━━┛ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄┗━━

━━┓'𝐜𝐲𝐠𝐧𝐮𝐬' ┏━━

━━ ★ ━━

...THEED, NABOO

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐃 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍.

Cora's head snapped up and she expected to see the same disappointed face of another RSF guard, but instead she was met by the sight of her older brother Tamis.

Relief canceled out all annoyance. "Oh gods," Cora said. "You're back."

Tamis lifted a hand to excuse the guard, who promptly rushed off. Dressed in the royal blue of his Fighter Corps uniform, Tamis took a seat on the gray bench next to her.

"You're soaked."

"It was raining," Cora groused, wiping the grit of dried mud off her chin.

"They aren't pressing charges, I explained the situation and they dropped them almost immediately."

"That's good, I suppose," she told him quietly. "When did you get here?"

"The RSF office sent word to my commanding officer a few hours ago. I came as soon as I could."

"They said they needed someone to identify the body," Cora said, voice barely a whisper. "They all know who dad is, why would they need an identification?"

Tamis swallowed, a shudder passing through him. "They took him to the hospital downtown, thinking there was something that could be done. There was bruising, it was a traumatic death. I'll spare you the details, but there was a reason they needed to be sure."

Cora let the silence fall between them. The cell door still sat open.

"What are we going to do, Tamis?"

"I don't know," he told her honestly. His arm wrapped around her and she lay her head on his chest and began to cry.

For the rest of her life, Cora knew she would regret not being more involved in the funeral. It all surged up and around her as if she were stuck to the bottom of a well. Tamis took control of the affairs and made sure everything was in order, Lyranna turned her grief into productivity, as was her way. Cora did what she was told, but hardly a thought passed through the blur that was her mind.

She had been asked to deliver a eulogy for the funeral, but all words had died in her throat as soon as she got up to the podium. More people were in the crowd than any of them imagined; so many of Orpheus's old political colleagues had arrived on Naboo that morning to pay their respect. And they were all watching her with such pity, Cora couldn't even read the few lines she had written out. Tamis had been forced to scoot her out of the way and deliver the eulogy himself.

Even Lyranna wasn't disappointed in her daughter for choking. She herself stood in the shadows, shrouded in her grief. She didn't wear it like a badge of honor or courage. Orpheus was a martyr, and that might be the greatest pain of all. Not only had he died, but they knew it was only the beginning of fighting for what he died to protect. For what Lyranna, too, was fighting for.

Orpheus Grené had been assassinated. Not murdered or the victim of a lazy accident. Assassinated in cold blood. It was a political move that was perfectly staged to look like an accident. A shuttle transport had coincidentally been rigged to explode in the hangar the exact moment that Orpeus was shot through the chest. Tamis had spoken to them, and a first lieutenant of the Naboo Space Fighter Corps had confirmed that there had been no possibility of anything other than treason. It was understandable. Even after he had retired from politics, Orpheus had given everything he had to help the rebel government parties of Theed gain their voice back. Thousands of people wanted Orpheus Grené to die, and they wanted his legacy to die out with him.

But that was the funny thing about legacy. It was the closest mankind could come to immortality. The goal wasn't to live forever, that was a child's dream. The goal was to create something that would. The thoughts and ideas that passed through your body lived on after you were gone so long as there was someone waiting to take the torch.

Cora had no idea what to do with that knowledge.

★

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 week after the funeral, Sammy and his family were periodically showing up at the front door with food. It was a love language; steamed vegetables folded within noodles, braised shaak, strawberries fresh from Mrs. Tseng's garden. Cora made a point to always be off doing something else when they arrived. This time, she was watching from the safety of the garden, looking between green boughs and white petals to see Sammy and Castor standing on the doorstep yet again.

Aunt Phoebe glanced up, swiping a delicate hand over her brow. "You need to face your feelings. It doesn't do well to let them rot inside."

"Nothing is rotting," Cora argued, refocusing on digging up the weeds with renewed fervor.

"Anger is not a way of finding rest," Phoebe tsked. She brushed a hand over the plant in front of her, immediately restoring the parched roots back to life.

"I'm not angry," Cora argued, swiping a sweaty palm on the side of her linen pants. She dug her fingers into the dirt. The plant swayed in the light breeze, mocking her.

Phoebe was unconvinced. "You are."

"I'm only angry that there have been no answers given, no further explanation for why my father's body had a blaster hole through it! He wasn't doing anything wrong!"

