War Child--Rogue One

XXXVI

At breakfast, I'm shoving the delicious real food into my mouth when another tray joins our table.

I make a mental count. Linami. Gaspard. Me. Tinred, at the end of the table. And now—

"Leia Organa," the girl says, holding out a hand for Linami to shake.

She takes it. "Senator Organa's girl?"

"His daughter," the younger one says dramatically.

Linami chuckles while Leia turns to Gaspard to introduce herself.

"What do you do for the Rebellion?" Leia asks us.

"I'm a pilot," Linami tells her.

"Infantryman."  Gaspard shakes her hand sturdily.

She beams as she sits back again. "Baba said I could sit with all of you. How am I supposed to decide what's best for the Rebellion if I don't get to know you? He says that a leader should only be a leader if they recognize that the people that they are ordering around are sentient, just like they are."

"That's smart," Linami comments.

"Baba's smart."  She takes a bite of breakfast (eggs) and looks to the side.  "Is this your breakfast every day?"

"Most days," I tell her.  I like food.  It feels good to fill my stomach and stop the shaking.

"What do you eat other days?"

"Sometimes we get pastries with our eggs."

"When I'm a leader of the Rebellion, I am going to make sure that there are always pastries at breakfast.  Every single day."  She stabs her fork into the eggs with a sense of finality.  They slide off her fork.

"Think about the cost though," Gaspard says.  "If you're buying pastries, or the ingredients for pastries, for a few hundred Rebels, that's a lot more money than eggs.  The eggs all come from a coop here on base, so they're free, except for food.  Pastries cost, on average, 12 credits per ten.  Multiply that by 60, and that's--"

"Twelve multiplied by sixty is seven hundred twenty," Leia chants.

"Exactly.  Seven hundred twenty credits each day, expecting that there are only a few left over and nobody wants seconds."

"Oh."  She takes a bite of egg.  "Are there really six hundred Rebels here?"

Gaspard nods, then amends that statement.  "They're never all here at once.  Many of them are senators or family of senators, like yourself.  Others are spies, out in the field full time."

"Speaking of spies," Sergeant Tiso says, coming up behind Leia, who turns around to look at her, "Sergeant Andor, Mon Mothma requests your presence.  Immediately."

"What for?" I ask, standing.

"I'll take the eggs," Gaspard mutters.  I ignore him.

"Like I said.  Spies."  Her whiskers twitch.

"I'm no spy.  I've been loyal to the Rebellion since I came!"

"I know that.  But you can tell that to Mothma.  Come on."

Before we leave, she turns and gives Gaspard a smile.  He's too engrossed in his food to notice.

"Can you tell me anything at all?  Am I a suspect?" I ask as we hurry down the halls.

"All I can say is that you are not a suspect.  Nothing else is to be repeated outside of those walls, except to someone of a higher rank.  None of those people are of a higher rank than either of us, not even the princess, technically."

"She's a princess?"

"Also not to be repeated."  She jabs the button and the door opens.  "Go on."

I enter and stand before the short haired human woman.

"Cassian Andor."  She greets with a nod.

I return the gesture.  "Mon Mothma.  Why did you request to speak to me so suddenly?"

"You've been reassigned."

"What?"

"Sit down.  I have much to explain to you."  She motions toward a chair on the opposite side of her holographic table.

I sit.  "Where have I been reassigned to?  I've only been on the mission team for a little while, four weeks at the most.  What will Linami and Tinred do without a sniper?"

"Sit silently and I can explain."  She taps a display and lists show up.  They're all backwards, so I can't read them.  I do catch the distinctive pattern of my name, though, several times in fact.

She brings up what appear to be notes.  "Alright, Sergeant Andor.  You are not to be permanently reassigned, but will continue to function as Sniper five-ten.  However, you will be a spy at the disposal of the Rebellion.  Whenever we need you, you will be sent out, and your team will be off call until you return.  If you are killed in action, they will be assigned a sniper and resume duties.  Our first mission for you is to return to Fest to scout and see if the bases have changed drastically."

I shake my head.  "I can't go back there.  It's too dangerous."

"And how is it more dangerous than the missions you have run?" Mothma challenges.

"They know me there.  I grew up on Fest.  They'll recognize me, for sure."

"Many of the people you knew there have died, from natural and imperial causes."

"What about Tenielle?" I ask.

"Who?"

"My g—the one who betrayed Mother and I."

"She was recruited by the Empire and is now a junior officer on a star destroyer."

"How do you know that?"

"We have a large network of spies, who work with anything and everything, including records.  A Tenielle Yura showed up a while ago in records for the destroyer, which is currently halfway across the galaxy.  We can get you out of there long before she can come and recognize you."

I scrabble for another argument.  "They have a program.  They'll be able to tell who I am."

"The aging program?  We have someone changing that, too.  This is what the Empire thinks you look like."  An image shows up, projected by the table.  This man's nose is entirely different, his eyebrows are too high, and his lips too low.  It kind of looks like they just stretched an image of my face, and I tell her that.

"You're still unrecognizable based on this photo.  Do you want to help the Empire?"

I do.  "Yes."

She holds out a datapad.  "Here is your mission."