"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.
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