It crackled through the plant in front of her, fire burning straight through the dirt and into the roots. Cora gasped and leaned back too late. In an instant, half the row of new plants was wilted.

Phoebe waved a hand, restoring them to life with practiced ease. She sat up a little straighter, pain sitting in her eyes like serene pools of green. "If you want answers, seek them out."

The message was clear. Go inside and stop killing my plants.

Just after dinner, Cora's curiosity was eating a hole in her. If she wasn't going to be given the answer she wanted, then maybe Phoebe had a point; she would have to find them for herself.

Seek them out.

Orpheus's office on the third floor of the house hadn't been touched. Even pushing the doors open had felt wrong, but Cora now stood in the room, regardless. The shutters blew open, sending a gust of early summer air sweeping into the room. Hurriedly, Cora ran to the windows and slammed them shut. Outside, storm clouds were gathering like sentinels of marbled gray, standing watch over a pond that reflected the gloom like a broken mirror.

She moved to his desk, running her hand over the deep brown wood. Papers still sat strewn about as if Orpheus had only stepped out of the room: bills to be paid, hard copies of receipts that she knew had already been meticulously entered into the holo computer, and notes in barely legible script. Bookshelves rose all around the room, stories and words that were largely deemed archaic. Not to Orpheus, though, and never to her. They were still brimming with life.

A hot tear streaked down her cheek. In the reflection of the window, she caught a fleeting image of herself standing in the middle of the room, lips twisted down and two messy braids drawing twin lines down her back. She illuminated a flame in her hand, banishing the shadows all at once. What would it be like, she wondered, if everything in the room burned? Would it bring her rest, or would it only serve to further hollow out the grief in her chest?

Quelling the fire, she turned to the shelves. Secrets would pour out from these pages and if the walls could talk, there would be answers. So far, the only sound was the thin, pitching noise of the wind outside.

On the desk shelf, sitting like it was atop a shrine, was the book. The cover was once green, but over the years, the oils of human interaction had stained it the shade of an olive branch. It felt sacrilegious to hold it in her hands. Gold leaf on the cover read Ubi Sol Vela, Where the Sun Sails. It was his favorite book, and Cora had only ever heard him recite passages from it, never had she seen him turn the pages. Now, fingers shaking, she flipped through the brittle pages. Stuck in between chapters and footnotes and page numbers were leaves and flower petals.

The noise of the memory was shattering.

Cora was five, rushing inside the house as fast as her legs could move.

"Dad, dad! Look, look what I found today! Aunt Phoebe said I could take it because it already fell off the tree. She told me to think of it like a gift," her brow had furrowed here as she stared at the orange leaf in her hand. "I don't think trees have brains, they don't know what gifts are."

And her father had laughed, the deep sound that she used to believe was reserved only for her. "I'll think of it as a gift from you, Flora. I'll keep it forever."

And he had. Every single one was pressed between the pages of this book. She hadn't thought about it in years. She didn't want to think about it again.

The room was closing in, dark and heavy. Suddenly, all the light in her hands and in her blood wasn't going to be enough. Thunder rumbled outside, a sharp gust rapped on the window like a skeletal hand, and her feet were already moving out of the room.

Her hip caught on the edge of the desk and she slammed her toe into the leg. Heat flared across her cheeks as she swore.

An electronic beep echoed from behind her.

Her breathing steadied as she waited for the noise to happen again. No beep sounded until she bumped into the desk again–purposely, this time.

Beep.

Cora got down on her hands and knees, palms pressed to the cold wooden floor. She hit the table leg for the third time, and after a second, the noise echoed again. Beep beep.

It was coming from above her head. Somehow, from inside the desk.

Quickly, quietly, she pressed her hand all along the underbelly of the desk. Prodding each edge, she waited for some secret compartment to open up and reveal some beeping little machine. Finally, the wood gave way beneath her finger and a tiny compartment swung open. There, amid a small stack of papers and a metal currency that she couldn't identify, was the source of the beeping.

She pulled the device out, sitting up too fast as the back of her head hit the desk with a jarring smack. Winicing, she scrambled out from underneath, lifting the compartment back into place with the toe of her shoe.

It was a small rectangle no bigger than her thumb. She pressed the blinking blue light and the beeping immediately stopped. At the end of it, a slim piece of metal extended; it was a key.

"A pager and a key," Cora muttered, glancing around the room. "This is new."

