mission by fliegenderstern

Even Kar had found it odd– not even relying on the Force. Usually you were up to your eyeballs in Carida Corsairs . Their raucous laughter and conversation was gone. the air was tense, almost electric. Like a single spark would set everything ablaze.

Kar nursed her glass of tihaar. She learned the first thing in a situation like this was to play is casual. Act cool. Sometimes play dumb. 

Knowing there’s a trap is the first step of evading it. 

She’s got it from a book during her time in the other galaxy, but it rang true. Something was clearly going down and it was too convenient to not be for them.

“I have a hunch something’s looking for us…” She said aloud, using the old euphemism from her Clone Wars days. It paid to keep this ace up her sleeve. Her voice was soft. “Keep your head cool and your hand on your blaster…”

Kar was scanning subtly, trying to find out who.  The downside of being an underworld hub was that strangers were coming in all the time…

Her eyes narrowed as she drew the blaster under the table. By now the bartender had sunk out of view. She could hear a pin drop in this silence.     “Do we move?” Hera whispered, picking Kar’s brain. She had been in these situations more often than her. Someone had found them and, from the looks of things, it was their move. One well aimed blaster could be the end of her and whatever hopes she had of a rebellion. Hera couldn’t let that happen.   

She paused, thinking. “I have spotted some promising recruits, however, as they are still from Imperial families…but not that everyone is as loyal as they act…”

Nightseer being the case in the point. As far as the Empire knew he had been the most loyal of Imperials, and yet…

“Fresh from the academy of Carida– some of them slated for our old place in SOB. Our contact in there might be able to request a transfer into the Bureau. Even if they have to work their way up– we need someone there. I don’t like feeling blind.”

Kar’s tone turned to sound clearly irritated. Hindering her was never a good or wise idea. She would find a way or make one, no matter what.

“If I can’t see what’s going on, how am I supposed to watch all of your backs?”

Her eyes hit the cantina sign, still glowing in the daylight and her mod only slightly improved. A drink sounded better with each step closer, at least the chatter would drown them out as well. 

-

They took their drinks, reminisced pastimes and laughed at imperial policies. Hera later parted company with Karlii —the woman she had just flown here— and moved to dark corner of the cantina where she could contact another affiliate.

A hologram of a hooded figure sprung from the communicator.     “Three rotations.”     A curt nod and the hologram dissipated. Three planetary rotations. That was how long the Ghost would be out of commission.  

It was the way back to the table that made her uneasy. She couldn’t pinpoint it. Was it the look of the bartender, or the sudden absence of guests? Hera carefully sat beside the familiar Mandalorian woman, wondering if she had a similar feeling. 

“Not sure. We need an Imperial golden child type. Or one who can play the part.” Kar explained. “Being human is a plus, someone from Corrie, maybe Kaas…”

Nightseer had his eye on Kaas, given his new-found position, but regardless of where they were from, their new in-being would have to be vouched by him in the end.

“Military or paramilitary experience would be good, slicing skill, and willing to keep their cover to the utmost…”

Kar paused, hoping to bring the point home. “Once they’re in, they’re going to have to do some possibly nasty things, and know their allies will likely not know their position. For all intents and purposes— they’re ISB.”

Some of the younger members seemed to have this black-white dichotomy of the war, unaware of the mire of moral grey space that really lingered. The world of espionage and counter intelligence was a murky one. Their operative needed to able to handle that.

“Your cell is doing more than enough. Help the people, keep your strikes small and hindering. It may prove the distraction we need while we install our new mole…”

On top of things as usual. Hera soaked in the woman’s reply, stopping to stare at the looming clouds. It was peaceful here. Hera felt at ease knowing that her work was making a difference; a small difference, but one nonetheless. 

“Did you already have someone in mind? Your mole, I mean.”   

"Alderaan, Chandrilla, and Corellia have been peaceful protesting, but funding our efforts under the table.” Kar explained. She had known most of the resistance leaders since the time of the Clone Wars. “Naboo seems conflicted, but many seem to want the Republic to return.”

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Hera squinted from all the intel; it was almost overwhelming. She had forgotten how connected the human woman was. How many skirmishes she must have been in, and not just with the Empire. It made Hera feel young, inexperienced. To Kar, Hera must have been a naive pilot, like many she would have encountered throughout the vast galaxy.

When they cleared the hangar, their eyes met when she spoke of Nightseer. How would they ‘get someone in’ exactly? “Is there any way the Ghost can help with that?” There she went again, naively trying to aid every corner of a growing rebellion. 

“Once they aren’t bogged down on other fronts, I don’t doubt it.” 

Kar replied, slipping into a a more relaxed gait, the port a little more crowded than the norm. “Hutt Space is pretty much bought out, leaving Rishi and a few backwater planets free— for now. We’ve had it good for the ten years I have been working out here, but it’s a matter of time.”

The cries of the sea avians circling over, mingled with the buzz of outside conversation and dock machinery as she spoke. At this point, she’d been instinctively walking to the cantina to check in.

“Most of these folks are here because they don’t want to be under anyone’s thumb, the’ll fight for their freedom like every other occupied planet. Harder even, since our backs are to the wall after this. No place in this galaxy to go at that point…”

They fought because they had no place to go. The Empire was a master of snatching freedoms away from every planet they had ‘occupied’. 

On the way through the port, Hera had been eyeing merchants for an astromech droid. After her recent entanglement, she realized an extra set of hands run by a binary calculator would be extremely helpful. So far, no luck.

“But speaking of the Empire. What is occupying them? Apart from us, I mean. There are rumors that Alderaan is harboring anti-Empire activists.”

Kar gave a brief nod. 

“Where we’re going, the Imps shouldn’t be much of a concern. You should be able to get the ol’ girl in shape in relative peace.”

