HEROES OF THE REBELLION
Amy Ratcliffe
Corwi Selgrothe imagined herself at home—wrapped in her beloved bantha-fur blanket and comfortably reviewing footage for new recruitment holos. Instead she was still on Hoth. This was not how the trip was supposed to go.
She adjusted her gloves to make sure they were tucked inside her sleeves. Being inside Echo Base’s shield doors was far superior to being outside in the unforgiving elements, but she wouldn’t go so far as to call it warm. Corwi let loose a frustrated breath, forcibly enough to make a tauntaun dozing nearby give her what she could only describe as a rude look.
“Hey, believe me, I’m not thrilled about this situation, either,” Corwi told the tauntaun.
She leaned back against the pen keeping the conscripted creatures from roaming at will. Corwi needed to collect her thoughts, and this was one of the few places of respite she’d found in the base. She should have been interviewing Luke Skywalker, the most well-known hero of the Rebellion. Time had passed since his triumph against the Death Star, but the name Skywalker still inspired potential recruits—had them with stars in their eyes, dreaming of fighting the Empire and restoring good to the galaxy. Corwi had leveraged the rebels’ victory above Yavin 4 to great effect, releasing numerous holos about the mission to counteract the Empire’s “terrorist attack” lies.
And this trip to Hoth should have given Corwi material for months. Maybe even the next year of the Galactic Civil War! Besides Skywalker, she was going to talk with Han Solo and Princess Leia Organa. Sure the locale was rough, even by rebel standards, but all three of them were in the same place at the same time. Given what she’d heard about one or more of them frequently dashing around the galaxy on missions, this was a rare gift. Corwi knew she could extract stories about their service to the Rebellion and that she’d find stirring quotes in them—quotes that would make others see the promise of the Rebel Alliance. Lines like, “Rebellions are built on hope.”
Capturing Jyn Erso’s moving words before she took off to Scarif with the doomed Rogue One group was one of Corwi’s greatest achievements as a rebel propagandist. And Corwi intended to find similar success on Hoth. She’d certainly lobbied to be sent here, this top-secret location on a frozen rock. She’d made a professional case directly to Mon Mothma about why she should come to this mysterious base—she’d heard rumors that the heroes of the Rebellion were all headed there, and she wouldn’t be foolish enough to try any live broadcasts, or transfer data, or send a message to anyone offworld. She’d save all the glorious interviews she’d get for review after the rebels left Hoth; she didn’t want to give them away. In fact, she told Mon Mothma, she would stay embedded with her fellow rebels for the near future to document day-to-day life. It’s the kind of thing potential recruits were curious about.
Corwi didn’t quite sell the poised, confident leader on the latter idea, but she secured permission to travel to Echo Base. She’d be on Hoth for as long as the Rebellion stayed there, so she’d go ahead and chronicle everything she saw. Corwi liked to think her passion for sharing the Rebellion’s story with the galaxy in the hope of attracting always-needed recruits came across as enthusiastic to Mon Mothma. She knew she asked for a lot, but Corwi believed in the Alliance’s mission to restore justice to the galaxy. She put her all into her work to increase the numbers, because she knew the more people stood against the Empire, the better off the galaxy would be. Corwi balanced any pleading edge in her voice with recruitment data and anecdotes.
Her arguments worked. Corwi arrived on Hoth dressed in layers of vests, shirts, and wraps, her recording gear carefully wrapped in a large pack. She wasn’t one to waste time “settling in.” Particularly not in this sort of location. It all had a we’ll make do with what we have feel, which was very much the Alliance way. Roughly carved walls met a stark floor with supplies strewn in a haphazard fashion here and there. Maybe she could find some hot broth, but as far as creature comforts went that was about it. She made holos to inspire, but Corwi tried to temper her material with realism. She knew she couldn’t win the Rebellion interest or respect by pretending every day in this war was a noble parade.
Corwi had to be honest when she made holos to galvanize others to stand by the Rebellion. Honest and hopeful. She knew quotes from Luke, Leia, and maybe even Han would be exactly what she needed. Others in the Alliance uttered the trio’s names in a kind of awed tone; they put the heroes on pedestals. Her sources reported that even some backwater planets were beginning to recognize these names and trade stories about them. This was the time to put together new holos, to work with her artist friend Janray on new propaganda posters with any—or all—of the three heroes. They would be the fulcrum for this next, wide wave of recruitment.