There was an old wardrobe in the corner, an antique that Lyranna had gotten from a yard sale a long time ago and had never found a good spot for. All it had in it was old coats, but Cora still opened the door and shoved them aside. With the flame in her palm for light, she peered into the gloom. Nothing at first, and then at the back, a small silver hole just large enough for a key.

A rush of adrenaline flooded through her as shaking hands pried the door open. It was no bigger than a cupboard, and inside sat only one thing: a helmet.

Cora had seen enough holo films to know that it looked like it belonged to a bounty hunter. Sleek chrome lines with not one hint of color, it was a very fancy bucket with two slits for the eyes. Without much hesitation, she put it on her head.

Blue light flooded over, coating her face and wide eyes with its eerie glow. Cora stumbled backwards out of the closet and the ill-fitting helmet almost flew right off her head. She steadied herself, blinking to adjust her eyes.

The screen that had appeared had a one word prompt on it: identification, followed by a dashed, blinking line that was waiting for a password she didn't have.

Then the screen morphed into a rotating disc like a loading screen. Facial similarities detected, retinal scan complete, an automated voice echoed.

"What the hell–!" she yelped.

"Cora!" It was Tamis, probably coming to make sure she hadn't run off to Theed to man handle another officer. "Where the hell are you?"

Cora moved backwards in shock, peeling the helmet off her head.

"For the love of the gods," Tamis said. The deep sound of his voice was accompanied by the creak of the door.

Quickly, she stashed the helmet behind the cushions of the couch. Just in time, too.

"You were in here," Tamis said, finally stepping into view. He looked almost regal with his hair freshly cut and uniform on. More put together than any of them were. "Mom was looking for you."

"And so were you, apparently," she said, already brushing past him.

He grabbed her by the forearm to stop her. "Go easy on her, Cor. She's just worried about you," Tamis tried. The words were supposed to be reassuring, but they sounded hollow and empty in the tomb of the library.

Cora squirmed out of his hold. Meeting his gaze, she told him, "There are bigger things to worry about. You and I both know that."

His expression darkened. "Don't tell me you're still set on investigating this."

"I am," she told him, her stare resolute. "If they won't do anything about it, then I will."

"This isn't a little fairytale where everything ends up fine in the end. It's real life, we all live and then we die. Not everything has a bigger story behind it. Some things just are."

"Don't talk to me like I'm seven," she snapped. "You might be satisfied with their shaak-shit explanation, but I'm not."

"All you're going to do is get yourself into more trouble." He gritted his teeth. "I can only bail you out of jail so many times before it's no longer within my control."

Her temper flared. "Then stop worrying about me!" Clearing her throat a little, she quieted her tone and said, "Let me do what I need to do, I can handle myself."

"Famous last words," Tamis warned.

Cora rested one hand on the doorframe, sparing a glance back at him. "Then so be it."

★

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 still hadn't begun to fall when she made it out of her bedroom window.

Careful to stay out of view of the kitchen, she ran through the backyard. All the way through the side field, careful not to step on the early sprouts of grain, she ran until she got to the paddock. She had seen the lamplight from the crest of the hill; Sammy would be outside working.

"Sammy!" she called as she swung her body over the fence. "Sam!"

He stepped into view, brow furrowed. He did look glad to see her out of the house, though. "You don't need to yell."

"Yes I do," she corrected. "Seriously, this is important. Life or death, we're talking."

"You haven't got any shoes on," Sammy said, concerned.

"Not important," Cora said, grabbing him by the forearm and almost dragging him inside the barn. "I need your help."

"Help with what?" He did a double take. "What's in the bag?"

Out from the sack she produced the helmet and held it out. "This."

He wrinkled his nose. "Please don't tell me you stole that from another Imperial."

"No, of course not. I found this little beeping key sealed inside my dad's desk earlier today. The key opened a compartment in the closet, and this helmet was sitting in there."

Sammy squinted. "This isn't another one of your make-believe stories–"

"This is serious," Cora pleaded. "Here, put it on."

Without waiting for an answer, she plunked it on his head. She heard the technology inside whir to life, and knew the view in front of him was being illuminated just like it had been for her.

"It's saying the retinal scan is incomplete," Sammy told her as he took it off.

"Strange," Cora muttered. "It was asking me for a passkey."

"Have you tried, Orpheus?"

She stared at him. "If you had a secret to keep would you seriously use Sammy as the password?"

