Mindless Optimism
by CPT Beef

 

    Strapped to a low stool with enough vent tape to form an airtight bubble around a rancor was most definitely an uncomfortable position to be in. Not that that blindingly obvious realization improved the situation any. Forced to face a corner in a caliginous box of a room with your entire body engulfed in an endless silvery adhesive ribbon leaves one with nothing else to do but reflect on one’s predicament. At least that is what Agent Yets thought. Pointless to attempt to talk with Quint who was similarly restrained on the other side of the room. Agent Quint would just shout at Yets and throw all sorts of accusations in his face about it being is fault they were captured. But how could it possibly his fault? He was just doing searching for clues to Kaaren’s whereabouts. He was just doing his job. Could he be blamed because a few alien-lover Rebels got lucky enough to notice him? Of course not. All irrelevant anyway. Warlord Zsinj would soon send a rescue team. They would just have to wait.

 

 

     Childish and uncultured utterances escaped under his breath. Lots of them. All vulgar. All useless in aiding the situation. All directed towards Yets. A mindless fool with an dangerously big mouth, that’s what Yets was. And look where he got them, New Republic prisoners of war on a planet in their own territory. Quint slowly shook his head in shame. Yets would not even admit that it was his blundering that got vent tape wrapped around them tighter than...uh...than something really...tight. Quint shook his head again; too angry to even think up a good analogy. He would have to conjure an escape plan soon. Yets insisted the Warlord would rescue them, but any more of his asinine hopefulness would get them both killed.

 

 

     An express transport to nowhere. That’s where they had gotten. Seizing the two Imperial Intel agents had yielded yet another dead end. Both of them held their tongues far too well, and she had not been assigned a professional interrogator to her team. With the whole lot of nothing gushing from their lips, the two spooks were rapidly becoming a security risk. Someone would notice their absence eventually. It was time to go home.

     Lieutenant Raych K’arassa swept her eyes over her team. They were stuffed in the tiny back storage room of the shop they had bought and used as a cover during their stay on Opsth. Intently look towards their Duros chieftain, they were patiently waiting for her to issue them orders.

     “We’re pulling out,” she said at last.

     “When?” asked one of the team members.

     “As soon as possible,” Raych answered. “Two and Seven will get to the ship a prep it for departure.” The human pilot and Ho’Din copilot of the squad’s small freighter nodded in acknowledgment. “Three will need to slice into Trepeis Spaceport’s computers and get us departure clearance. We might not have time to wait,” Raych said to the Bothan sitting to her left.

     The Bothan paused for a moment, probably going through the actions of her assignment in her mind. “No problem,” she said finally.

     “Five and Six will take up their usual positions,” Raych continued, “Five, you cover Three and make sure she can get to the computers safely. Six, you take our pilots.”

     The two snipers nodded. Positioned on the correct roof top, they could watch the entire spaceport with ease through their rifle scopes.

     Raych proceeded, “Everyone else will stay here until Two and Seven signal the ship is ready.

     “We’ll have to take the prisoners with us. It’s too great a risk to leave them behind. Besides, someone back at base should be able to get them to talk. When Two and Seven signal, we’ll spilt into two groups. Each group will escort one of the prisoners to the ship taking separate routes, of course.

     “While we’re waiting, Eleven, I want you to be ready with a low-yield grenade. If we have to leave sooner than desired, we’ll have to destroy what equipment we can’t easily carry.”

     Raych finished the briefing, and her people set to work. And she slipped into deliberating what she would face when she returned to base. It is said that any mission everyone can come home from is a success, but Raych’s team had not found the information they were looking for. Her superiors would congratulate her for bringing everyone back in one piece. They might even be pleased that she had managed to bring back two enemy agents. But, even though they would never say it to her face, the thought would cross their minds and be visible behind their eyes: “You failed.”

 

 

     The planet Opsth. Quite beautiful, actually. It would make a superb vacation home. General Koplar smiled to himself; if he ever went on vacation.

