CHAPTER FIFTEEN
( FAILURE. )

THE briefing room was a crude accumulation of damp stone walls and copper-scented air, the walls riddled with a mismatched ensemble of bolted pipes and cables darting in between the metal bodies of holoporjectors. Alliance members were crammed into every corner of the space, with delicately robed Senator's brushing shoulders with guerrillas in mismatched armour, their voices lowered to a monotonous drone that hummed like electricity in the air. Kit recognised a few of the stony-faced Generals amongst the masses, but the politician's eluded her memory entirely.

At some point during the chaos Jyn and Cassian had slipped from Kitra's view, leaving her to the mercy of the solemn-faced Rebel's alone. She was only just able to make out the gaunt face and bright beacon of red hair of Mon Mothma drawing herself through the mob to stand at the head of the holo-projector. Her presence alone was enough to silence the majority of the room.

"I would like to thank you all for coming on such short notice," she said in a voice that echoed into even the farthest confines of the room. Whatever noise there had been withered and died out like a candle in a cold breeze, and Mothma took her cue to go on. "Many of you undertook dangers I cannot begin to appreciate. You risked exposure, crossing Imperial lines because you believe in our Alliance. Because you believed what you were told when informed of an unprecedented crisis."

The woman spoke with the easy capture of a well-practised politician, even the most hard-won of the Alliance General's hanging on her words.

"I wish that I could say the crisis isn't real. I wish I could say you came all this way for nothing." Her words gave way to a ghosted smile, and an echo of brief laughter rippled through the gathering. "But the evidence we will present is not speculative. It is secretive, yes — and by showing it here, we must reveal certain sources and methods used by Alliance Intelligence; sources and methods we cannot take to the public or Senate. You will hear testimony from both trusted Rebel operatives and newfound allies. If you doubt their word, remember that all of them are marked for death by the Empire."

Her cold gaze swept over the muttering crowds, taking in the solemn, unconvinced faces, and the chasms that formed the Senator's frown lines deepened. "I would ask all of you to refrain from speculation until the end of the briefing. At that time, we may discuss what we have all seen and determine the future of our organisation and our galaxy together."

Kit shifted her weight from foot to foot, waiting as Mothma gave a final glance over the Alliance members who had trusted her enough to travel half way across the galaxy, but perhaps not enough to support her now.

"What we face is the natural culmination of all the Emperor's evils." She said in a well practised voice, the same phrase that she had used on Jyn what felt like a lifetime ago. "It is a weapon designed to murder planets, to turn thriving worlds and billions-strong populations to dust. You will see today that is it not intended for use solely against military outposts, but as a weapon of absolute destruction and absolute fear.

"We believe the Empire has code named it Death Star."

Mon Mothma's silk white robe dissipated into the mob, giving way to the broad, commanding structure of General Draven.

The older, stern-faced man was less inspiring than Mon Mothma had been, his sour tone dictating facts on kyber crystals and Imperial credit trails, pure certitude spilling from the same lips that had conjured so many lies. Kit had no interest in his lead up, turning her attention to the diverse range of occupants in the room. Her eyes slid between the warriors, with sunken eyes and laden with scars. They seemed to trust the man, for reasons that Kit couldn't fathom. The battle-worn soldiers stood, brushing shoulders with political representatives draped in cloth that probably costed more than any number of credits Kit had ever owned. It was an odd ensemble, this group of unwilling allies tethered by a common enemy.

When Draven's spiel finished the attention was briefly passed between operatives; first Bodhi, who spoke what little he knew about Galen Erso and what he'd seen of the Death Star's construction. The pilot was torn apart by questioning councillors, flinching at every word like it was a bolt intended on killing him.

Then it was Cassian's turn. Kit watched as the Rebel Captain retold a very brief story of Jedha, the projector table illuminating a bright blue diagram of the crater now inhabiting the once-Holy planet's surface, his words so clean and articulated that even Draven seemed to be oddly satisfied by the recount. When he finally reached Eadu he shared a brief, non-committal, glance at Kit, and proceeded to lie. He called it an aborted attempt at Galen's extraction. Kit tried not to flinch at the ease with which Cassian told his lies; every aspect of him the professional Captain that Draven had groomed him to be.

After him was Jyn, who spoke in fleeting sentences, and told every word she could remember of the message sent by Galen. The crowd, however, seemed more interested in the former Rebel's patchwork past than the information she was presenting. They asked about her extraction from Wobani, and what reason she had for leaving Saw's alliance in the first place. Jyn snapped curt answers, which didn't help her plea for sympathy, until she caught a grimacing Bodhi and amended her tone.

Kit tapped her nails against her new prosthetic anxiously, pressing down on her lip between her teeth until the taste of iron filled her mouth. Kit turned away as another General — a Mon Calamari man named Raddus — raked her sister thoroughly, making the brunette squirm under his bulbous gaze. The young Rebel jumped when she saw Mon Mothma appear beside her.

