#albarrio

[rustoperator]

Deep Dive into WEG Lore: Rogue One Ultimate Visual Guide

[tuportavoz]

Pilar Lima se compromete a mejorar la comunicación entre la institución y los vecinos cuando acceda al Ayuntamiento

● La candidata a la alcaldía de València, ha detectado de nuevo en su visita albarrio de Sant Marcel·lí la falta de comunicación que sienten los vecinos, ladejadez y la desidia del actual equipo de gobierno ante sus reivindicaciones● Lima también ha apoyado hoy a la Asociación de Vecinos de Sant Antoni-Saïda en la entrega de las 1.200 firmas que han presentado en elAyuntamiento en contra del…

[jyndor]

[dante-flow]

FUE UN DÍA INOLVIDABLE PARA NOSOTROS POR SU CARIÑO, Y ACOGIDA, GRACIAS POR CREER EN NOSOTROS CON LA BENDICIÓN DE DIOS ESTAMOS AGRADECIDOS POR EL APOYO QUE NOS BRINDARON AYER TOD@ LA #GENTELINDA DE #LATACUNGA SOMOS DANTE FLOW MASTER & VELOSET LEARSI VAMOS POR MÁS MÚSICA!!! UN AGRADECIMIENTO A #80-85REC #COLIBRIEGÜEZ #ALBARRIO 🎤🙌��🇪🇨 📸Photo by: Colibrí Egüez #music #genre #song #songs #melody #hiphop #rnb #pop #love #rap #dubstep #instagood #beat #beats #jam #myjam #party #partymusic #newsong #lovethissong #remix #favoritesong #bestsong #photooftheday (en Latacunga) https://www.instagram.com/p/B5ji1K_A_W6/?igshid=1p9eee6igwcfj

[thefulcrumcaptain]

CASSIAN ANDOR -  ROGUE ONE: THE ULTIMATE VISUAL GUIDE An accomplished Alliance Intelligence officer with an extensive undercover and combat field experience, Captain Cassian Andor is a disciplined operative with a deep respect for the chain of command and carrying out of unquestioned orders. He earns respect from agents under his authority with his ability to keep a cool head and complete his missions with minimal resources. Now in his mid twenties, Andor grew up in the wilds of the Outer Rim and came of age fighting against the Republic during the tumultous Clone Wars. His father was killed at the Carida military academy during a protest against the expansion of republic militarism. Though not a formal Separatist, Andor became part of a Confederacy-backed insurrectionist cell at a young age, tossing rocks and bottles at Republic walkers and clone soldiers. He came to learn firsthand that even the most advanced combat machinery could be crippled with the right grit sprinkled in the right gears. In the time of the Empire, Andor was drawn into anarchist movements that continued to defy Imperial edicts. He was recruited by General Draven into the growing Rebellion.

SECURITY BYPASS Cassian's years of law-bending have honed his escapology skills. With a compact security kit hidden in his boot, he cycles past the simple electronics of the locks in Saw Gerrera's underground prison on Jedha. ALLEY ALLIES In the hivelike urban enclaves of the Ring of Kafrene, Captain Andor has a rendezvous with Tivik, an unscrupulous source of information the Rebel Alliance needs. The congested cityscape makes it easy for spies to disappear, but also hosts stormtrooper patrols. THE HARD CALLS The fledging Rebel Alliance relies heavily on covert operatives to stymie Imperial operations. These strikes are discreet and targeted. Acts of sabotage, espionage, and even assassinations fill Andor's case file. Knowing from experience the efficacy of Imperial interrogation, Andor respects the need for secrets to be kept from field agents. He remains active to stave off the downtown that would plunge him into deeper reflection on some of his most extreme assignments. INTELLIGENCE OPERATIVE Cassian has spent most of his career in Alliance Intelligence working for the Operations department —a dangerous posting that places agents directly in contact with the Empire. Statistics place the odds of an agent surviving 20 field missions at 23 percent —roughly four-to-one odds against. Intelligence command has recently shifted Andor to the Retrieval department, where his mandate is to plan the operation to free Jyn Erso from prison and lead the search of Saw Gerrera and Galen Erso. OPERATIONAL ALLIASES WILLIX Government agent on Ord Mantell AACH senatorial contact on Darknell JORETH SWARD Assistant to Imperial Admiral Grendreef FULCRUM Recruitment agent in Albarrio sector DATA FILE SUBJECT Cassian Jeron Andor PLANET OF BIRTH Fest SPECIES Human AFFILIATION Rebel Alliance, Massassi unit HEIGHT 1.78m (5ft 10in) AGE 26 standard years

[greyias]

FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 1

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something's rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won't rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic's top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Spoilers: Forged Alliances. SWTOR Lost Suns and Annihilation. Some things in the Vanilla storyline, including the Revan flashpoints. Author’s Notes: Out of necessity, parts of this story will contain scenes from the game itself. Whenever possible I’ve tried to rewrite them so that they hopefully remain fresh and interesting, while still retaining the essence of the scene itself (so hopefully it doesn’t feel like you’re reading a transcript). This one is also going to be a bit slow to start, but it’s going to be a long one.

Crossposted to AO3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

When the Supreme Commander of Republic Forces called — it was generally a good idea to answer. Even if he just so happened to be your father.

However, this was official business, so Theron Shan decided to ignore that fact as he strode into the large office located in one of the corners of the Senate towers. The receptionist had waved him through without any fuss this time around.

Perhaps she had gotten used to him at this point — she hadn’t even glared at him this time. He supposed that was progress. It was nothing he had done, of course, just a bit of guilt-by-association. She and Marcus Trant, the Director of Republic’s Strategic Information Services had gotten quite chummy a little while back, but alas, she was not to become the third women to hold the title of “Mrs. Trant”. Easy come, easy go as the saying went.

Come to think of it, maybe the lack of glares this time around had more to do with the fact that Trant hadn’t accompanied Theron. It was a mystery for another time, though, as his gaze fell on the figure seated behind the desk in the center of the room. 

Jace Malcom was an extraordinarily tall man, he towered over Theron by at least a foot or so, and between the height, his deep gravelly voice, and the gruesome scars crisscrossing his face, the man could come off a little imposing. Theron wasn’t easily intimidated though, and he had a… unique situation with Jace. — considering the fact that the man was his father. Biologically at least, or… whatever.

It was complicated.

Theron hadn’t even known who Jace was, outside of his military record that was, until they’d met during the mission to take out the Ascendant Spear. Their first real meeting as father and son hadn’t exactly gone well, it was awkward, Theron had just wanted to leave, and most of their interactions outside of a professional setting had just been a bit like that. On the job, they were good. Despite popular opinion, Theron could take orders (when they made sense),  and off the clock they… well, they were trying to settle into something resembling familiarity. The “father-son bonding sessions” were thankfully few and far between. Theron liked Jace well enough, and they certainly got along better than he and his mother, but it wasn’t exactly like they were going to go out and throw the gravball around any time soon.

However, this meeting request had come through official channels, so thankfully that probably meant things would be less awkward and weird. At least he hoped.

Theron cleared his throat, pulling the older man’s attention away from the datapad he was reviewing. Seeing his visitor, some of the deep lines on Jace’s face smoothed into a smile. “Ah, Theron, you’re early.”

“Traffic wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.” He folded his arms in an effort to look casual. “Trant had a Senate briefing, so you get me instead.”

“That’s all right, I was hoping you’d be here for this. We can loop the director in later.”

“Your message was a bit vague,” he said, “just that you had some intel you wanted to discuss?”

Jace nodded. “One of my men came to me with something he picked up in the field — regarding Korriban. And a way we might be able to strike back.”

