As Cassian Andor, Bodhi Rook and Jyn Erso all nodded their solemn confirmation of what they'd just reported, Mon Mothma exchanged a look with both Bail and Draven, the only other two members of Alliance High Command present for the debriefing. Normally, it would've just been Draven, maybe even Mon herself sitting in on such follow-ups after a mission, but this was a special case. One that had her giving the order to send out a call for whomever could make it for an impromptu council meeting without even waiting for the debriefing to conclude.

What the two Rebels and the Imperial pilot had brought them had massive implications, not just for the Alliance, but for the entire the Galaxy.

The Death Star, it was called.

A planet killer.

"This is worse than we feared," Bail murmured next to her. Mon couldn't agree more, unable to do anything but nod. It was worse. Far worse. It was a development that could spell the end of the Rebellion and any hope left that peace could be restored to the Galaxy. On her other side, Draven looked far more grave than he usually did, the brazen General seeing almost subdued. If this was true? Mon could see the doubt flickering in Draven's eyes, but she felt no such thing. No, Andor, Rook and Erso had been completely serious in their report. They believed it. It wasn't mere rumour.

But despite his doubts, Draven didn't even try to voice them. It was a testament to how serious their situation was, rumour or no.

As was the fact that Mon didn't quite have the heart to admonish him for his rash decision to order an attack on the Eadu Research Base. That could wait. It had to wait. There was far too much else of more pressing urgency than addressing yet another instance of the General overstepping himself.

There was convincing the Alliance that the fight they had all feared, the outright War they'd all been hoping to avoid was in fact upon them all. As accomplished an orator as she was, and as skilled Mon knew she was at convincing others to her cause, whatever it may be, even she doubted she would be able to rally the other leaders within the Alliance in the face of this threat.

It was simply too monumental.

And they only had so much hope to spare these days.

Force, did she feel tired. Had her self-control been any weaker, her head might just have fallen to her hands with frustration and a sense of hopelessness she didn't want to admit was beginning to wear at her.

With a silent, impatient gesture, Draven dismissed Erso, Rook and Andor, slumping back into his seat as he did so. For a moment, Erso looked like she was about to object, her eyes filling with fire as she opened her mouth, but Cassian silenced her with a hand on her arm and a pointed look. Though she looked anything but happy about it, she seemed to accept the subtle nod of reassurance he gave her. With a final, cross glance to Mon, Bail and Draven alike, she strode from the room, their Imperial pilot friend following close behind.

Mon found herself watching the young woman right up until the door hissed shut behind her, and even then, her gaze grew unfocused rather than turning elsewhere. It had been a bit of a curious exchange, and it was obvious there was more Erso wanted to say. Yet she had deferred to Cassian's silent entreaty to let him handle whatever she still felt they needed to hear. Because there was still obviously more, else Cassian would've followed her and Rook from the room. She very nearly grinned at the conclusion to be drawn; they had grown to respect, maybe even trust one another over the course of their mission. It was a small little silver lining, but Mon had learned to take what brightness she could to bolster her own hope.

Out of the corner of her eye, Draven was only just barely holding back a full-fledged scowl that Cassian hadn't complied as well. The General seemed to be regaining his equilibrium after Andor's bombshell quickly enough, it seemed. Had Mon not had years of practice at maintaining a level of decorum despite whatever personal feelings she had, she would've been very tempted to roll her eyes at the man.

"There's something else, Ma'am," Cassian said solemnly a moment after the door had slid shut behind his companions, his accent growing thicker with unease. That much had been obvious, Mon couldn't help but think wryly. As to what else he could possibly have to say, however? That was less clear. She turned back to him, her brow faintly creased in questioning. The two men on either side of her straightened, Draven frowning deeply while Bail's troubled expression sharpened into one of attentiveness. Cassian hesitated for a moment before launching into what he needed to say.

"I really do think that Galen Erso was telling the truth. I think Jyn is right about her father." Mon Mothma frowned, her keen eyes focused solely on Cassian even as her formidable mind was obviously kicking into high gear. Young Erso had insisted, vehemently, that Galen Erso was a secret defector. Draven had scoffed, earning himself a scathing, furious glare from the young woman. And Mon, though she kept it to herself better, couldn't help but agree with him. It stretched credulity. Galen Erso was one of the Empire's top science officers. If this report about the Death Star were true, he'd played a critical role in its very creation. For him to defect?

But then, a great many of those within the Alliance were technically Imperial defectors. Arguably, Mon was herself, as was Bail and Draven and dozens upon dozens more. So perhaps the elder Erso's defection was plausible. She could easily imagine the realization of what his weapon could do would be motivation enough if the man had a conscience. But to have gone so far as to somehow ensure a critical weakness was overlooked though every step of construction? Could one man really have so much power to ensure such a critical weakness would be overlooked? While she could admit his defection was plausible, that most certainly was not. Next to her Draven frowned.