"Here to prompt me?" The younger Rebel wondered humorlessly, "I'm afraid your crony Dravit's beat you to it." Kit wondered briefly whether Mothma and Draven were in league on using Kit and her friends to bait the Council into action, or whether Draven was acting alone. Whichever it was, the Senator's sterile expression gave away nothing.

"No, I just wanted to say ..." For once the regally gowned woman looked lost for words, and Kit's thoughts flitted between the plethora of meaningless reassurances that the older woman might offer her; good luck, I'm proud of you, the Rebellion counts on you. "... I won't forget what we did to you."

Finally, Jyn's interrogation ended, and the crowd fell into a fleeting silence, contemplating the renegades words. Kit's lips parted, intent of forming a question, before her name was being called, and a pair of calloused hands was leading her away from Mothma and towards the holoprojection table, where Jyn was still standing, her face pale and expressionless.

• • •

KITRA Erso was never good with words. Well, more accurately, she was completely hopeless.

She spoke too loud one second and too softly the next, her sentences jaunted and dispassionate. She told the crowd her story as concisely and bluntly as she could manage, but even then she struggled to conjure the sympathy of even the most passionate Generals. She recalled her father's message as accurately as she could, but without the original hologram her testimony was nothing more than the desperate pleas of a nineteen-year old daughter of an Imperial collaborator. Which was, to say, worthless.

She suffered through the interrogations of a red-shirted man while he asked her about Saw's alliance, and why she ever left it. She conjured a pleasing lie about disagreeing with Saw's morals, and watched as the hostility melted from his features. Minutes stretched into an hour, and Kit's throat grew dry and husky, her eyes aching from the flood of lights suspended over the holoprojector like and interrogation lamp.

"It can be destroyed," She finished in the same words as her father's, "He made sure that we had that chance."

Her scratchy voice trailed into silence, and she felt the burning glare of Draven searing into the side of her face. She didn't turn to face him. She'd done as she was told. She'd lied. She wanted the crushing weight of defeat to be lifted after her testimony, but it hadn't. Instead she was left feeling like she should have done better, spoken more passionately, convinced more people. But she hadn't, and now her chance was over and she wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the crowd and find Cassian, who might have been the only person in the entire base who thought of her as anything else than the daughter of Galen Erso.

Nobody stepped up to take her place. The briefing was over, the weight of Kit's words still hanging like fine mist in the air.

"Senator Tynnra Pamlo of Taris," A woman in and ivory hood and a ceremonial medallion announced herself, seizing the floor and bringing a brief silence over the muttering councillors. "It seems clear that Senator Mothma's description of this situation as a crisis was an under exaggeration by a half. General Draven and his people make a convincing case: This Death Star is an existential threat not only to our Alliance but to all life as we know it."

Hope flared in Kit's chest as a chorus of agreements rose to meet Pamlo, quarried more weakly by the voices of dispute. Pamlo spoke on, "That is why I say this with sincere regret and moral certainty: We cannot, in good conscience, risk entire worlds for our cause." The hope Kit so fleetingly enjoyed evaporated as fast as it came. "The Death Star's existence is an ultimatum we cannot refuse. Until we know that the Empire will not use it on a populated planet, we must scatter the fleet and disband our military units. We have no recourse but to surrender —"

Whatever veil of civility the room had held before was lifted suddenly as a million voices erupted into altercation. Rhetorical volleys and grand speeches began all at once, competing to be heard through the thunderstorm of arguments. Kit's lips parted in surprise, her dark eyes searching like they might find some cry to rally to, catching only snippets amongst the entangled voices:

"Are we really talking about disbanding something we worked so hard to create?"

The bloated, amber eyes of Admiral Raddus bulged as he shouted towards a blue-cloaked man."We can't just give in —"

"We joined an Alliance, not a suicide pact!"

Kit flinched as the blue-cloaked Rebel raised his fist threateningly, his shoulder catching her and sending her barrelling back into another man. Her heart slammed against her rib cage as a silent curse passed her lips. Of all the reactions she'd braced herself for, surrender hadn't been one.

"We've only now managed to gather our forces," chimed the gentle voice of Raddus' civilian ally, "If we coordinate our forces —"

"Gather our forces?" Mocked a red-shirted Rebel, the same who had taken an interest in interrogating her about her time with Saw. "General Draven's already blown up an Imperial base! I thought the Alliance was disavowing Gerrera's tactics—"

"A decision needs to be made!" Draven's voice boomed from across the room. "You know how this works. By the time we finish talking today there'll be nothing left to defend!"

Kit sucked in a sharp breath as the mob pressed in around her, their voice's ricocheting around her skull, growing louder and louder. The crowd was a living creature, pulsing and pressing in around her, squeezing the air from her lungs, it's roar rattling and reverberating inside her stomach and her bones.

Pamlo's voice rose again to joint the chorus, "The blood of all Taris will not be on my hands! If it's war you want, you'll fight alone!"

"If that's the way it's going, why have an Alliance at all?" demanded the man in blue.

