Star Crossed

Frennemies

"Is that the best you've got?" Orson hissed. "Come on, Galen, I know your mind. Your possibilities. I want spectacular!"

Of course, Krennic would never settle for the meager demonstration I was trying to put up for Lord Vader's coming. Like a child eager to please, he wanted us to steal the show.

"This is science, Orson, not fireworks," I sighed wearily.

Fireworks; that reference wasn't chosen by chance, even if I kept my face neutral enough to make it seem innocent. Coruscant's fireworks on All-Species week had covered our escape the very first time, allowing us to slip between his fingers undetected. I knew Orson wouldn't forget, it was just a jab to set him on edge.

His jaw twitched but he kept his cool and I had to refrain from yawning in his face. As if on cue, a service droid barged into the room with two cups of caff. My former friend exhaled slowly, and sat in front of me, handing me the steaming beverage. We'd been stacked in his office for the past two hours, and no amount of caff would possibly make up for the lost sleep. When it wasn't the Kybers keeping me awake, the nightmares took precedence. This night, in particular...

"Galen," Orson started again, his voice more conciliatory. "Lord Vader is a very demanding man. The Emperor's second in command. We cannot disappoint him."

I nodded, my face impassive. It's not that I didn't care; I did. But not for the same reasons. My own little pressure didn't reside in making the Sith proud.

I had, recently, emitted the hypothesis that our crystals needed to be considered as individuals, and not according to their weight. I knew it to be true; their combined action depended on their strengths and weaknesses. Their personalities. Thanks to Elya's mediations, we had determined which combinations not to use to keep the research stalling.

Lyra died, every time. The nightmares never allowed me to save her.

"We can't have any more explosions, Galen. The Kybers must remain intact, there are not many left in the Galaxy. It's our life on the line here!"

"You mean your ass? And your next promotion, Orson?"

Icy blue eyes narrowed, his fist tightening around the cup. Yet, he said nothing; I was right. Right, all along, to tell him to go away. To refuse ... right all along until Lyra died. Over and over in my dreams. That man I had loved like a brother ... could I hate him?

"You've stupidly destroyed too many. Commander Tarkin wasn't pleased."

I remembered the man rather well; he wasn't too keen on having Krennic on board, if I recall. Still, I had to refrain a smile. Loading the Kybers all at once had created such a beautiful explosion, the fiasco of the year! Elya and I had watched, our faces contorted in mock horror, as our experiment "failed" and wiped out an entire section of that blasted moon.

"Stupidly, Orson? Are you a genius now, telling me how to achieve your dream?"

I hoped my cutting words would keep him away from prying. The genius was actually Dr Gubacher. That pulpoïd had guessed, right away, that the crystals needed reassurance. A progressive charge, slow and steady, might create a resonance effect. I had fought tooth and nails, invoking incoherent talking and quantic reasons out of his reach to push back against him. Most of the team agreed with me vehemently. But most wasn't enough...

"You've slackened a bit, recently," Orson snapped, watching me with attention.

My blood froze; I knew where he was going... I needed a distraction, right now. And what better distraction – aside from the satisfaction – than to attack him.

"I think we were close to greatness. You told me yourself when you dragged me out of my farm. This close. It you want greatness, you'll have to pay for it. Research is research."

My nonchalance struck too true. And from the iciness that suddenly descended in the room, I knew retaliation would be swift.

"Perhaps I should transfer sweet Elya somewhere else. I fear that she proves to be more of a distraction than an incentive..."

Orson was too soft to call upon her charm, he'd never been crude after all. Yet, I fought my body, my mind and my heart to remain still. Like a frozen statue, attuned to the moon's cold, I interiorised every single emotion that tried to break the surface. For this morning, it wasn't Lyra who had died before my very eyes. No. That body, lying lifeless on the ground, was Elya. Sweet Elya, and her gaze as green as emeralds, her red ringlets coated in blood.

Banishing the image from my mind, I shrugged casually. When did I become such a good liar?

"Suit yourself. I can work without her, but she's the one who manages the team."

Orson's icy gaze pinned me in place a moment more, and I casually drank caff from my cup. Gosh, it really was quite awful. Slightly better than the one we struggled to buy on Lah'mu, but much worse than what we used to drink in Coruscant.

"When is she supposed to return?" he asked, voice dripping with honey.

"When the Kybers are fully charged."

Krennic suddenly stood, gesturing for me to do the same. The harsh line of his shoulders showed how tense he was, and I saw how he struggled not to be petty. Somewhere, deep within, that man still held affection for me. And me, for him. It wouldn't protect him from my betrayal; he'll be left to the wolves ... there was too much at stake to even consider reasoning with him.

Orson had chosen his path, killing my Lyra, and dragging an innocent in the process. If Elya was out on an ocean planet right now, supervising a charge test underwater, it was just to keep her out of the way. And Dr Gubacher. My smart second in command got along pretty well with the octopus to keep him busy, and unsuspecting.

I, on the other side, was weaving my web ... working my ass off, in secret, making contacts, gaining info, drinking with the pilots. Trying not to miss her. But at night, when the Kybers' energy kept me awake, I couldn't get to her quarters, and nibble on a piece of coral, her soft voice lulling me to sleep.

A datapad landed in my hands, Krennic's smirk indicating that he had found his revenge.

"There," he said. "Work on this. It's the weaponised test we ran before you fled from Coruscant. It looked promising."

My jaw clenched, and I wondered if I wasn't about to gain a trip to the healing ward to have my back teeth replaced.

"Weaponised test?"

Orson only smiled.

"When did this happen?", I hissed.

"Remember those test we were supposed to run on site, the ones you kept asking for results?"

This time, I blanched. Cold sweat ran down my spine as rightful wrath filled my veins. That bastard! How could I forget? Misled like a baby, I had been waiting for the results of this renewable energy project, only to be thwarted at every attempt. The data had gone missing, or they were sent but blocked by the security algorithm, available, then not.

Oh, I can't hear you! Oh, I missed you! I'll bring them myself when I visit, don't stop your research.

And I had walked into the trap giddily. If Lyra had not taken me out for a walk, away from security ... dragging me to Lah'mu thanks to her connections.

Damn. That hurt. The full truth of his past deception even more difficult to swallow now that he had killed my wife. My hero, the woman who had got me out of the mess, out of his clutches in the first place.

"I hate you, Orson," I spat.

The man had the gall to grin, and I remembered our nights out, when he was desperately trying to get me to socialise. His eyes, though, weren't as cold as today.

"Don't care. Do your job, I'll do mine."