"Yes," he folded his arms indignantly. "That way I wouldn't forget it."

Cora snorted. The air around them smelled of fresh hay, a pleasant scent that mingled with the oncoming rain. She played with the Kro-Var smelt charm on her necklace, running it up and down the chain.

Cora put the helmet back on and for the next twenty minutes they tried every single word they knew in connection to Orpheus Grené. It didn't seem to have a limit for incorrect password attempts, which was the only thing keeping them from utterly losing access.

She thought again of all of the leaves and flower petals she had given her father. She had once asked him if there were more leaves in the world than there were stars, that night he had taught her some of the constellations of Naboo–

"Okay, I have one," Cora said as she put the helmet back on her head.

C-Y-G-N-U-S.

The screen went completely black. She leaned forward, ready to chuck the infernal device out the open window. Just as quickly, though, blue light flooded her eyes again and the screen came to life.

It was too much to process all at once. On the right hand side was a morphing list of coordinates that seemed to change by the second, down the center was a collection of digital files. The most terrifying thing of all was the tiny, insignificant insignia that sat at the very top.

A starbird. The whispers had been ceaseless for months, talk of a rebellion ready to flip the scales of the democracy-turned-dictatorship that was the Senate. Still, she knew barely enough to identify the little symbol.

"The rebels," Cora muttered.

"The rebels?" Sammy repeated. Then, louder and far more excited than before, he exclaimed, "The Rebellion! Your dad was part of the–!"

"Stop!" Cora hissed. "I'm right here, you don't have to yell."

He huffed. "The only one who can hear us are the animals, and I doubt the shaak have any interest in a rebellion." He squinted. "Except for maybe that one that keeps escaping into your yard."

The business trips off world, the increasing amount of time spent in the city, the lack of transparency, the tired eyes, the explanations that sounded like lies. Bail Organa's words had only been half true: I knew him when he was younger, still making a name for himself in politics. This was what he was doing. For how long, she didn't know. How had he managed to hide something like this?

"I don't know how to get it to work," Cora said.

"You only have to ask," the helmet responded.

Cora let out a strangled scream.

"What, what?" Sammy said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"You didn't hear that? It's talking to me."

"I didn't hear anything."

It was a soothing voice, even for a robot it sounded rather human. "I'm only here to help you, you don't need to be so shocked."

"Oh, it's being snippy now," Cora said to Sammy. To the helmet, she said, "How do I select a file?"

"Just look at it, I rely almost completely on your retinal movement to make informed decisions."

Cora picked the first file at the top of the long list. It was a new assignment, coded and written in the language of the Old Naboo. She understood most of it, though some of the words fell through the cracks of her sparse knowledge.

"It was a request for something in a government building," Cora read.

"Requesting something, location is at something," Sammy said thoughtfully. "Well, I reckon they're looking for something somewhere."

Cora laughed for the first time in a week. "It's requesting reconnaissance from within the trade embassy. There's coordinates here, this date is today and the timing is set for two hours from now–" Cora scrolled down "–it looks like the request was already accepted."

"Do you think they know about your dad?" Sammy said carefully.

She swallowed hard. "No. If I had to guess, I would say Cygnus was a manner of protecting his identity. It would have worked both ways. They never knew exactly who he was, and we never would have found out he had any connection to the Rebellion. Look, there's voice modulation software installed, too."

He grabbed the helmet on both sides and peered through the eye slits. "Is there anything this thing doesn't do?"

"I dunno, the robot lady seems to have everything you could want in a helmet."

"I have a name," the voice said. "A3-J8."

"Lovely name," Sammy said, close enough to the helmet that he could hear it. "I wish my parents had named me that, A3-J8."

Outside, rain had begun to fall in thick sheets. It washed down over the tin roof of the barn, already pooling in puddles of brown mud. They used to play in rains like these, running wild over the hillside between their houses and seeing who could slide the furthest on their stomachs.

Those days were long gone now.

"I'm going," Cora said suddenly. She took of the helmet and blew a stray piece of hair out of her face.

"To Theed? To follow the request of a piece of metal?" Sammy sputtered with disbelief. "Cora, let's think about this. How are you going to sneak into a government building? You're sixteen, they won't even let you in without an adult."

"I was thinking of this as a we kind of thing."

"Oh no," he shook his head. "Nuh uh, absolutely not."

"It'll be fine! What's the worst that could happen?"

