War Child--Rogue One

X

I invite Amya to dinner sometime, and she shrugs.  "I guess so.  Thank you, Cassian."  She offers me some more tea, but I decline, standing.

"I've really got to get home.  I heard rumors of a big snowstorm sweeping this way from the south."  I pull my hat down over my head.  "Thanks for your hospitality, Amya."

"Yes, yes, anytime."

She looks distracted when I leave.

Instead of going home, I look for Aden.  I have no clue where to look, so I go to the center square, where the market is.  Maybe he's buying cloth right now for Mother.

I wander through the market, fingering the small amount of credits I keep in my pocket.  I see a set of needles Mother could use.

"How much are these?" I ask.

"How much?" the vendor clarifies.

"Yeah, how much for the needles?"

"Usually, twenty-five credits.  But for you, you I like you, I charge you ten credits."

That's a pretty steep price for a dozen normal needles.

I tsk, and say, "That's still a bit much.  Five?"

"No, no.  Lowest is nine."

"I don't have that much," I tell him, and pull out seven credits.  They've got bumps on them where the value is raised from the surface, and, with enough practice, it's actually pretty easy to feel what the value is.  I have more than seven credits, but one of the biggest rules of bartering is to make sure that you only show as much money as you're willing to spend.

He tilts his head, counting the five piece and two one pieces silently.  "Okay, I can sell for seven credits.  Deal?"

I smile.  "Deal.  Thank you."

"Thank you, thank you," he says, bobbing his head and reaching for the needles to put them in a bag.

"I don't need a bag, thank you."

He hands me the card of needles, and I pocket it.  "Thank you.  Have a good day."

"Thank you, thank you."

I continue my search.  I finally find him, holding a smaller girl, with rusty hair peaking out from under her hat, by the hand.

"Aden!"

He turns.  "Cassian?"

I jog over.  "I was looking for you."

Aden sighs.  "Is it anything about the other night?"

I nod.

He turns to the girl and tells her to go home, that he'll catch up with her.

"Who's that?"

"My sister," he says off-handedly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "What do you need?"

"Someone was captured after he attack." I glance around to make sure that nobody is listening. "I just remembered, Mother wants you to come over sometime." I raise my voice just a bit. "Actually, now is perfect."

"Alright. Well, let's go." He shrugs.

On our way, I tell him that Mother is gone at the market. It's the truth. I'd forgotten, but she wanted to get some meat. So we can talk together in privacy.

Inside, I lock the door and turn to Aden.

"A boy was captured. A friend of mine was released to make room for him. He's going to be executed."

He lifts his hands. "Wait, wait. Who was captured?"

"I don't know. A twilek named Amya was released to free up a cell."

He paces. "I believe everyone is accounted for. Nobody told me otherwise."

"What are you taking about? They're executing the wrong kid!" I run my hand through my hair.

"But it isn't you. We need you, your mom needs you, the rebels need you."

"Why should I be glad that someone else is dying for my crime?"

"You don't need to be glad, okay? You just need to stay alive." He steps forward and holds my shoulders firmly. "Listen to me. There is nothing you can do. There. Is. Nothing."

I push Aden's hands from my shoulders. "That doesn't mean it's okay. Can't we rescue him?"

"No. We can't." He sighs. "Were you not listening to me? There's nothing!"

I've never felt so powerless. Not when Father died, not when Lac died or Theron was captured. But now someone is going to die because of me.

"Get out."

"Cass..."

"I told you not to call me Cass. An innocent person is dying because of me. Because of you. I don't want anything to do with you."

"There was nothing we could do at all!"

"We could have not even tried to blow up the base."

"You have to be willing to make sacrifices for the destruction of the Empire."  Aden turns and swiftly leaves.

I sit down on a pile of blankets and run my hands through my hair. Most eleven-year-olds on different planets, say, Coruscant, are probably still doing the kind of things normal people do. Play with action figures, ogle a crush or something. But circumstances, or fate, or coincidence, whatever you want to call it, has frowned on me, so I have to be a rebel whose mind is occupied by the boy who will be executed for my crimes against the Empire.