SAW LED Jyn to a projector and inserted a holographic chip into it. He glanced out the window as if he was waiting for something, but he didn’t let that stop him from working the projector.

“This is the message from the pilot,” he said. He offered no preface. No explanation. He just let it play.

A flickering bluish image of Jyn’s father burst to life atop the projector. She knew he must have recorded the message recently, but it seemed to her as if a ghost had leaped out of her past to talk with her. He looked older, more worn than she remembered, and she wondered exactly how life had treated him.

She couldn’t tell if she felt like crying with rage or joy. But he couldn’t see her either way, so she settled in to watch and listen instead.

“Saw, if you’re watching this, then perhaps there is a chance to save the Alliance. Perhaps there’s a chance to explain myself and, though I don’t dare hope for too much, a chance for Jyn, if she’s alive—if you can possibly find her—to let her know that my love for her has never faded, and how desperately I’ve missed her.”

She felt her throat start to tighten. All those years she’d been apart from him—all those years she’d spent alone after Saw had abandoned her—threatened to well up and swallow her whole, but she shoved her emotions aside for the moment.

This was her father, after all, and she didn’t want to miss a word of what he said.

“Jyn, my Stardust…I can’t imagine what you think of me. When I was taken, I faced some bitter truths. I was told that, soon enough, Krennic would have you.

“As time went by, I knew that you were either dead or so well hidden that he would never find you. But I knew if I refused to work, if I took my own life, it would only be a matter of time before Krennic realized he no longer needed me to complete the project.

“So I did the one thing that nobody expected. I lied.

“Or I learned to lie. I played the part of a beaten man resigned to the sanctuary of his work. I made myself indispensable, and all the while I laid the groundwork of my revenge.”

He paused a moment, preparing himself to reveal his deepest secret, the thing that would seal his betrayal of the Empire.

“We call it the Death Star. There is no better name.

“My colleagues, many of them, have fooled themselves into thinking they are creating something so terrifying and powerful it will never be used. But they’re wrong. No weapon has ever been left on the shelf. And the day is coming soon when it will be unleashed.

“I’ve placed a flaw deep within the system. A scar so small and powerful they’ll never find it.”

He let the importance of that sink in before he continued.

“Jyn, if you’re listening…” He stopped for a moment, clearly overwhelmed with the emotion of the idea that his daughter might still be alive. Jyn felt an answering pang in her heart.

“My beloved, so much of my life has been wasted. I try to think of you only in the moments when I’m strong, because the pain of not having you with me—your mother, our family…

“The pain of that loss is so overwhelming, I risk failing even now. It’s just so hard not to think of you. Think of where you are…”

Galen bowed his head for a moment. Once he raised it, Jyn could see the look of determination burning in his eyes.

“Saw. The reactor system. That’s the key. That’s the place I’ve laid my trap.

“It’s unstable. So one blast to any part of it will destroy the entire station.

“You’ll need the plans—the structural plans—to find your way, but they exist. I know there’s at least one complete engineering archive in the data vault in the Citadel Tower on Scarif. Any pressurized explosion to the reactor module will set off a chain reaction that will—”

The message cut off. Jyn wanted to rail against it, to scream at her father to go on.

Then she realized that the problem wasn’t with the recording but with the power to Saw’s entire base. All the lights had gone out at the same time.

She looked out the window at Jedha City and saw why.