But Corwi had to find time with these heroes first. She had no way of knowing if she’d be expected. Her trip came together quickly, and she understood communications to and from the secret base were on an as-needed basis. They’d expect this final shuttle carrying supplies to make the base optimally operational but maybe not so much the propagandist who had tucked herself into a tight space between crates of rations and blankets for the ride.
She reported in to a General Bygar. He was hurried and clearly had other matters to attend to, but he welcomed Corwi nonetheless. Bygar passed her off to a communications officer, who gave her a brief overview of Echo Base. Where to find the caf, the medical bay, the basics. Comms Officer Farr outlined the evacuation plan quickly, with the weary voice of someone who had clearly been through it a million times. When she finished, Corwi inquired about speaking with Princess Organa. Surprise flickered on Farr’s face. She all but laughed at Corwi’s request. The princess, she informed Corwi, was working in the command center, an area limited to essential personnel only. Corwi had no chance of speaking with her.
Corwi filed that information for later; she wasn’t going to give up that easily. So she asked after Luke Skywalker. Farr described Luke as affable; he’d probably be happy to talk with her, but he was on patrol outside. That left Han Solo. Corwi had heard the smuggler and informal rebel could be taciturn; she wasn’t thrilled about having Han as her only option, but she had to try. And despite his reputation as a scoundrel—or maybe because of it—he had to have interesting stories to tell. Farr took Corwi to the Millennium Falcon, where Han stood with a frustrated look on his face. Normally Corwi wouldn’t bother with someone who was scowling, but her choices were limited. Han actually rolled his eyes when Corwi introduced herself and muttered something about not being the kind of role model the Rebellion should put forth for recruitment. Determined to get something—anything—Corwi quickly set up her equipment. She asked Han why he flew into the battle above Yavin 4, what the Rebellion meant to him.
“Listen sweetheart, I’m no hero. I saw a fight and pointed my ship at it,” Han barked.
She tried to pose a softer follow-up question; he brushed her off.
Then Han gestured at his Wookiee companion. “You know what? Chewie would be happy to answer your questions,” he said with a patronizing smile on his face.
The resolute feeling she had when she approached faded. Corwi didn’t think she’d ever interacted with someone so unpolished, so brash. She’d been wrong about him. Corwi probably would have received more useful answers from Chewbacca. He was a hero of Yavin, too, she recalled, and there had to be a protocol droid somewhere around here to translate. Maybe she would try to talk with Chewbacca later—only when Han wasn’t grumbling nearby.
She stowed her gear and asked the nearest officer about Luke. He was still on patrol. As evening crept closer, word traveled around the base that Luke Skywalker hadn’t reported in and no one knew where he was. Han apparently left on a tauntaun to search for him. Corwi noted the tension in the air when she dined in the mess hall. When she wandered back to the hangar deck out of curiosity, she saw Leia looking outside into the unfriendly mass of white and blue, distress rolling off her. Corwi took a step toward Leia and paused. Leia looked…scared. Corwi struggled to process the thought because she’d never witnessed Leia show vulnerability. If the princess was this concerned, the situation was more dire than Corwi first thought. It wasn’t the time to pepper Leia with questions, especially as it looked like they were going to have to close the shield doors to block Hoth’s fatally cold nighttime temperatures with Luke and Han still missing.
The next morning Corwi was relieved to learn that Han had discovered Luke, and they’d both returned to the base. The Rebellion needed them. Their friends needed them. Corwi wanted to give them time to thaw and recover before she checked in again. But according to a conversation she overheard in a corridor, a vicious creature had attacked Luke. He wasn’t in critical condition or anything, but he did require medical attention. That could actually work for Corwi—a holo featuring a hero in the medbay, injured in his service to the Rebellion but still bright-eyed about his purpose and belief in the Alliance. It could be perfect. And though Corwi dashed to the nearby medical bay, Luke was in a bacta tank when she arrived. That wouldn’t do.
