Greetings and salutations, my loyal readers! I finally kept my word and updated when I said I was going to for once. So while Drakken is having a crisis of conscience with Veruna in his ear, let's check in on Freya and see how her mission is going...and who this contact is supposed to be. Enjoy your read!
Freya checked the time. The team would be arriving on Daiyu in a few minutes. She felt a fluttering in her stomach, and took a deep breath to center herself. This was it; her first real mission commanding a unit by herself. If she succeeded, she might get promoted. In the very least, Drakken would be proud of her. If she failed…well that was a sobering thought. If she failed the mission, it would probably mean she got killed in action. Or worse, one of the team would be killed. Even if she survived, Vader would probably off her in quick order. She gulped.
What was that…thing's deal anyway? Why was he always so angry and kill-happy? And why did the emperor let him give orders? It didn't sit right with her, even if she never said anything about it, even to Drakken. The Empire was supposed to be a force for good…for peace and stability. She wasn't a fool. Thorne knew that being a soldier and protecting those values meant sometimes having to destroy enemies who would try to disrupt that peace and hurt innocent people. That was the very nature of war.
The way Lord Vader went about it though was too savage and brutal for her liking. Nobody on Breoh-Lar choked the life out of their subordinates when things didn't go their way. Clan chiefs and captains on her homeworld would be hung for killing innocent people or the gods forbid; blowing up an entire planet. Sure, there had been raids back in the day, and people died, but she was fairly sure that not even the most primitive and barbaric of Breohans ever just slaughtered an entire village of people just to make a point.
She sighed. Maybe she was just being naïve again. Maybe that was just the way of the wider galaxy beyond her atmosphere. Brutality around every turn. Barbarism as a way of thinking. She looked around the bay of the shuttle. At least these people weren't thugs. These were some of the finest warriors she'd ever met, and Drakken was the pinnacle of what it meant to be a warrior chieftain, despite his flaws. Drakken…she wished again that he was here now. Freya cleared her throat. No sense in getting lost in the tangle of her mind. There was work to do.
"Alright…" She began. "…we're t' be 'oled up at a place called The Grand Daimyo's Palace Hotel. Sounds like a right lovely spot, eh guys?" The troopers shrugged or grunted their feelings about the name. "I booked us three rooms on the sixth floor. The contact is supposed to meet me at room six-oh-seven at Oh-dark-hundred tonight. We'll be landin' at around eighteen-hundred local time. Felian, I want ye t' take yer team an' set up in six-oh-eight. Daraay, same thing, but in room six-oh-six. We haven't a bloody clue who this contact is, nor what troubles can come our merry way on this planet, so I want to be on guard. Questions so far?"
"Good plan, ma'am." Felian nodded. "Reading loud and clear. One questions though. Who's squad is the new guy on?"
"Aye, I'll be stickin' him with you if that's alright."
"Understood, ma'am."
"What do we do while we're waiting for the contact?" Gallen asked. "Do we have to stay in the rooms, or can we check out the landscape?" Freya rolled her green eyes.
"Alright, You lot can go explore, but don't ye be wanderin' off inta the sunset. Stay within oh…one block o' the hotel. That way if somethin' happens, you can get back in a hurry." Gallen nodded. "Oh, but I want every one of you in your rooms by twenty-two-hundred." She grinned. "Now jes' cause the C'mander be gone, don't mean you fellows got the run o' the place. Remember ye lot…you're special forces, not a bunch a' garrison troopers, right? I want everyone actin' like it. C'mander Tharcourt'll be comin' back in a couple a' days, an' if we muck this up, he'll be sure to 'ave yer ballocks fer breakfast." A few of the men chuckled.
"Boiled or fried, ma'am?" Gallen quipped.
"Scrambled." Thorne stated.
"Two minutes out." Halresk reported over the intercom. "Clearance received. Making final approach run now." Thorne let out a tense breath.
"Whew…okay, don't feck this up…" She muttered.
"Don't worry ma'am." Gallen said from across the aisle. "We know our business." Thorne shot him an exasperated look.
