Tuesday 24 December 2019

Star Wars: Old Wounds (10)

"Greetings, my fellow denizens of the glorious Empire!" exclaimed Moff Wurmley, with feigned delight. Dak thought him an odious stub of a man, as wide as he was tall, a bulbous parcel of flesh and sweat, held together only by a constricting uniform and the unwavering sense of superiority of a man who spends his life failing upwards. 
"Now, as you are probably all aware, we have once again been the victim of a cowardly attack by Rebel insurgents." Wurmley muttered through his speech, rushing as if he was afraid he'd forget what he was saying if he spoke for too long. The gathered crowd began to jeer, some loudly wondering if further 'voluntary donations' would be asked for, others angry that the Rebels were not yet taken care of. 
"Now, I sense you're angry." stammered the Moff. "So am I. But we have struck a blow to our enemies..." He did not address the crowd directly, but aimed his speech above them, unwilling to make eye contact any of them. The crowd grew increasingly restless. 
"It has come to my, um, attention that there may be... Rebels... among you..." he uttered, flustered. The crowd continued to shout, while Dak and Wedge shared a worried glance.

"Enough!" cried a sudden, bold voice from behind the gathered crowd. The miners turned to see who had called out, and quickly, their murmuring died down. A figure had emerged from the shuttle on the landing platform. He stood tall, dressed in the pristine white tunic of a Grand Admiral. A half-cape billowed in the wind behind him, lined with red fabric, its edged embroidered in silver filigree. His jet black boots, perfectly polished, clacked neatly across the stony ground. His  chiseled features formed a striking image, with a lightly creased brow indicating his age. Combined with a well-trimed beard and greying temples, he appeared more dignified than merely old. He was flanking on either side by Stormtroopers, each clad in unusual, bronze hued armour.

"It appears that our Grand Admiral, Aegis Malefic, has decided to grace us with his presence." Wurmley announced, obsequiously. 

"That will be all, Atticus. I'll take it from here." replied the Admiral, as he took the Moff's place, pointedly refusing to shake the other man's outstretched hand.

"You are all busy people, so I shall be brief." The miners remained silent, seemingly stunned by Malefic's presence.

"Now, as you are painfully aware, Rebels have been attacking this base's supply routes for a number of weeks, despite the...best...efforts of Andriss' ruler here. As a result, I have personally intervened to ensure your protection, and to prevent further disruption to you all, and to your important work. We have already fended off the latest Rebel assault, though I'm sure you've heard the rumours by now. Two pilots were shot down last night. We believe them to have perished, but we cannot rule out their survival until we find their bodies."

"See?" Dak whispered in Wedge's ear. "Nothing to worry about, they think we're dead." Wedge didn't reply.

"However, if any of you have any information on these Rebels, I urge you to come forward. If any of you have helped these Rebels, know we will find out. You face a choice, to aid the Empire, and be a hero, or give refuge to our enemies and face the consequences. After all, none of you, I'm sure, would like to become the reason for further rationing efforts. The sooner these Rebels are dealt with, the sooner your full privileges can be restored." 

Malefic began to stroll through the crowd, casually glancing at the ID numbers stitched onto chests of the miner's jumpsuits. 

"The Empire rewards compliance. The Empire rewards loyalty. That is why I wish to honour the achievements of two of your number... ahh..!" he said, pointing with a flourish at Dak and Wedge. 

"Still think this was a good plan?" hissed Wedge. Dak didn't reply.

"These two loyal workers recently brought to our attention evidence of Rebel sympathisers organizing among the workforce." continued the Admiral. Dak glanced downwards at his armband, finally recognising its design. The mark of an Imperial informant. A quisling's band. He cursed his own sorry luck.

"Thanks to your bravery and dedication, the dissident cell was summarily dealt with, and is no longer a concern." He smiled at the pair, teeth gleaming like those of an apex predator. "I have personally arranged my visit to bestow upon you a great honour. You are to accompany these Stormtroopers to my office to recieve a commendation. The rest of you..." Malefic announced, turning to face the gathered mob, may go about your day, safe in the knowledge that the Rebel threat is very nearly extinguished!"

"Maybe this is a good thing." Dak whispered. 

"Do you honestly believe that?" replied Wedge, tersely.

"Unfortunately not. Let's hope R3 is having an easier time."

***

R3 trundled through the narrow corridors of the administritive building, twisting his dome from side to side nervously. He realised he was warbling anxiously to himself, and forced himself to stop. Instead, the droid began to whistle, almost nonchalantly, as he continued his search for the communications station. One of his internal sensors indicated a drop in pressure of his hydraulic fluid. His shoulder joint was beginning to drip again, which didn't help his disposition.

