Battlefront II, page 9
Versio had not exaggerated his warning to them. The very first thing they would be doing in this infiltration mission would be allowing people to die. Versio directed their attention to a holoprojector in the table. A space station that looked like it had been haphazardly thrown together rather than deliberately designed turned slowly in the center.
“This is Otor’s Hub,” Versio said. “It’s located in the Ojostor sector of the Outer Rim. It’s a popular way station for travelers.”
“So, sort of like Tellik Four?” Meeko asked.
“Tellik Four is a fairly straightforward refueling and repair station, and operates formally within the auspices of the Empire. This place is far more unsavory. Most of its merchants deal in the black market—or the slave market. There is a small cluster of merchants there who do a bit of spying for us on the side. They know to notify us if a person of interest patronizes their shop, or if a certain item crosses their path. It’s a loose association, but a useful one. It turns out that the Dreamers have discovered our involvement with these merchants, and they’ve decided to put an end to it.”
“That sort of enterprise isn’t really in keeping with the data leak you’re concerned with, sir,” Gideon said. “It seems more personal than political.”
“It does, and it likely is,” Versio agreed. “But the partisans have ever been ones to smart against a perceived insult and hold grudges. That is entirely in keeping with their operation. I regret the necessity of sacrificing these merchants. They’ve been useful over the years. But I’m certain others will spring up to fill the vacuum.”
Iden was nodding, relaxing a little. She had no problem with the idea of money-grubbing black marketers on the receiving end of Dreamer “justice.” Much preferable to the thought of sacrificing Imperial lives.
Versio continued. “There’s one merchant who’s mentioned specifically by name. A Dug, even more unpleasant than most of his species, known for dealing in antiquities—mostly fake—and information—mostly true. We will approach this Rudaga and inform him that Lieutenant Marana is one of our agents. She will pose as his slave. People will grow accustomed to her presence at the shop, so she won’t attract any attention the day of the attack. He’ll teach the lieutenant enough about the business so the partisans won’t suspect her.”
Versio now spoke directly to the youngest member of the group. “You have an eidetic memory, and I’ve spoken with your superiors. Apparently, once you see something, you can replicate it, and you’ve done so on a few occasions previously.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you will claim you’ve been trained in forgery by your master. It’s a valuable skill for the Dreamers to have. That and your sad story of mistreatment by your master will make it likely the Dreamers will take you with them once they’ve eliminated their targets.”
The admiral slid a datapad over to her. “Your bio is here. Memorize it. And, as I’m certain you anticipated, we’re going to have to do some work on you before you go. Per our standard operating procedure in these cases, everything we do, we’ll undo at the completion of your assignment.”
Iden was confused. Seyn seemed to know exactly what Versio meant, but Iden was at a loss. So, too, it seemed, was everyone else on the team.
“Excuse me, sir,” Gideon ventured, “but what do you mean, work?”
It was Seyn, not the admiral, who answered. “He means that my body is going to be altered to corroborate my cover story. It’s commonplace for undercover operations like this one.”
She seemed calm, almost clinically detached from her words. With growing unease, Iden found herself speaking up. “Altered how?”
“As she is purporting to be an escaped slave, Lieutenant Marana will need to display visible signs of abuse,” Versio said in the same neutral, professional tone he might use to discuss his caf preference. “The question is, do we want to make it appear that the injuries have been accumulated from long-term mistreatment, or recent? Scars, brands, calluses on her hands—that sort of thing.”
That sort of thing.
“I see,” Iden said. “Understood.”
The thought of any member of her team having to be mutilated in order to fulfill the mission made her uncomfortable, but Iden did understand. Everything rested on them being able to convince the partisans that they were sincere. And no one knew that better than Seyn. If anything, the youngest member of the team would have suggestions as to how to make her own scarification more believable.
“Once we’re done with the meeting, there’s a specialist I’d like you to consult with. You can go over the options together. Shum Laudor, perhaps you know him.”