"If she's telling the truth we need to act now!" a spindly, sweaty finger jabbed Kit in the shoulder, her arm jerking away in response.

If? What had she said that had made the Council distrust her? What had she done, other than being born with a name tainted by the enemy?

"Councillors please!" Mon Mothma tried regaining control, "We are all toubled by our situation, but I beg you to open yourselves to solutions from your colleagues instead of—" Whatever control she had was gone now, swallowed by the heaving, living beast of the Alliance council.

"It is simple," a flight-suited General shouted, "The Empire had the means of mass destruction. The Rebellion does not."

"The Death Star?" someone sneered in a low hiss that turned Kit's blood cold, "This is nonsense."

"What reason would my father have to lie? What benefit would it bring him?" Before Kit could comprehend it her own voice had betrayed her, rising above the rest of them in a loud, demanding holler.

The room had gone still, ripples of light chatter purling through the crowd as all eyes turned to see the brunette Rebel.

"Your father," the blue-clad man said in a voice reinforced by steel, "may have been an Imperial or a fool until the end. Everything he said could have been bait, knowingly or not, to lure our forces into a final battle. To destroy us once and for all."

Kit clenched her jaw, her muscles coiling like they anticipated a battle. "That's insane," she snapped, the former confidence behind her words faltering briefly. "You know the Death Star exists—"

"We know a dangerous battle station exists," was his immediate rebuke, "able to destroy a city. We have no confirmation of its full capabilities or weaknesses. This is how the Emperor had always operated, back to the time of the Republic— the gun is less threatening than the lie."

He stalked towards her, but never reached her, his path blocked by a volleying wall of councillors. "You want to risk everything— based on what? The testimony of a criminal and the teenage child of a Imperial weapons specialist?"He shouted over their heads, his words sending spears of fear and frustration through the brunette.

The red-shirted man laughed along with his cloaked counterpart, "And don't forget the Imperial pilot."

Kit saw Bodhi, shadowed against the back wall, flinch, unable to do anything to defend himself from the mob. He didn't even speak. If she'd had half a chance she might have grabbed him by his stupid, sweaty flight suit and shaken some sense into him. But she couldn't. So she stood still, her hand reaching up to touch her chest, to somehow stop the feeling of her heart being squeezed like a rubber toy. Nothing she could do was enough. She'd failed her father's wishes. She'd failed the Guardian's of the Whills and her mother and the child that her sister had risked her own life for to save back on Jedha. She delivered the message, and it wasn't enough.

Then she felt a rough hand close around hers, calloused and warm, and caught Jyn in the corner of her eye, her face still stained by dirt and her hair falling from the coiled bun at the base of her neck. Her sister squeezed Kit's palm once, unable to do anything else to comfort her. So she spoke for her instead, "My father gave his life so that we might have a chance to defeat this." Jyn said, her voice carrying across the whole room.

"So you've told us," replied another white-haired man. But the comment wasn't ridiculing, it was prompting.

"If the Empire had this kind of power," Pamlo rested her palms against the table, "what chance do we have?"

"What chance do we have?" Jyn's voice carried, steady and strong, "The question is what choice? You want to run? Hide? Plea for mercy? Scatter your forces?" Her skin burned against Kit's with the same fire that glinted in her forestry eyes. Jyn was always more literate than Kit had been. She always knew people better, it was what made her the negotiator. "You give way to an enemy this evil, with this much power, and you condemn the galaxy to an an eternity of submission. The Empire doesn't care if you're hopeless. I've given up before, and it doesn't help. It doesn't stop. I've seen people lose everything because they happened to be in the way."

She took a breath, her eyes finding Kit's before flickering back to the crowd. "The time to fight is now, while we're still alive to try. Every moment you waste is another step closer to the ashes of Jedha."

"What is the girl proposing?" Demanded a voice.

"Just let her speak!" Draven snapped, silencing the brief protest.

So Jyn spoke, her eyes burning with sweat and tears, invisible through the glare of the holoprojector. "Send your best troops to Scarif," she said, "Send the whole Rebel fleet if you have to. We need to capture the Death Star plans if there is any hope of destroying it."

"You're asking us to invade an Imperial institution based on hope?" Pamlo's voice was lowered, like she was pleading with a child throwing an tantrum, and the conviction in both the Erso girl's grew.

"Rebellion's are built on hope," Kit said weakly, like that was all the evidence they needed. Cassian's words, her words, the word's of the Rebellion.

"There is no hope," the man in blue said gravely, and Kit's heart sank to her stomach.

The room descended again into argument, voices screaming to be heard over each other. Kit felt someone push themselves towards the table, and willingly fell into the back of the crowd, Jyn's hand still clasping hers, still trying to console her.

"I'm sorry," Mon Mothma dissolved before them, her pale eyes solemn, "But without the support of the whole Council the odds are too great."

Kit said nothing, her stomach churning and her chest screaming for air. She turned to face Jyn, who could do nothing but watch her sister burn inside her own mind, and let go of the older woman's hand, pushing her way through the crowd and out of the Council room.