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The target on Jenoport was a weapons and information trader, a woman who worked for both the rebellion and the Empire–though Cassian would classify that she only worked for herself. It had been an easy shot, clean and quick, and he should have been in and out and back into hyperspace with Kay in less than 30 minutes. But he hadn’t counted on the boy being there, on the wandering child who found his mother slumped over on a cargo crate, a blaster hole through her head.
The child was maybe ten standard years, tousled blonde hair, cheeks still round with babyfat. He wasn’t the same age as you when you lost you parents, he told himself, quickening his step, the bag with is disassembled rifle bouncing on his back. But his hands were still shaking. You were younger.
His legs burned as he moved faster and faster over the rocky terrain, and when he was within a klick of the ship, his eyes began to burn, too. He could still hear the child’s blood-curdling wail, a feral, animal scream of despair. What had he sounded like when his mother had died? When his father had?
Soon, he could see Kay’s spindly form in the distance and the glow of the light orbs turned in his direction. The droid loped his way toward Cassian and said, “Good, you made it back three minutes earlier than I had calculated. We can head–” but Kay’s words faltered as Cassian brushed past him, past their ship, and headed toward the cliff.
Chest tight, Cassian found a seat on a flat stone and stared out, vision blurred, at the horizon. He hadn’t thought about his parents in years, and at the same time he thought about themevery waking minute of his life. They were why he was here and here in this moment now. Now, he could almost count in decades the time between when he last had a family and when he had not. When was the last time he had held or been held by someone he loved, when an embrace hadn’t been a tussle, when a kiss hadn’t been guided by desperation and loneliness?
When he found his blaster out of his holster and in his hands, he didn’t bother questioning his own intent. The cold metal warmed in his hands, all its familiar parts, the edges smoothed from wear from his fingers finding the trigger over and over again over the years.
“Cassian?” K2SO’s heavy steps clanged behind him, a surprising note in his usual salty tone.
“Yes, Kay?” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.
“We need to return to base. The three minutes extra minutes you saved have now passed, and we are now behind schedule.”
“Thank you, Kay.”
“Cassian?”
Kay stepped closer, and Cassian could hear his joints shift as though he were crouching. “What is it?”
“If your continued dignity and service demand it, when we are onboard the ship, I can perform a voluntary memory wipe of this moment.”
Cassian laughed, felt the weight lift off his chest. “That won’t be necessary, my friend.”
“Affirmed, then,” Kaytoo said.
Cassian rose to his feet, reholstered his blaster. “Shall we go?”
“That would be the idea,” Kay said, and soon they were off, streaking through hyperspace, the tears in his eyes replaced by starlines.