Rogue One Junior Novel

by Lucasfilm Press

  After a short pause, a reply came back. “Cargo shuttle SW-0608, you’re not listed on the arrival schedule.”

  Bodhi could feel everyone in the ship tense up. He tried to wave off their worries. As an Imperial shuttle pilot, he’d seen mix-ups like that all the time. Honest ones, too.

  “Acknowledged, Gate Control. We were rerouted from Eadu flight station. Transmitting clearance code right now.”

  That wasn’t much of a lie. The ship had been on Eadu, and they’d rerouted it from there themselves—by stealing it.

  Now if only the access code still worked.

  K-2SO hit a switch. “Transmitting.”

  Then they had to wait to learn their fate. Would they be waved through or blown into atoms?

  It seemed to take forever. Bodhi glanced back and saw Jyn holding the kyber crystal from her necklace like it was some kind of good-luck charm. Chirrut was too far back for Bodhi to know if he was praying. Either way, though, he’d take all the help he could get.

  By the time Gate Control finally spoke up, Bodhi was wondering if he could somehow manage to evade the inevitable attack long enough to make the jump to hyperspace.

  “Cargo shuttle SW-0608,” the voice finally said. “You are cleared for entry.”

  Bodhi breathed a silent sigh of relief. They would not be space dust—at least for a little bit longer.

  Jyn smiled at him. “I’ll tell the others.”

  Bodhi flew the cargo shuttle through the gate. As he did, he gazed down at the complex below, which sprawled across a cluster of dozens of tropical islands. In other circumstances, Scarif might have been a wonderful place to take a vacation, but the presence of the Empire’s data repository there had long since changed all that.

  The complex centered on a steely-gray tower called the Citadel, which spiked out of the main island. There were twenty-five different landing pads on nearby islands arranged in a loose circle around that, and a system of railspeeder lines connected them all to each other.

  “SW-0608 clear for landing pad nine,” Gate Control said. “Acknowledge please.”

  Bodhi gave back the standard reply. “SW-0608 proceeding to l-p-nine as instructed.” This was all going according to plan so far.

  “The main building down there,” Cassian said. “What is it?”

  “That’s the Citadel Tower. If the plans are anywhere, they’ll be there.”

  “And the dish at the top?” Cassian pointed at the Citadel Tower again. “What’s it for?”

  “That’s the communications tower. Every communication in and out of this base goes through that dish.”

  K-2SO interrupted. “Landing track engaged.”

  Bodhi got back to the job at hand, preparing the ship for meeting the ground in a peaceable way. “Landing track locked.”

  “Security?” Cassian said, drawing Bodhi back.

  Bodhi shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve made twenty cargo runs in and out of the place. They’ve never let me off a landing pad. Security’s tight.”

  As he took the shuttle in for a landing on pad nine, Bodhi wondered if maybe they’d have been better off if the clearance code hadn’t worked after all.

  JYN GAZED OUT at most of the people who’d decided to join her—including Cassian, Baze, and Chirrut—in their insane attempt to put an end to the Death Star and the Empire’s plans for it. There were more than two dozen of them packed into the ship’s bay with her—plus Bodhi and K-2SO up in the cockpit—all ready to lay down their lives because they believed in what she’d told the Alliance high command about her father’s message.

  Scratch that. They were there because they believed in the Rebellion.

  “We’re landing,” Cassian said to her as he rejoined them from the cockpit. “We’re coming in!” he added to the rest.

  He looked to Jyn, and she realized he wanted her to say something. She’d never been much of a public speaker. She’d never had much that she felt strongly enough about.

  Until now.

  She looked directly at the rest of them and spoke.

  “Saw Gerrera used to say, ‘One fighter with a sharp stick and nothing left to lose can take the day.’” She swallowed hard at the thought of the man who had raised her for a time, now gone.

  “They have no idea we’re coming. They have no reason to expect us. If we can make it to the ground, we’ll take the next chance. And the next. On and on until we win or the chances are spent.

