Star Crossed

Little victories

I missed him. I missed our conversation, missed his casual touches. His gentle looks, the quirk of his lips when he smiled ... those moments when he spoke of music – Which I knew next to nothing about – and the first synthesizer his mother brought home to broaden his mind. Missed him so much that I sometimes forgot to breathe. To see him, every single day in that blasted lab, without the possibility to reach out. I felt so cold inside without the warm gaze he usually addressed me.

Those gazes were very few now, we avoided eye contact as much as possible. We needed to play the part, needed to hold on. Sometimes, Galen sent me a smile when he was buried in his office; it was a little present, one I held on to fiercely. Scraps of our past affection, when I longed to sink in his arms and melt in his embrace.

In between morning sickness and that constant fatigue that wrecked my body, I would have sunk to my knees to beg for a hug. My everyday life was desolation ... and that baby was responsible for it. For without it, I'd still have Galen in my bed. Sometimes, I really hated the piece of cells that had taken residence without asking for my opinion.

In my cold heart, I wondered what life would be like if it just ... passed. We were prisoners, for sure, in the empire's hand. But I'd give anything to have Galen back; he was my world now. And the distance was killing me, creating ambivalent feelings that caused my guilt to flare. Yet, Galen's absence had carved a black hole into my chest. Was I strong enough to go through this, only for the sake of a human being I had not even met?

"That would be very inelegant, Orson."

My lover's smooth voice washed over me, even if he was careful not to turn towards me. His soothing tones were the last piece of him I could benefit from without sounding suspicious.

"But would it work?"

Krennic, nailing the issue. Cold blue eyes locked onto mine and my lips curled. The Director thought that he had cunningly found the clue Galen had buried in his hundred pages report, grasping at an easy solution that might solve our issues. And, proud as a peacock, he was forcing Galen to retreat.

I knew better.

Little did Orson know that he had, in fact, been baited into adopting that specific solution. I couldn't help but admire Galen, who had known at once that Krennic wouldn't buy his solutions except if he seemed reluctant, and disgusted by it. My lover was far better at playing people than I originally thought. Hence my smirk addressed to Krennic to make him believe he'd cornered his friend.

This was a dangerous game.

"As I wrote, the thermal exhaust port could vent the radiation particle build up to a level..."

My heart stopped, for an instant, wondering if Orson would buy it, or follow Galen's advice. I had directed the report myself under Galen's orders, spotting how he'd made that solution the easiest one to implement. An exhaust port that, if hit, might cause the reactor to overheat and level the Planet Killer – the Death Star – with a mighty blow up.

Good thing Vader wasn't here to pick on our brains. With this baby, and our plans of escape, and that major flaw embedded in the system, my mind was just too overloaded to protect itself.

"A level that you don't find acceptable", Krennic deadpanned. "I read your report."

I couldn't help but admire my former mentor; he was much more intelligent than people gave him credit for. If politics was his cup of tea, he still had the skills to follow our babble. Galen ground his teeth; the typical move of a man who knew his opinion would be overlooked. I was, officially, supposed to back Krennic up.

And so, Orson bent over the table with a smile that caused a ripple to run up my spine. Stupid moon. Ever since that baby had elected me as a mother, I kept shivering; Eadu's cold stole all my strength.