"This is why you disobeyed my orders?" Mon's gaze snapped to Draven, aghast at the implication. She had certainly not authorized that. And she certainly never would've condoned it. Not in this instance. Not when Erso stood to potentially be a critical asset. Mon felt her own temper begin to grow at the realization that Draven had overstepped his mandate far more than she'd realized. He was not going to be able to step his way out of a hard look into his actions this time. Possibly even an investigation. Much as she might dreaded the prospect, Mon couldn't escape it this time. She probably shouldn't have many times before, really. She swallowed back a heavy sigh. She should have ensured the General was checked a long time ago.

But now was not the time for that, and despite a hint of similar astonishment that had flickered in Bail's eyes at Draven's remark, the Alderaanian too had forced himself back to the issue at hand.

"And what makes you think that?" Bail asked, his wary concern plainly heard. Cassian hesitated, a trace of latent fear flickering in his dark eyes.

"Obscura was there," the spy said simply. Mon Mothma's eyes widened with surprise even as her face stayed carefully considering. Next to her Bail Organa shifted, exchanging a loaded glance with her before levelling Cassian with a penetrating look of his own.

"You're certain?" Organa's tone was grave and insistent. Cassian nodded.

"As sure as I can be. Slight; petite even; long dark cloak with a big hood; and the other Imperials were all deferring to her, though the one officer didn't seem happy about it," he hesitated, the fear flickering again, "but the lightsaber was what finally gave it away." A small gusting breath of near-disbelief left the Alliance Leader.

"If Obscura was there on Eadu investigating the scientists—" Mon Mothma murmured before Bail took up her train of thought, confirming that she wasn't the only one to draw the same conclusion.

"—It means there's been a legitimate and serious security breach."

"And they were all awfully interested in Galen Erso," Cassian finished. Bail and Mon Mothma exchanged a long, loaded look. This was a critically important development. It lent an undeniable air of credibility to Jyn's claim that her father had truly defected and laid a trap for the Death Star within its very construction. It meant Galen truly had been working against the Empire by working with them.

It meant they had a chance.

And, as ironic as it might be, it would seem Obscura's very presence was what gave them hope.

"We should let Cassian bring this before the Council," Bail suggested thoughtfully, earning a nod of approval for the idea from Mon.

"Jyn should do it," Cassian interrupted then, earning a faint smile from Mon at the conviction in his voice. "It was her father's doing, and his sacrifice." He'd definitely grown to admire the fiery young woman, Mon confirmed to herself, a little surprised at the approval she felt over the idea. But then, she'd rather grown to admire Jyn Erso herself, really. It was hard not to admire the girl's spirit.

But Draven had focused on something else entirely within Cassian's report, and before Mon could find her voice again to approve of Cassian's suggestion, Draven's could no longer keep it to himself.

"We almost got Obscura?" he asked, his incredulous tone threaded with anger. Grimly, Cassian nodded, though there was a wary cast in his eyes as he looked to his direct superior. Draven swore under his breath. Mon Mothma pursed her lips, her patience wearing thinner still with Draven. The man was good at his job, there was no doubt about that; he'd somehow managed to track down Jyn Erso, after all, and that had been something Mon had privately believed impossible. But the man was a loose cannon who took matters into his own hands far more often than she would like. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on the perspective—things usually worked out for the best, which had left her little freedom for curbing him.

That was certainly going to have to change.

"Draven," she warned softly. The General shot her a harsh look, but he still nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement. Not that it stopped him from continuing even if he had reined himself in. Slightly.

"If we had gotten Obscura," he began. But Mon cut him off, standing slowly. Draven nearly leapt to his feet. Bail, on the other hand, rose just as carefully as Mon had. She really was supremely grateful for his far more rational presence just now, she mused wryly.

"But we didn't," she said before turning to Cassian, "did we?" Solemnly, the spy shook his head in the negative. Draven nearly growled, he was so frustrated. Inhaling deeply and letting it out slowly, Mon stepped around her chair, making her way toward the door. Her admittedly prodigious patience was beginning to wear thin, and the room was beginning to feel quite small. Draven was immediately falling in beside her with Bail and Cassian following close enough behind to still participate in the conversation.

"But if we had," the General pressed as they passed through the corridor and down the wide steps toward the massive landing bay below the temple, his voice rough with vehemence, "it would've been a staggering blow to the Emperor's Inner Circle." Mon paused to level the General with an impatient look, ready to admonish him again, when she noticed Cassian's grave expression falter, looking like he was about to object. Mon frowned as her attention shifted to the young spy.

"You disagree?" Andor started minutely at her question, but after a moment of thought, he did answer.