So here she was, bonding with the tauntauns and waiting on word of Luke being in a less compromising position. She needed to formulate a new plan. Tauntauns’ garbling, rustling noises weren’t really recruitment material. To have to tell Mon Mothma she didn’t get anything would be embarrassing after all her pleading—she didn’t want to consider the option. Mothma gave Corwi a way out of the Imperial Press Corps all those years ago. The Empire had pulled Corwi in with other holojournalists after the fall of the Republic. At first, Corwi was naïve about the Empire’s intent. She thought she’d continue reporting the truth of events around the galaxy, as she’d been doing for years. Instead, the Imperial Press Corps was a propaganda machine for the Empire. Broadcasters were fed stories that were either outright lies or a heavy manipulation of the truth twisted to put the Empire in a flattering light. Though the extent of the Emperor’s ambitions weren’t clear in the early days, Corwi felt the oily sense of wrongness in her bones. It wasn’t only being made to tell lies, it was that it became obvious the Empire was in the business of oppression. Where their forces went, a certain bleakness followed. She didn’t last long before quietly leaving one day and going into hiding.
In her new life, traveling from planet to planet, she listened from the corners where no one looked. She heard whispers of rebellion. Seeing clearly fictitious reports from her onetime colleagues, like Alton Kastle, further pushed her to seek out the Rebel Alliance. The Empire’s influence and control were spreading. She wanted to push back against the Emperor in any way she could, to do her part to bring life back to the corners of the galaxy the Empire had drained until they became a dull gray. When Mon Mothma resigned from the Senate and announced her intent to restore the Republic, Corwi knew how she could help. She realized the Rebellion was in need of their own version of the Imperial Press Corps. People to craft and release recruitment holos to raise awareness and bring more allies to their cause. It would still mean putting a certain spin on events, yes, but Corwi knew this would be for the good of the galaxy. She held herself to a code; she wouldn’t twist the truth. She’d only bolster it. Corwi believed it to be an acceptable compromise. It took a while to get in front of rebels who would listen and pass her ideas on to the new leadership.
But eventually, she stood in front of Mon Mothma and earned herself a place. A place that made a difference. A place she would use today to speak to Commander Skywalker.
Corwi stood straight. She removed the holorecorder from her pack, slung the bag over one shoulder, and cut a focused path toward the medical bay. She spotted a medical droid.
“Excuse me. Have you seen—”
An overhead announcement cut Corwi off. She couldn’t make out the words, but beings started moving in every direction—not with panic, but with purpose. The base flipped from brisk business as usual to a hub of overlapping activities in an instant. Something was happening. She’d been adjacent to combat before; that experience didn’t stop the heavy weight suddenly pressing on her chest. Corwi tried to capture the attention of someone in a pilot’s uniform without getting in their way.
“What’s happening?”
“The Empire found us,” the pilot replied in an unnervingly calm voice.
He ran off before Corwi could ask follow-ups. She let raw emotion course through her veins for exactly ten seconds, a calming method she’d discovered in her days in the press corps. She could allow herself to worry but only because she knew she could control her reactions. With a clearer head, Corwi tried to recall the evacuation instructions. When she drew a complete blank on what she was supposed to do and where she should be going, Corwi turned her holorecorder on almost reflexively and raised it to eye level—she may as well use the circumstances to get shots she could insert into holos that needed some dynamic action—and raced in the direction of the hangar deck. That’s where the ships were, that’s where she’d find a way off Hoth. She hoped. That feeling of desperation, of wanting to survive another day, started to creep in like a haze around her thoughts. She had to keep moving.
A sense of urgency saturated the air of the hangar. Corwi sidestepped droids rolling into action, technicians scrambling to fighters. She rooted herself to a clear area and slowly rotated in a circle, capturing the oddly delicate motions around her. She could almost pretend she was watching a choreographed scene, planned and blocked to the last detail with everyone moving in harmony. Unlike her, Corwi noted, they evidently knew the procedures backward and forward. She watched these soldiers operating in a remote, uncomfortable location preparing to confront a threat without a second thought. Everyone had an important role. Everyone was ready to risk their—
A sharp voice interrupted Corwi’s musings. “All troop carriers will assemble at the north entrance. The heavy transport ships will leave as soon as they’re loaded.”