“We’ve not met, but I’ve seen his work. It’s entirely convincing.”
“Good.” Versio turned to the two young men. “Now. Another useful thing we learned from the chip is that the Dreamers have a fairly regular supplier of food and often weapons. We have a plan for getting you aboard her ship, and she’ll take you right to them. The two of you will be posing as a pair of brothers.”
Iden had to admit that it made sense. Both had dark hair, brown eyes, and similar features, although Gideon’s skin was paler. But they were hardly alike in demeanor. She was an only child, and had only the vaguest notion of how brothers would interact. The two men in question exchanged glances, then hid bemused smiles.
“Your particular challenge will be to cultivate an extra layer of believability to convincingly pass as siblings. For the next week, not only will you live together in the same unit and share the same room, you’ll eat all your meals together, train together, and rehearse your stories together. By the time you’re done, you should feel as though you truly do have a brother.”
“I have two brothers,” Del said confidently. “We’ll be fine.”
“I expect no less, Agent. If you do your jobs right and convince her, she’ll take you with her. If you don’t, make no mistake, she’ll execute you on the spot.”
“How charming,” Hask said.
He’d mistaken the brother approach for lightness on Versio’s part, and Iden knew at once that it was a mistake. Versio narrowed his eyes. “She’s a pirate, and her reputation is quite terrifying. Her group is called the Blood Bone Order. I’ve included information on your datapads. I suggest you read it. Thoroughly.”
He passed them their datapads. Gideon accepted his without further comment.
“Hask, you will present yourself as the pilot of the pair. Meeko, you’re the technician. Simple is always best, and remember, any lie is more effective if it holds some truth in it. Your droid will accompany you. Give some thought to what would serve a rebel group well, and tailor its upgrades to that.”
They both replied, “Yes, sir,” at the same time. Iden straightened in her chair and looked at her father with a calm, expressionless face. Seyn was to be a slave and have her body scarified for the role. The men were being drafted into a pirate’s crew.
What horror did her father have in store for her?
“Now then,” Admiral Versio said, “as for your commanding officer…I have saved the best for last.” Iden tensed. Versio turned to the rest of them. “Iden will be leaving us shortly. She is to be stationed on a new Star Destroyer.”
Iden felt the blood drain from her face. “Sir?”
“Don’t worry. You’re taking different paths to get there, but you’ll all eventually rendezvous. Dismissed.”
Iden waited as the others filed out. Del cast a concerned glance back at her. Then the door closed, and she was alone with her father.
“What do you have in mind for me, sir?”
“As I said. You’ll be stationed on a Star Destroyer.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There was one final piece of information on that chip. The Dreamers themselves are emotionally rallying behind their founder, Saw. They want to realize his vision. But Saw is gone, and his name can no longer be used as the public face of the ‘true partisans.’ They need a new one. We’re giving them yours.”
“The things we do for the Empire,” Gideon said, sighing melodramatically.
“I hear you,” Del said. “I mean, fighting and dying is one thing, but stowing away in this death trap of a ship? Do you think we’ll get hazard pay?”
“If we get out of this alive, I think we could make an excellent case for it.” He grinned at Del, who returned it.
Despite their feigned—okay, slightly feigned—complaints about their cramped quarters and steady diet of delicious ration cubes, things had gone well so far. True to his word, Admiral Versio had seen to it that the two “brothers” were constantly in each other’s company. Del had been a little worried initially. He and Gideon did not seem like two people who would naturally gravitate toward each other. In the end, though, the shared adventure aspect bonded them.
The plan was simple, but there were many places where things could go wrong. Success hinged on greed, timing, and luck. Fortunately for the moment, the “brothers Farren” would be able to contact the admiral should something go awry—if, for example, the wrong group of pirates ended up attacking the ship.
