Star Wars: Rebel Rising(41)

Jyn kept her head down. Punch the red button, lift the handle, shift the crate. Punch the red button, lift the handle, shift the crate. Head down. She knew this Imperial officer’s tone. She knew what it meant. Head down. Punch the red button. Lift the handle. Shift the—

“You, there.” The admiral’s voice cut through the sound of the repulsorlifts.

“M-me?”

Jyn glanced up. She knew this man. Knew him from the outside. She’d met him first on Inusagi, although she hadn’t known his name. And again, later, on Skuhl, when she’d punched him in the face.

Berk.

Jyn hadn’t known the man had been arrested and sentenced to Wobani. He carried himself like one of the old ones, the prisoners who’d been there for a while. He had scars she didn’t recognize and a grim set to his mouth that made him look ancient.

“You.” The admiral smiled, and a chill ran down Jyn’s spine.

Berk’s shoulders were broad, his biceps like knotted ropes. But he looked like a child next to the much shorter officer, cowed and afraid.

“Do you think your fellow criminals could be enticed to work harder?” the admiral asked in dulcet tones.

“I—” Berk glanced from the warden to the admiral. If he said no, the warden would be proven right. If he said yes, the admiral would be. “Yes,” he said.

“And how do you think we could entice these lowlives to contribute more precious labor to the glorious Empire?” the admiral asked.

There was no answer Berk could give. If he asked for more food or more breaks, then he risked what little they did have being taken away in a cruel mockery of justice. “I…I don’t…”

“You don’t know,” the admiral sneered.

Berk shook his head, his eyes wide.

“Fortunately, I do.” The admiral looked away from Berk and toward the other workers in the transport room. Without even trying, he’d commanded the attention of every person on the floor. The crates had stopped. Everyone was watching. Waiting.

“If I offer you some sort of reward for working harder,” the admiral continued, addressing the room at large, “then that’s not really fair, is it? This is a punishment. You are criminals against the Empire. You deserve no reward.

“Besides,” he continued, “people don’t work harder for rewards. That’s a child’s way of thinking. What really makes people work harder is fear.”

In one fluid motion, the admiral pulled out his blaster and shot Berk in the head. Before his body hit the floor, every single worker had turned back to the task.

Jyn had never worked harder in her life than she did that day.





Jyn examined her situation in a cold, analytical way. She had gotten at least that much from her father—the ability to detach and look at the world as a scientist, not a human.

First, she was alone. Saw was gone. Codo was gone. Outside the bunker, there were Imperials and the people of Tamsye Prime. She could rely on none of them. With the entire world crumbling to the ground, burning and destroyed, no one would show kindness to a stranger.

Second, Jyn had two weapons: Saw’s knife and the blaster. She didn’t have any of her own weapons; her cover had not allowed for them. These weren’t the worst weapons she could have at the moment, but they were nothing compared with the Star Destroyer and TIE fighters and countless stormtroopers.

Third, she was safe for now but couldn’t stay where she was. The bunker was oppressively small. She couldn’t stand up straight; at best she could hunch over, her spine pressed against the roof. She wondered what the shell turret had been made for. Droids that easily slid into position? Clone troopers who didn’t mind their conditions?

It didn’t matter. When she added up all the facts of her situation, Jyn was left with a simple truth: she couldn’t stay there, but she had no way to leave.

Saw had told her to wait until the next day.

She curled up on the ground of the bunker and closed her eyes, waiting for the nightmare to be over. She had hidden in a hatch before, had waited a day, and Saw had come for her.

He would come again.



The attack ended sometime before dusk. The ground was still bright from fires. Stormtroopers rolled out, ordering everyone to return to their homes or, if their homes were burning, to at least clear the streets. Jyn watched through the slits in the turret.

She tried to peer through the tiny openings and see the stars above, but smoke shrouded the area in darkness.



Daylight crept through the tiny openings in the turret. Jyn watched it slink across the dirt floor, drawing closer and closer to her hand, the hand that gripped the knife.

She was eight years old again, hiding in the cave, staring up at the hatch. She didn’t know if anyone would come, but Saw did.

Saw did.

Outside was silent.

And Jyn knew.

He wasn’t coming back for her. Not this time.



An announcement blared throughout the settlement, followed by a low pulsing alarm. Jyn looked through the slits in the shell turret and watched in surprise as Imperial transport ships landed and the stormtroopers still on the ground boarded them. People from Tamsye Prime stood in the wreckage of their town, watching as the soldiers flew off.

Some of them cheered. Their oppressors were leaving.

Jyn’s heart sank. She scrabbled out of the shell turret, her eyes to the skies. The Star Destroyer was still up there, high above. Preparing.