"Wasn't talkin' to you, Gallen." She grumbled.
The shuttle landed, and the team disembarked on a large landing pad outside of The Grand Daimyo's Palace Hotel. Freya took one look at the building, and let out an audible groan. She was certain about two things; this hotel did not look like a palace, and if a Daimyo ever stayed at this place, he must have been exiled and very, very poor. They marched into the hotel in perfect formation, to a mixture of irritation, disgust and downright terror from many of the people in the lobby. Thorne checked in, and the unit went immediately to their suite of rooms on the sixth floor. Once again, she had to let out a sigh at the room she would be occupying. Her quarters back on the ship were cleaner and nicer than the tiny suite. There was a knock at the door, and she turned about and slid open the hatch.
"Ma'am." Gallen said, coming to attention. "Requesting permission to uh…go…recon, yeah…recon the market down on the street." Freya raised her right eyebrow, and felt she must look a little like Drakken with her current expression.
"Oh aye." She said sarcastically. "Ye go make sure they don't be sellin' anything dangerous or illegal now, hm?"
"Oh yes ma'am." The sniper returned.
"Off with ye trooper. Dismissed." She waved, and shut the door. She walked across the room and sat down on the bed. No sooner had she hit the mattress than the door was pecked upon. She huffed. "An' anse again I heared a tappin', somewhat louder than before…" She muttered, walking to the hatch. She opened it to find Sergeant Daraay taking up nearly the entirety of the narrow opening.
"Daraay?"
"Ma'am, are you aware that Corporal Gallen is on his way to the market on the street?"
"Yeah, I told him he could go." Thorne answered.
"Would you like me to send someone down with him? Better the troopers go in small groups than alone."
"Brilliant idea." Freya thought. "Send Lago. He's innocent enough t' keep Gallen outta trouble, and can shoot well enough t' keep trouble away from the both of them." The Death Trooper saluted.
"At once, ma'am." She barked, and turned back to the hall. Thorne shut the hatch again. This time, she unfastened her bag, and took out the clothing she had packed. She held up a pair of trousers and thought about it for a moment. She looked down at her skirt and toeless boots. Would it be better to wear a regulation uniform for this meeting, or would her normal uniform suffice? There was no knowing who or what this contact was. It could be a spy, an informant, or even an ISB agent. She relented, and changed into a pair of regulation jodhpurs and boots.
It felt a little strange, actually wearing pants for once, and her feet felt constricted in the shined leather knee-boots. Better to make a good first impression though. She thought, and put on her best pair of gloves, one of the pair Drakken had bought her for her birthday. She cleaned and oiled her blaster pistol and slid it into the holster on her belt, then gave herself a look in the mirror. She wiped a small smudge off of her rank insignia and puffed out her chest.
"Alrighty…at least I look the part." She said to herself. She then deflated a little and decided that she needed a drink before this meeting. After snagging Daraay and Mets, she went down to the lobby, which was still packed with people of many specie. It was only now that she noticed the small casino off to one side of the lobby, and realized this was probably the reason for the crowd. She nodded with her head toward the opposite direction and the three Imperials walked through a wide doorway and into a loud drinking establishment. Thorne wrinkled her nose. Between the talking, swears, oaths and expletives filling the air, she could hardly hear the bad music coming from a small stage in the corner. It reminded her somewhat of that dingy cantina on that sandy world the team had traveled to.
"To the bar, sergeant." She said. "If I'm t' execute this mission right, I need a pint."
"Are you sure it is okay to be drinking on duty, ma'am?" Daraay questioned.
"One, I'm not technically on duty till this contact arrives…" Thorne replied. "Two, there's nothin' in the manual against an officer drinking, just against drunkenness…an' fer good reason, I'll warrant. Three, I was tippin' back ale when I was twelve."
"Point taken, ma'am." Daraay said, and Mets chuckled. Thorne walked to the bar, and the bartender turned and froze for a second, then looked her up and down.
"Is there…some kind of problem, ma'am? The weequay bartender asked suspiciously.