  “The Death Star plans are down there. Cassian, Kay-Tu, and I will find them. We’ll find a way to find them.”

  She looked to Cassian to take over from there. While she might be the spark that lit the fire, she was no commander.

  Cassian barked out his orders. “Melshi, Pao, Baze, Chirrut. You’ll take the main squad, move east, and get wide of the ship. Find a position between here and the tower.

  “Once you get to the best spot, light the place up. Make ten men feel like a hundred. And get those troopers away from us.”

  “What should I do?” Bodhi asked from the cockpit.

  “Keep the engine running,” Cassian said. “You’re our only way out of here.”

  Jyn nodded her thanks to Cassian, and he responded in kind. They were about to triumph together or die together. They had to be ready for it either way.

  As they landed, Jyn climbed up to the cockpit again to peer out the viewport. She spied four people walking their way: an Imperial officer, two stormtroopers, and a guard.

  Over the ship’s comm, she heard the guard’s voice. “Cargo shuttle SW-0608, be prepared to receive inspection team.”

  Jyn scrambled back down into the bay and saw that the others had already cleared out into the cargo area underneath the passenger section. She slipped through the hatch and joined them.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  They all nodded back at her. Baze took the spot closest to the hatch and waited.

  She heard the door to the cargo shuttle lower, and the inspection team marched in. Bodhi went down to greet them.

  “Hello,” the inspection officer said.

  “Hey.” Bodhi was trying to act casual, but Jyn could hear a tremor in his voice. “You’re probably looking for a manifest.”

  “That would be helpful,” the inspection officer said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “It’s just down here.” Bodhi pointed at the hatch.

  When they opened the hatch, Baze pointed his rifle up at the inspection team. At the same time, Bodhi pulled his blaster on them, too. Once they saw how many warriors stood there ready to kill them, they surrendered.

  The rebels stripped the inspectors and tied them up. While Jyn and Cassian put the stolen uniforms on over their clothes, their prisoners were taken into the cargo bay and stashed there. Meanwhile, Bodhi returned to the ship’s controls.

  As Jyn emerged in her new outfit, Baze gave her a gentle touch on the arm. “Good luck, little sister.”

  She could only smile at the hope that gesture gave her in the face of such overwhelming odds.

  Up above, Bodhi watched out the window until no one outside was looking at the cargo shuttle. Then he shouted back down into the bay, “Go! Now! You’re clear!”

  Most of the rebels charged out of the ship. Five of them stayed behind with Bodhi.

  Once most of the group was gone, Jyn, Cassian, and K-2SO marched out of the ship in clear daylight. Anyone who spotted them might think they were an Imperial inspection team leaving the cargo shuttle after doing their jobs.

  It seemed to be working. So far.

  All Jyn could think about was what Baze had said to her. Luck? They were going to need it.

  THE BEST thing about Scarif, Orson Krennic thought, was that it wasn’t Mustafar. The watery world filled with archipelagos of tropical islands wasn’t just entirely unlike a blazing-hot ball of volcanic activity; i
t also put him well out of the reach of Darth Vader and his horrible Force powers.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t keep Krennic outside of the Sith Lord’s influence. At Vader’s insistence, he’d gone to Scarif to make absolutely sure there was no way Galen Erso or anyone else had done anything to compromise the Death Star. To do that, he was going to have to dig deep into Galen’s plans.

  Krennic would have gone back to Eadu to search through Galen’s lab at the research facility, but the rebels had destroyed the entire place. Krennic had to give that to them. They excelled at ruining things.

  Just because the facility on Eadu had been turned to rubble didn’t mean that Krennic was out of options to pursue, however. Much of Galen’s data had been backed up and stored in the vault on Scarif, along with the data of the countless other scientists and engineers who had worked on the project over the years. If Krennic was going to find any troubles with the Death Star, that was the place to look.

