War Child--Rogue One

VII

My first mission comes four days later. When Aden visits, he's super polite, like the last time, and normal around Mother.

Then, while she's getting the dishes all cleaned up, he pulls me over and palms me a small disk.

"What's this?" I ask, praying that it isn't another bomb.

"A bomb."

I curse quietly, so there's no chance of Mother hearing. "I'm not getting involved with one of these again."

"Don't worry. You won't detonate it. I will."

"Even better." Sarcasm drips off my voice.

"Listen. I know what happened. It won't happen this time. All you have to do is figure out a way to get this near the door. Then, after a few days, when nobody will suspect you, I'll detonate it. Just make sure it's out in the next few days, and that you aren't in the area at high noon in eight days."

I shake my head.

"You joined us for a reason."

I sigh and pocket the bomb. "You're sure it won't just go off?"

"It won't."

I'm still uncertain though, so I keep it as far from Mother and my beds as possible, but if it's as powerful as I think it is, that won't help.

Three days later, I walk by, like I always do on my daily excursion, which Mother insists on, since the "cold air will do you good."  This time, I have a small metal disk in my pocket, as well as a handful of other small toys that I used to play with, probably six years ago or so.  I'm alright with losing a few of those. 

Or all. 

Probably all.

Preferably all.

There's always ice in front of the door.  One of the first times I walked past, I slipped and fell so hard that I knocked the wind out of myself.  I've always been careful since, but today, I purposefully put too much pressure on my right foot and slip on the slick ice.  Everything in my pockets go flying.

I lie there for a second.  My lack of breath is not acting.  I roll over, and see a troop of stormtroopers marching out of the door.  Good.  I roll out of the way and watch as the toys get trampled, and the silver disk is kicked into the snow about a meter from the door.  Perfect.

I pretend to be upset, and hang back until they're gone.  Then I slide over and pick up the pieces of toys, in the process tucking the bomb farther into the snow.  An officer walks over and tells me to leave, and I do, feigning reluctance.

After a bit, I return home.

On the eighth day, I take an earlier walk, getting home an hour before lunchtime.  Mother wants to go to the market, but that's over past the west base, and I don't want her caught up in all that, so I tell her I'll go tomorrow.

She submits finally, and we sit in a pile of blankets with the heater on low.  Mother works on a few blankets, while I work to repair an old blaster.

It fell from a shelf, and now the trigger is jammed.

I turn it over in my hand.  Maybe I should get rid of it, before our house gets searched, which could happen after Aden detonates the bomb.  I stand and go retrieve the other blaster, the one I didn't drop from a shelf, and pry the hidden trap door out of the floor with my fingernails.

"What are you doing?" Mother asks.

"I saw some snipers around the square today," I lie, "If we're searched, I want to keep the blasters hidden."  I drop the lid back down and roll the rug back over it.

She hands me a blanket.  "If you're not going to work on that, work on one of these instead."

As I pull the needle through the fabric, I can't help but glance up at the holoclock on the wall.  Noon comes and goes, and no blast.

At 12:42, a huge shock rocks our home, knocking dishes to the floor.  Mother and I both jump up, discarding the blankets on the ground.  We wrap coats around ourselves and poke our heads out of the door to see.

A plume of black smoke rises from the base, and I can hear blasters firing.

I touch Mother's arm.  "Let's get back inside, just in case."

We go back in, and she makes a movement to get the blasters.  I tell her not to.  They're going to search for sure, to make sure they get everyone involved.

I hope they don't catch Aden.

I hope they don't catch me.