Despite his fears, the astromech has already made great progress. After he left his master, he joined a group of droids queueing to replace the previous shift. Sandwiched between a dark coloured protocol droid and a limping gonk unit, he made his way through the security checkpoint. The pair of stormtroopers on guard were inattentive, deep in arguement over rival swoop bike manufacturers. Once he was inside, he wasn't given a second glance, just another droid out of the dozens going about their daily routines inside the walls of of the base.

As the nervous droid rounded yet another corner, he trilled with delight upon arriving at a communication terminal, tucked discreetly into an alcove. Retracting his central stabilising leg, he waddled into position and inserted his data probe into the access port. He cast one last furtive glance by spinning his dome, before transferring his message. Every second it took to transmit seemed like a hour to his processing unit, increasing the odds of his discovery, until finally he recieved confirmation of his signal. Yet, despite his success, R3 did not feel relief, or even a simulation of the emotion. Instead, he uttered a series of concerned beeps, as he scanned a stream of internal messages passing through the terminal, concerning two fugitives.

***

Aboard the freighter "Centurion", Lara Sarvak was crouched by an access panel, simultaneously attempting to replace a sub-alternator on the hyper drive control matrix, and fend off the incessant advances of Wes Janson. 

"Sure you don't need any assistance?" asked the pilot, through a smirk. "You know, I'm very good with my hands. Ask anyone."

"I did actually." replied Lara, without turning away from her repairs. "They all told me the same thing: Watch out for Wes. He's a bit of a creep."

"Hey.." he replied, seemingly hurt, though it only took him a second to bounce back. "It's just one of the many comparisons between me and a rash. I'm also irritating, unsightly and very persistent."

Lara laughed, and turned to face him, flashing a slight smile. "Not to mention your rash decisions..." she started, before giving up on her own joke, mentally kicking herself.

"Maybe leave the one liners to me. You stick to the withering comments." he laughed. Lara wondered,  not for the first time, if he was even capable of taking anything seriously. "It's like Wedge always says..."

Then she saw it, a flicker of concern in the pilot's eyes, quickly brushed over. Wes needed to be irreverent, she realised. He had to be loud, always talking, to drown out the silence. Every pilot in the Rebellion had the same fears: the fear of their own deaths, obviously, but also the deaths of their comrades. Every mission was someone's last, after all. The Empire kept their pilots faceless, homogenized, replaceable. Pilots were discouraged from fraternising, but in the Rebellion, squadrons were family. They shared everything, they were each other's support, both in the air and outside the cockpit. Every mission they faced was against impossible odds, against a foe with superior numbers and firepower. Mortality rates were astronomical, so the friendships between pilots were often intensely deep and very brief. Everyone had their own way of dealing with their ghosts, and bluster was how Wes coped with his.

"I'm sure Wedge is fine. That they're both fine." Lara said, softly. 

"Course they will. They have to. I need to ridicule Wedge about being shot down by a TIE. Oh, he'll never hear the end of this one!" Wes replied, coolly. Lara saw a softening of his eyes, and she smiled in response. 

With a sudden shrill alert, their attention was drawn to the ship's main console. Lara sprinted towards it, hopping deftly over piles of spare parts and open gratings, while Wes followed behind somewhat less gracefully. 

"It's a transmission from Andriss." Lara called behind her, as she sank into her flight chair. "From R3, using Dak's personal code."

"Don't describe it, play the damn thing!" replied Wes, settling in the seat beside Lara. She flicked a switch on the console, and a small fuzzy hologram appeared before them, of two figures dressed in Rebel flight suits.

"This message will be brief." Dak's hologram explained. "Wedge and I survived our 'landing' on Andriss, but we are without transportation. The Empire is using this planet to test a new type of TIE fighter, one impervious to conventional blaster fire. The material from which they're made appears to absorb and reflect energy at an astounding rate. We believe this material is mined from this facility. This new technology must be destroyed now, before these advanced fighters are issued across the galaxy. We intend to infiltrate the compound, liberate an Imperial shuttle, and make our escape, with whatever information we can extract. However, escape will be impossible while Andriss remains under Imperial blockade. We will require support from the fleet to cause a distraction, if we are to escape, with information on this new threat. We will be unable to receive communications, and so trust that backup will arrive.  If not, we are willing to die for our efforts. Our position here is untenable, so we cannot wait. There is no time to formulate an alternative plan. If you receive this message, we are already inside the facility, so time is short. We will stall for as long as possible before attempting to escape, but I doubt we can remain undetected for long. If help doesn't arrive, if we die in the attempt, they may this message stand as an early warning for these new TIEs."

The message cut off with a hiss of static. 
"At least they're alive." Wes shrugged. "That's good news. A potential fleet of indestructible TIEs, not so much." He remembered the damage inflicted by a handful of those fighters over Andriss, and dreaded to think about what a whole fleet could do. Let alone capital ships armored in the same material.