"None at all, sir. Jes like me a pint of whatever ale ye serve 'ere." She placed a credit on the table, and the bartender took it and went off to fetch her drink. Freya turned and looked about the room. Several patrons were actually getting up and leaving, casting angry or wary glances at the trio on their way out. A few more were nudging their compatriots and motioning toward the Imperials at the bar. Thorne scowled as the weequay sat her mug of ale down. "I don't think we're too popular 'ere." She commented, and took a drink from the glass.
"Not too much Imperial presence out here, ma'am." Mets informed her. "A whole lot of underhanded stuff going on, and they probably think we're after somebody." She took another swig of ale and nodded.
"Reminds me o' the outlands back hame…" She commented. "No law, no go'ernment, just highwaymen and brigands."
"And I said to Hell with the Empire!" A voice said, more loudly than the others in the cantina. Thorne beaded in on the person who had said it. A strongly-built, inebriated man was sitting with two other humans and a large, hairy bothan at a table a few meters away. He glowered directly at Freya. "Yeah, and I'll say it again…to Hell with the Empire, and ssssucks to all Imps!" Mets started to move toward him, but Thorne slammed her arm across his chestplate.
"Och the no." She stated. "That's not what we're here for. No sense in lettin' a drunkard rile ye up." He nodded, and Thorne picked up her mug and drained the rest of the beverage. "Oi, yer ale's a wee bit weak. Can I hae another?" She sat another credit down, and the weequay took her mug to refill it. He returned and she took the glass from him, and took a healthy drink.
"Ma'am." She heard Daraay say, and a moment later, felt a tug on the back of her tunic. She turned to see the man who had yelled at them standing before her. At about five feet-eight, he came up to her nose, and stared angrily up at her.
"Can I be of assistance, sir?" She said in her most accommodating tone.
"You…" He slurred. "Are the biggest…tallest…pile of rotten mynock esthrement…I ever seen." He poked a finger against her sternum, and Thorne casually glanced down at it as her two escorts stood by, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. "Id…did not know they thtacked trash that highhhh…"
"Right." She said with a forced smile. "I 'ppreciate th' drunken sentiment, mate…you have yerself a right jolly night." She took a drink of her ale, and the man let it be know that he wasn't finished.
"I'll tell you…lemme tell you one thing…" The bothan placed a furry hand on his shoulder, but the man shrugged it off. "Nuh…nuh…nuh…don't you paw at…at me. Lemme shpeak…I wanna say that you peoples are the worst…and I don't like you…and you need to go kriff yourself…in a refresher." She could smell the alcohol on him, and wondered how much he had consumed. "Fer a gal…you're aaaaaaall chest and no face too." Thorne narrowed her eyes. "Bad old…baby-blasting…idiots!"
"Sir, please return to yer table." Thorne said in a calm but assertive tone. "We're here fer a drink, not t' be startin' a row with a drunk civilian." The man wavered for a moment, then seemed to build up more steam. Freya started to take a drink, but he knocked the glass out of her hand, and it shattered on the floor. The music stopped playing, the patrons stopped cursing, and it seemed like all the planet had stopped turning and was now staring at Freya and the drunken man.
"Sir, you are under arrest for assaulting an Imperial officer." Daraay stated. "Place your…"
"No." Thorne said, holding up the hand that once contained her drink. "I'm not pressin' charges." She looked at the man a moment.
"Oh…oh…your not pressing -hic- charges eh?" He said defiantly. "Well what are you going to do then, General Long-Legs?" She glanced at the Bothan and the human standing behind him.
"You lot plan on getting arrested fer a load a' shite this e'en?" She asked.
"Hell no." The human said quickly. The bothan raised his hands innocently.
"Good." Thorne said. The drunken man hit the floor a second and a half after Freya's fist impacted his face. Out cold, he lay on the ground, blood trickling from his nose. Freya shook her right hand a few times. "Shite…that's gonna swell, it is." She looked at Daraay. "Spillin' somebody's ale is a punishable offence where I come from."
