It took him hours to gather up the courage before feeling ready to return inside the house. Jyn had gone on yet another patrol, but his heart wasn’t in it. Reya’s cries and Rann’s harsh words echoed in his head. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he couldn’t avoid thinking about the recent turn of events.

  Rann’s scathing review of his behaviour stung him. He’d done his best to keep the mission running smoothly according to their orders, yet that was lost on her. Nothing he’d done was appreciated. Coordinating supply runs and managing inventory, maintaining the ship and proper patrols, and trying to implement safety measures to prevent Reya and Adrian from wandering off alone into the mountains when he wasn’t there were all things he worked for to do his job properly.

  And apparently that was the problem.

  The others refused to treat the mission with the seriousness it deserved. He wasn’t an idiot. He could read between the lines. High Command never stopped stressing how important Adrian’s information about the facility was. With all of Tassie’s research, it was clear to him that they’d discovered things that warranted so much effort.

  Just capturing the gru’ul facility was already an incredible opportunity, yet the Tribunal placed so much importance on Adrian’s situation for reasons that were still unknown to him. He was kept in the dark and it angered him. He never expected to get all the secrets the Tribunal was hiding, but the very least he felt they were owed was an update on whether what had been discovered would affect him and his team.

  No matter how hard he tried to pry information from Adrian, the stubborn bastard refused to share anything. The man had answers vital to the mission, yet because of his far-fetched story of being an alien, he was afforded liberties he shouldn’t have.

  Jyn glanced up at the sky, noting how much the sun had moved during his patrol. Enough time had passed, surely things had calmed down in the house. He would have to speak with Rann separately, but that was a topic for another time once they had some privacy.

  With reluctant steps, he made his way back to where he knew the others were. He was greeted with the sight of his entire team seated at the kitchen table in a quiet but heated discussion. They stopped the moment they noticed he was there. A beat passed, nobody knowing what to say.

  Finally, it was Tassie who spoke up. “I leave for a little bit and look at the mess you made,” she hissed, her anger evident. “You couldn’t have left well enough alone and upset Reya so badly we had to inform High Command.” Her frigid words froze Jyn where he stood as he flushed with guilt.

  “You informed High Command?” Jyn asked. “There was no need to do that.” Instantly, he envisioned being rebuked by the General for events that were once again beyond his control. He glanced at the others and saw the accusations in their gazes. Everybody was against him. His expression darkened.

  “In this case, there was,” Kell spoke up. He gave a brief rundown of the events that had transpired while Jyn was on his patrol, expressing his worry about the state of Reya’s mental health. Based on what little he knew, Kell felt it prudent to wait for Adrian to emerge from their room before finding out more details.

  “How is it that a small recording led to you informing High Command?” Jyn asked, unable to comprehend why his team had turned the situation into such a big deal. He understood that Reya had a meltdown, but that wasn’t worth bothering High Command over.

  “Show him,” Tassie ordered. “I want him to know exactly what he caused.” At her words, Rann prepared the video on her data slate. Since the rest of the team knew, there was no point in hiding it. It was time Jyn saw the reality of the situation that only Tassie fully understood.

  Rann beckoned Jyn over and played the recording for him. By the time it was done, Jyn could do nothing but stare at the data slate despondently. Realization at how badly Reya had been hurt by his outburst sank in while the others waited for him to react. Tears brimmed in his eyes as Reya’s disturbing comparisons of pain resounded loudly in his mind. “I did that?” he asked in a low, quiet voice.

  “Yes,” Tassie said harshly. “I know what’s causing her breakdown, but I’m not at the liberty to share it with you. I don’t know what it is that you said, but this is on you. Time and again, all you do is find ways to hurt Reya.”

  Jyn was unable to meet her gaze, his guilt and shame too much for him to hide. A creaking step alerted everybody in the room, sparing him from Tassie’s cold anger if only for a moment. Adrian appeared, alone, looking haggard and worn. His eyes were red and puffy and contained a deep sadness. He locked gazes with Jyn briefly before addressing the room. “I know you came up the steps at one point to check on us after I asked you not to but thank you for not actually disturbing us,” Adrian said. His eyes lingered on Rann’s data slate.

  “How’s Reya?” Kell asked. He needed to know what her state of mind was to help her, concerned that her changing brain structure was responsible for how bad the meltdown was. “You were upstairs a long time. It’s been hours.”

  “Not good,” Adrian replied grimly. “She cried herself to sleep, and I don’t want to risk waking her.” He turned to face Jyn and contrary to everyone’s expectations, there was no blame in his stare. “It’s not your fault,” he said softly. “I’m not upset at you for the words you said, you had no way of knowing what would set her off like that.”

  “Of course it’s his fault!” Tassie exploded. “His outburst caused this.”

  Adrian shook his head. “The gru’ul caused this, not Jyn. You know exactly why Reya is the way she is right now.” At that, Tassie paused her tirade and could only nod in understanding. “All Jyn did was remind her of it.”

  “What is it that I said that caused this?” Jyn asked. He almost didn’t want to hear the answer but needed to know. He didn’t want to hurt Reya beyond the damage he’d already caused. He hoped dearly that everything would be alright.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Adrian sighed heavily. “It’s when you told her to listen. The words you used happened to be exactly those the gru’ul said to her during her torture sessions.”

  “That’s it?” Jyn asked.

  “Yes,” Adrian confirmed. “This could’ve happened had any one of you said those words to her. It’s why you’re not to blame for this.” He looked back towards the steps, to where he knew Reya was sleeping. He knew it wouldn’t last long and that her dreams of the final injection would wake her back up soon. “I’m not down here for long. Just to grab a quick bite to eat and maybe bring some ration bars back to the room for Reya.”

