“Where are you taking me?” Jyn asked.

“Don’t you trust me?” Hadder turned, letting the ship veer south.

It had been more weeks than Jyn liked to count since she and Hadder had last been in the air. Akshaya was starting to have trouble with the shipment runs as more and more Imperial checkpoints were scanning ships and cargo in the area, which meant she was grounded, grumpy, and too present for them to sneak away on the planet hopper.

“Don’t worry,” she would tell Jyn every time the Empire came up. “We’re ants, remember?”

Which wasn’t really that much comfort to Jyn.

But Akshaya had gotten a new shipment order earlier that week, and she’d left on her run. And Jyn had known as soon as her freighter broke atmosphere Hadder would find a reason to take out the planet hopper.

“I trust you,” Jyn said now, propping her feet up on the console, “to use any excuse you can find to leave Skuhl. Which is why I have no idea why we’re still planetside.”

Hadder hummed to himself smugly. Jyn looked around for something to throw at him, but before she could find anything, the ship’s nose started to dip. Jyn leaned up, looking out over the landscape.

“It’s more grass,” she said, unenthused.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Hadder said, initiating the landing sequence.

“You’re being all secretive about where we’re going, but it’s just another field. With more grass.”

“Isn’t Skuhl lovely?” Hadder said, flipping the switch that lowered the gangway.

Jyn still felt anticipation curling inside her when she headed off the planet hopper, but as she looked around, she couldn’t help being disappointed. Just as she’d seen from the cockpit window, there was nothing there but exactly the same type of field she’d seen every morning when she stepped outside her home.

“This way,” Hadder called. He had a bundle of cloth under his arm.

Jyn followed him across the gently rolling field. A blue-green pond glittered in the blue-green grass, and Hadder spread out a blanket for them.

“We came all this way for a picnic?” Jyn asked, plopping down on the blanket.

“Such a pessimist.” Hadder shook his head, smiling, as he laid out their feast—sticky handfuls of bunn coated in seeds and a small steamer basket of dumplings.

Jyn claimed the dumplings, stuffing two into her mouth at the same time and chewing as she poured juice for herself and Hadder.

“Classy,” Hadder said, smiling as he poked one of Jyn’s stuffed cheeks.

“So why are we really out here?” Jyn asked after she swallowed.

“I’ve been thinking of joining a group that fights the Empire.”

If there was anything Jyn hadn’t expected, it was that.

“They’ll let me fly. Mum still has the ridiculous notion that I’ll get sick and die if I go out, but I’m old enough now. I’ve heard talk about a recruiter in the system. I could find him. Join up.”

Jyn’s stomach churned. It was hard for her to imagine Hadder fighting the way Saw did, but she could absolutely see him in a Z-95, shooting down TIEs.

“What do you think?” Hadder asked.

“Why are you asking me?”

Hadder looked at Jyn, surprised that she was confused. “Don’t think I forgot the way you handled yourself in that alley. You never talk about your past, but I know you were a freedom fighter. What do you think about them? Should I join up?”

Jyn pretended not to care. “Do what you want,” she said.

Hadder set down his plate and moved closer to Jyn so he was facing her, his fingertips centimeters from her knees. “I’m asking what you think,” he said. “Could I make a difference?”

Jyn nodded mutely.

His eyes slid to a spot behind her, to the horizon and the sky. “Mum would hate it, but I could fly with them,” he said, mostly to himself. “She’s so in love with this idea of not being noticed by the Empire, but we both know that’s not going to last.” His eyes met hers again, and she saw something in them, something steely and fierce, and she knew if he joined this partisan group, he would be more than a pilot. He’d be a hero. “We can’t sit around, hoping we’re not stomped. We have to do what we can.”

Jyn’s eyes burned, but she didn’t let herself look away. She had believed for how long now? More than a year. She’d been with Hadder and Akshaya more than a year, and she’d let herself believe, like Akshaya believed, that they could be safe and hidden and left alone. And together.

Hadder moved even closer. His hand was on her leg, his face so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. “If I joined the rebellion, would you come with me?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

She swallowed, hard, and emotion boiled inside her. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I—”

A rare frown marred Hadder’s face. “I thought—with your past…?”

Jyn’s eyes burned. “I don’t want to go back to that. This is different, and that’s good.”

