Alexander Freed

Galen turned. Lyra’s lips curled until she smiled. She’d started smiling again the day they’d left Coruscant.

“Set the rendezvous and take Jyn,” he said. “I’ll finish here.”

Lyra abruptly stopped double-checking her bundle of provisions. “That wasn’t the plan, Galen.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“You have to come with us.”

Her eyes were hard. Please smile, he thought.

“I have to buy you time,” he said.

The sensor light went dark. A fault seemed unlikely.

Lyra just watched him.

“Only I can,” he said.

“Jyn. Come here.”

He considered what he might say; considered what impression he wanted to leave Jyn if everything ended in disaster.

“Remember—” He spoke with deliberate care, hoping to etch the words in her bones. “Whatever I do, I do it to protect you. Say you understand.”

“I understand,” Jyn said.

“I love you, Stardust.”

“I love you, too, Papa.”

“Trust the Force,” Lyra said, and made herself smile.

She wrapped Jyn in her arms—Don’t hold her too long, don’t give her time to think—and turned the girl around, pushed her away. Lyra watched her daughter stumble amid the rocks, disappearing out of sight.

“You’ll never win,” she said.

Her last thought was: I wish Galen weren’t here to see.

“Come, my child. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

He failed and imagined his mentor’s disappointment: The Rebel Alliance taught you better than that.