Theron’s eyebrows shot up. “Hitting Korriban? You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” The elder man looked at him grimly. “This all started on Korriban, it would be fitting for us to start the death knell for the Empire there.”

Korriban had been one of Jace’s first stations, and where he had met the future Grand Master of the Jedi Order, Satele Shan — who just so happened to be Theron’s mother. Theron shifted the weight of his feet, a habit he’d unfortunately picked up in these conversations when the subject of his mother came up, even indirectly as it was now. He hated having a tell, even something so minor and with someone like Jace who while sharp, probably hadn’t picked up on it.

A change of subject from ancient history back to the present was probably in order — and a lot more comfortable. So Theron addressed the deeper issue at hand. “SIS has been trying to get a mole on Korriban for years, and everyone we’ve tried to embed there winds up dead. That place is a death trap.”

“I’m not asking anyone to go undercover,” Jace assured him. “I’m thinking more smash and grab. But before that, I want you to look over this intel and let me know if you think it’s viable.”

“Me?”

“You were the one who cracked how to take out the Ascendant Spear — if anyone can do the same with Korriban, it’s you.”

It was a high compliment, and genuinely based on his skillset, rather than a form of nepotism. After their success against the Ascendent Spear, Theron had been tapped as a resource more and more for Malcom’s office. It had kept him out of the field more than he liked, but the tangible results of his work on the overall war was satisfying in its own way.

“That seems simple enough,” Theron said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Any reason for all of the cloak and dagger?”

“Considering the target I don’t want to take any chances. I want someone I can trust taking point on this.”

Theron couldn’t quite decipher the look on Jace’s face, but nodded a thanks all the same. It was… odd having someone be so complimentary and open about that kind of thing. Trant’s usual way of expressing gratitude was a cutting sarcastic remark. Which he was fine with — it was familiar. Easy. But the mark of a good spy was adapting to the situation at hand.

Even if that meant a little bit of inadvertent father-son bonding.

Jace handed over a small data chip. The fact that he wasn’t trusting any of this on any network channel spoke volumes about the need for discretion.

“I’ll look this over and get you an answer as soon as possible.”

That seemed to satisfy Jace, but as Theron made his way out of the office and out into the streets, he was unsettled. The reason for that feeling wasn’t readily apparent, but hopefully once he had a chance to dig into the data he’d figure it out. He tended to trust his gut on these things, but a chance to strike as rich of a target as this was too good to pass up on a mere bad feeling alone.

The more he dug into the intel that Jace had given him, the more Theron had to admit that the Supreme Commander was right. A strike on Korriban not only seemed viable, but had the potential to yield invaluable information that could finally lead to an end to the war.

A Jedi named Jensyn had come away from an encounter with an apprentice to a member from the Dark Council, revealing that they had databanks in their main chambers with some of the inner-most secrets to the Empire. A literal goldmine of information that could turn every future battle and operation to the Republic’s favor. It was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up, and so Theron kept digging. Every intelligence report surrounding the encounter checked out, and just because he liked being paranoid, Theron looked into the Jedi too. The man had served aboard the Telos in its campaign in the Albarrio and Relgim sectors, and had an exemplary service record. The closest thing he found to a red flag was the copious amount tea Jensyn liked to consume.  

As far as Theron could tell, the intel seemed clean.

That just left the minor problem of storming Siths’ the inner-keep. Just getting on the ground would have been an issue, except that apparently a SpecOps commander named Rian Darok had found a gap in the patrols on Korriban. It wasn’t a large one, and they’d never be able to launch a full-scale assault… but a strike team could make it through and perform an extraction.

Theron filled a large mug to the brim with caf, settled into the most comfortable chair he could find at SIS Headquarters, and got to work mining everything they had on Korriban. He had to cobble the data together from a variety of sources to even get a close picture if it could be done. They had old schematics of the ground layout, but due to the age he had to cross-reference it with a report from an escaped acolyte to confirm the probable obstacles facing a strike team on their route from the landing zone into the Academy. This, coupled with bits and pieces of security information scraped from the almost-defunct Imperial intelligence, yielded an access point for someone on the ground that could allow a talented slicer to insert an exploit. It was technically doable, but the resistance the ground team would face stacked the deck against the op’s favor.

“Viable but a logistical nightmare” was how he summarized it to Jace and Marcus the next morning, gratefully accepting the giant mug of caf the Supreme Commander had ready for him the moment he walked in the door.

“Pay up,” Marcus said, and Jace grudgingly handed over a credit chip.

Theron narrowed his eyes at the both of them suspiciously over the rim of his mug. “And what was that for?”

“Just how quickly you’d go for caffeine,” Marcus said casually.

Theron fixed his boss with a glare before taking a very long drag of the zippy brew. Apparently being Supreme Commander came with some perks, because if the spy wasn’t mistaken, this was the more expensive Alsakan Mountain roast. The director just shook his head and turned to the datapad with all the findings, letting out a low whistle at the potential yield if the operation was successful. As both of the older men perused the data, Theron barely suppressed a yawn. The all-nighter had come at the tail end of an op, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was probably needing at least a few hours of sleep.

“You could have taken two days to look at all this,” Jace said lightly, “but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Intel can go stale quick.” Theron shrugged off the paternal concern easily.

“All the reason to act quickly,” Jace said, “if Trant can spare you for a little bit.”

“Please, take him. Much less of a headache for me.”

“I’m really feeling the love here,” the agent muttered.

“You’d feel more if you turned your expense reports on time.”

“You have to get a thrill somehow since you’re not out in the field anymore,” Theron shot back easily. “I’m just trying to help.”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Marcus pointed the question at Jace, who just shook his head.

“Well, I’m happy for the loan, Marcus,” he said, turning the subject back to the matter at hand. “I can see how logistics can get sticky, but I think I’ve got someone who can help with that. Colonel Darok has a knack for this kind of thing.”

Having spotted the hole in the patrol route, Theron had to admit the man had a keen eye. 

“You’d need a small army just to get through that many Sith. No way to get that many troops in,” Theron pointed out. “I don’t even see how even a master tactician is going to navigate that. ”

“What about a small strike team?” Marcus asked.

“Might work, but they’d need to have hides of durasteel.”

Jace looked thoughtful for a moment, before he headed over to his desk and pulled up a few dossiers on a datapad. He paged through a few, before handing it over to Theron. “Have you ever heard of the Coruscant Aegis?”

“Never met them personally,” Theron paused to take another sip from his mug before continuing, “but one of them provided cover fire on an extraction for me once.”

Marcus snorted, apparently remembering the incident in question. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“I needed to make a hasty exit, and the lady was kind enough to clear a path. At least I think it was a lady—there was a lot of blaster fire. Pretty sure she called me insane.”

“That sounds about right.” Marcus heaved the heavy sigh of the wearied soul.

“I suppose I owe whoever it was some thanks,” Theron said. “Probably wouldn’t have made it out without the assist. Some nice flying and shooting.”

“They’re good at what they do,” Jace agreed, “the best actually.”

“Are any of them lightsaber-proof?” Theron asked sarcastically.

“They haven’t let one stop any of them so far.”

Theron juggled the mug and datapad, skimming through the personnel files as he continued to sip from the sweet caffeinated nectar. He tried to school his expression as he skimmed through the major highlights of each name, but the laundry list of heroic deeds associated with each individual was quite impressive. A notorious smuggler who had taken down the Voidwolf. The commander of Havoc Squad. Even a member of the Jedi High Council. It was the last one that made Theron stop and frown.

“Is this last one even real?” he asked.

Jace nodded solemnly. “She is.”

“It says she killed the Sith Emperor.”