"What are we going to do?!" exclaimed Lara, as she slammed the console in frustration. "Admiral Raddus will never sanction a rescue mission with these odss. And even if he did, we don't have anywhere near the firepower to confront a Destroyer." 

"Dont be so defeatist. I can be very persuasive. A little bit of Janson charm will be enough to win over old fishface. You'll see." Wes replied with a wink, as Lara buried her face in her hands, letting out a silent roar of frustration. 

Friday 1 November 2019

Star Wars: Old Wounds (9)

"That went well." Wedge sighed, as they trudged away from Sloane's residence, with R3 trundling behind them.

"Shut up." Dak replied, without turning back to face Wedge.

"This is why I leave diplomacy to the senators. I'm a pilot: Give me a target, I blow it up. Simple."

"Its rarely so black and white. I've never had time for absolutes." said Dak as he pivoted to lay a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Take the TIE pilots we fly against, most of them are young, fresh out of the Imperial Academies, just looking for an opportunity to leave their homes."

"I was one of them." Wedge admitted. "Until I found a better cause."

"Exactly. The Empire is built on malice, corrupt to its core, yet often its most loyal subjects are ordinary, decent people. That's the worst part. The galaxy is too busy tearing itself apart to realise who its true enemy is."

"So how do we fight that? How can you make someone act against their own self interest, and do the right thing?"

"You don't. You can't. Everyone has to make that decision for themselves." Dak sighed. "I used to think that setting a good example was enough. But look at the Jedi, supposedly paragons of virtue, heroes to be emulated, but in the end as corrupt and fallible as anyone else."

"So what keeps you going? In the face of all that, if people can't be helped, why bother?" 

"Honestly, I don't know anymore. Stubbornness, if anything. I still fight because I couldn't live with myself if I didn't. And maybe, if enough of us choose to stand up, one day we might actually make a difference." 

With that, the two men continued to hike in contemplative silence. Upon reaching the brow of a nearby outcrop, they found themselves overlooking the Imperial mining facility nestled in a valley below. A small gravel path snaked from their vantage point, down towards a small open area in front of a set of imposing durasteel gates. The base was surrounded by a thick duracrete wall, at least 10-feet tall on three sides. The rear of the enclosure backed up onto a shear cliff face, the base of which was dotted with crudely carved entrances to various mineshafts. The region within the barricades was dived in two by a modest chain link fence. On one side stood a prefabricated building consisting of modular offices, the same architecture as any Imperial base found on countless worlds. Next to the admisistrative building there was a landing pad on which sat an Imperial shuttle, and two modified TIE fighters with an unusual bronze colouration. The other side of the fence was clearly designated for the miners, with scattered mess tents, tool storage and workshops, along with a number of lumbering load lifters obeying their scheduled tasks. A much sturdier road snaked along the valley floor, linking the facility to a small town in which the miners resided. 

"So, what's the plan?" asked Wedge, as they surveyed the camp below them.

"Why must I have a plan? I've been in charge ever since you fell out of the sky. And you out rank me. Technically."

"Fine, fine." muttered Wedge, as he looked through a pair of cracked macrobinoculars. "We could try and commandeer the shuttle, make a break for it?"

"Risky, with the Destroyer blocking the colony. It's a toss up between a tractor beam or straight up vaporisation by ventral cannon. Neither would be ideal."

"Then we get into the facility, patch R3 into the comms system and call for assistance."

"One problem, assuming we survive long enough for help to arrive. There's nowhere near enough firepower in our fleet to take on a destroyer, even if we could convince them to get here." explained Dak.

"We don't need to take it out. Not really."

"How do you figure that? Are you going to ask the Moff really nicely to let us pass?"

"We only need a few ships, enough to cause a distraction. While the Imps turn to deal with them, we take the shuttle and slip away."

"Wedge, when we get back home, you're getting your head examined. I think the crash affected you worse than I thought."

"Do you have a better plan?" Wedge replied, a slight grin creeping across his face.

"On second thought, I love this plan. I'm excited to be a part of it!"

*****

The pilots continued down a gravel trail, descending from their vantage point into the valley below. There was a rough path through the loose shale which they followed, sticking to the shadows where possible as night slowly became dawn. Along the main thoroughfare below them, the first miners were already travelling from the town, to take their places during the next shift change. 

As Dak and Wedge reached the valley floor, they took cover behind a parked load-lifter, and studied the gathered crowd of miners. A couple dozen men had already gathered, split into several groups who were conversing and laughing before their shifts began. However, a solitary pair took Dak's interest, as they were distinctly isolated from the rest. 

"Those two don't seem popular." Dak whispered, drawing Wedge's attention to them with a pointed nod.

