Chapter 4: Dazed and Confused
The training was grueling, to say the least. While Ben was a soldier, before that a farmer, and he was used to exerting himself, training with Andor was taxing, not only on his body but his mind. There were many days where he would go to bed with not only sore muscles but a sore head as well.
Andor trained him in the usage of many different weapons, from blasters to shivs, to blunt objects and even handheld comms.
"If you can hold it, you can kill with it," Andor told him constantly.
In addition to the standard weapons training, Andor also tutored Ben in numerous combat styles. He further encouraged Ben to pick up martial arts and specialize in a specific discipline.
Ben chose the Zama-shiwo style to train in, and while Andor was no master at it, he brought in pre-programmed training droids that assist Ben.
The first time Ben saw the mechanical behemoths, he was shocked.
So this is what the Alliance spends its credits on? He thought jokingly.
Ben further modified Zama-shiwo in his own personal style, doing away with the sticks or handheld weapons the martial art was designed around. At first, his modifications turned his practices into hours of him simply flailing about like a ragdoll, but soon, as he practiced, his movements became ever more crisp, steady, focused, and lethal.
He was so caught up with his training that time seemed to fly by.
"How long have a been here?" Ben asked Andor one evening as they both sat in the small kitchen of their quarters.
"Too long," Andor replied with a smile as he drank his beverage.
Ben playfully threw his spoon at the man. "Where is here anyway?"
Andor's eyes bore into him for a moment before the Rebel agent replied. "It is best that you do not know."
"Why is that?" Ben challenged.
"Because I would have to kill you if you did."
Ben laughed, but his smile quickly grew into a frown as he realized Andor was all too serious.
"Fine, but at least give me some sort of hint." He practically begged the older man.
Andor sighed and rolled his eyes, pushing back his chair and standing up from the table. "We call it dark site for a reason." He quickly marched out of the kitchen and into his personal quarters.
Ben was left to ponder where he was in the galaxy, literally.
A week later, Ben was in a small training room at the unknown base when Andor suddenly walked in.
"You have a visitor," he told Ben, removing an item—which Ben quickly realized as a portable holoprojector—from his tan coat pocket.
"Where?" Ben asked as he eyed the object.
"Here," Cassian replied, activating the device. Suddenly the room was awash in blue light.
A small figure suddenly appeared at the center of the projector; She wore white robes and had a young face.
"Good day, Benjamin." The woman said, softy.
"Hello…..," Ben trailed off as he did not know her name.
"Mothma," the woman supplied.
Ben's eyes widened in surprise. He had heard much about Mon Mothma, the woman who was the de facto leader of the Rebellion. From his former squad mates to Andor, everyone seemingly had favorable opinions of her. She had led the Rebellion ever since its creation nearly two decades prior, and she had not stopped.
"Are you well, Benjamin?" Mothma asked, motherly concern in her voice.
It warmed Ben's heart, something he had long thought cold and hard. "Yes, ma'am. I am quite alright, thank you."
The smile that graced her face would have been enough to melt even the hardest durasteel.
"I have a proposition for you." Mon Mothma spoke slowly, eloquently.
"What proposition?" Ben asked.
"As you are aware, one of my most trust agents," her projected upper body swiveled to face Andor momentarily, "has been mentoring you in various subjects."
Ben nodded his head. "Why me?" He asked simply, the question having bounced around in his head since the day he came under Andor's tutelage.
"Because you have something special within you. You have a passion, a fire, that burns brightly in your soul. And while you do have substantial amounts of darker emotions, your drive to protect innocents, to do what is right and just, to support others, and your unwavering independence are admirable. Your terrible experiences on your home world could have driven you to follow a life of crime and murder, yet you choose to fight to liberate peoples and worlds from oppression. That is what makes you unique. That is why I want you."
Ben felt distinctly uncomfortable reliving his past experiences but said nothing of it." What do you want me for?"
Mothma stood quietly for a few seconds before replying. "I would like for you to put together a small team, no larger than a company, that will perform missions that no one else will."
"Like Special Operations?" Ben responded.
"Somewhat."
The answer stumped Ben.
Mothma continued in her speech. "This force will be organized under Alliance Intelligence, but, due to the nature of your missions, this squad will be independent of the Branch's bureaucracy; You will not answer to the head of Rebel Intelligence."
"What is the nature of these missions? Are we simply going to conduct operations against the Empire?"
Mothma paused momentarily. "You will be called upon to perform missions against the Empire, in keeping with the standard goals of Alliance Intelligence," her calm demeanor suddenly turned much more serious. "But, if the Alliance to Restore the Republic is going to be successful in not only defeating the Empire but restoring democracy, we will have to improve ourselves. As with any large organizations, the Rebellion has attracted many different people, including opportunists."