That got Marcus’s attention, who leaned over Theron’s shoulder to read the dossier. Not liking the crowding, he handed the datapad over to his boss, and proceeded to prop his hip on Jace’s desk, still nursing the mug of caf.

“You asked for a small army,” Jace pointed out. “Any of them would be able to perform the extraction.”

“I’d say in that case we should get them all,” Theron said, “but they’re probably pretty scattered.”

Their window of opportunity to strike for this was going to close fast, though, so time was of the essence. It was probably also best to keep the number of those aware of the operation on the lower side too. Even if they were going to take on the entire Sith Academy, and maybe even the Dark Council.

Jace nodded. “You probably can get one in all likelihood.”

“Me, huh?”

“Colonel Darok will be in charge of the operation,” Jace clarified, “but I want the SIS involved on this. This is too big of a target to not bring in our best.”

Theron caught the backhanded compliment, but instead of responding verbally, he just nodded. “I can do some recruiting if you want. You have a preference?”

“Surprise me.”

 Jace flashed him a brief knowing grin, and Theron checked the urge to roll his eyes. He was fairly certain Marcus wasn’t aware of the familial connection, so showing disrespect to the man who was technically his boss’s boss probably wouldn’t help things in the long run. Knowing the way his luck tended to run, Theron would probably need to appeal to the director’s better nature in the next month for some reason or another. Theron didn’t intentionally cause diplomatic and inter-departmental incidents, they just tended to… happen. Sometimes. And by sometimes he meant like clockwork. 

“I’m going to need a little time to dig into the files if that’s the case,” he said instead of rising to the teasing.

“That’s fine.” If Jace was disappointed in Theron’s utter professionalism, it didn’t show, and the moment of levity slipped away. "It will take me some time to get Darok caught up and for us to put a battle plan together.”

Theron nodded and pocketed the datapad from Marcus. “Exactly how much time are we talking about?”

“Enough that you can sleep on it,” Jace tried to keep his tone light, but Theron still caught a hint of paternal concern threading underneath.

“Sleep?” Marcus snorted derisively. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I sleep when I’m bored,” Theron shot back.

“Good. Then you’ll be out before you even get through the first dossier.”

“Are you kidding? This is better than a holo-drama.” The spy tapped his pocket where he had stowed the datapad. 

Jace just shook his head, amused, and the discussion turned to other matters of intelligence. Theron let himself out once he finished his mug of caf, the weight of the datapad in his pocket a reminder of the upcoming mission. Despite the caffeine, he could feel fatigue pulling at him. Either the long hours were getting to him, or the unsettled feeling from the previous day was still eating at him. Maybe after he was able to study the personnel files some more, he could take a moment to review his notes and pinpoint what was bothering him. And then he could get some sleep.

Next Chapter

[cynical-harlequin]

#RogueOne Visual Guide archaeological dig: Albarrio Sector (Riders of the Maelstrom 1989) pic.twitter.com/0QcPN34tyO

— Khairul Hisham (@hishgraphics)

18. Januar 2017

[unstable-reality]

Static in the Signal: Chapter One

After a couple months of IRL doom...I’ve finally gotten this going!

The Alliance has been infiltrated. On Hoth, able to trust only one another, Jyn and Cassian race to uncover the mole. Sequel to The Space Between Echoes.

[AO3] 

The corridors of Echo Base were busy and cramped, more so than those of Yavin 4. It wasn’t that there were more personnel, or that the passages were more narrow; on the contrary, the opposite was true. Echo was a work in progress. Half-built, half-ready. The Alliance had pushed itself. Divisions had blurred; sentients had undertaken tasks normally designated to droids. Cassian had spent more hours than he cared to scraping out tunnels, and still, there was more to be done. The base was functional, and as secure as could currently be hoped for, but it was nowhere near proper headquarter status.

He hated it. He hated the hand he’d had in creating it.

Snowflakes, riding on gusts in the hangar, clung to his beard and eyelashes. His lower back ached. It had been fine, mostly, when he’d been on his ship, but now it was a pulsing throb, heightened by the cold. There was a sensation, to the left of his spine, as if something were clicking, sliding. He felt it often. His entire hip was not quite right. He tried not to think about it. He’d try not to for as long he could manage.

He passed a contingent of droids, threading wires through a length of pipe, easing them through a hole in the wall. Sparks fanned outward, struck metal, burned hot and bright before vanishing. His nose stung. A humanoid model with a black chassis spared him a glance. It wasn’t the same face, or the same body, and it hadn’t been manufactured for the same purpose, but still, there was a closing in, a pressure on his lungs, a thickness in his throat. He shoved it back into the same place he put his pain.

A group of pilots walked toward him, on the opposite side of the corridor. They were animated, chatting, smiling. The one on the outside struck his shoulder. She looked back. Her cheeks and forehead were framed by stray curls.

“Sorry.”

He was pretty sure she didn’t know him, but he knew her. He knew everyone. Shara Bey. He gave her a nod. She blinked, nodded back. His fingers twitched toward his coat pockets. It was an old reflex.

CIC, when he reached it, was a cold, noisy mess. Divisions were on top of one another. The lighting was utilitarian. He walked past clusters of operators, past soldiers and commanders conferring; past screens, transparent save for the glowing outlines of maps. He was used to debriefing in confined spaces -- or, at least, in mostly private ones. Having to meet the General out here made the back of his neck itch. But there wasn’t much to be done for it, unless everyone in Intelligence started meeting in special quarters, and that would telecast more than they were willing.

Draven sat at a desk in a corner. He was leaning back, frowning at a datapad. The space around him was dark.

He looked up. His eyes shifted, taking Cassian in. He straightened. “Captain.”

Cassian saluted.

“At ease.” Draven folded his hands over his lap. “Report.”

Cassian’s stance widened. “I abandoned the objective. Imperials had already established a presence.”

Draven frowned. “It took you five standard days to come to that conclusion?”

“No, sir.” He felt a familiar prickle, where his neck joined to his skull. He breathed. His features held still. “I delayed to ensure I hadn’t been followed.”

“You had no opportunity to send a message?”

The prickling spread, over his shoulders and upper back. “It didn’t seem prudent, sir, no.” He was used to lying. He did it all the time. But he had only once before lied to the man sitting in front of him. It was necessary. It was right. Habit made it feel wrong, and experience made it feel dangerous, in a way that few of his gambits had.

Draven regarded him for a long moment, then sighed, planted his elbow on the arm of his chair, ran his forefinger along the skin between his upper lip and nose. “You’re certain there’s nothing that could be done? No way to dislodge them?”

“Not without drawing undue attention.”

There was a pause. The air was filled with the chatter of nearby operators, hushed and indistinct; with indicators beeping, their songs overlapping and bleeding into one another. Cassian was good at what he did -- brilliant, if he was to take the word of a certain woman in his life -- and he took precautions, and in twenty years, and even as a child, and even when his fear had all but run him and his heart had beat so loud that he’d been sure everyone could hear, he’d never been caught, apart from on Jedha.

He’d barely begun to play this game, and already he felt the whisper of a noose.

Draven rose. “Walk with me.”

They moved toward the rear of CIC. Draven led them down a small passage. Their shoulders brushed. “You know why you’re being given these assignments.”

He gritted his teeth. Of course he knew. He knew why he was no longer being sent to recruit, why other agents were landing undercover missions, why he was spending his time scouting and acquiring supplies. The things he was doing were important things, useful things, but they were also, to a certain extent, unsuited to him. He’d said it to Jyn, in so many words: punishment, fancied up in accolades. “Sir.”