  That’s why he’d gone there in his shuttle, entirely unannounced. The officers walked on eggshells around him, not clear on the nature of his visit, only that he seemed to be in a rage about it. Most of them steered well clear of him, given any kind of chance.

  Not everyone had that luxury, however.

  Krennic stormed into the Citadel’s command center, his death troopers marching behind him. They provided anyone who saw him a clear reminder of not only his rank but his power. He might have to answer to Darth Vader, Grand Moff Tarkin, and even the Emperor himself, but the rest of the Empire had better tremble in fear when he crossed their paths.

  General Ramda, the man in charge of the Scarif garrison, personally greeted Krennic when he walked into the room. His confident attitude told Krennic that the man had no idea how much work he was about to put his people through.

  “Director,” Ramda said. “What brings you to Scarif?”

  Krennic dispensed with niceties. He didn’t have the time for them most days. Certainly not now.

  “Galen Erso. I want every dispatch, every transmission he’s ever sent called up for inspection.”

  Ramda managed not to flinch, but every other officer in the room visibly cringed at the order. It would mean sorting through over a decade’s worth of compiled data.

  “Every one?”

  It was only natural for Ramda to make sure he’d heard Krennic right. Perhaps the question was a quiet plea for mercy. If so, it fell on deaf ears.

  “Yes.” Krennic spoke in a tone sharp enough to slash through any objections. “All of them. Get started.”

  CASSIAN, JYN, and K-2SO strode up to the railspeeder and boarded it. The guard standing at the train car’s doors barely glanced at them. Somewhere out there on the island, the team Baze and Chirrut were leading disappeared into the jungle while the doors closed behind Cassian.

  Jyn gave him a nervous look. They had a long way to go, and so many things could trip them up.

  K-2SO broke the silence. “I have a bad feeling about—”

  “Kay!” Cassian said, scolding the droid. He’d reprogrammed the droid himself, but he’d not been able to work out how to keep him from being so blunt.

  Jyn frowned at the machine and softly said, “Quiet.”

  “What?” K-2SO said, clueless as ever.

  The railspeeder carried them directly to the Citadel Tower. It rose in the distance until it loomed over them. As they slowed to a stop in the station, Cassian remarked, “We need a map.” Otherwise they’d wind up wandering around lost until someone shot them.

  “I’m sure there’s one just lying about,” K-2SO said. Cassian couldn’t always tell if the droid was being sarcastic or not.

  “You know what you need to do.”

  The droid didn’t seem to like that, but Cassian wasn’t asking. He led the way to another Imperial security droid, which everyone else seemed to be ignoring, standing guard in a corner. As the machine began to say something to them, K-2SO reached out and disabled it, quietly and efficiently.

  Sometimes being blunt came in handy, Cassian thought.

  Cassian and Jyn turned around, their backs to the altercation between the droids. They blocked the view of anyone who might be curious while K-2SO took down the twin droid and linked himself into a data port in the back of his victim’s head. Then he began to drain data from the fallen machine.

  When it was over, K-2SO turned around, seeming a little dizzy, as if overwhelmed by everything he’d had to absorb. “Kay?” Cassian asked him, concerned.

  The droid shook off the effects of the process. “Our optimal route to the data vault places only eighty-nine stormtroopers in our path. We will make it one third of the way before we are killed.”

  That wasn’t going to work. They were going to need help.

  Cassian pulled out his comm and spoke into it quietly. “Melshi. Talk to me.”

  A long moment later, the rebel sergeant replied. “Ready, ready. Standing by.”

  Cassian turned to Jyn for confirmation, to make sure she was ready. She gave him a firm nod.

  “Light it up,” Cassian said into the comm.

  Since the moment they’d disappeared into the jungle, Melshi’s team had been sticking explosives all over the complex. At Cassian’s signal, Melshi detonated them.

  The rebels had been busy. The blasts went off in every direction. Alarms sounded soon after, and everyone in the tower went on alert.