A large handful of credits delivered by one of the Empire’s many shadowy figures convinced a Devaronian smuggler name of Kurjak to take on a large, force-field-protected container. No questions asked. It was to be delivered to Eriadu, the end of the smuggler’s run, where someone would be waiting to receive it in six days’ time.
Someone indeed would be waiting to receive the container—provided the ship, known as the Fast Friend, actually made it to its final destination. Research had concluded that the ship’s path would take it into dangerous space where Lassa Rhayme, the cruel leader of the Blood Bone Order, was known to strike.
“It seems funny to say, With luck, we’ll be captured by pirates,” Del had commented as they prepared for the journey.
“Better than having to go through the whole ordeal a second time,” Gideon had replied, and Del had to admit he was right.
The three of them—Del Farren, Gid Farren, and the droid—spent almost the entire journey in the container, sneaking out during times when the crew slept in order to grab some exercise and visit the restroom. They’d swapped battle stories, tales of their childhood, and reminiscences of girls they’d known all too fleetingly. The Empire was a demanding master, and there was little time for personal relationships.
“We’re living on borrowed time, people like us,” Del had said one evening. He had loaded up the droid with games and holovids to while away the time, and they were currently playing a travel version of dejarik.
“You’ve borrowed more than I have,” Gideon had replied.
“Thanks for the reminder, baby brother.”
“Seriously, retirement is just around the corner. You need someone to settle down with.”
Del shook his head. “Nope. Wouldn’t be fair. You?”
“Nah. I’ve got my eyes on a command.” He moved a piece. The tiny holographic creature emitted a small squeal of delight as it destroyed Del’s.
“Does Iden know?”
Gideon laughed. “Yes, she does.”
Once again, Gideon had evaded a serious answer. Del noticed that his “brother” was closemouthed about his childhood, opening up only when it came to his time at the Future Imperial Leaders Military Preparatory School on Vardos and, later, at the Academy. Del knew he’d lost his family to a rebel bombing at a young age. It wasn’t surprising, then, that Gideon seemed almost hungry to hear stories about Del’s family and two older brothers, who also served in faraway positions in the Empire. Gideon struck Del as someone who was eager to connect with others yet pushed them away simultaneously. There was an edge to his humor, a coldness that Del supposed came with the tragedy that had struck him so young.
“And now look at you,” Gideon had said. “You’ve risen higher in the ranks than anyone else in your family!”
Del had laughed at that, gesturing to the three-square-meter compartment lit only by the blue holographic glow the ID10 emitted. He picked up the ration cube.
“I’m living like the Emperor himself!” he had said. They’d both laughed, then suddenly quieted. Even here, even now, one did not joke about the Emperor.
They were halfway through the fourth day and were slowly running out of things to talk about. During a long silence, as they sat in the darkness to conserve their light, Del said, “I wonder if we are going to have to do this all over again.”
“I desperately hope not. I’d rather face the torture droid than six more days in a container with you.”
Suddenly a screeching klaxon sounded. Gideon activated his glowrod and the two looked at each other excitedly. They waited a moment to see if it was a false alarm, but when the earsplitting sound continued and the ship rocked violently, they had their answer. Del deactivated the force field and they leapt out, grabbing their packs and their blasters. The ID10 rose behind them, providing light for the two to navigate their way around towering crates of illegal goods.
Another barrage of cannon fire caused the old ship to shudder. The pair were knocked to the floor. Just as they clambered to their feet, there was a sudden blaze of orange and yellow flame—and then everything, including Del and Gideon, was being drawn toward the suddenly gaping hole in the hull.
ID10’s metallic arms shot out, its pincers grabbing the two by the collars of their jackets. The other pair of arms fastened themselves firmly to the bulkhead as the smaller containers of ill-gotten gains were sucked out into space. Just as Del was convinced that one highly modified ID10 droid and two hapless humans would be next, the pressure stabilized and normal gravity returned.
The droid released them. Gideon looked at it with surprise and respect. “Strong little guy,” he said.