“Your saving grace is that you’ve continued to get results. But make no mistake: we’re in no position to tolerate sloppiness or insubordination.” He stopped. His gaze swept back and forth, along the passage. It was clear, save for the two of them, but he stepped closer, nonetheless. “This isn’t the first instance lately where the Empire has been ahead of us. If there’s a reason for the pattern, then we need to find it.”

Cassian looked up. His hands were behind his back, resting at the spot where the soreness began, the thumb and forefinger of one hand wrapped around the wrist of the other. His heart fluttered. He waited.

“I want you to look into it. No one else is to know.”

Well, that was going to be a problem.

“Consider this the next step in regaining our full trust. If it goes well, we’ll look at returning Albarrio to you.” Draven tilted his head back. He was tall enough to look down at Cassian naturally; the gesture heightened the effect. “You’ve been one of our better agents, Andor. Don’t disappoint me.”

Cassian replied with a single, tight nod, lips drawn downward, brow relaxed. Draven’s eyes ran up and down his face. His lips thinned.

“Dismissed,” he muttered, and turned and headed off, back toward CIC.

Cassian stared after him. His mind ran laps. His heart wasn’t racing, not exactly, but it was beating faster, and a thread of nervous heat was working its way through his core. Alliance Intelligence wasn’t stupid; it wasn’t surprising that they’d noticed something, or that they’d started to suspect what he already knew. But he hadn’t expected to be made aware of that suspicion, at least not so soon. It might be a good thing. It might also be very, very bad.

At least a full minute passed before he moved, walking in the opposite direction of the General, following the passage to its end. It emptied into a lesser-used corridor. Darker than the others, colder, walls and floor left rough. It took him a moment to orient himself. He wondered if they knew something. He wondered if someone had seen, or heard. He could be more open, now, if he wanted, and that would give him access to more channels, but part of why he hadn’t sought them in the first place was because he couldn’t be sure about them. And then, of course, there was Jyn. It would make things harder for her, if they were monitoring him on this.

Shit.

His quarters were on the edge of the South Passage. Despite the marks against him, he was still a Captain, and that entitled him to a private room. It was small -- four meters long and two and a half wide -- and the heating was as unreliable as on the rest of the base, but he needed it, these days, and was grateful for it. He took off his coat. Sat on the edge of his bunk, ran his hands over his face, settled his thumbs under his chin, his forefingers on either side of his nose. He needed a shave. He needed to talk to his contact. He needed to know whether he could still trust him. The thought came, speeding along tracks laid a lifetime ago, that he might have to neutralize him.

Call it what it is, Andor: killing.

He forced it away.

There was a rap at the door. His hands fell, wrists landing on his knees, fingers dangling between them. He flooded with irritation. He didn’t want to be bothered. He wanted to sift through his thoughts, pick at this new assignment, this new potential problem, until sleep rolled over him and dragged him under. The rap came again. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a long breath, and rose.

He leaned against the door. His voice was pitched low. “Who’s there?”

“Sergeant Erso,” the visitor said, the rank sounding strange and forced.

He felt a jolt in his gut. The irritation fled. He straightened and palmed the panel beside the door, movements jerky with urgency. She was standing with her arms folded across her chest, shifting from one foot to the other. Radiating with that constant, hair-trigger energy, that livewire buzz that made her mere presence loud. Her cheeks were pink from the cold. Her hair was crusted and shiny with frost. She didn’t smile when they made eye contact, but her features softened.

“Captain.” There were other people moving about. “I heard you were back.”

Of course she had. He’d have known the exact moment she returned, were their positions reversed.

“There’s something I’d like to ask you. One of the scouts said you’d probably know.” She jutted her chin toward his quarters. “Do you mind?”

“No.” He wondered if they were really fooling anyone. He suspected that they weren’t. The calculating part of him thought it might be useful: sleeping together as a cover for conspiring. Then again, they already had a reputation for the latter. What am I going to do? “Please.” He stepped to the side, allowing her to pass. They didn’t touch. The door closed, and still, they didn’t touch. For a long moment, they didn’t even speak.

He hadn’t seen her in five standard days. He was aching from it, powerfully, all over, and yet he just stood there, looking at her. He felt awkward. He couldn’t imagine why; there was no reason for him to, after everything that had passed between them. But it was all so new, and he wasn’t sure what normal was, and he had a feeling that she didn’t know, either. They were making it up as they went.

Were they watching her? Had they spoken to her, too?

“So,” she said, at last. There was a ledge carved into the wall above the foot of his bunk. She placed her blaster and truncheon there, beside his own weapons. “How’d it go?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, breathed through his nose. Walked past her. He couldn’t be near the door when he started talking. Neither of them could. He leaned against the desk opposite his bunk, curling his fingers under the lip and crossing his legs at the ankles. “I’m not sure if ‘well’ is the right word.” He’d wanted to avoid being followed, it was true. It made sense to take the long way home. But it hadn’t been the only reason. He’d made a stop, along the way, off the record. “I was able to find out how Telara had been turned.” He paused. “They took his family. They told him they’d kill them, one by one, and record it.”

He let the implication sink in. Her jaw and shoulders tightened. Her eyes dropped.

“Wish I could say that was surprising.” She said it softly. “Did they not know who he was, until recently?”

“I don’t think that they did, no.”

“But all those years...”

He nodded. She was so close to him. He could tap her leg, if he moved his foot a hair. He could take her hand, if he pushed himself forward and reached out. His thoughts skittered back and forth. They had to talk about this, about all of it. There were things that needed doing. The mission didn’t stop being the mission just because he’d missed her. “I know. It might have been that his luck ran out; that’s the way it is with informants. He might also have been deliberately compromised.” It would fit. It would make sense. He was almost certain it was what had happened. “But I wasn’t able to determine that. There wasn’t the time.”

Her hands moved to to her lower back; her shoulders tugged at her snow-colored thermal coat. It was ill-fitting. He wanted her to take it off. “So that’s it.”

“For that, yes. For now.”

He could tell she was gritting her teeth. “It’s not a whole lot.”

“No,” he admitted. He’d have liked to have gotten more out of it, himself. He might have, if he’d thought he could get away with a longer delay. But the speculation, the direction of it -- that was a piece. There’d been times when he’d unraveled entire plots from less. “But it’s something more than we had before.”

Silence fell for a moment. There was a rumble beneath their feet, followed by a long, low groan. The shield doors were closing. She took a few steps toward him. “How, uh.” Her throat worked. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She was trying to change the subject. “There’s something else.” Would she expect it? Did she already know? He wanted to grab her waist and pull her to him.

Her gaze roved over his face. “What?”

“Draven,” he said. “He knows something’s off. He’s asked me to look into it.”

“Are we in trouble, then?”

“More so than usual, you mean?” He found himself uncrossing his ankles, standing up, moving to meet her. His hip popped. He grimaced. “I don’t know yet.” I don’t know if I can keep you safe. And he wanted to. He’d been wanting to since before he’d even realized that that was what was driving him. There was hardly any space left between them. Her fingers brushed against his. The air was cold. He ran hot. “What about you? Anything?” He touched her hair, her face, her neck. His blood was rushing, pooling.

“Nothing new.” She took his hand. Her fingers wove between his and flared outwards. “Cassian, I’m serious.”

He sighed. “What do you want me to say?” He ran his thumb along her jawline. “I really don’t know.” Thoughts of duty were fading.

She clicked her tongue and shook her head. Her lips, however, were curving upwards. She placed her hand on his hip, passed it around to his back. Pressed her fingers into his flesh. “You should get this checked out, you know.”

She’d noticed. It wouldn’t have been her if she hadn’t. “No need,” he said.

“Hypocrite.”

