Fan: Are We Blind?

'Are We Blind? 'is a fanfiction short story by TheLoneClone. It is a retelling of the third act of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story with VenturianTale characters. In other words, it's all-out chaos.

Chapter 1 : Deploy the Garrison!
The Rebel personnel sprinted about the hangar on Yavin IV. Pilots here, technicians there, soldiers everywhere. Sergeant Jyn Erso walked through the center of the hangar, Captain Cassian Andor not too far behind. "Jyn," he called out, softly.

The young woman turned to face her companion. "What?" she asked, flopping her arms at her side. "There's no point anymore. They don't believe me or my father, and, because of their ignorance, they're all going to be killed!"

"Maybe not," Cassian shot back. "We can still carry out this mission, the mission your father gave us."

A look of curiosity sprang to Jyn's eyes. "What? How?"

Cassian gestured behind him, where a gathering of Rebel soldiers had accumulated. Jyn recognized Chirrut and Baze, the Guardians of the Whills. Bodhi, the pilot, was there too. Even K-2SO stood there, as solemn as ever. Then another host of faces she didn't recognize. There was a stockier built man, with a balding head and a dark grizzly beard; a younger guy, with a bit of a five-o'clock-shadow; a woman, in between the two; and a girl, appearing to be of less age than the young guy.

"These men and women; they're coming with us. To Scarif."

Jyn shot Cassian a look of disbelief. "To Scarif? How'd you get the Alliance Command to authorize this mission? Tell them you'd kill me like you would my father?"

"I've told you, countless times!" Cassian exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't going to kill your father." Seeing she still didn't believe him, Captain Andor waved her off. "Whatever. We...we just want to come with you. To be sure that your father did not die in vain."

Jyn looked to each of the Rebels, a look of gratitude upon her face. She was actually beginning to trust someone; she hadn't done that since Saw had abandoned her over five years ago. "Very well. Let's get going."

"All right!" Baze exclaimed, raising his repeater in the air. "How many do you need?"

Chirrut cocked his head. "What? Why'd you say that?"

Baze paused, giving the situation a double-take. "I don't know...I just felt like I was supposed to say that."

The stockier guy spoke up, in a rough voice, almost as grizzly as his beard. "Let's just get going. If we spend too much time lollygaggin', then it'll be Monday. And I don't do fighting on Mondays. I eat jalapeno-cheddar sausages on Mondays."

"You don't need any more jalapenos, Acachalla!" the red-haired woman retorted.

"Don't tell me what to do, woman!" the stocky soldier, Acachalla, yelled back. "Acachalla is his own man, so that means STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!"

The woman shrugged. "Okay, okay. Just don't blame me when you clog up the plumbing in the shuttle and kill all of our troops before we even get to Scarif."

- - -

Director Orson Krennic stood outside of Darth Vader's bacta chamber in his castle. He gazed through the opening into the vast lava plains of Mustafar, in awe of the magnificence of Vader's palace.

The door at the far end of the room hissed and began to rise up, sending smoke into the air. The silhouette of the Dark Lord of the Sith cast upon the other wall of the chamber as Vader's breathing echoed throughout the large, mostly empty room.

Vader began his trek down the pathway towards Krennic, not a single doubt in his step. Krennic gulped silently as he rubbed his wrists nervously. He felt the perspiration glisten on his forehead, but he didn't dare wipe it away. He didn't dare make a single move.

Darth Vader stopped directly before the Imperial director. "Director Krennic."

"Lord Vader."

Vader kept his eyes on Krennic as he circled around him partly. "You seem...unsettled."

"Well, sir, it's just that...the present time, there's a great many things to attend to..."

"My apologies. You do have a great many things to explain."

"I delivered the weapon the Emperor requested. I deserve an audience to make sure he understands its remarkable..."

Vader stepped closer, his gaze unnerved. Krennic cowered back slightly. "...Potential," he finished.

"You're weapon has caused many problems, for certain," Vader replied. "Jedha City destroyed, the complex on Eadu attacked...I'm uncertain as to whether or not you can be trusted with the Emperor's new weapon. Perhaps...Governor Tarkin is better suited to command the Death Star."

"It was Governor Tarkin who suggested the attack on Jedha City, not me!"

"You were not summoned here to grovel, Director Krennic." He turned to his view of Mustafar's lava pools. "As far as the galaxy is concerned, there is no Death Star. A mining accident destroyed Jedha City. An overload of power caused the complex on Eadu to lose its energy source and burst."

"Yes, sir."

"I expect for you to be on your best guard over the course of the coming days. To be sure of that, I am appointing two of my personal apprentices to accompany you to the Citadel on Scarif. I have gotten word that Galen Erso has made a critical error within the Death Star plans. We need to be sure that they do not fall into Rebel hands. The Emperor seems to think that they might try and raid the Citadel."

Two ''apprentices as guides? What does he think I am, I bumbling idiot who can't find his own way? ''Krennic was glad to get a new assignment, but apprentices to follow and watch him? "My lord, I can make it on my own..." Krennic started.

"That has already been disproven." Vader turned and marched down the walkway to his bacta tank.

"So...I'm still in command? You'll inform the Emperor that- urk!" Krennic suddenly stopped mid-sentence, collapsing to his knees. He felt at his throat. His trachea was closed off; he couldn't breathe.

He had heard of Vader's ability to use the Force to strangle his opponents or any underling who disappointed him. He had never seen it happen- nor had he expected to be the one it was used on!

"Be careful not to...choke on your aspirations, Director." Vader released his hold on Krennic's throat and moved further into his chamber of meditation. Krennic rubbed his sore throat as he got from his knees to his feet.

He now had something he could do to please the Emperor. He could prove both Vader and Tarkin wrong. He smiled briskly, turning on his heel.

He had a job to do.