     The General shifted uncomfortably in his civilian clothes. Such garments earned no respect, no fear, no power over others as did his general’s uniform. Koplar despised being a feeble normal person. Fortunately for him it was all just an illusion. Cannot draw attention to oneself when attempting to uproot some New Republic spies.

     A most displeasing shock it was to discover Kaaren’s ear piece had ceased transmission. It could only mean that the bug had been removed after Kaaren had arrived on Coruscant. The assumption had to be made that those who removed the device knew it was there beforehand. Koplar never made the fatal mistake of underestimating his enemies; they would not have told Kaaren anything important knowing Koplar was listening in. All the most recent information Koplar had pulled from Kaaren’s conversations now had zero credibility, including his “secret.” Especially the “secret.” Koplar only had a link to Kaaren’s hearing. The enemy would have communicated to Kaaren some other way about the listening device. Thus, Kaaren acted surprised when they restated his “secret” to him for Koplar’s benefit. In addition, Koplar could no longer be positive that Kaaren was even on Coruscant at all.

     The only lead he had left was Uopal Masch. Masch seemed to have utterly disappeared. Warlord Zsinj assumed Koplar’s people had killed him, and Koplar allowed him to continue assuming. If neither Zsinj’s nor Koplar’s people had Masch, then there must be New Republic spies on Opsth that had him.

     Koplar had to admit to himself that this was a long shot. Being the last person with Kaaren before this commander person took him away, Masch was not necessarily a great lead, but it was the best Koplar had. It was all he had, in fact, which is why he insisted on coming to Opsth himself with the reinforcements he had ordered here. If this guess was going to be profitable, it would have to be played flawlessly—hardly a job to delegate to subordinates.

     Searching the spaceport, however, was quickly becoming tedious. Even with a legion of his best troops in civilian and Opsth Law Enforcement clothing rummaging through every nook and cranny, the fact that they had absolutely no idea what they were looking for resulted in fruitless efforts.

     Sitting at a table in an outdoor café, Koplar kept an alert but inconspicuous eye on the crowds as they bustled past. There! Now that’s interesting. Koplar tilted his head ever so slightly toward a point in the rabble of beings passing by. The other two men at the table, Koplar’s most trusted officers and body guards, casually glanced in the indicated direction. They saw it too. A female Bothan. Bothans were closely tied to the New Republic. Odd to find one out here.

     Koplar looked back at his companions at the table. “Tail her.”

 

 

     “This is Three. I’ve got a shadow.”

     Raych snatched up the comlink, “Where are you?”

     “A block away, Lead,” Three’s voice hissed nervously through the speaker, “Five just spotted them. Civilian dress, but that doesn’t mean anything. Looks like they’re keeping a good distance.”

     “Five, can you get a clear shot?”

     Five’s voice came through just as nervous as Three’s “No, there’s too many people in the way,” he said.

     Besides, laser fire would draw attention, stupid, Raych scolded herself. “Don’t come home, Three. Keep walking and stay in public. They won’t do anything with the whole world watching. We’ll have to go meet them personally.”

     “Wait,” Five’s voice interrupted, “They’ve stopped...looks like they’ve got a comlink...What? Some local law enforcement people are talking to them. They—Three, look out!”

     The was a startled yelp from the comlink.

     “What happened?” Raych demanded. There was no answer. “Five!”

     “A-Agent down,” Five’s horrified voice finally answered, “I d-didn’t see them closing in on her!”

     Raych unholstered her blaster. “Enemy team attacking! Everyone get to the ship!”

     Too late. Looking through the window between the back room she was in and the main showroom for the shop, Raych saw several uniformed men explode into the building and open fire. All four of her people in the that front room managed to dive for cover and return fire, except for Eight. She was closest to the door and was cut to pieces by the enemy. Ten, who had taken cover behind one of the display cases, poked his head out to return fire at the wrong time. He fell back dead, his face a mass of blood and burnt flesh. Four and Twelve were still trapped in the showroom under the hail of enemy fire.