"What?" Now Ben was very confused, and, looking at Andor, he could tell his mentor was as well. "Conducting operations against the Alliance? Is that not counterproductive to reaching our goals?"
"Perhaps," Mothma said. "But, as I am sure you are aware, the Alliance to Restore the Republic has some problems within its ranks. As with any large trans-galactic organization, we are bound to attract those less than desirable into our ranks. As I am sure you have heard, there have been recent incidents involving our soldiers and officers that need to be remedied."
Remedied? What does that mean? Ben thought in confusion.
"You want me to find and capture these people?" He asked.
Mothma looked at him with steel in her gaze. "No, I want you to end them."
"You want me to kill these people?" Ben, along with many others in the Alliance, thought that Mon Mothma was the best individual the Alliance had to offer. He had no idea that she would think of such vicious goals. "If I were to go through with this, would I not be considered a traitor and executed?"
"There will always be calls of treason, regardless of the position one holds. I, myself, have been accused of treason. That is just the nature of our situation. If you are accused of treason, there will always be someone to support you."
"Who?"
"Your immediate superior," Mothma said.
Ben scrunched his eyes together. "I thought you said I would not be answering to the chief."
"You won't. You will be answering to me."
Ben's eyes widened in shock. Mothma? He would have a direct line to the very top echelon of the Rebellion.
"Do you accept?" Mothma pressed.
I guess I don't have much of a choice. "I acquiesce."
Mothma gave a small laugh. "I expected nothing less nor more! Have a good day, Lieutenant Madrik."
Her reaction brought a smile to his face, but then another bout of shock (one of many during this experience.)
Lieutenant? Did he just receive an on-the-spot promotion?
It had been a week since Ben had talked with Mon Mothma, and he hadn't heard anything from the woman since then.
He continued his duties with Andor as usual, the pair dealing with Imperial signals intercepted from Imperial Center. What they heard was confusing; the messages appeared to be coded. Through time consuming deciphering by the Signal Analysis Bureau of Alliance Intelligence, the messages were partially decoded. They revealed that the Imperials were working on a very large project, one that could have the potential of changing the galaxy forever.
They both had little idea what the big project was, but it couldn't be good news for the Alliance.
That is how they spent the next week, trying to figure out what the message meant.
It was then that Cassian told Ben some news that surprised him. It happened as they were both preparing to step into the quarters across the hall from each other.
"Benjamin, I have some important news," Andor said out of the blue as he was typing in the code for the door to his quarters.
"Yes," Benny said as he turned around, "what news do you have?"
Andor was being strangely pensive. "Our partnership will soon come to an end."
"What do you mean," Ben said in confusion; he expected their partnership to end sometime down the road, but they had only been together for a little more than two months, and Ben hadn't even learned all he needed to.
"I am being assigned to a very important mission: to find out what superweapon the Empire is building," Cassian said.
"What about me? What am I to do?" Ben was slightly panicking as he thought where he would end up.
" Mothma has other plans for you," Andor said with sadness coloring his voice.
"She has plans for me?" Ben replied sarcastically, "She hasn't even contacted me since our initial call. I doubt she has any further use for me."
"You underestimate yourself," Andor replied with a smile, "trust me." He then stepped through the door which slid shut behind him.
Ben was left staring at the closed door wondering what the future held for him. He shook his head then disappeared into his quarters.
Ben didn't know when Cassian would be leaving, but he knew it would be sometime before he and the man who had mentored him would have to part.
He was wrong.
He awoke the next morning to knocking on his door. His mind instantly flashed back to the time his former platoon sergeant shook him awake nearly three months ago.
He rose from the bed and groggily rubbed his eyes of sleep. He then stood and made his way over to the door.
The door slid open the reveal Cassian, the man already dressed in his military uniform.
"We have a new objective," Andor said instantly.
"What is it," Ben asked.
"We need to retrieve an asset on Alderaan."
"But isn't Alderaan supporting the Rebellion?" Ben asked in confusion.
Andor sighed," They are, however, the Empire is aware of such 'clandestine' support and have focused increased attention on the planet. The Emperor has even sent troops down to the planet in order to keep it in its place."
"This sounds like this will be hard," Ben said sarcastically.
"It will be, especially since the asset is being held in a temporary Imperial prison."
"Fun," was all Ben said.
A day later.
They arrived on Alderaan aboard an inconspicuous freighter, which carried goods and supplies, and were dressed in civilian garb.
