Star Wars: Catalyst - A Rogue One Novel

There is no one truth.

Mathematics isn’t just science, it is poetry—our efforts to crystallize the unglimpsed connections between things. Poetry that bridges and magnifies the mysteries of the galaxy. But the signs and symbols and equations sentients employ to express these connections are not discoveries but the teasing out of secrets that have always existed. All our theories belong to nature, not to us. As in music, every combination of notes and chords, every melody has already been played and sung, somewhere, by someone—

The Jedi were certainly aware of the tremendous potential, but they restrained themselves.” “Precisely what they did with the Force, as some have said. If they had made use of their full powers, the war would have ended in a heartbeat. And the galaxy would be in a different state entirely. For all their purported objectivity, they weren’t scientists, they were mystics. For a thousand generations that sufficed. Notions of right and wrong can no longer be dictated by a select group to safeguard some personal vision of the truth.

I guess research isn’t for everyone.” “Certainly not for the faint of heart or the unfaithful.

Did it work?” “Did what work?” “Defiance. Was that enough?” “That wasn’t the point.” “What was?” “Believing that your actions mattered, and believing that a good end would come of them, even if you didn’t live to see the results.” Has snorted. “Cheery thought. Throw dirt in your enemy’s face, get crushed underfoot.” Saw stopped what he was doing and walked over to him. “Look at it this way, Has. If we can persuade enough people to start throwing dirt…” Realizing that he was supposed to finish the thought, Has considered it, then said: “Eventually we bury them.

Even the brightest of dreams-come-true had shadowy recesses.

The Empire was quickly becoming the other, a featureless grey enemy that species of varied sorts would be able to stave off only if they united, all differences set aside. It was almost heartening to witness the dawn of hope, as cautious and fragile as it was.

I refuse to live my life under terms dictated by the Empire.

The Empire values dedication. Especially when it’s unswerving.

There was an art to learning what individuals were made of, to analyzing how they were put together, and then—when the moment was right—lining them up just so and driving the point home, breaking them along predicted lines; faceting them like one of Galen’s kybers. Obitt one way, Tarkin the other.

You look at the history of any sentient species and what do you find but tableaux of violence and slaughter. It’s finger-painted on the ceilings of caves and engraved into the walls of temples. Dig a hole deep enough on any world and you’ll find the skulls and bones of adults and children fractured by crude weapons. All of us were fighting long before we were farming and raising livestock.” He held up a hand before anyone could voice an objection. “All of you are exceedingly well educated, and you’re going to start rattling off the names of species and societies where that isn’t the case. And my answer is that those aren’t the beings or the star systems we need to worry about. It’s the rest of them. Violence is hardwired into most of us and there’s no eliminating the impulse—not with an army of stormtroopers or a fleet of Star Destroyers. That’s why we’ve embarked on a path to a different solution. We have a chance to forge a peace that will endure for longer than the Republic was in existence.” “Peace through fear,” Reeva said. “Yes,” Krennic told her, and let it go at that.

Normalcy has taken leave of the galaxy.

For a brief moment he glimpsed a new destiny opening before his eyes, a window into a future he had never imagined for himself, a path to an entirely different life, and yet just as quickly as the window opened it closed, slammed shut as much by long years of training as by a feeling of trepidation.

We’ll get this sorted out,” Galen said, trying to sound optimistic. “You’re not through with us yet.

Well, could even a Jedi know the future?

Computer modeling showed the lasers’ twin collimating beams racing away from the Star Destroyer. Then, captured by gravity, the beams become one, changing vector and accelerating beyond lightspeed as it disappeared into the mask’s churning accretion envelope. Krennic watched the monitor in naked awe, wishing there was some way he could screen the results for Galen without sending him into cardiac arrest or fleeing for the farthest reaches of the galaxy. His legacy, in any case, his contribution to the greatest weapon ever constructed, was now assured.

You don’t mind that the war will go on and on?” “Palpatine could have prevented it. Now it’s up to people like you to end it.” Tarkin nodded. “And so we shall.

And the Jedi?” Lyra asked. “Also doing what they can. But remember, Dooku is one of their own, and he’s a crafty opponent. At times he seems to be able to read our minds, if not simply outguess us.

I don’t work for the Republic, and I’m certainly not about to work for Count Dooku.” “Science doesn’t take sides, is that it?

They had discussed it endlessly, and while he had never been less than encouraging and enthusiastic, she had begun to wonder whether he *wanted her gone*. And maybe that was actually the case; that at this stage of the research he felt that he needed to devote himself fully to it without having to concern himself with her contentment or Jyn's development -- precisely the way she often felt at at social occasions, worrying about whether he was having a good time.

You have no idea what you’re fooling with. This is much bigger than me. This is much bigger than all three of us. I warned you not to go down this path.

What hope is there for freelancers like myself if the Empire is determined to vanquish every independent system?” he said. Glancing at Saw, Molo, and Yalli, he added: “All of us will end up Imperial employees, imprisoned, or dead.” Saw clapped him hard on the back. “That’s the spirit, Has. But there’s more to it than that. To the Empire we’re nothing more than clots of dirt they’d kick from their boots. Even Salient is nothing more than a trial run. Not when the goal is subjugation on a galactic scale. And that’s where we come in, even if it’s just to rattle them some: to rebel against injustice.

He gazed around in near despair. Where he had never had an issue with so-called free time, he was suddenly lost without his research; torn between uncompromising tenderness for Lyra and Jyn and a sense of burden in being able to provide a flawless future for them. The Vallt he missed no longer existed; nor did the Coruscant he and Lyra had left more than a standard year earlier. Despite the changes war had brought to the Core it might still be possible for them to ride out the conflict here. Even if it meant avoiding HoloNet news reports and steering clear of conversations about war and politics. Surely they could manage that much. Perhaps the war would end as abruptly as it had begun and life would return to normal—or at least to what had been considered normal beforehand.

Sometimes Lyra couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and at other times Galen wouldn’t speak for days on end, preferring instead to seclude himself and write or sketch. He was continually organizing and reorganizing his equipment, and yet he struggled to keep his footing on steep grades. Sometimes when they spoke she would feel as if she were conversing with a droid, though she came to appreciate the breadth of his knowledge and his facility for sustained attention. She began to recognize, too, that what she interpreted as hostility was actually a ploy that allowed him to maintain a safe distance from her while he sorted out what she wanted from him and solved the calculus of their relationship. The

All of us were fighting long before we were farming and raising livestock.

In a hushed but serious tone, she said: “Galen, you know where these came from.” “Mygeeto, perhaps,” Galen said, distracted and still fascinated by the colorless kyber. “Possibly Ilum or Christophsis.” “Not their source world,” she said. “The size of them, the shape…” He finally turned to meet her wide-eyed gaze. “These could only have come from Jedi lightsabers.

They stood together at the base of a sheer wall four meters high without ledges or toeholds and with nowhere to go. Below, battle droids advanced from both ends of the street, killing the few Lokori that remained standing, painting the street green with their blood and joining forces at the bottom of the fall. Everyone Galen and Lyra had run with was on the ground, dead or wounded.

Galen didn’t know anything about Tarkin, other than that he had served in the Republic Navy before being appointed adjutant general. A tall man some ten or fifteen years older than Galen, he had sunken cheeks, a high brow, and a look of penetrating intelligence.