She recognized it as belonging to Leia. Corwi saw her just ahead, gathering the pilots for a briefing. She stepped to the side and spun her holorecorder in the princess’s direction. Finally! She was catching a rebel hero in action. Corwi felt a brief second of joy despite her surroundings. She already envisioned folding Leia’s words into a holo targeted at pilots. Even if Leia didn’t give the most eloquent of speeches here, the visual would stand on its own. Potential recruits would see Leia, survivor of Alderaan and leader of the Rebel Alliance, leading from the front lines, caring about those who serve. And she clearly did care; Corwi wouldn’t be stretching for that angle. It was just what she needed.
But it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t get on a transport. The recordings she’d gathered had to leave physically with her or not at all.
Corwi may have been caught up in her work, but she heard a pilot mention a Star Destroyer. The Empire had arrived in force. Corwi watched the pilots scramble to their ships while she got her bearings. She had a vague idea about where she actually should have gone and that was enough. Worst case, Corwi figured, she’d just move in the same direction as everyone else. No, the worst case was that she would get lost and killed or captured by the Empire. She couldn’t allow that. As she turned to what was probably the escape route, she saw a familiar face cross in front of her. Luke Skywalker! Even the briefest moment of Luke preparing to head into battle would be invaluable.
“Commander Skywalker!” Corwi shouted.
He didn’t hear her. Corwi scrunched her face, annoyed that she was so close and yet not close at all. She fully understood the unfortunate timing, but she felt compelled to keep trying. She just needed to stretch over a tangle of wires to get a little closer. Corwi leaned back to give herself momentum to take a big step, but she slammed squarely into a solid mass.
The rebel soldier skidded to a stop. “Karabast! Keep an eye out, won’t you?”
Corwi picked up the bag he’d dropped. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying—”
“To what? If you’re not part of the battle, you need to get out of here,” he grunted. “Do you know which carrier you’re assigned to?”
“I didn’t know there were assignments,” Corwi admitted, upset with herself for not paying closer attention to Farr. “I’m not even sure how to get to the transport ships. I thought they would be here.”
“Follow me. We’ll figure it out when we get there,” the soldier shouted.
Corwi looked around him to see Luke clambering into a fighter, like everyone else—a hero of the Rebellion yes, but also just a pilot trying to do his part. Several other pilots surrounded her, their dedication no less remarkable for not being Luke Skywalker. Then her whole world narrowed to the soldier ahead of her and the rugged hallway they soon rushed through. The sounds of the ground assault rang outside, the walls of the base shaking from the attack. Small chunks of debris fell from the ceiling. Corwi put her left hand up as if it could alone stop a cave-in; with her other hand, she folded her holorecorder in near her body protectively. She wanted to preserve her life, but she’d rather not lose her work if she could help it. Her job was to get the word out for recruitment. It was important, and she couldn’t do it if she didn’t survive this.
Finally, Corwi and the soldier emerged from a compact hallway into a wide transport bay. She spotted bulky transport ships in every direction she turned. She’d thought the hangar deck was chaotic; that was nothing compared with this. She registered the columns of evacuees as a blob of white and gray. Again, rebels moved with a seeming order, but to Corwi, it was overwhelming. She wasn’t ashamed to put her hand on the soldier’s arm so as not to lose track of him in the crowd. If he was irked with having an unexpected charge, he didn’t show it. He helped her weave through the crowd and deposited her in a line boarding a personnel carrier.
“They’ll take care of you, I promise,” he said.
“What’s your name, soldier?” Corwi asked.
“L’cayo Llem.”
“Thank you, L’cayo. I won’t forget this.” Corwi brought her holorecorder up in front of her and tilted her head toward it. L’cayo nodded. She didn’t know exactly why, but she felt compelled to capture an image of the soldier—she wouldn’t be in a position to escape without him. Gratitude emanated from her every pore.
Covered in sweat and breathing heavily, Corwi glanced around her as she waited to board the carrier. Rebels waved others onto ships, urging their comrades on with encouraging, if stressed, shouts. Everyone looking out for one another. Everyone who volunteered to join the Rebel Alliance and defy the Empire. Everyone who stepped up to save the galaxy from oppression.