  A massive patrol of stormtroopers came charging down the hallway, heading straight for Cassian, Jyn, and K-2SO. They all had their rifles out and ready, and Cassian couldn’t help holding his breath as they rushed toward him.

  A moment later, though, they rewarded his patience by marching straight past. They were headed for the atrium behind Cassian, from which they could head to the beach and challenge any attackers.

  Cassian and Jyn didn’t have to wait long before the rebels opened fire on the stormtroopers, picking them off one by one.

  MANY LIGHT-YEARS AWAY, Grand Moff Tarkin stared out a viewport on the Death Star. While Orson Krennic may have felt that he was the man who’d brought the Death Star to life, it was Tarkin who’d conjured the vision of the battle station in the first place. Not only would he take credit for the project in the Emperor’s mind—he would be the one to employ it.

  Tarkin had made sure of that from the start. Krennic was a fine person to get the Death Star up and running, his lack of consideration for security aside. But the Emperor would never put such a powerful weapon in the hands of a man with such limited ambitions.

  Krennic only wanted to build an amazing weapon. He had no real desire to use it.

  But what good was power if you didn’t wield it?

  The only real question was, What should Tarkin use the Death Star against? What would make for the best display of its awesome power?

  General Romodi walked in, disturbing his train of thought.

  “Sir?” Romodi said. “Scarif base! They’re reporting a rebel incursion.”

  That seemed odd. Scarif was well protected. Why would the rebels risk destruction by attacking it?

  “I want to speak with Director Krennic.” While the man might not have had enough hunger for power, his insight on this matter might prove useful.

  “He’s there, sir. On Scarif.”

  Tarkin arched his eyebrows as he considered this news. Something had put both the rebels and Krennic on Scarif. That could not be a coincidence.

  “The original plans for this station are kept there, are they not?” he asked.

  “They are.”

  Tarkin frowned. It seemed clear now that Krennic had been far more careless about the security of the battle station than Tarkin had suspected. He would be forced to cauterize the problem and put a swift end to it.

  He nodded at Romodi. “Prepare for the jump to hyperspace, and inform Lord Vader.”

  Tarkin was c
onfident he could handle the situation himself, with the power of the Death Star at hand. However, having Vader around to bear witness to his newfound might could impress upon the Sith Lord who was truly in charge.

  As Romodi rushed off, Tarkin allowed a hint of a smile to play across his lips. Perhaps this wouldn’t come out so bad for him after all.

  A COMM PRIVATE raced through the crowded hangar in the rebel headquarters on Yavin 4. He’d just gotten the most amazing news, and he had to get it to the high council—or at least what was left of it on the green moon—as soon as possible. He spotted Mon Mothma standing at one side of the central command area, and he shouted for her.

  “Senator! Senator!”

  Mon Mothma cringed a little inside, as she was no longer officially a senator. The Emperor had stripped her of that role after she’d publicly condemned him, and she’d been forced to flee into exile. Still, her fellow citizens—not the Emperor—had elected her to that position, so in her mind the title remained hers.

  She turned at the sound of the comm private’s voice and made to speak with the man. Before he could reach her, though, General Draven and General Merrick stepped in front of him, cutting him off. Merrick actually grabbed the man by his uniform and shouted into his face.

  “Stop right there, Private!” the general thundered.

  Mon Mothma wasn’t about to let Merrick get between her and whatever news the private had. She rushed toward him, shouting, “Let him speak!”

  The private ignored the general’s scowl. He’d been told to report to Mon Mothma, and he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him, generals or not.

  “Intercepted Imperial transmission, ma’am,” he said. “Rebels on Scarif.”

  Mon Mothma’s jaw dropped in surprise, but she covered for it quickly. Who would have thought that this moment would come so soon? She’d hoped for it, of course, but she’d thought she might not find out about it until Cassian and Jyn had returned triumphant—or she’d heard reports of their deaths.