Sammy just looked at her. "You end up in jail again."

"For the love of the gods, everyone needs to let that go," she muttered testily. Brushing her dark hair over her shoulder, she spread her hands in front of her and said, "I just want to see where this goes. Maybe it'll give me answers, maybe it won't. Either way, I'll take the fall for whatever happens."

After a moment, Sammy cast her a mildly irritated stare. "You know I won't let you do this alone, Cor."

She smiled. "Good."

★

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 minutes later, Cora was wearing a raincoat and a matching pair of muck boots they had pulled off one of the hooks near the barn door. They pushed the speeder to the road, not daring to start the engine until they were out of view and earshot of the farmhouse. Cora's door to her bedroom would still be shut tight; no one would think anything of it.

Rain pelted her in the face as they rode into Theed, engine roaring just barely louder than the sound of the rain. She dared to look up at the sky, the greenish gray tint of another fading day. A part of her didn't want to find answers because the answers would make it real.

They ditched the bike in an alley, dragging a discarded tarp overtop to make the rusted metal look like another piece of trash.

The embassy wasn't unfamiliar to either of them, least of all Cora. It was a very popular destination for school field trips and Sammy always referred to it as the most boring building in Theed.

A pudgy security guard stood on the staircase, dressed in the drab gray of the trade embassy uniform.

"So the front door is a no go," Sammy muttered, linking his arm with hers to make it appear that they were two teenagers out for an unassuming stoll in the drizzle.

"Way ahead of you. Turn left here," Cora said, gently pressing her elbow into his ribs. They moved down a side alley. "There was a year when Tamis and I ended up going on a tour of the embassy for school on the same day. Long story short, we got very bored very quickly."

Sammy heaved a sigh. "Tamis used to be so much more fun before he joined the Fighter Corps."

"And now he has a stick up his ass," Cora said, unscrewing the bolts from the vent grate. She moved the hunk of metal to the side and they both stared at it.

"Well, ladies first," Sammy told her.

"Right, so I'll follow you," she shot back.

Sammy, all elbows and skinny limbs, managed to shimmy inside the ventilation duct. He started to crawl and Cora followed after him, activating the device no bigger than a watch that was connected to A3-J8. Coordinates were provided, but the map was so vague, they continued to turn and scoot all the way through the embassy.

"Are you sure you know where we're going?" He stuck out his leg, almost hitting Cora in the face with his boot.

She smacked it away. "Turn left."

"What's to the right?"

"Right would take us the way we came, which is the opposite of the direction we want to go. I do know what I'm doing," Cora said. Under her breath, she muttered, "I hope."

From ahead, Sammy said, "Heard that."

They crawled along until the darkness became brighter and the echoing sound of voices got louder. Finally, the blinking line of the coordinates stopped. They settled next to a vent grate situated within the walls of what looked like an office.

"Okay," Sammy breathed. He was more willing to listen now that she had gotten them this far. "What now?"

"We wait?" Sweat was beading on her forehead, and the gravity of the situation set in. They were inside a vent grate, she had already been to jail once within the last week. If she was caught, Cora didn't know what pain would be worse: cuffs on her wrist or explaining to her mother what had occurred.

She was not her father, as much as she wished she were. He would have known how to do this the right way.

And he's not here, a small voice said against the roar of her thoughts. So you'll make do with what you have.

Below them, the door opened and slid shut again with a hollow thud. A figure came into view, and from their vantage point they could see the shiny bald spot on the top of his head.

"Is that," Sammy leaned forward as far as he could. "Emerin's dad?"

"I think so," Cora whispered. They must be on the other side of the reception room that Cora had met the Organa's in a few weeks ago. The thought of Emerin soured in her chest.

She pressed the button on the holocamera and began to record.

Once, her mother had taken them to see a theater performance in Moenia. They had taken their seats and as the house lights dimmed, the wooden stage came to life with music and actors. Still, the sense of artificiality never left, especially when she glimpsed one of the actors in the wings, leaning in a moment of rest.

Watching from a vent felt like watching the stage. The main actor was Emerin's father. Even after their interaction a few weeks prior, Cora couldn't completely fault Emerin for her behavior. Having a man like this for a father did terrible things to a person. Since the death of his wife Annia two years ago, he had become a far more stern man who held nothing but disapproval for his three daughters. At this moment, though, he looked weak. Sickly, almost, with sallow skin to compliment his graying hair.