"It is?" Mets asked. She shrugged.
"Right well ought to be." She returned. "Lets head back to our rooms. Wee bit too excitin' in here." She nodded to the bartender. "Sorry 'bout the mess, sir."
"Not at all, ma'am…" The weequay said, almost impressed that the young woman officer had knocked a man out in one blow. The three Imperials exited the room, unaware that from the corner, a figure had been watching them the whole time. A pair of black knee boots slid off of a table, and a young woman leaned forward, her eyes on the officer as she exited the room. The woman grabbed a shot glass with a gloved hand and threw back the strong drink in one go. She pushed her brown leather flight cap and goggles back further on her head and grinned.
"Welllll…" She hummed to herself. "This ought to be more interesting than I previously thought."
Freya, Daraay and Mets walked down the hall leading to their rooms. From the other end of the corridor, they could see Gallen and Lago approaching, the marksman carrying some sort of long rolled-up bundle on his shoulder, a victorious smile plastered on his face. As they drew nearer, Thorne could see that it was some kind of carpet, and now she was totally confused.
"Ma'am." Gallen greeted, shifting the bundle to his left shoulder so he could send up a salute.
"Gallen…is that…is that a rug?"
"Sure is, ma'am, and I got a great deal on it too." He answered. "A great deal."
"Uh-huh…and where exactly are ye gonna be puttin' this new trinket o' yours?" She asked slyly.
"I uh…" He stammered, and grinned sheepishly. "In the commons r…"
"Nope. Tis against regulation." She stated with a wry smile.
"Uhhhh…in the barracks?"
"'Fraid not, trooper. I don't e'en think it would fit." Gallen now had a dejected expression. She sighed. "You can keep it, alright? Just don't put it where some higher-up is gonna see it, or where C'mander Tharcourt will cuss about it. Deal?"
"Sure thing, ma'am. I'm sure I'll find…something to do with it. It's a nice rug. Hand-loomed and everything." She shook her head.
"Well carry on."
"Sure I can't put it in the commons room? It'd really tie the room together…" He commented. Thorne placed her hands on her hips like a stern mother, and tapped her toe against the floor. "Alright, alright, I'm going, ma'am."
"I told you that you'd get in trouble." Lago said as Gallen entered his room. The hatch closed and Freya looked back at her two escorts.
"I'm sure you two are laughing behind those helmets…" She said.
"No ma'am." Daraay returned. "I have not laughed since yesterday morning. And that was more of a chuckle."
"Why do I believe that?" Freya smiled. "You two can go back to yer rooms. I'll have you lot meet me in mine at twenty-two-hundred. Pass the word around."
"Yes ma'am." The two saluted and went back into their own rooms as Thorne returned to hers. She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. This was shaping up to be far more irritating than difficult, and she sighed, thinking about how she was becoming more like a mother to these troopers than an actual commanding officer. Maybe that was the secret. Drakken seemed like a father figure. It did feel kind of odd playing the mother though, when most of these soldiers were older than her, some by as much as ten years. She drew out her electronic cigarra and took a deep draw from it, exhaling the cloud of vapor into the air slowly. She looked at the device. She had only taken up the habit after meeting Drakken and learning how relaxing smoking could be. Freya smiled. She'd picked up a lot from Drakken.
By twenty-two-hundred, Freya was becoming bored, and was actually looking forward to the meeting, if only just a little bit. She sat down the datapad she was holding, saving the poem she'd been reading for another time, and stood from the bed. She stretched, and straightened out her uniform, making sure any wrinkles were gone. A knock at the hatch to the room indicated that the team was ready for their briefing. Freya took a deep breath.
"Right. Time to act like a right proper officer now…" She muttered, and opened the hatch to see all of Delta-7 standing in the hall. "Ah. 'Ello troopers." She began. "Firstly, I'd like one of you to stay in each room, to make sure nobody sneaks in whilst yer all in here. Gallen, Lago…since you two must be weary from yer epic journey earlier, that's you." Gallen snickered, and Lago grinned behind his black stormtrooper helmet. The two returned to their rooms as Thorne continued. "The rest of you, inside."
