Zabraks didn’t take well to bad news, and Geiree Hynt was nowhere near the exception. Being a member of General Jan Dodonna’s Massassi spy network, Hynt had expected the Empire to unveil their new superweapon, but nothing could’ve prepared her, or anyone else in the galaxy, for its effects. The news of Alderaan’s destruction came only moments before the news of the Emperor’s dismantling of the Imperial Senate. Palpatine was making a power play for what little control individual worlds still retained—the Galactic Empire was only a few moves away from being complete.

So, when General Dodonna’s transmission from Yavin IV came in, Commander Hynt prepared her pilots for the fight of their lives. Her squadron of x-wings and y-wings weren’t much, but the men and women piloting them were just how Hynt liked them: young, skilled, and out for blood. Even if they were just a handful, a couple of fighters in the right hands could raise some Hell.

The Commenor-based hideout was in full swing by the time the general delivered the news—the mission to Scarif had ended in failure, the evacuation of Yavin IV was almost complete, and the Rebel Alliance... had fallen.

Hynt had begged the general to not give in, to keep fighting, but the decision had been made by the president of the Alliance, Mon Mothma. The advisory council had disbanded, leaving Dodonna to oversee Yavin IV’s evacuation alone. The bearded general looked more tired than Hynt had ever seen him.

General, please, her hands clenched tightly on the edge of the holotable as she leaned in. There must be something we can do, we can’t just give up like this.

No one’s giving up, Commander, Dodonna tried to explain. So long as the Empire has that weapon, we can’t afford to hold the entire galaxy accountable for our actions. Our mission is to protect them, not abet in the subjugation and genocide of billions.

Hynt took that in for a moment. The general had a point—he always did—but she knew that fighting always had its consequences, too. Hynt didn’t become a rebel for fun, she did it for the pain the Empire brought to Iridonia. She knew that if no one chose to stand up for what was right, then stormtroopers would fill the streets of every world, even more species would be forced to slave away for the construction of even more horrific weapons.

She had seen the planets laid to waste just by Imperial bureaucracy and judicial rule—Alderaan wasn’t the first to suffer, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

Then we do nothing? We let these monsters have their way?

We wait until the time is right, Commander.

The longer we wait, the more people die! Can’t you see that, General?

I’ve never seen anything clearer, Hynt—

Then why won’t you resist? We didn’t always have a military or president or council. Don’t you remember? Wouldn’t you rather take a few steps back than stop moving altogether?

These aren’t a few steps anymore, Commander. We don’t speak for the galaxy as a whole—those aren’t our lives to give and take. Alderaan was more than just a consequence or casualty; it was the sign that things won’t end well—not for us, and not for anyone or anything that gets caught in the crossfire.

Silence filled the valley-sized difference between the two, and if it were anyone else, the transmission would have already ended, but Hynt was still a soldier whether she liked it or not.

What are my orders, General?

Dodonna gave her the directive for the cell: she was to contact verified buyers for her fighter squadron and sell them along with every astromech, heavy weapon, and piece of information they planned on using to fight the Empire. The Rebellion wasn’t dissolving, it was being turned into fuel—fuel that would be burned by pirates, bounty hunters, and anyone else in the underworld.

The zabrak nodded, confirming she understood her duties, but before Dodonna could end the transmission, she asked the question that had been paining her for so long.

My brother, General… did he survive Scarif?

Jan Dodonna didn’t need to look at any databank or double check a source for his answer. He understood his men well enough to know what they were going to ask. He respected them enough to give them the truth.

We’ve received no contact from Reinosh Hynt’s x-wing since the battle. Unlike those on the surface, he could have survived, but the chances are--

I understand, sir.

Jan Dodonna gave his friend one last solemn nod.

May the Force be with you, Commander.

That exchange had been a few days ago.

In that time, Geiree Hynt saw the devolution of everything she worked so hard to build up. The rebel hideout was a shell of what it once was. Eight pilots for 5 x-wings and 3 y-wings, two dozen troops who triple timed as mechanics, patrols, and salesmen; salesmen whose product consisted of the ships, armaments, and information they risked their lives obtaining not even a week earlier—product that was being sold far under market-value just to speed up the process of getting quick credits.

Making her way through the hangar, Geiree passed rows of pilots polishing their fighters for what was probably the last time. They shared teary goodbyes with their ships and astromech copilots, and if Hynt wasn’t on her way to do the same, she would’ve thought it was amusing.