"Hector Vu," the second, unfamiliar man said. He was shorter than Hector, but his presence was far more commanding. "This was not part of our deal."

"And can you understand that I was left without a choice?" he hissed. "I've said from the very beginning that this was an arrangement that would be better struck in a city like Keren."

The other man laughed, and a chill went up Cora's spine. "A city of criminal activity? It sounds like you're more concerned about your own reputation than you ought to be, Hector. Do you not understand that we have the power to end your reign of influence as we see fit?"

Cora frowned. The last she knew, the Vu family fortune came from their old money ties to the Royal House. Emerin herself had started a diplomatic career on the back of it.

Gaining confidence now, Hector said, "The plasma trade is lucrative with or without the Emperor's hand."

Sammy began to make a squeamish noise of shock, and Cora clamped her hand over his mouth. He looked at her with wide eyes, moving her hand out of the way and mouthing, did he just say Empire?

The conversation went on, a back and forth discussion of the plasma trade and the current price of exports. They dropped names, pointed to cities on a map, and discussed airspace routes that were unobstructed by the RSF. Eventually, though, the two men fell back into pleasantries and talks of personal life, unstopping the bottle of fragrant blossom wine.

Cora switched off the recording, satisfied with what she had heard.

"Let's go," Sammy hissed. "They're not going to catch us if we leave now."

"Stay quiet," Cora warned as they crawled back through the air duct.

They moved on for a stretch, but then Sammy said, "I just realized we have no idea how to get out of here."

Cora looked down at the device in her hand. He was right, there would be no coordinates to lead them back outside. "Kriff, you're right."

He stopped. Breathing heavily, he said, "Suddenly I'm feeling very claustrophobic."

"Don't panic, hold on," Cora said, illuminating a small flame in her palm to see where they were. "Our best bet is to climb out and run for it."

"Climb out and run?" he wheezed. "That's the best you've got?"

"If you have any other ideas I'd love to hear them," she hissed.

"This is terrible," Sammy muttered to himself as if he were saying a prayer.

She clenched her fist, starting a small, barely perceptible fire next to one of the sprinklers on the ceiling. The heat was enough; a fire alarm began to scream the same instant the sprinklers opened up and rained like water in a drought. With the security guard nearest them focused on this new problem, they dropped out of the vents and had enough time to run out onto the streets of Theed. It was busy with nightlife, but even the safety of the crowd was not enough to make them stop running until they made it back near the alleyway where the bike was parked.

"Promise me one thing," Sammy said, hand pressed to a stitch in his side. "Never make me do that again."

She shook her head vehemently. "I won't." she shuddered. This would be her burden to bear.

As they sped away from the city lights and into the dreary gloom of the road that would take them home, Cora knew that she was not the girl she once was.

So Cora, sixteen years old and scared for her life looked skyward. The cold winds twisted their way through her hair, drying her tears into cold streaks on her flushed cheeks. The stars above shone like diamonds, and she had never felt more alive with purpose.

Memories, all of them tarnished now, burned bright while she stared. They would all become ash, and then she would sweep them up and create something new. Grief and loss of a childhood and innocence ached in her chest.

Later, in the seclusion of her bedroom, Cora stared at the small paging device in her hand. It had begun to beep off and on, begging her to answer its call. The helmet was sitting on her desk, and the window just beyond was lashed with rain.

Her father had been preparing her for this, for war. His legacy would not end like this, so quietly in the night.

So Cora put the helmet back on.

The voice of A3-J8, who Cora would begin to refer to as AJ, spoke evenly. Welcome back, Cygnus. You have a new assignment.

⚔
𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢

━━ ★ ━━

a/n I m so excited to post this chapter because it really just gets the ball rolling and kind of starts to show you where this story is actually going!  AJ is going to be Cora's companion for her time as Cygnus, which is a shameless reference to Tony Stark's FRIDAY and JARVIS :). she has no idea what she's doing so AJ is gonna be a little like an AI mentor for her.

this is the end of the first act, which is a shortie!  When I originally published this story I went back and forth with what to do with a prologue, but I think this is the best way to establish the depth of Cora's connection to the rebellion before ANH begins, which will be four years ahead of where we are right now.

let me know if you guys have any thoughts!  I absolutely cannot wait for the next chapter, and I'm not sure who's still interested in reading this story because it has indeed been a long time since I updated it 🤭

--nat