"Look at their armbands. Supervisors? Management? Might explain why nobody wants to chat with them?" 

"Possibly. But it is an opportunity. Be ready for my signal." 

"Wait!" Wedge hissed in reply, but it was too late. Dak had already begun to slink towards an adjacent load-lifter, and towards the two isolated miners. As he crept forward, he scooped up a handful of small pebbles from the ground. When he reached his position, a few metres away from the two men with only a load-lifter between them, he tossed the first stone towards their feet. One of the men looked up briefly at the noise before returning to his conversation. The second rock bounced off his boot. 

Dak watched the man through a gap in the load-lifter's frame. He saw anger flare across his face, tinged with a brief flash of resignation in his eyes, as if this was not an unusual occurrence. He tapped his partner on the shoulder and walked in the direction from which Dak has tossed the rocks, muttering quietly about how "they're at it again."

The pair adopted a wide, intimidating stance as they approached the load-lifter. As they crossed around its front, Dak snuck around the opposite side and kept going, looping behind them. The pair stood side by side, looking ahead as Dak maneuvered behind them. With a quick hand signal towards Wedge, he swung a fist into the side of the first man's head. The man fell to the ground, and the other spun around, catching Dak by the throat before he could react. "You'll pay for that, Rebel scum..." he snarled, just before Wedge jabbed his ribs from behind. The man wheezed and doubled over in pain. Dak charged him, driving him to the floor. In the span of a few moments, both miners were unconscious. Wedge looked around nervously, expecting others to have heard the struggle, but nobody came. 

"If you're done gazing around, help me strip these guys." grunted Dak, as he undid the first set of overalls.

"Excuse me?" Wedge exclaimed.

"Keep it down! And give me a hand, unless you'd prefer to infiltrate that base in your very orange flightsuit."

"Next time, tell me your plan first. You could have gotten us killed." hissed Wedge angrily. "I thought you were tired of making plans anyway."

"I was. I am. But you were taking too long." replied Dak with a shrug. "Now come on, the shift is changing soon and we still need to hide these two."

*****

A short time later, the two unconscious miners lay bound and gagged in the back of a load-lifter. Dak and Wedge, in their new uniforms, joined the growing throng of people in front of the facilities gates. 

"Stop fidgeting." Dak whispered. "You look ridiculous." 

"Of course I do. You just had to pick someone two sizes larger than me..."

"Its not like I had a choice." Dak replied defensively. "Just act casual, and we'll get through this."

"I hope R3 is having an easier time." 

"He'll be fine. He always is." 

Dak had sent the astromech droid to join the Imperial droid pool. It would have been too risky to bring him with them as the miners changed shifts, so R3 had to find his own way in by a secondary security gate designated for the mining droids. Dak had, overs the years, fitted the stubby green droid with an array of advanced and somewhat illegal infiltration modules and deception subroutines for such occasions. However, he had a tendency to tremble uncontrollably or leak oil while 'undercover', due to a persistent software glitch Dak had been unable to pinpoint. Something in his motherboard made the poor droid a nervous wreck. Dak smiled to himself as he wondered who would stand out more, Wedge or R3. 

The droid had been given a recorded message from the pair, explaining their plight and requesting assistance. His orders were to get into the base's communications array and send an encrypted transmission to Lara, while the pilots tried to liberate a transport. 

Dak and Wedge ceased chatting as a siren blared out from speakers atop the gate. As the noise ceased, the gates slid open with a mechanical screech, and the night shift workers began to trudge outside, accompanied a squad of Stormtroopers who took positions around the entrance. Some miners stopped briefly to chat with the new shift waiting outside, but most kept waking, either out of tiredness or fear of the Stormtroopers watching them. The pilots waited until a few others began to head inside, then followed in their footsteps. As the strode past the Stormtroopers, Wedge found himself staring directly ahead, desperate to avoid eye contact with any of the bulky white helmets surrounding him. He missed being in a cockpit, and the feeling of control he had while flying. Down here, he felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But he kept walking regardless.

They followed the group into the main courtyard, until a group of Imperial officers halted them. Wedge's eyes widened with fear, but sensing his friend's panic, Dak silently urged calm. 

"What's this all about?" called one of the miners, as he approached an officer. "We got a shift to get started. We've got your precious quotas to fulfil." A couple of others cheered on their fellow with boisterous shouts, but were quickly silenced when a group of troopers raised their blasters threateningly. The accosted officer help up a hand, and the troopers relaxed. Slightly. "Come now, no need for unpleasantness. You local ruler and generous benefactor, Moff Atticus Wurmly merely wishes to address you all on the topic of Rebel attempts to disrupt this mighty facility, and the vital work you do here. Don't worry, it shall be brief."

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Wedge sighed.