He smiled at her. He couldn’t reach her knee, but he wrapped an arm around her waist, and drew her to where it touched his own. “That was different.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Her voice had gotten very quiet. Her words were captured by his breath. “You’re being stubborn.”

He sniffed. Their foreheads touched. He splayed his hands over the small of her back; she wrapped one of hers around the back of his neck. His chest was swelling. “How have you been? Really?”

“Bored.” It was half a chuckle. She tilted her head upwards. Her nose brushed his.

“That’s a shame,” he murmured against her lips. In truth, he was relieved. It meant nothing had happened, at least not to her. She leaned up and into him, whispered something he couldn’t make out, and then kissed him. Her lips were cold, at first; an artifact of Hoth, and all its unpleasantness. Friction warmed them. He held her fast. He kneaded her hip, her rear, and slipped one hand up, behind her head, under her bun, through her hair. She gripped his neck. Cupped his cheek. Hooked a thumb under his belt. Their movements were slow, languid. Their kiss was at once deep and raw and delicate.

He’d missed her. He couldn’t believe how much he’d missed her. He trembled from the force of it. He broke away and buried his face in her neck and shoulder. “Jyn.”

“What?”

She kissed his jaw, his neck. One of her hands moved over his abdomen and slid upward. He pressed his lips and tongue to her neck. Her body rolled against his. He planted his palm between her shoulder blades, and let himself roll back.

“You’re staying?”

Her fingers dug into his shirt. Her thumbs moved downward, then back up, bunching the fabric. It was coming out from his trousers. It would be cold, but it would be worth it, as it had been, for the past month.

“Of course,” she replied, tone heavy and rough.

He walked her backwards, toward his bunk. He fumbled for the buttons on her coat. Her hands covered his, helped him. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged, and he let her pull him, increased the pressure on the back of her head, sucked on her tongue, and pulled her right back. A gasp, sharp and sweet, rose out of her and landed in his mouth. Fire lapped at his spine.

Would they see? Would they try to take her from him? She already knew things that, as it turned out, she wasn’t supposed to know. He'd just been told that no one could be a part of it. She was already a part of it. He couldn’t not have her be a part of it. Strange, how his loyalty had shifted.

He’d never done this before.

She grabbed him, and moved in some way, and he was on his back. Her thighs were around his midsection. He squeezed them.

It was hard to think.

He wished he couldn't think at all.

[dasakuryo]

Rogue One is sent to Albarrio sector to gather intelligence on the Empire, and convince independent rebel cells to join the Rebellion. Little does the council know that these missions will stir Cassian's emotional turmoil, bringing back memories and fears he's kept locked away for years. There are realities Cassian doesn't want to dwell on, not when he can't really imagine an encouraging future past the war. There are sides of the conflict that remain in the shadows, far greater than two mere opposing forces.

Out of worry, Jyn will try to help, growing even closer to Cassian. She will stare at the wounds and scars of a life marked by war, leaving the door open for him to stare right back into her past. The bond they've shared since Scarif will evolve as they navigate through their feelings and missions, trying to figure out where they stand and what to make of the future.

[In short; Jyn and Cassian growing closer, getting to know one another and learning about each other’s past, bridging their differences as they reflect on what the future may hold].

Edit: I have managed to work around the HTML code and included hovering notes with the translations for all the lines in Spanish, although the contents are always adressed/explained in prose, but I figured it might be useful and work as a footnote :)

[maree-swan]

One of the people Cassian recruited - no doubt under the name Fulcrum in the Albarrio Sector.

[jyndor]

lol conspiracy theory time

so cassian andor has a great name. like we all get that. iconic name. and I think there is a <2% chance that he was named cassian andor after the cassander sector lmao hear me out

so obviously our boy is from fest, outer rim ice planet in the atrivis sector along with mantooine (the beef is long lived between them in legends btw). he also recruits for the rebels in the albarrio sector, which is nearby.

know what is in between the atrivis and albarrio sectors? the cassander sector. boom. that is how cassian got his name* lol

*except for his middle name, which in universe is for his papa and in the real world is for diego's son but we all knew that already

[chamerionwrites]

#what i’m saying is that rebel intel is like please god no let this not be true #but the math is like ha ha fuckers #and you bet cassian was out there in the albarrio sector hunting down former separatist and war profiteer after the other #searching for answers hoping someone would crack and give him the answer he was desperate for #or at least supply the knowledge that would get them on the right track #(besides also ofc getting inroads with disgruntled powerbrokers #and trying to sway them to the rebels cause get them to supply them arms that sort of thing) #like you know how in intel a defector might supply you with some info #but then you need corroboration from multiple sources to make sure they’re not a plant or a double agent #there was defs a lot of that with the rebellion a lot of hoping these were plants trying to scare them into submission #because they just have a lot of hypotheticals & spec but no actual tangible proof until bodhi rook defects with a message from galen #(claiming he has a message from galen) #and even then its not really enough until fucking jedha #because how do you even wrap your mind around a weapon that big #so immensely destructive #how do you begin to understand the sheer scale and sublimity of it so you can believe its existence? #you just can't the mind just can’t #its this breakdown of imagination #an acceptance without acceptance

Do you ever contemplate the fact that - at least according to the ending scenes of Return of the Sith - plans for the Death Star were developed (and the initial phases of its construction begun!) during the Clone Wars? I mean clearly it was a closely-guarded secret otherwise Alliance leadership with its heavy concentration of ex-Republican politicians and military officers would have known about it from the beginning, but…still. That’s not a small project. That’s not something Palpatine can set in motion on his own. A number of people in the theoretically not-yet-fascist state definitely signed on for carrying I am become death, destroyer of worlds to its most literal extreme. Or did Sheev delegate this project to the Separatist interests he was controlling? IIRC the Geonosians were involved but Galen Erso’s connection as well as the sheer SCALE of that project suggests it was the brainchild of the Republic’s military-industrial complex. Either way, the fridge horror is strong with this one.

Also - how long has this been on Rebel Intelligence’s radar? By the time of Rogue One this thing has been under construction for twenty years, and a good number of the people in the Alliance’s command structure defected from the system that was building it. Who’s heard whispers? Who’s pored over intelligence reports and dimly seen the shape of something terrible in the empty spaces? How long has this looming unnamed uncertain threat been hanging over the people whose job it is to deal with looming threats before they spiral out of control?

[ao3feed-bazechirrut]

Twilight Opportunities (To Think Where We Land)

Read it on the Ao3 at: http://ift.tt/2kLHHAG

by dasakuryo

Rogue One is sent to Albarrio sector to gather intelligence on the Empire, and convince independent rebel cells to join the Rebellion. Little does the council know that these missions will stir Cassian's emotional turmoil, bringing back memories and fears he's kept locked away for years. There are realities Cassian doesn't want to dwell on, not when he can't really imagine an encouraging future past the war. There are sides of the conflict that remain in the shadows, far greater than two mere opposing forces.

Out of worry, Jyn will try to help, growing even closer to Cassian. She will stare at the wounds and scars of a life marked by war, leaving the door open for him to stare right back into her past. The bond they've shared since Scarif will evolve as they navigate through their feelings and missions, trying to figure out where they stand and what to make of the future.

Words: 6927, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, Gen

Characters: Cassian Andor, Baze Malbus, Chirrut Îmwe, Bodhi Rook, Jyn Erso, K-2SO (Star Wars)

Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies

[spynotebook]

Thought you knew all the Star Wars secrets of Rogue One? Think again. The recently released Rogue One: The Utimate Visual Dictonary, written by Lucasfilm Story Group executive and master of canon Pablo Hidalgo, includes a ton of new facts about the Star Wars universe—some cool, some surprising, and some completely messed up.

