Ele achava que deixar o informante Tivik in-situ era um risco muito grande. Os stormtroopers estavam à procura de tipos suspeitos e ele não tinha meios de extraí-lo.
Tivik recognized his intent. “Are you crazy? I’ll never climb out of here.” He tugged himself away from Cassian’s grip—Cassian released him after a moment—and adjusted his sling. “My arm…” He rotated his body awkwardly to watch the alley mouth.
Cassian heard footsteps and a distant, distorted yell. He looked Tivik up and down and realized that, in all likelihood, the man was right: He really couldn’t make it up the wall, not without help and not swiftly. In the best-case scenario, by the time both he and Cassian were up on the roofs, the stormtroopers would already have identified them and initiated a cordon.
...
“We’ll be all right,” Cassian said. And for the third time that day, he squeezed the trigger on his blaster. He heard the sickly electric squawk, smelled burning fibers and worse as Tivik fell to the ground. The informant let out one last little groan, like he’d been troubled in his sleep, and lay still.
They would’ve caught you, Tivik. You would’ve broken. You would’ve died. And neither of us would deliver your message.
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A third stormtrooper appeared at the far end of the alley. Rather than charge in to be shot, he called for backup. “Troopers down. Section nine.”
Cassian scanned the alley for a means of escape and spotted some easy handholds he could use to climb out. With Tivik’s damaged arm, though, he’d never make it. Cassian couldn’t leave him there to be captured. The man would crack for sure, and if he told the Empire what he knew…
Cassian had no choice. He leveled his blaster and shot Tivik dead. The stormtrooper stood there, stunned, and watched the man fall.