adjustments needed on the repaired containment cell, I had to bite my tongue not to snap at the ever-gentle Gubacher. Korwin couldn't be dead… I would know soon enough. The informal meeting dragged on, and at the end, I could barely nod such was the turmoil in my mind. And when, at last, I returned to the main desk, the scientist's scratch was waiting for me, hidden behind a page covered with drawings of the main reactor.

He watched me from his office, his deep amber eyes half hidden under loose strands of his hair. My eyes lowered to the notebook and I swept the schematics away to find his answer.

He was shipped in a shuttle. They said he was taken by dementia out of archaid choral. The co-pilot shot him to prevent him from opening the hatch in flight.

My knees buckled and I found myself sitting. It couldn't be. It was just a coincidence. No amount of archaid choral could have possibly caused such a fit of dementia. My own experience taught me it was nowhere as addictive as depicted – for humans, at least. Besides, Korwin wasn't too fit, a bit on the scrawny side, and he moved like … like a scientist. Not like me, nor like Erso. A blow to the head, or even a direct would have shocked him enough to be incapacitated. Why shoot him?

It didn't make sense, unless … unless Erso had been right all along.

A great numbness overcame me as I processed this information. Anything better than the swirl of emotions that threatened to take over. My chest heaved, my stomach clenching in a bout of nausea as realisation set in.

I had almost killed this man. Korwin. If I had filed that report, I would have been responsible for his death. But I didn't, and yet, someone had done the deed in my stead.

For the first time, I realised how far my mentor and Governor Tarkin were willing to go. The same man who had been a hero for surviving torture in the separatists' jail. The man who had befriended Erso, and integrated him in the Program in the first place, many years ago.

Who, of Tarkin or his subordinate, Orson Krennic, had arranged for Korwin's death?

My memory reviewed Lyra Erso's death with new eyes; Krennic had given the order first. The subsequent shot to his shoulder was just a consequence of her being hit in the chest. Orson Krennic had willingly killed Lyra Erso to prevent her from steering Galen away. This was why the scientist had been so wary, so afraid when we came to meet him. The presence of the death troopers now made a lot more sense.

I understood, now, why Galen Erso didn't want his daughter found; she'd be used as a hostage. By staying away, he was protecting her.

My fists clenched; this … this wasn't war with the rebels, or the alliance, or the separatists. This was domination, by any means, at any cost. Even our own. If I failed tomorrow, would my mentor have me killed as well?

What if the base we were building, the weapon we were engineering, was used with the same purpose? The same disdain for human life? What if it wasn't a defensive weapon after all?

My hands were shaking now, the sounds of the lab a buzz in my ears; I needed to gather my wits.

How blind was I, with my career and single-minded goal?

A warm hand landed on my shoulder. Sturdy and reassuring. Human contact meant to support. And when Galen Erso bent over my shoulder to write, I slightly reclined against him, just for the sake of seeking warmth in this mad world. I couldn't help it; even laden with grief, I found him reassuring.

You are not a bad woman, just really naïve, he wrote. Like I was. You need to see the world as it is now.

He left me too soon, wary of this exposed moment proximity. But from his office, he gave me an encouraging look; one that still held hope.

I crushed my jaw as I nodded. Then my gaze hardened. Everything I believed in had just been turned upside down. I would need time to reassess this new world and make sense of it. But I had always been good at it; to redefine the universe from scratch. To think that I could depile any mathematical theory, but had been too engrossed in equations to take a look at the real world! What a fucking joke!

I realised that I was now stuck in a very precarious position; I needed more information. And I was going to be very sneaky about it. After all, Krennic wanted to make a spy out of me, one lovely weapon that would do his bidding and ensure his goals were met. A bait to get Galen Erso to work again while I replaced the wife he had killed.

Cold determination washed over me, crushing my feelings so that I could analyse the data with a level head. Silencing my heart whose affection had been so misplaced. How much of Krennic's words, of his attention, had been true? How much driven by his need to steer me in the right direction.

I would have my revenge. War was officially declared.