Much as we did for The Force Awakens, we mined the guidebook for all the facts and secrets that didn’t make it on screen... or the prequel novel... or anywhere else. Remember, this is all 100 percent canon. One note, though: Once you discover “The Decraniated,” Star Wars might never look exactly the same again.

If there’s one thing that rankles about The Force Awakens, it’s that a lot of its world-building is … Read more Read more

Cassian Andor Was a Fulcrum Agent

Star Wars Rebels first introduced “Fulcrum” as the codename of ex-Jedi Ahsoka Tano as a secret agent for the burgeoning Rebellion. But “Fulcrum” is much more than just Ahsoka—the callsign is a position, not a single person, and it turns out that Rogue One’s Cassian is one such Rebel officer who served in the role. The guide refers to one of Cassian’s operational aliases as being “Fulcrum,” a “Recruitment agent in the Albarrio sector.” Given his ties to Rebel Intelligence, presumably Cassian would adopt the name to bring more agents into the wider network of operatives.

There’s More to the Rebel Alliance Than Just Fighting

Despite being lead by senators, the Star Wars movies do little to show that the Rebel Alliance is more than a military faction, but it turns out that the Alliance hierarchy has two separate branches: High Command, the military wing of interconnected rebel cells, and the Civil Government, lead by Mon Mothma as its Chief of State and governed by a cabinet of six ministers, former members of the disbanded Imperial Senate.

We meet some of those ministers in Rogue One, aside from Mon Mothma and Bail Organa. There’s Senator Nower Jebel of Uyter, the Minister of Finance; Senator Vasp Vaspar of the Taldot sector, the Minister of Industry; and Senator Tynnra Pamlo of Taris (a planet familiar to fans of the beloved Knights of the Old Republic video game series), the Minister of Education. The guide doesn’t specific the final minister.

Why You Don’t See U-Wings After Rogue One

One of the tricky things about prequels is introducing new elements that conveniently then disappear in their successors—and while the Empire has got the convenient excuse of having blown up its Shoretroopers and TIE Strikers on Scarif with the Death Star, the Rebels need a slightly more longwinded explanation for as to why you don’t see U-Wings flying around in the original Star Wars trilogy.

As it urns out, there simply weren’t many of them in the first place. Designed by Incom, the same ship manufacturer that created the X-Wing as a potential starfighter for the Imperial Navy, the U-Wing was the corporation’s last starfighter released before it was nationalized by the Empire, and only received a limited production run. Bail Organa managed to snag a few, donating them to the Alliance as a handful of extra support craft. What we see in Rogue One are likely all the U-Wings the Rebellion possessed.

More Religions of the Force

While The Force Awakens introduced the Church of the Force—a religious organization that, while made up of people who weren’t necessarily force sensitive, followed the teachings left behind by the Jedi Order—it turns out there are more Force-based religions floating around on Jedha, even if the Empire frowns upon such spirituality.

Alongside the Guardians of the Whills that Chirrut and Baze are associated with, the guide mentions several religious groups that see Jedha as a sacred place. There are the Disciples of the Whills (who are presumably protected by the Guardians), the oldest faith on Jedha; the Brotherhood of the Beatific Countenance, an order of silent, concealed monks; and the Clan of the Toribota, less of a religious organization but one that believes Jedha is a spiritually significant planet as its star was purportedly the first star seen by its ancestors.

The Mon Calamari Fleet Is Made of Their Cities

We don’t know much of how the Imperial occupation led to mass defections of Mon Calamari to the Alliance Navy, but Rogue One’s visual guide offers an intriguing hint as to how the aquatic race gifted a significant amount of capital ships to the Alliance so quickly—the Mon Calamari fleets are actually bits of Mon Calamari cities.

Preparing for the worst with the rise of the Empire, several Mon Calamari cities jettisoned buildings into deep space, that had actually been converted into transports containing thousands of Mon Calamari refugees. Hidden away from the Imperials, the Mon Calamari re-tweaked the transport-buildings into armed capital ships, joining the Alliance to form a major part of their fleet. Fun fact: Admiral Raddus’ ship in Rogue One, named the Profundity, was originally the civic governance tower of the northern Mon Calamari city Nystullum, and Raddus was actually the city’s mayor before joining the Alliance. Brings a whole new meaning to Admiral Ackbar’s flagship being called Home One, doesn’t it?

The Insane Way the Empire Kept the Death Star’s Construction Secret

Ever since Attack of the Clones included the bombshell that the Separatists were the ones who originated plans for the Death Star, fans have wondered how the battlestation went from Geonosian idea to Imperial crown jewel. Turns out, it involves a lot of dead bug people.

When the Geonosians first started planning to build a separatist superweapon powered by a kyber crystal weapon, it was largely kept secret, until Geonosian ruler Poggle the Lesser was captured by Anakin Skywalker during the Clone Wars. After the Clone Wars came to an end and the Empire rose, Wilhuff Tarkin learned of the theoretical weapon and became enamored with it, championing it to Palpatine (who, of course, just so happened to have the Geonosians’ original plans thanks to his alter ego as Darth Sidious). Construction of the physical frame of the weapon began over Geonosis with the help of Geonosian labor.

With the framework done, the only problem remaining was refinement of the kyber crystal energy source to power the facility’s superlaser. In order to keep the weapon secret while it worked on that conundrum, the Empire sterilized the entirety of Geonosis, wiping out its population of billions (a fact previously hinted at in Rebels and Marvel’s Darth Vader comic).

How the Death Troopers Got Their Name

Rogue One prides itself on being a darker take on the galaxy far, far away—a more realitistic, gritty world where the line between brave rebel hero and bloody terrorist are blurred. That darker ethos also carries on into some of the amazingly metal background information in the visual guide, leading to some truly messed-up bits of scenery setting. Two favorites of mine? The first is that the Death Troopers earned their sinister name from a rumored project in Krennic’s Advanced Weapons Research division, supposedly designed about reviving necrotic flesh to fight for the Empire(space zombies!).

The Most Messed-Up Cyborgs in the Galaxy

The second insane reveal from the Rogue One visual guide is of the “Decraniated,” a caste of cyborgs on Jedha that serve a variety of roles on the planet—gruesomely created out of horrendously wounded people who are stripped of their individuality during the surgical process, which also leaves them with most of their heads missing. It’s freaky as hell.

[greyias]

FIC: Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 2

Title: Smoke and Mirrors Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T Genre: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn Synopsis: Something’s rotten on Carrick Station, and Theron won’t rest until he finds out what. But picking at the frayed threads of suspicion quickly unravels a conspiracy much larger than even the Republic’s top spy can handle on his own. (A mostly canon-compliant retelling of the Forged Alliances storyline, as seen through the eyes of Theron Shan.) Author’s Notes and Spoilers: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 1 | Crossposted to AO3 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Rather than head back to the Heorem Complex, Theron decided to review his notes and the personnel files back at his apartment. While he didn’t really care all that much if he attracted a few looks for his unkempt appearance from the all-nighter he just pulled, the thought of perusing the data in the comfort of his own bed was too tempting to pass up. If he needed to do any research that required heavier security protocols than what he already had in place, he could always head in at that point.

As he sunk into the mattress, he pulled up the file on the first member of the Coruscant Aegis, codename “Guardian”. Known in wider circles as Barsen’thor, the newest member of the Jedi High Council. He managed to make it about a third of the way through the file before his chin dropped as he started to nod off. Unable to let Marcus Trant be right about anything, Theron woke himself up with a quick shower in the refresher before powering through the rest of the file.  From what he could tell “Guardian” was more than capable, but a quick search of the HoloNet showed that the Jedi Master was in Temesher on a diplomatic mission. If the underground chatter was to be believed, “Ace”, the Voidhound, was similarly occupied. Although probably for less legitimate business then the Jedi Master. He filed both of them away as potential assets for future operations, but moved on to the next file.