A waving hand motioned her to board the carrier. Corwi wasted no time filing in and sitting where instructed. Beings rushed aboard, but the atmosphere was eerily quiet. She followed the example of those around her and strapped in. The space around her filled with bodies. They were still on Hoth, so they were still in danger. In the stillness, Corwi could hear snippets of frantic comm chatter, but she couldn’t make out the words. She tried not to give in to spiraling fear. Tried not to think about all she still wanted to do. She redirected her focus to how she got on this carrier and to those around her who had committed their lives to this kind of existence—the kind of existence that can be upended in mere minutes once the enemy arrives.
Corwi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She thought about how she’d chased the heroes of the Rebellion around Echo Base. But it wasn’t only about them. Not at all. The pilot of this carrier, the defensive fighters waiting to escort and protect them, L’cayo who led her to this seat of safety—heroes. Every one of them. Maybe their names weren’t uttered in cantinas around the galaxy. Maybe the galaxy didn’t know about their heroic deeds. It didn’t make the efforts of the dozens of beings around her any less significant. Everyone was a hero.
The sound of the ramp closing rattled through the ship. The engines groaned. Corwi felt the ship move out of the transport bay and swiftly into the air. She released a deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It was one step closer to safety, but they were far from celebrating a successful escape. She surveyed those around her and absorbed a range of emotions from the other evacuees: a single tear running down a cheek tense with fear across from her, white-knuckled hands clenched on top of a bowed head in a seeming plea for help near the front of the transport, multiple unfocused anxious stares. She heard someone nervously tapping their foot. Corwi strained to listen to the comms, to the rumbling of the ship—whatever might give her a clue about whether they would survive. She recalled Leia mentioning that each ship had only two fighter escorts and wished she had forgotten that detail. Two fighter escorts against a Star Destroyer? Corwi blinked the scenario out of her mind and pictured an entire squadron just beyond the ship’s hull protecting them as they leapt into hyperspace.
A blast buffeted the ship’s hull. She gasped. Was that…was that the Empire shooting at them? Corwi squinched her eyes so forcibly she saw lights dance at the edge of her vision. She heard a sharp sob far away and a chorus of ragged breathing. Her own knuckles turned white as she gripped the seat underneath her and braced for an explosion. Another light movement. More intense breathing. And then the light sound of comm chatter. The pilot shouting, “We’re away! Repeat: We’re away!”
Those words, those precious few words, hung in the air as despair turned into elation. A few individuals looked numb, as if their hearts couldn’t take the emotional whiplash and the revelation of survival. Grim mouths turned to broad smiles. Hands relaxed from worried grips to pound friends, perhaps strangers even, on the back in triumph. Loud cheers replaced the terror-infused breaths. Corwi cried from relief; she slumped in her seat as every bone-crushing worry lifted and tears streamed down her face. They were safe. She was safe. A feeling of hope settled back into her mind.
“Hope,” she whispered to herself. “Hope.”
Jyn Erso’s words came to mind. “Rebellions are built on hope.” Corwi had equated hope with heroic deeds like Jyn’s sacrifice or Luke destroying the Death Star. She’d believed those huge moments and the heroes who carried them out were key to inspiring more beings to join the Rebellion. That wasn’t true at all. Hope wasn’t limited to only a handful of names. That’s not who made up the ranks of the Alliance. Hope was about people—ordinary people that made a choice to join the fight and to stay in it.
Hope was the rebel soldier who guided a lost propagandist to safety, who recognized the value of a single life and did what he could to protect it. Hope was all around her in the now reassured faces of the evacuees. People who had decided to band together against the Empire and didn’t waver even in the face of annihilation.
Every person in the Rebellion was a hero. But it wasn’t only that. They all represented hope. And that was the way forward for the Rebellion. Not to focus only on the big, sweeping heroic deeds. No, it was to create more hope. And they would do that by honoring and championing the heroism people exhibited every day. Hope.
An energized Corwi flipped her holorecorder on. She turned to the person next to her and took in his weary, cheerful demeanor. Corwi gave him a warm smile and asked, “Why do you fight the Empire? Tell me your story.”
“Why me?” he asked.
“Your story is going to save the galaxy.”