 Kar would make sure Hera would be safe— and didn’t play when it came to that. Her group had established territory on the planet and defended it well over the years. They’d have no trouble with some of the older groups— and especially the Red Novas.

Maybe if Hera was lucky she’d catch Kar giving the little shit a lesson in proper manners, if he showed his face.

When Rishi came into view, there was a feeling like Kar was arriving home, one of the few safe places in the galaxy she could act without deception and lies. The little song and dance her and the Dead men had played since the fall of the Republic got tiring sometimes. 

“Welcome to Rishi— one of the last truly free places in the galaxy.” She commented, before turning away. For the first time since they started the job, she’d had her helmet off, tucked under her arm, eagerly awaiting to get off.

She thought of home; how different it was from the planet they were on. She was used to sandcrete and desert. Wastelands with the occasional oasis. Not lukewarm tropics. The sharp hiss of the fuel rod brought her back. The Ghost had been lodged in the hangar. She parted with the Bothans, whom now had found a new ally in smuggling. It was just Kar who she followed now.

“Truly free? I bet that won’t stop the Empire from putting boots on the ground.”

"As most of us do." Ij admitted. "Still don’t know what deal was brokered to get you them, but I wouldn’t question it."

They were some of the finest weaponsmiths in the galaxy— something the Empire was sure to eventually take advantage of if they could. But hey, if Ij could even it out with a few well-place shipments, they did their job. 

The tooka that Ij had made friends with had shot off into the grass. The Mando gave a small, forlorn look as it ran, then helped pushed the crates. If it would return or not, they didn’t know.

"I take it the Verps aren’t too fond of the anti-alien sentiment, if you ask me." Ij speculated. "But hey, if the Imps keep enslaving folks, they’re gonna make a lot of enemies to be sure…"

But would it be enough? At this point, Ij wasn’t sure

“They’ve already made a lot of enemies.” Her reply was sharp. “They just don’t know how exactly to retaliate. Everyone wants to see the ‘great Galactic Empire fall.’ 

They were on the ship and Hera pointed out which crates were to be delivered, among others; Rations for the poor, weapons for the willful and so on. This was how she made credits. And credits are what maintained the ship.

Her hands were now on her hips. “That should be everything.”

A strong urge to make a comment about uppity kids was quashed. Showing her her veteran status. Still there would be a good few words between Kar and the Novas on her return. Kar never made a threat she didn’t follow through with, and she wasn’t going to give that up at this age. Especially with the pirates.

But first she had to get back to Rishi in one place. 

The points of light turned into Bands as they made the jump, a shift so familiar and at this time, even a great comfort. The Imps wouldn’t be able to follow or attack, meaning she had a break between gunning. 

Exiting the turrets, she met up with the group. 

"After this, I’m gonna need a stiff drink. "She commented. "Or four."

No more blasters, explosions or pirates and the Empire would never be able to track their signature; they were free. Hera stretched then slouched, listening as the Bothans cheered in the background. Suddenly the loss of their ship wasn’t such a big deal, plus, the way things worked out, it seemed like they owed her for saving their lives. 

“I’ve plotted our coordinates. Just a matter of time before we get to where we’re going” Hera replied wearily. “After what we just pulled, the Ghost will probably be out of commission, at least for a few rotations after we land. I might just join you for those drinks.” 

The Sith gave her a smirk, blue eyes looking over at her. Fingers folded behind her head as she settled into her chair, the silver ring on her left finger now plain to see, though today she really didn’t care.

"Nah. Blue skin, this tall." Xiann put her hand out roughly three feet from the ground.

She pondered. "I haven't seen someone like that."     This was definitely an imperial. She had a way with her and Hera wanted to leap from her seat and crawl into the shadows. Sure, she had dealt with the Empire before, but there was something about this woman that made her uneasy. Even from just a minute of conversation. Hera kept her composure and straightened. She turned to the droid which just happened to be passing by.   "Juma juice, please."

She opened up the link in her helmet. Kar hoped was the Red Nova pirate gang. Her time in Rishi had made her quite intimate with their sorts, those who knew better learned to the work with her, the others… well then they would have first hand experience as to why she was sometimes called The Butcher of the Cove.

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Blasters, thrusters, coms. Rinse and repeat. Turrets failed. Coms failed. Sensors and stabilizers held together. Every ten seconds a different system had to be rebooted. Luckily the Bothans were there. Literally. They flooded the cockpit, yelling obscenities until Hera convinced them to run some maintenance while simultaneously apologizing for the loss of their ship. "It was a nice Corellian ship. The best of its kind, no really. It'll be missed. I'm sorry. Now help me or we'll be floating trash." She'd tell them anything to get them working. This was another reason Hera needed a droid. She made a mental note to invest in one after this run.

A light shrug from their shoulders.

 ”Wouldn’t be the first time she’s says something that doesn’t make sense…” they commented. Usually in time it did…when one least expected it. Ijaan tried to be the bigger picture types like the rest of their family. But they were the small picture sort, what could be done in the now.

Like the shipments.

Ij patted the one of the scant boxes that they were formally sitting on. 

"One crate med supplies— guessing for the Tarkintown folks. Most of it is civvie grade, doubt the Ghost needs to deal with malnutrition…"

The Mando made a small look at the weak attempt of humor. 

"The other is a little gift from the Verpine." They explained. "Small firearms. No fancy rifles…yet." 

"Gift from the Verpine?" She eyed the crate curiously before checking the contents. Small firearms looked good on Hera. But they'd be better in Sabine's capable hands. Hera's wasn't too picky on what she used, as long as it got the job done. "We'll take anything we can use."   She tapped the buttons on both crates and they hummed and hovered above the dirt. Now weightless, she could tie them together and easily move them to the ship. Which is what she started to do, inviting the other to follow with a gesture.