He paged through the dossier on “Meteor”, liking what he was seeing. Leader of Havoc Squad, a fellow recipient of the Cross of Glory, and had a whole squad of heavy hitters that could be tapped into. The major had been a key player in taking out the Gauntlet — one of the weapons designed by Darth Mekhis. The dossier was long, and by the time he got to the end, he was tempted to just call it there for Havoc Squad so he could feel justified in giving into the temptation to close his eyes for a few minutes. (Not to mention it’d drive Jonas Balkar nuts if Theron sniped his favorite operative.)

However, he’d had left the most intriguing one for last. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dying of curiosity to be able to review more details of the Sith Emperor’s demise. Even so, he massaged his temples, the tension mounting behind his implants letting him know he was going to need a break here soon if he had any hope of continuing to focus. This dossier was just as long as the rest, and his eyes almost crossed looking at the text.

“Okay,” he admitted quietly, “may need a break.”

He was loathe to take one, though, considering the narrow window of opportunity they were having to work with. He compromised by making a large pot of stimcaf, nowhere near the quality of Jace’s stash, but still decent enough to get the job done. While it brewed, he closed his eyes and focused his mind, acknowledging the fatigue and need for sleep, before releasing it out. By the time the caf maker chimed that it was ready, the tension headache had faded to the far corner of his consciousness. He would still need to sleep later, but this would help him focus for a few more hours.

With a mug of caf in hand as well as a sandwich to stave off hunger, Theron pulled up a chair far from the bed, and whipped out the dossier on the last candidate, codename “Shield”. 

While not exactly a household name, the Hero of Tython was definitely not an unknown player on the galactic scale, especially in the intelligence community. For some reason, she kept getting recruited into SIS operations, and her notoriety had started to spread beyond that after she had halted Darth Malgus’s attempted coup.

The dossier began with her apprenticeship on Tython to Orgus Din, one of the living legends of the first Galactic War. As he pored over the details, he couldn’t help but frown, his earlier statement to Jace coming to mind. It was a little hard to believe that one person had wound up doing so much in such a short time. Capturing a dark Jedi while an apprentice, exposing and defeating a Sith infiltrator on Coruscant, saving several planets from Darth Angral’s campaign of destruction. 

When he started seeing familiar names crop up in the report, Theron grabbed a spare datapad with a secure connection and pulled up the relevant SIS reports. He was familiar enough with several of the agents involved, and was curious if there were any extra details to be gleaned outside of the official dossier. He mostly just found more operations that weren’t in the main dossier, including one from Agent Fauler on his takedown of a Czerka coverup on Tatooine.

At least an hour had passed, and he was only a third finished with the main dossier. He was about halfway through the pot of caf, and was starting to get irritated with the glowing reviews from his fellow agents, when the main dossier got… interesting.

As in, Shan family lineage interesting. He’d only been lightly skimming the portion of her work with Oteg, the Jedi commander of the Telos, until he saw the mention of the Maelstrom Prison, and namely, it’s sole prisoner: Revan.

He thought that the fate of the famous off-and-on-again Jedi Knight and Sith Lord had been lost to history. Apparently after passing on the family genes, he’d gone after the Sith Emperor himself and failed. Only to be rescued from his three-hundred year imprisonment by the woman who ultimately finished the job.

Theron frowned, finger tapping the side of the datapad absently. He was never a big fan of coincidences and he wasn’t a believer in fate or destiny. The connection between Revan and this woman was pretty glaringly obvious, and if Master Zho was still around, he probably would have said it was the will of the Force. An angry bitterness rose up in the back of his throat, but Theron managed to push it down just below the surface.

After his failed apprenticeship under Nagani Zho, Theron had tried to put his whole ancestry behind him. If the Force didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted to return the favor. He’d managed to do just that for almost a decade, when apparently it decided to pull him back into the fold with his mission with Master Zho and Teff’ith to the Vesla system, and then later with Gnost-Dural and the Ascendant Spear. 

He shoved the stupid coincidence and happenstance to the back of his mind, but there was still the lingering question of Revan’s fate. The official records were sparse, just that he had been rescued from the prison built for him in the Maelstrom Nebula, and had fallen in battle with Imperials in the Nanth’ri system before he could ever see the end of the Emperor who held him prisoner for so long. It seemed like such ignoble end for the legendary Knight, but then again life wasn’t fair.

The bitterness still burned in his throat, but Theron forced himself to focus back on his original task rather than this side-trek down the family album, and pulled back up the excessively long dossier. 

Except as he stared at the text, his brain had latched onto something. He blew out a breath, took another sip of the bitter brew in attempt to convince himself that was what he was tasting rather than his own feelings. He looked back over the section on Revan again, eyes falling on the location of the prison he’d been rescued from.

The Maelstrom Nebula… why was that familiar?

He pulled up a galactic map, and the Maelstrom Nebula was located on the borders of the Albarrio and Relgim sectors. And Oteg commanded the Telos. He blinked at the map, watching the pixelated swirls of green space dust whirl in the air. The Jedi that had discovered the key piece of intel for the upcoming operation had served during that campaign. Of course, the crew manifest for the Telos was large. It was a warship. A lot of people had served on it. The holo flickered, and Theron stared at it, that same funny feeling settling over him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He continued to glare at the map, as if he could connect the two dots by sheer force and willpower.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t coming to him. With a sigh, he pulled back up the dossier, and continued reading. The sooner he finished this file, the sooner he could make his decision and call it a night.

Next up was the mission on Balmorra, which on the surface appeared to be aiding the resistance and helping fight off the Empire. However, Theron had read enough redacted files to tell when details were being conveniently left out. He recalled his brief partnership with Master Gnost-Dural, and the revelation that the Jedi did their own intelligence gathering. It made sense that they would also have their own version of black ops.

Theron continued down the rabbit hole, from the side-trip to Quesh, through the adventures on Hoth. There were a lot of flashy rescues, a few high profile military operations, and some side missions for the Grand Master herself, before “Shield” showed up again on Belsavis.

About halfway through the section on Belsavis, he frowned, remembering the riots fairly clearly. Partially because he’d been there for part of it. He retraced back to the last few missions on Hoth, searching for the detail that he missed. It wasn’t there, but as he started reviewing the dates, it struck him what <i>was</i> missing.

About six plus months.

No mention of any duties or activities, just a sudden jump in time. Theron quickly started a search on his other datapad, but as he delved further and further into the details of Shield’s personal life, he still couldn’t find anything regarding what she’d been up to during the time in question. No record of a leave of absence, no MIA report, no purchase history, or travel dossiers, just a giant hole that had been carefully written around. Not even a whisper or mention of her in any Republic records, almost like she hadn’t been there at all during the time.

Someone had wiped this woman’s record clean of something they didn’t want getting out. 

He glared at the datapad, as if it was directly responsible for the deed. It was enough of a red flag for him that he almost closed the file right there, regardless of the glowing recommendations of his fellow agents and the obvious admiration and confidence of both the Jedi Grand Master and the Supreme Commander.

But damn it, he hadn’t even gotten to the part about the Emperor yet. He didn’t set his reservation aside, though, even as he resumed his review of the dossier. The contents had definitely taken a turn for the darker, as he read about death cults, insanity rituals, the capture of several dark Jedi, and the liberation of Corellia.