Ben had taken to wearing an all black outfit—black vest, black pants, black boots, and a dark hat- something he inherited from his mother, and Andor wore the outfit of a freighter pilot: the clothes a mismatch of colors.
The Royal Government of Alderaan was still on control of their sector of space, despite the increased Imperial attention, and allowed them to pass through easily.
They landed in the capital city of Aldera. The towering white spires of the Royal Palace of House Organa stood out amongst the green landscape beyond the city. Surrounding the spires of the palace was the capital city: a maze of streets and shops that seemed to stretch on forever.
As they descended they also saw numerous contingents of white Imperial stormtroopers patrolling the streets below. The conforming white armor stood in stark contrast to the darkened buildings and colorful variety of clothing worn by the Alderaanian citizens.
They eased into a landing bay in the main spaceport. After landing, they set out on their mission.
"Where is this prison that our asset is being held at?" Ben asked Andor as they exited the spaceport and began trekking down the main thoroughfare.
"It's here in Aldera, not too far from our location," Andor replied.
Ben nodded wordlessly.
They soon found themselves walking the streets of Alderaan, Andor leading the way. Every street they walked contained numerous shops, and open air markets, with vendors having set up shop on street corners and busy intersections.
The planet was different from many other planets in the galaxy; the citizens preferring to walk the streets than to ride in speeders or transports. It took then nearly a half-hour before they saw their first air taxi flying to a predetermined destination.
They also passed many different small patrols of Imperial troops.
Soon they were nearing a building which had numerous guards stationed around it. The building two stories and was nothing special. It looked similar to many of the commercial buildings around it. Its dark colored stone mixed in with the dark stone of the building next to it. The windows on the lower level were tall and wide, which would've afforded a view of the goods on display in the window, but the windows were empty, the goods having been confiscated when the building was converted into a prison. The upper-level was even bleaker. The small windows that would've opened into private rooms were shuttered and boarded up.
"Is this it?" Ben whispered to Andor. The older gentleman silently nodded.
"How will we get the individual out?" Ben asked as the building looked pretty heavily guarded.
"With this," Cassian produced a small trigger device from his coat pocket and activated it.
The blast was loud but not deafening. Ben whipped around and saw a pillar of black smoke coming from the spaceport they were just at. "What the kriff?"
"Explosives in the freight," Andor replied with a smirk." And no, I detonated them at a time when no one was around."
"How do you know?" Ben replied with a whisper.
"My gut," the man replied.
Ben shook his head in exasperation at the man's answer.
The explosion had the desired effect. All attention was focused on the spaceport.. Stormtroopers were streaming towards the spaceport in every direction, yet two guards remained outside of the makeshift prison, their mission to guard the prisoners clearly outweighing any other circumstances.
There was only one option left: the guards had to be taken out.
Graciously, both Andor and Ben walked up to the front door of the prison, nearing the guarded entrance.
The stormtroopers spotted them quickly.
"Halt!" They said in unison, pointing their blasters at the newcomers. Ben acted fast, quickly grabbing his blaster pistol and firing.
The two guards did zap off some shots, but they were wildly inaccurate as they had been struck by the bolts from Ben's blaster. The two troopers quickly crumpled to the ground.
Ben and Cassian took immediate advantage and ran into the structure.
Upon entering they found the central control area—a dining table with monitoring equipment set up on it—a black uniformed officer and three stormtroopers. They had heard the commotion outside and fired upon the pair as soon as the two Rebels came into view.
A number of shots were close calls, but all either went over their heads or impacted the walls or furniture around them.
Without hesitation both Andor and Madrik withdrew their blasters and fired back.
It was over in less than five seconds, with all the Imperials lying motionless on the floor.
Not wasting any time, the pair set off trying to find their captured asset. They looked around on the bottom floor but found no prisoner cells. All that remained on the bottom floor was space used for the guards, interrogation rooms, and a rudimentary torture chamber.
They ran up the rickety and well worn staircase and were greeted with a sight that momentarily stunned them. The upstairs resembled an Imperial cell block rather than the upstairs of a commercial store. The walls dividing the rooms had been taken out, leaving the upstairs as one large open space. Within this space was packed dozens of small confinement cells; some cells were barely large enough for an individual to turn around in.
The cells were packed with prisoners, who, upon seeing Andor and Madrik, began to shout for their release. It was nearly overwhelming, and both Rebel Intelligence members had to navigate through the cacophony of voices and shouts as they searched for their asset.
