Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Valley-One, go. Valley-One.

He's 12, he can dress himself.

Anyone doesn't want to hustle for the next ten minutes, raise your hand.

TARAMYN: Vel, take him.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

The Dhanis would rather lose, they'd rather suffer, than accept.

Colonel Petigar?

KLEYA: There's nothing else you can do, Luthen.

Tell him, sir. Tell him he needs to leave.

SKEEN: You think he'll make it?

-(GROANING) -(BLASTER FIRES)

Perhaps they'll think differently tomorrow.

NEMIK: It will. It locks in.

CASSIAN: Where are we heading?

Get that transfer, leave this stinking planet?

Bring 'em in, bring 'em in. Keep loading!

(PILGRIMS GASP)

(BEEPING, WHIRRING)

CINTA: Will do. Valley-One out.

You mean nothing to them.

Nemik's manifesto.

You're not here to save anybody but yourself.

(SOLDIERS LAUGHING)

- Let the boy go! - Jayhold...

I don't control the vault!

Get this thing in the air!

SOLDIER 1: Come on.

- Out! Out! - JAYHOLD: This is not an inspection,

catch our breath,

- Move. - ROBODA: Please.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYING)

I'll give you 30,000 credits for the ship in the barn.

VEL: Enough! Move! Move!

(VEL AND SKEEN GRUNT)

But if we go down, you're right there with us.

(CASSIAN GRUNTING)

(DISTORTED) In... Repeat. We're in... the freighter now.

(WHIRRING INTENSIFIES)

- She wants to bail on him. - He's dying.

Fire in the hole!

KLEYA: It's a Devaron blue.