Somewhere, buried within all of the heroics (did this woman ever sleep?), he found the reason for the urgency, and the sudden dark turn. It was a small line, possibly hastily tacked on to the end of the report regarding a fallen Jedi Master, Tol Braga, that discussed a dark side ritual to…

Theron felt his stomach drop, and re-read the line again just to be sure.

No, he’d read it right the first time. The Sith, or at least the Emperor’s inner circle, had been trying to complete a dark side ritual that would annihilate all life in the galaxy.

He tried to ignore the cold feeling of dread as he moved on in the dossier. He was finally to the part about Dromund Kaas and the raid on the Dark Temple. What he found curious, and if he were being honest with himself, more than a little impressive, was the account that Shield had taken on the Emperor by herself, with only a T7 unit as backup. The mission was what had earned her a Cross of Glory, as well as the rest of her crew (even the droid and Sith on her crew).

The rest of her exploits after that were a little wider known, things he had heard of, if he hadn’t exactly connected the name with the deed until now. Taking down Darth Malgus, saving the people of Makeb, even that whole mess with Czerka on CZ-198.

Damn it.

He kneaded his forehead as his tension headache started to creep through, his frustration mounting. Any of the Coruscant Aegis would be equipped to handle the Korriban job, but only one of them had already stormed an Imperial world in a similar manner. The fact that the little Jedi overachiever just kept saving the galaxy at every turn made it harder for him to ignore.

Except that someone had scrubbed her records to hide something. Considering her notoriety, it was probably something dirty. As far as assets went, dirt was great when he knew what it was and could use it to leverage things his way. It was more of a liability in this case, as the lack of information meant things could spiral out of hand very quickly. 

Theron glanced at the chrono, seeing that it had started to edge into evening. His long ignored fatigue dragged at him, and his bed called to him. Even if he still didn’t have his recommendation, he’d at least finished his review of the files. If he slept now, at least he could feel justified in the fact that Marcus couldn’t be right. And Jace did say that Theron could sleep on the decision, so he did just that. 

And if his sleep was just a little haunted by a dark spectre attempting to devour the galaxy, he wasn’t going to mention it to anyone.

Next Chapter

[unstable-reality]

Vigil

For the prompt:  ~ All three words in one fic:  “agony”; “fingers”; and “shiver” ~

It’s angst time y’all (I kind of want to write smut to it too, but...angst).

Hoth is being evacuated. Before he leaves, there’s something Cassian needs to do.

[AO3]

The world descended, and he ran.

Alarms whooped and buzzed. The comms system crackled, burst with instructions, uttered in cool, measured voices, belying their underlying intent. The flow of traffic was at odds with him. Arms, elbows, shoulders knocked into his. He pushed past them.

“Andor? Where the hell’re you going?”

He could fight. He would fight, given the opportunity, but that wasn’t what they wanted or needed from him. Not right now. They didn’t relish the thought of having to reassign his network, of saddling some unlucky kid with the task of rebuilding the trust, the cachet. They didn’t want to have to deal with Albarrio sector sans him; didn’t want to have to shift around operatives and stations, at a time when the Empire was sharpening its gaze. They wanted him alive. He was supposed to be on the first transport. It would be a near thing, now, for him to board on time; it wouldn’t be much longer before the ion cannons were fully charged. But he had to take the chance.

He was becoming the sort of man who’d do that. He hadn’t been, before. All of his risks had fallen within a certain set of acceptable parameters, and barring unforeseen circumstances, he had always gotten himself exactly where he was told he needed to be, exactly when he was told he should be there. Change had come on the heels of a single collapsed order, a single break, after twenty years of forced impenetrability. A nexus of need, drawing him in; a pair of green eyes, hammering away at him.

There was a loud boom. Loose wires, dangling from the ceiling, swung into one another, ends connecting. They sizzled and spat sparks. The ground heaved, and he lost his footing, pressed his hand to the wall. A woman in a cold-weather flight suit stumbled into him. She clapped him on the back before continuing on her way. The shield couldn’t have fallen yet; Imperial troops had only just engaged them. Still, the knot in his core, the trembling ball of anxiety that drove him forward, pulsed, made him shiver, quickened his heartbeat. He exhaled. A cloud of frost curled around his face.

At its end, the passage narrowed and angled off to the right. The curvature of the walls was broken by piping; thick coils, roped together, and wide, metal cylinders, wire shielding, criss-crossed the floor. The sound of his footfalls changed into a muted crunching. Snow, a thin layer, perpetual. It was hard, if not impossible, to keep it out, and they weren’t yet generating enough power to melt it. They were hardly generating enough to heat the barracks.

The world shook again. They wouldn’t ever.

The bay on this side of base was the smallest of them, housing only a handful of speeders. All of them had been deployed. The edges of the space were lined with scaffolds, crates, inert machinery, sandwiched between columns of ice. The shield doors were open, and already, clusters of infantry were jogging through them, out into snowblind and blaster and cannon fire. Over the din of equipment shifting, and soldiers calling out to one another, and officers shouting orders, and the alarms, still, the alarms, he heard his own blood, rushing in his ears. He might be too late. He might have come all the way here, only to find her gone.

He had just gotten back. He had spent weeks away from base, a length of time greater than the amount they’d so far spent in one another’s company, the agony of distance gnawing at him, a new sensation that he hadn’t quite been sure how to handle. Somewhere between touchdown and debrief, he’d figured it out. It had been obvious; he’d been doing it since he’d met her. But there hadn’t been time, and now, there was all of this.

He couldn’t be too late. He’d never been too late for her.

His pace slowed. His gaze swept over the hangar bay. So much movement. Quick, purposeful. A squad formed up around its leader, hurried, single file, toward the outside. She wasn’t part of it. He walked forward. A few men paused and cast him glances, went about their business, silent. The knot grew. She had to be here. He had to have made it in time.

Something about AT-ATs broke over the comms, the message half-lost in static.

“Cassian?”

He turned. His body thrummed. Her cheeks were red. Her hair was tucked under her helmet. There were lines around her eyes, over the bridge of her nose, where her goggles, now on her head, must have been sitting.

She belonged on the ground. She was good at that sort of fighting. He knew it. He admired it.

Right now, he hated it.

“Jyn.”

“What are you doing here?” She grabbed his upper arm. “You’ve got to go.” He stepped toward her, until his face was swimming in hers.

“I couldn’t…” He paused, breathed through his nose. It was part of his job to be good with words, but she made him need to think them through. “I didn’t want to leave without…”

Another explosion. The base rocked; darkness fell, lifted, fell again. There was an electric hum. The lights were dimmer, when they steadied themselves, and the world groaned, and off in the distance, he could hear someone screaming. He and Jyn had been thrown closer together. One hand was on her elbow, the other on her back.

Their eyes met.

“Erso!”

Her jaw tightened. She peered around him.

“C’mon, we’re moving out!”

Her brow curved downward. She looked back at him. Her eyes were cloudy. “I have to go.”

“I know.”

There was so much to tell her. There was so much to do with her. When she was at his side, it felt right. It clicked. He’d never had that with a human partner. He wanted, so very much, to keep her there.

He swallowed. “At the rendezvous point. I’ll wait for you.”

For a moment, she said and did nothing. The sounds of the battle beyond, outside, grew louder, crawling their way up a bitter crescendo. Her lips parted. She nodded. Her hand moved down, and her fingers wrapped around his. He squeezed them.

“Erso!”

The knot blossomed, as he watched her speed away from him. It spread up into his chest, into his throat. It clung to his legs, like a weight, as he rushed back through the tunnels of Echo Base. It transformed into something that felt very much like panic. He wanted to be out there with her. He wanted to hitch himself to her, as he already had, as he always would, so long as he was given the chance.

“I’ll wait for you.”

He would.

He would for a very, very long time.