     Nine smashed the separating window with the butt of his blaster rifle. Then he, Raych, and Eleven, were able to duck behind the wall under the window and return fire through the jagged hole in the glass. Raych and Nine managed to both hit one of the uniformed men, two crimson flowers blossoming slowing on his chest as his body dropped. Eleven produced a small concussion grenade from his pouch. “Fire in the hole!” he shouted over the hellish noise into the comlink. In the outer room Four ducked lower behind the cashier’s counter and put his arms over his head as Eleven’s grenade sailed over him. The enemy clamored clumsily over the remains of the window display they had destroyed in their forced entrance. Most of them made it out in time. Those who did not were incinerated in the blasted and their charred remains buried under tons rubble falling from the ceiling which also effectively blocked the entrance.

     Raych shoved open the thin door between the rooms and rushed into the showroom with Nine and Eleven behind her. Kneeling next to Ten, she found him face down, blood pooling under his stomach. Looking across the room, Raych saw Nine and Eleven half carrying Four, his right arm scarlet and limp at his side, out the back exit. Right, whoever these people are, they will find another way in. We’ve got to move now. She hurried to catch up with them.

     Sprinting through the labyrinth of alleys and side streets as fast as their fatigued legs would carry them was not going to get them to safety. Especially, since the wounded Four had to be propped up by Nine. Raych dug out her comlink and tried to raise her pilots or their lookouts, but only static answered.

     Finally they took a wrong turn and found a line of civilians blocking their path at the end of the alley armed to the teeth. One of the men in line was holding Five by the collar. When Raych’s group had rounded the corner he released his grip, allowing Five to fall flat on his face, a gory blade wound in his back. Raych noticed someone else standing behind the line of soldiers in civilian clothes. This middle aged man with a dark complexion smirked at her, and his men opened fire. Raych miraculously made it back behind the turn they had taken. Four and Nine were not so lucky. Weighted down by his wounded friend and unwilling to drop him, Nine could not move fast enough. Both of them were transformed into mere broken sacks of blood.

     Raych blinked back tears. She would be able to mourn later...hopefully. The sound of dozens of footsteps cautiously advancing in pursuit followed the cessation of blaster shots. Wondering what had become of Eleven, Raych spotted him behind a large storage shed leaning against the building on the other side of the alley. His mouth hung open and his eyes were half closed. The dim sunlight glinted faintly of the blood oozing between his fingers as he held his left hand firmly against his gut. The demolitions expert slowly closed his mouth, and looked at her. He reached into his pouch with his right hand and brought out a thermal detonator moving so slowly that it was like a dream. Without activating it, he rolled it across the street to Raych. She plucked it off the ground and looked back up at Eleven. He had produced another detonator from his bag and held it in his hand. He smiled faintly at Raych and set the timer. Nodding her understanding and gratitude, she turned and ran back down the way they had come.

     Ten seconds later, there was an ear-splitting boom and a fiery burning heat felt on her back. Raych did not look back. She just kept running.

 

 

     Wedging herself under the control console of a fortunately unlocked ground speeder had been quiet a feat for the lanky Duros, but she had managed to keep out of sight when the police passed by.

     So this was war. Her whole squad was dead. She was worried about failure before. How could she face the families of the comrades she was unable to save? She couldn’t go back, not now. Let the New Republic list her has dead. She certainly felt dead. She did not know which was worse: being dead or feeling dead. She crawled out from her hiding place and into the driver’s seat of the speeder. Searching her pockets for a tool to hot-wire the speeder with, she came across the ID cards of the two Imperial agents they had captured. She guessed they were still taped to those stools in the closet. Anyway, if the whole planet wasn’t already looking for her, she might get by, but not if they caught her with these IDs. Reaching into one of her pockets, she pulled out some left over vent tape and used it to hold the ID cards onto the thermal detonator Eleven had given her. It seemed as good a way as any to get rid of them. She had one more errand to run before she could start on the one thing that could alleviate at least some of her guilt: finding and killing the man who had smirked at her.