“Hey, Kola,” Hynt knelt in front of her rose-red R3 droid. “Rellis told me he found a buyer a few of the ships… Mine included.”

Kola let out a low whirr and rolled towards the black zabrak. She came to a stop as Hynt wrapped her arms around the droid’s dome head. Hynt could feel her face heating up against Kola’s cold transparisteel; she wasn’t going to cry in front of her men, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t reminisce.

“You’ll have to get a memory wipe soon, and,” she caught the crack in her voice before it sounded. “I want you to know I won’t forget you, ever.”

Kola gave out a series of beeps in binary.

“Yeah, I do remember Falleen,” The zabrak smiled as she brushed away a strand of tan hair that had fallen past her crown of horns. “Those Seppies never knew what hit them when we showed up, huh?”

Kola chirped in a tone that was the closest thing to smugness in binary.

Hynt felt herself smile for the first time in a while. “You and Agen did not save the day; We already took out a couple of the factories before you two showed up!”

The rosy astromech’s retort oozed with confidence.

“Okay, okay…” she ran her hand down the droid’s frame. Her eyes grew distant as she remembered the day she first met Kola.

The droid had accompanied Jedi Master Agen Kolar, who she was named after. He was a zabrak, just like the rest of the Falleen strike group. His dark russet skin, black hair, and emerald lightsaber clashed with the 3 foot pink astromech at his side. The duo had arrived in time to fight off the ambush that Hynt’s team had stumbled right into; the plan had been to sabotage the droid foundries on the planet, but bad intel had left them exposed and surrounded.

She could still remember the heat of the battle and the hissing of the lightsaber as it cut through wave after wave of super battle-droids. The odds were against them, but Kolar was brave and strong, everything a warrior should be. He commanded authority and respect whilst being patient and understanding. The Jedi master had saved Hynt’s life back then, and though it wasn’t the last time she fought alongside Kolar, it marked the beginning of a deep rooted respect for the Jedi and their Order.

With a chirp, Kola drew Hynt back to the present. The rebel commander caught her surroundings and stood up to address the young female trooper who had snuck up on the two of them.

“Is the astromech ready for the exchange, commander?”

Hynt flinched--she had forgotten she was saying goodbye to a friend. Only Kola had been with her for the past two decades: through every battle, every victory, every loss. Geiree never had the droid’s memory wiped because only Kola understood her, but General Dodonna ordered it to be done. If anyone ever got their hands on the astromech, then destroying the cell would have been in vain. Kola’s memory wipe was for the good of the Rebellion and the lives of her men.

Hynt fought back the wave of guilt for ordering the technical destruction of her oldest friend. “Yes… she just needs to be--”

“COMMANDER!”

Hynt was cut off by the shout of her second in command, Lieutenant Rellis Cynchrit. Cynchrit’s loud footsteps drew the attention of anyone who happened to miss his first round of hysterics. He raced through the hangar bay, weaving through thickets of cables and vaulting over boxes. By the time the young officer reached Hynt, he was understandably out of breath.

“Commander… Th’reen… I…,” He was stooped over in his orange jumpsuit, his hands on his knees, his shaggy black hair pointing in every direction.

“Catch your breath, soldier,” Hynt ordered. She wasn’t particularly surprised by Rellis’s lack of conduct, but whatever had the kid excited had to be important. After giving him a couple of seconds to breathe, she inquired. “What’s the meaning of this, Cynchrit?”

He looked up at her, a wide smile on his face, his light brown eyes glowing. “The doctor, he’s done it!”

Hynt felt her mouth fall open. Her voice was beyond incredulous.

“Rellis,” she took a step closer to him. “That’s not something to joke about. Did he tell you this or are you just making it up?”

Cynchrit shook his head vehemently. “No, ma’am. He’s done it, really done it this time. The virus--it’s ready.”

The zabrak felt a fire burn in her for the first time since Dodonna’s transmission.

“Take me to the doctor, Lieutenant,” Rellis’s eyes burned with the same passion as he nodded and led Hynt away.

“What about the astromech, Commander?” The female trooper’s voice rang out behind Geiree. “Is it ready for the transfer?”

Hynt was several meters away by the time she heard the question, her mind already kilometers into the future. Without processing anything the trooper had said, Geiree gave a thumbs up and continued jogging after Rellis.

Turning to face Kola who let out a puzzled chirp, the trooper motioned for the astromech to follow. “This way, little guy. Let’s get you loaded onto your ship.”