  Adrian gathered what he came for, not elaborating on Reya’s state any further than he already had. He knew of the recording’s existence, having heard it play multiple times from the room. There was no point in mentioning it. The others could keep their little secret for all he cared. The only thing that worried him was that the Tribunal was now going to be aware of the events that transpired.

  Once he had the ration bars and glass of water he came for, he made to leave the room. He gave one last glance towards Jyn, pausing at the bottom of the steps. “Just remember,” Adrian said, staring intently at Jyn, “for once it’s not your fault.” He ascended the stairs without looking back and the others could only stare at the empty space.

  Adrian’s parting words did little to reassure Jyn.

  Miarre was ecstatic. No longer was she an unknown face on news nobody watched. Her career had soared with her coverage of the new Silver Star holder and now she had a chance to propel it to even greater heights. A woman claiming to be Reya’s mother had contacted her. At first, the news station dismissed her as one of the many people now claiming they knew Reya personally. The sob story of losing her daughter didn’t help the woman’s case, but after doing some research, Miarre found she was indeed who she said she was.

  The best part was that Reya’s supposed mother was civilian, meaning the military couldn’t interfere with whether the interview went live or not. In order to avoid spilling the scoop before another news agency could take advantage of her story, Miarre had proposed that the two of them meet at her house, away from prying eyes and long ears.

  Reya’s mother was due to arrive any minute.

  A chime went off, alerting Miarre that her guest had arrived. She rushed to the door and ushered her in, doing a double take at how much the stranger resembled Reya. After deftly guiding her to the kitchen table where they could comfortably chat, Miarre took a moment to assess the woman now seated in front of her. She had the same platinum hair Reya did and a remarkably similar facial structure. The only real difference being her yellow eyes compared to Reya’s lavender ones.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ayala,” Miarre started, flashing a brilliant smile. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.”

  “Just Mihn will do,” Mihn replied. “There’s no need to be so formal, especially not when you’re helping me so much.” If Reya had been able to become famous, surely she could as well. If only the world knew what she had to offer, Mihn was sure she’d finally get what she deserved out of life. Reya was nothing more than her stepping stone to fame and fortune, and Mihn couldn’t wait to swindle the poor reporter into helping her achieve her destiny.

  “Of course,” Miarre replied. “Could you tell me more about what happened between you and your daughter? You said she ran away from home when she was barely an adult.” She had her doubts about the veracity of Mihn’s story but knew it couldn’t hurt to listen to the full thing.

  “It was just awful,” Mihn said, tears welling in her eyes. “She simply left one day, never to return. Didn’t even bother telling me where she was going. One day she was home, the next she went missing. I tried looking for her, but nobody was able to find her, not even the police.”

  “That’s horrible,” Miarre said empathetically. “What kind of child would do that to her parents? Do you have any idea why she might have left?”

  “It was surely because of my horrendous husband,” Mihn spat. Her deadbeat husband, working a low-end job with no real ability to advance was the cause of her misery. She’d wasted years of her life just barely scraping by when she could have been living in opulence. If only she hadn’t married the fool.

  Mihn’ words gave Miarre pause. The scorn in her voice was unusual. “Was he violent?” Miarre couldn’t help but ask. Mihn’s reluctance to answer and downturned, teary eyes told Miarre all she needed to know about the son of a bitch who’d torn apart her guest’s family. “There’s no need to relive old wounds,” she said empathetically. “Tell me more about Reya. What kind of person was she? Did she ever show any interest in joining the military before she ran away?”

  “My daughter was all I could ever ask for,” Mihn lied profusely. “She was my light, my life. I was absolutely heartbroken knowing I would never see her again. I tried my best to shield her from what was happening, but it clearly wasn’t enough. She made no mention of wanting to be a soldier, so I never thought it possible that she would run away to the military. I actually inquired after her with them after she ran away, but they denied she was with the army.”

  Miarre’s anger only grew as she remembered how she was treated when she interviewed Reya. “The military is a rough place to be.” General Nessah’s threats still rang clear in her mind. Serving under such tyrants was no place for a runaway to be. Especially not one as distraught as Reya must have been when she left home. “Reya must have been miserable.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to my daughter in almost a decade.”

  “Don’t worry,” Miarre said confidently, “I’ll be sure to reunite you with your daughter.” She could think of nothing less than to bring about what she was sure would be a joyous, heartfelt reunion between mother and daughter. “I’ll make the announcement with you present. The military will have no choice but to allow Reya to meet you. The public won’t settle for anything less.”

  Mihn visibly brightened. Gleeful at the fact that the reporter was eating out of the palm of her hand, she knew it was only a matter of time now until she got what she deserved. “You’d go so far for me?” she said with false hope in her voice. “They wouldn’t let me meet her once I saw she was awarded the Silver Star.”

  “I’m sure the military was very wary of imposters clamouring to meet your daughter after they announced the new Silver Star holder,” Miarre said. “I’m not surprised they didn’t let you meet her. Now then, why don’t you tell me more about her and her early life before she became so famous?”

  They continued to discuss Reya’s childhood and her strong connection she forged with her mother for well over an hour. By the time Miarre saw Mihn out the door, she was confident that she’d be able to force the military’s hand without any consequences. The previous interview was on their draconian terms.

  This next one would be on hers.

  Nessah listened to the transcript carefully. Miarre thought herself safe from her, but the military’s eyes and ears had a long reach. Everything she did and said was monitored by a special team devoted to alerting her of such instances that might severely affect the mission.

  By the time she was done listening, a cold smile lined her features. Clearly, the message last time wasn’t strong enough. Given the potential uproar Miarre’s na?ve thinking would bring, this problem would be passed on to the Tribunal.

  Their pawn that thought she was queen was going to have to be reminded of her place.