 

 

 

     “Report.”

     “Well, General, as you know, we lost about twenty men. Mostly from the suicide bombing in the alley.”

     “I know that, Captain. I was there.”

     “Luckily, far enough away from the blast, sir.”

     “I don’t approve of boot-licking, either.”

     “There was the Bothan we got in the street, three bodies recovered from the shop, three from the alley, the two snipers, the pilot, and the Ho’Din. Eleven total, sir. One got away.”

     “The Duros Lieutenant.”

     “Yes, sir. She was in command. She drove by their shop in a stolen speeder and tossed a thermal detonator into it, destroying anything we would have found useful, of course.”

     “Of course,” the general echoed. And Masch was nowhere to be found. “Anything else?”

     The captain smiled a little too broadly, “Yes, sir. The true Opsth Law Enforcement officers found two survivors in the debris of the shop.”

     Koplar mood lightened slightly, “Zsinj’s agents?”

     “We believe so, sir. They were severely injured in the blast. The police found them covered in burnt vent tape. The one that was conscious thanked the police profusely for the rescue saying he knew they’d come. He tried to explain they were Zsinj military intelligence, but when they couldn’t produce any ID, they were arrested for terrorist acts.”

 

 

     “Does it usually take this long?” Emon asked.

     They were at the bottom of narrow but immensely tall cylindrical room. In the center of the room was a large deep-ocean-colored pillar or pipe, Emon was not sure which. Catwalks and ladders spider-webbed their way back and forth between the outer wall and the pillar and all the way to the top of the room. It seemed to be some sort of power generator or water pump. Emon decided it didn’t really matter what it did. It only mattered that if security discovered Emon’s and his companion’s presence, they would have to climb their way down through a winding maze of rickety old walkways giving Emon, Rivash, and Sara plenty of time to escape.

     Finding an electrical panel, Sara had dismantled it pulling a rainbow of colored wires out of the wall. Now she had a data pad in hand, connecting and disconnecting different wires to it. “No,” she grunted in frustration, answering Emon’s question, “I think we may have a problem.” Abruptly the screen on her datapad turned blue. “I was right. We have a big problem.”

     Rivash looked over her shoulder, “Have we been detected?”

     “Probably,” his wife answered, still facing the wall, “They must have beefed up their encryp-”

     Her sentence was interrupted by a streak of ruby energy from above piercing her skin in the middle of her right shoulder blade. The angle of the shot caused the bolt to penetrate down into her vital organs and exit through her stomach. Sara let out a soft gurgle and fell against the wall, slowly sliding to the ground leaving a stripe of blood.

     Rivash threw his blaster at Emon. He caught his wife under the arms before she reached the ground and pulled her into a niche in the wall in time to avoid the second shot which scorched a mark on the floor in front of them. Kneeling and laying her head in his lap, he touched her neck, checking for a pulse. Her eyes fluttered half way open, and an indescribable sound escaped Rivash’s mouth at the realization that she had not been killed instantly. He could still save her. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a comlink and tossed it to Emon. “Get out of here,” he ordered, “Ellé can guide you back.” There were shouts and the clanking of heavy boots on metal above. “They can’t give her a ‘fair and just’ trail if she’s dead,” Rivash explained desperately, “Their doctors are required to help everybody.”

     Sara lifted her eyes to her husband, and though choking on her own blood, the word “go” passed from her lips.

     “No!” Rivash said firmly. The shouts from above were getting closer. Rivash looked at Emon, tears flowing freely from his one organic eye, the first emotion Emon ever saw the man have. “It is the only way,” he croaked.

     Reluctantly, Emon retreated, leaving Rivash over his wounded wife clutching her hand in his.

     He was back in the underworld of Coruscant just in time to hear a muffled voice from behind the walls call out, “You’re under arrest.”

 

 

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