They eventually came upon a cramped cell in the corner of the space. The man inside was older looking. His hair was matted with dry blood and his face was bruised. He didn't speak as Andor broke the lock on his cell and hauled him out.
They then rushed their way out of the building as quickly as possible. It was only when they had exited the building and were trekking down a small back ally that the man began to speak.
"Who are you," the old man croaked.
"Friends," Ben offered.
They soon found themselves back on the main street but barely had any time to breath. As soon as they began moving they were fired upon.
"Blast them!" A muffed, slightly electronic voice commanded.
The stormtroopers were behind them as they raced through narrow alleys and passageways to get back to their ship.
They eventually entered the spaceport through one of its many entrances, but they still had to fight their way to their ship.
Just as they were nearing their docking port, a contingent of around five stormtroopers blocked their path. Their blasters were raised and primed to fire.
In an instant, Ben produced a flash bang grenade and hurled it into the group; he and Andor closed their eyes and covered their ears.
The light and sound was extreme, to the point that it disoriented the troopers long enough to make their move. Ben charged into the ground and began engaging the disoriented troopers in close-quarters combat, punches and kicks being sent towards the troopers' helmets.
Within seconds, four of the five troopers were down, and Andor had rushed ahead with the asset.
Ben was left by himself and the remaining fifth trooper; the man struggling to get to his feet. The white-armored body shook as the trooper forced his stunned body to stand. Many times it appeared his trembling legs would give out underneath of him.
Ben raised his blaster at the man, the trooper's helmet whipping to face him.
Then to Ben's surprise, the man simply froze, as if in shock. The man's lifeless helmet staring holes into Ben's face.
Ben waivered then lowered his blaster, confused but curious at the trooper's inaction.
Just who was this soldier?
"Ben, hurry up!" Andor yelled from down the hall.
With a long glance at the still frozen stormtrooper, Ben raced past his foe and got aboard the ship.
Soon they were off the planet at back to their base.
They got back late that night, handed their asset over to the happy Alliance Intelligence agents that were waiting in the hanger and then departed to their quarters. Ben knew their time was coming to an end.
They said their goodnights before retiring to rest.
The next morning was their final day together as a team.
"I'm leaving, and I just wanted to say goodbye. It has been a pleasure working with you, Ben," the dark haired man said solemnly.
Ben's lips turned into a sudden frown. "But you only told me that we would be parting yesterday."
Andor smiled at Ben's naivety. "Kid, you have a lot to learn about Alliance Intelligence, namely, how fast turnarounds can be."
Ben only chuckled uncomfortably at the statement.
"Anyways, I came to say goodbye. I don't know if I will see you again soon, but I wanted to tell you that I have full confidence in you," Cassian stuck his hand out.
Ben looked at it for a second before moving to grasp the outstretched hand in a firm handshake. "It was a pleasure to work with you, Cassian. I wish you well."
"And I you, Ben," Andor said before he walked away and down the hall.
Ben sighed before walking back inside his quarters and shutting the door.
Less than an hour later there was another knock on his door.
Ben sighed once more, thinking that it was Andor, and got up to go see what the man wanted.
To his surprise, the individual standing across from him was not Andor.
The young woman wore the dark green uniform of Alliance Special Operations.
"Yes?" Ben asked.
"Benjamin Madrik?" The young woman questioned?
"That's me," he replied.
"Here," the young woman shoved a datapad in his direction.
"What is this?" He asked in suspicion as he took the device in his hand.
"I don't know, sir. I'm not cleared for this information." The young woman said in a hushed tone of voice.
"Thank you," Ben replied.
The woman gave a nod then left the doorway, which promptly slid shut.
Ben was left staring at the now closed door.
Why wouldn't the woman be able to view the information I was given? He thought pensively.
He peered down to look at the datapad in his hands.
The message was from Mothma.
Dear Benjamin,
In this message, you will have outlined the parameters for your first mission. This mission is of utmost importance to the Alliance. We have received numerous reports from Fusai that some of the Rebel troops stationed there have been less than gracious to the locals: harassment, beatings, and even murders. You are to go there, investigate the nature of these crimes, find out those responsible, and then report back to me.
Ben put the datapad down with a sigh.
It looked like his new job began immediately.
Andre stood, dazed and confused, in the Imperial infirmary after getting his vitals checked. He had been sent to Alderaan to put a stop to the Rebel support on the planet.
They had accomplished just that.
But as he stood in the infirmary, his mind was elsewhere.
He had seen a ghost, someone who shouldn't have been alive.
His younger brother had put a blaster to his head and let him live.
There was no mistaking it, "Benny" –as he called his younger brother affectionately- was alive.
