Star Wars: Rebel Rising(52)

The little shuttle burst out of the atmosphere, and the entirety of the universe stared down at them.

Space was black in a way Jyn could never quite describe. When she flew with Saw, that’s all she ever noticed about space—the great black emptiness of it all. But this time, her arms still around Hadder, she could see only the stars, the innumerable stars, white pinpricks of light dancing beyond their grasp, each one a promise of a new world, a new adventure, a new hope.

“If you want something, take it,” she said, her breath a whisper in Hadder’s ear. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you have to live each day as if it’s your last.” It sounded so trite, but she knew it to be true. Each choice could be the last one. And I choose this, she thought. I choose the stars and peace and you.

She felt him grow very, very still. Something inside her thudded, hard, and Jyn jerked back as if Hadder’s skin was made of flame. She collapsed into the copilot’s chair, careful to keep her gaze on the stars outside, not on the way Hadder looked at her.





Neither of them wanted to go back to the planet’s surface. As the shuttle aimed for Akshaya’s hangar, they didn’t talk. It wasn’t until Hadder cut the engines and stood to leave the planet hopper that he turned to Jyn, eyes gleaming.

“That. Was. Awesome ,” he said.

Jyn couldn’t help grinning back at him.

Hadder bubbled with pent-up excitement. “I mean, I’ve been up there before. That wasn’t my first time. Before Tanith died, Mum used to let me go on some of her runs. But I’ve never been at the controls before. I’ve never…” He ran his fingers through his hair, then swooped down, grabbing Jyn in a hug so fierce he lifted her off her feet. “Thank you,” he said, looking right into her eyes. When he let her go, Jyn staggered a little, unsteady without his touch.

“We have to go celebrate,” Hadder said. “I’m taking you out to dinner.”

“Yay, more bunn,” Jyn said without enthusiasm.

Hadder laughed. “I’m not that bad of a cook,” he said. “But I meant, I’m taking you out. Not that I’m cooking. Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her off the ship, out of the hangar, into the little town, and straight to the diner.

A local band was playing, and more than half the diner was singing along to songs Jyn didn’t know. She sat at the table Hadder procured for them against the wall, far from the band. She looked out over the loud, tipsy crowd. Living on the outskirts, Jyn hadn’t really run into that many people. But there was a whole refinery on Skuhl, as well as some trade with bunn and other goods. The diner served as a restaurant and watering hole for the locals, an inn for the visitors, and a meeting place for all of Skuhl.

“I’m always surprised there are so many different kinds of people here,” Jyn commented. Coruscant had been populated with every species imaginable, but most worlds she’d been on since had been fairly homogenous.

“It’s like Mum says,” Hadder replied, “the giant doesn’t notice ants. Skuhl is an anthill.” And, he didn’t need to add, there were plenty of ants in the galaxy.

Hadder insisted on ordering something special for them. “No bunn,” he promised, telling the Chagrian who owned the place that they wanted two soup-soofs.

When the food arrived, Jyn looked down at her dish. “This is…edible?” she asked, sliding her fork through the brownish foam the Chagrian had delivered to their table.

“Trust me.”

She did.

She shouldn’t have.

The soup-soof wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever eaten, but it was close. She’d take mystery meat from Saw’s cabinet any day over the oddly textured pillow of squishy saltiness that coated her tongue with a strange, fatty aftertaste.

“Come on, it’s not that bad!” Hadder laughed.

Jyn pushed her plate over to him. “You’re making me bunn when we get back home,” she informed him.

A smirk slid across Hadder’s face.

“What?” Jyn asked.

“You’ve never called it home before,” he said.

Jyn started to make a joke—she couldn’t let Hadder get too smug—but then she froze. She recognized a face in the crowd, someone she hadn’t seen in ages. Not since Inusagi and the massacre. The stocky man with broad shoulders, the one who had just grunted the code word at her and taken the invitation. She remembered the way he had looked as he fired the flechette launcher, the firm set of his jaw as he watched the destruction of life unfolding before him.

“What is it?” Hadder asked immediately.

Jyn shook herself. “Nothing.”

Hadder turned in his seat to see what she was looking at. The band had taken a break, and the crowd around them had dispersed, exposing a table on the other side of the room where a handful of people were playing sabacc in the shadows. “Do you know those guys?” he asked in a low voice.

Jyn ripped her gaze away. “One of them,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Hadder left some credits on the table, and together they walked out into the street. Jyn felt the nervous energy build in her, her hands gripping and ungripping. Hadder was on edge, too; he kept glancing behind him. The refinery’s second shift ended, and a flood of people poured onto the street, blotting out the diner’s main entrance.