"I know what I saw on that platform, Ma'am," he said, speaking slowly as though measuring his words carefully. "It was as though they were... breaking ranks. Like they were all on different sides. The Imperial Officer against Obscura, Erso against them." He shrugged. "I'm no expert, but if what I saw on Eadu was any indication of what's going on within the Empire? They're all but at each other's throats. Killing Obscura? Lord Vader's Shadow? It would have made her a martyr, and could unite them." Mon Mothma studied the young spy thoughtfully. He did have a point. Perhaps not about the deep divisions within the Empire having grown any more disruptive than they had always been; given that they had existed nearly from day one, and that Mon and the rest of the Alliance had been taking advantage since the beginning, it was nothing new. However, he did have a point that killing Obscura might not have been the victory it would seem to be at first glance.

"You're right, you're not an expert," Draven said harshly, earning another reprimanding look from Mon. On her other side, Bail once again looked deeply troubled, even conflicted as glanced between Cassian and Mon.

"I hate to admit it," he said softly, sparing Mon an apologetic look, "but Draven is probably right. It would have saved us a lot of potential trouble in the future—not to mention dealing a huge blow to the Empire and Imperial morale—had Obscura been taken out in the attack. It would have removed a skilled player from the board."

"Or she could've been a rallying point," Mon countered rationally. "Cassian's not wrong. The Emperor would've been sure to see her painted as a martyr had the attack succeeded in taking her out. And the target on our backs would've been made all the larger. Instead of remaining an annoyance, which serves our purpose for now, it would've proven to the Emperor and to Lord Vader that we are a very real threat. We would've lost our element of surprise, if we haven't already," she said with a pointed look to a scowling Draven. "Her death could have been just as great a threat to us as her survival," Bail nodded, ceding to her point. Draven just looked sullen.

"Not so much a threat as a loss, I think, had she died." All four of them turned at the sound of a fifth voice. A knowing, nearly amused voice. Mon Mothma frowned, just as her companions did to different degrees. Draven scoffed, irritably excusing himself before effectively storming away. Though he too frowned, Cassian looked far more curious and nearly indulgent as he looked to the blind Jedha monk that had returned with him, Erso and the recovered Imperial pilot before he too made his excuses. Mon and Bail, meanwhile, exchanged wary looks. Neither of them were ignorant of the mysteries of the Force. They'd each known too many Jedi in their day to pretend otherwise.

But this monk, he'd assured them with an patient grin when he'd first arrived on the base that he was no Jedi. Yet...there was still something to him, an otherness, that Mon remembered from her encounters with any one of the few Jedi her path had crossed with. It was a sense that had her inclined to take heed of what the blind monk had to say.

"A loss," Bail asked warily. The monk's grin widened.

"The Dark Path is not the only path," he replied enigmatically. "Her eyes are beginning to open." A strange, fluttering feeling of anticipation took up residence in Mon Mothma's chest at his words, and yet again she was exchanging a glance with Bail, this one nearly alarmed.

"What do you mean," she pressed further, hoping beyond hope that this monk didn't have the same tendency to riddles that the Jedi had sometimes been known for when speaking of things they perceived through the Force. Surprisingly, the blind monk bowed his head slightly, his grin satisfied and no less bright as he proceeded to clarify.

"She'll realize she has a choice one day, and then once she sees, you will be grateful that she didn't die, I think." And there she had been hoping for a little more than that. She bit back a sigh, a little part of her wondering why she was indulging this.

Perhaps a little part of her was taking comfort in something so reminiscent of days long past, when the wisdom of the Jedi had been constant and treasured and safe.

"A choice?" The monk nodded again at her probing question, his features growing thoughtful and more serious than she had yet seen them.

"Obscura is a Child of the Force, in more ways than she realizes," he said almost reverently. Mon hesitated, a sense of significance clinging to the words that made a deep, instinctive part of her sit up and listen. And he was sure he wasn't a Jedi?

"What do you mean?" she asked, nearly surprised that her voice sounded as calm and composed as it did. That knowing, enigmatic smile returned.

"I mean she is strong in the Force for good reason." And then the feeling, the sense that she was hearing something important, dissipated. Mon suddenly couldn't help the shadow of a grin that played across her lips.

"You may not be a Jedi, but you certainly remind of them," she said wryly, earning a chuckle from the monk. Next to her, Bail grinned himself.

"That is certain," he added with his own smile. The monk nodded his head again, this time in thanks.

As they moved off, knowing that the Council was undoubtedly beginning to gather, Mon pushed the monk's words from her mind. Unsettled as they had left her, they were not gospel nor could she take them as prophecy, much as she felt they might have been. Mon simply could not afford to dwell on them, even if the monk had been implying what she believed he was. Not now, not with the Death Star hanging before them like a noose and smaller but no less worrisome trials closer to home to deal with weighing on her shoulders.

And, impactful as Chirrut Imwe's words had been on the Leader of the Alliance, they were indeed soon overshadowed by more dire things.

Yet, even though the words were eventually lost to her memory as the days and weeks and months passed, their implications and their promise stayed with her regardless.

A/N: Thanks for Reading!

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