“I reinforced his joints and added a magnet,” Del said.
“Good thinking,” Gideon said as he and Del slumped against the bulkhead and looked toward where the hole had been.
Their domicile of the last four days had plugged it. Astonished and gleeful, they looked at each other and started to laugh.
The smuggling compartment was locked, but that had never been a problem. Over the last four days, the droid had opened and locked it for them on request. At this moment, their goal was to stay alive long enough to surrender themselves to the Blood Bone Order and, now that the fighting had begun, they were determined to do what they could to help the pirates take the ship. The two Inferno Squad members hurried through corridors drenched in blood-red lighting, pausing to blast any member of the crew unfortunate enough to come across them. The droid, too, went on the offensive, attacking with electroshock prods.
They emerged onto the bridge, where, despite sparking and sometimes smoking consoles, the smugglers were doing their best to fend off the pirates.
“Looks like the cargo area was hit!” one of them shouted over the din.
The captain shouted a long string of something in Huttese, following it up with, “Make them pay for the lost cargo!”
The pirate ship fired again. Del and Gideon stayed out of sight, watching and waiting. The droid fastened itself to Del’s back.
“Direct hit on the engines!”
The screen on the main console suddenly flickered to life. The figure was only a third of a meter tall but imposing even at that diminutive height. It was a Pantoran female, with blue skin and a long braid of lighter-hued hair. She wore a black jacket, boots, and snug-fitting pants. She had a blaster in one hand and what looked like a cutlass in the other.
“I am Lassa Rhayme, captain of the Opportunity and head of the Blood Bone Order,” she said in a clear, strong voice. “Prepare for either boarding—or becoming target practice. Which’ll it be?”
The two humans looked at each other, grinning. Gideon gave Del a thumbs-up.
Kurjak drooped in defeat, sighing deeply. Rhayme put a hand to her ear, an exaggerated look of confusion on her tattoo-free, beautiful face.
“What’s that? Target practice? Sounds fine.”
“No!” Kurjak retorted. “We surrender! Damn you, blue-skinned devil.”
“Devil, am I? Look who’s talking! All right, I’ll think about it.” The pirate captain smiled, and her image disappeared.
It was all over after that.
By the time the Opportunity had planted the grappling harpoons and hauled the ship close enough for boarding, Gideon and Del had either eliminated or trussed up the crew of the Fast Friend and were awaiting the pirate’s arrival. Lassa Rhayme liked to call herself a pirate queen, and while it was undoubtedly self-aggrandizing, reports claimed that she was always among the first to board a captured ship so she could terrorize the crew herself.
They heard the clank of the boarding tube connecting. Del glance over at Gideon. “Think she’ll give us a chance to speak?”
“Don’t know,” Gideon replied. “I do know if we meet her with blasters blazing we’ll be cut down without a second thought, so let’s hope she’ll listen.”
“I’d rather be fighting than hoping.”
“Me too,” Gideon said. “Ready?”
“Ready.” Del placed his hands behind his head.
Gideon pressed the controls to unlock the door, then stepped back quickly, imitating Del.
The door opened, and the striking black-clad, blue-skinned Pantoran of the hologram, Lassa Rhayme, the pirate queen of the Blood Bone Order, stepped onto the ship. Two of her crew followed her.
She was much taller than Del had expected—almost as tall as they were, and neither Imperial was short. Her braid, as it turned out, was lavender, and her golden eyes looked vibrodaggers at both the humans.
“You’re mighty obliging,” she said. “Usually someone has a death wish along about now.”
“We do have a request,” Gideon said.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll kill you quickly,” she said, and lifted the blaster. Another Blood Bone pirate emulated his captain and aimed his blaster at Del.
“No, don’t! We’re partisans!” Del shouted quickly.
Lassa froze. “Cover this one,” she said, and the pirate stepped forward, smirking as he retrained his weapon on Gideon.
