A COMM PRIVATE raced through the crowded hangar in the rebel headquarters on Yavin 4. He’d just gotten the most amazing news, and he had to get it to the high council—or at least what was left of it on the green moon—as soon as possible. He spotted Mon Mothma standing at one side of the central command area, and he shouted for her.

“Senator! Senator!”

Mon Mothma cringed a little inside, as she was no longer officially a senator. The Emperor had stripped her of that role after she’d publicly condemned him, and she’d been forced to flee into exile. Still, her fellow citizens—not the Emperor—had elected her to that position, so in her mind the title remained hers.

She turned at the sound of the comm private’s voice and made to speak with the man. Before he could reach her, though, General Draven and General Merrick stepped in front of him, cutting him off. Merrick actually grabbed the man by his uniform and shouted into his face.

“Stop right there, Private!” the general thundered.

Mon Mothma wasn’t about to let Merrick get between her and whatever news the private had. She rushed toward him, shouting, “Let him speak!”

The private ignored the general’s scowl. He’d been told to report to Mon Mothma, and he wasn’t going to let anyone stop him, generals or not.

“Intercepted Imperial transmission, ma’am,” he said. “Rebels on Scarif.”

Mon Mothma’s jaw dropped in surprise, but she covered for it quickly. Who would have thought that this moment would come so soon? She’d hoped for it, of course, but she’d thought she might not find out about it until Cassian and Jyn had returned triumphant—or she’d heard reports of their deaths.

“I need to speak with Admiral Raddus,” she said to the private. The Mon Calamari warmaster would know what to do about this.

How could they respond? How many ships did they have ready? How fast could they get there?

Most important of all, was it worth the risk?

The private shook his head. “He’s returned to his ship. He’s gone to fight!”

Draven and Merrick glanced at Mon Mothma then, and she had to do her best to suppress a smile. She was pleased that Jyn and Cassian had gone to Scarif to complete the mission the high command didn’t have the stomach to back. Now Raddus might also make sure they got the help they deserved.

The two generals scrambled off to see what they could do about it, but Mothma knew they were already too late. There would still be ships hurrying to catch up with Raddus in orbit, but none of them would refuse the admiral’s orders to join him in jumping to Scarif.

As Mon Mothma strolled through the hangar and watched the various ships prepare to leave, she spotted a pair of droids rushing through. She’d seen them with Bail Organa in the past, but she believed they were with Captain Raymus Antilles now.

The golden protocol droid—C-3PO, she thought—chased after a blue-and-silver astromech, calling after him as he went. “Scarif?” the droid said. “They’re going to Scarif? Why does nobody ever tell me anything, Artoo?”

Sometimes Mon Mothma wanted to ask the exact same thing. Right now, though, she felt grateful that someone had found the guts to do what needed to be done, without letting her know anything about it.