“You’re sure?” Hadder asked. “You don’t even want to talk to my contact?”

Something crackled in Jyn’s heart—fear. “Your contact?” she asked in a cooler tone.

“Just someone I met at the diner. He was putting out feelers for people who may want to fly.”

“Fighting the Empire is about more than flying,” Jyn said. She drew away.

He closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers. The kiss startled her, but it felt natural, as if they’d been doing it for years. When he pulled back, he said, “If you’re not going, then I’m not going. I’d rather have you than the chance to fly.”

“I can’t take that away from you,” Jyn said.

“And I can’t take myself away from you.”

He kissed her again, harder, and she could taste the longing within him, the feelings he’d tried to keep in check. And she understood why he’d wanted to take her outside the town and away from their home to say this, to do this. They could be honest out there, under the open sky, in a way they never could with a roof over their heads. They could pretend they belonged to forever just as much as they belonged to each other.

A long time later, Jyn lay beside Hadder, watching as the clouds drifted farther apart. He played idly with her hair, rubbing the silky ends between his fingers.

A rustling in the grass nearby caught Jyn’s attention, and she rolled over on the blanket, watching as a tiny brown creature crept forward. No bigger than her hand, the little mouselike animal had pale brown fur, a tiny pink twitching nose, and big black eyes, with a cute furrow in its brow that made it look comically worried.

“Hello, there,” Jyn whispered lazily.

Hadder looked up, and his movement made the little animal dart several centimeters away, standing on its hind legs and scrunching its nose in concern.

“A bulba,” Hadder said.

They watched as the bulba regained its courage, racing up and then halting again, tentatively touching the edge of the blanket with one tiny paw. Its long tail, covered in fine fur that ended in a tuft, curled around its body. Hadder reached over to the basket, plucked a handful of bunn from their reserves, and held it out for the bulba. It sniffed warily, then nibbled at a few grains. In moments, the bulba allowed Hadder to scoop his hands under it and lift it closer so Jyn could see.

“It’s adorable,” she said as the bulba stuffed grains of bunn into its cheeks.

“See this?” Hadder ruffled the fur on the bulba’s back. The little creature shuddered but didn’t pause eating. Jyn saw a tiny green vine stained with pink on the edges tangled in the fur along the bulba’s spine.

“Bulba mothers always make a nest out of a dying vine that grows here,” Hadder explained. “The seeds on the flowers of the vine plant themselves into the thin skin of the babies. They create a symbiotic relationship—the vines take root inside the bulbas. We had to dissect them in class. Bulba bones are incredibly thin. Here, feel.”

Hadder dumped the little creature into Jyn’s hands. It was practically weightless; her thin scarf was heavier.

“The roots wrap their way around the bulba’s bones, giving them strength. Without the plant, this little guy wouldn’t be able to live.”

“Wow,” Jyn said.

“It’s a true symbiotic relationship. The plant’s seed grows inside the animal, giving the animal life, because without it, it would never be able to survive. Once the bulba dies, new vines grow from its body, and bulba mothers turn their flowers into nests, which leads to a new generation being born and new seeds being planted.”

Jyn stroked the fur of the bulba, feeling the tendrils of the vine growing from its back. Its skin rippled in pleasure, and it chittered at her.

“I’ve been here almost a year, and I had no idea this little creature existed,” Jyn said. She lowered her hands to the quilt, and the bulba scurried away once it was certain they were not going to give it any more food.

Hadder shrugged. “They’re just rodents.”

“They’re amazing,” Jyn insisted. “We spend so much time pushing the edges of our galaxy, jumping on ships to explore new planets, but we know almost nothing about each individual world. There is so much about each planet that’s unique, that’s special, and we ignore it because we’re so busy trying to throw ourselves into space.”

“To be fair,” Hadder said, sweeping Jyn’s hair off her shoulder so he could kiss her neck, “I’m much more focused on throwing myself at you.”

Jyn playfully pushed him aside. “If you were so interested, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Because if you didn’t want me, you would break my heart and potentially my body.”

Jyn leaned in closer, her lips centimeters from his. “Who’s to say I won’t do that anyway?”

Hadder fell back onto the blanket. “You can do whatever you want to my body,” he said, his hooded eyes gazing up at her.

So she did.