In the hotel room, Ensign Thorne began to give them all a briefing about the upcoming meeting. With the exception of Daraay, who would remain with Thorne in the room during the meeting for security, the rest of the troopers would take up a position in their rooms and in the corridor. Mets and Coleth would stand by her door during her meeting with the contact, with Felian at one end of the hall, and Dall at the other. Gallen would be on overwatch, monitoring the streets below from his window. Halresk would guard the turbolift with Lago, with orders to check the identity of anyone attempting to disembark on their floor, and to provide a little added security for their contact to enter and leave.
"Does everyone understand the plan then?" She asked.
"Yes ma'am." The room answered.
"Any questions?"
"None." Felian declared.
"No ma'am." Daraay said. The rest of the team shook their heads.
"Lovely. Then if there's nothing else, we'll get ready to…" She was interrupted by the hatch to the room sliding open. They all turned toward the doorway to see Gallen, sporting an irritated look and a bloody nose. "Gallen! Wot in the blazes 'appened?!"
"I was uh…I kinda got robbed, ma'am." He admitted.
"Wot?!" Thorne exclaimed. "Felian, secure the area! Mets, Coleth, lock down th' lift! Smartly, people!"
"Ugh, it's nothing major, ma'am…" Gallen protested, holding up a hand. "Nobody was after our equipment or tryin' to sabotage the meeting or anything. They were after the rug, apparently." Thorne huffed.
"Daraay, take Mets and Coleth. Check the floor, just for good measure. Gallen, explain." The sniper sighed.
"Alright, it was like this, okay? I got a really good deal on that rug. I guess it was too good a deal. Apparently, it was hot goods, and the rich guy it belonged to sent three goons to get it back. They hit me in the face with a sock with something in it just to say 'hi', then they threatened me with a sword…like a real, ancient kriffin' sword. Can you believe that?"
"Were they rebels?" Felian asked.
"Naw…they said they were nihilists." Gallen huffed. "They took the rug, man." He slumped a little. "I was gonna put that in the barracks."
"That rug really would have tied the room together." Lago said, shaking his head disappointedly. Freya rolled her eyes.
"I think I've heed aboot enough a' that damn blighted rug!" The ensign stated. "Merry lot a' bother this planet's been so far…rugs an' drunkards! Now you lot get intae yer positions, an we'll attempt to hae a right proper mission. Fer feck's sake!"
"Ma'am!" The troopers barked, a little shocked at her outburst. They piled out of the room, leaving Thorne alone with Daraay.
"Are you good, ma'am?" The Death Trooper asked.
"Aye sergeant…" She returned. "Now I see wot Drakken has t' put up with." Thorne heard a short, distorted chuckle from Daraay's helmet. She turned her head, and the sergeant snapped to attention. Thorne tried to keep a straight face, then let out a very unladylike chortle, followed by a snort. She cleared her throat.
"This idn't funny." She stated.
"No ma'am." Daraay agreed.
"Ready to meet this mysterious contact o' ours?" Thorne asked.
"I am at your side, Ensign Thorne." Daraay answered. Freya smiled. At exactly twenty-three-thirty, Thorne's commlink beeped.
"Ma'am, one subject en route. Claims to be your contact." Lago's voice stated.
"Copy." She spoke. "Delta-7 standby." A few moments later, the hatch to her room opened, and in stepped the enigmatic informant she had been so curious about. She was somewhat surprised to see that the contact was a young woman, and she took a moment to take in her appearance. She looked to be about twenty-five or so, with messy, shoulder-length black hair. The newcomer wore a red cargo vest and a short-sleeved white shirt which showed off a curious tattoo on the woman's right arm. A leather flight cap and goggles, knee boots and a holstered blaster pistol gave the impression that she was either a smuggler or a professional hardcase.
"I assume you're the contact I'm to be meeting with." Freya greeted.
"Give this girl the prize." The woman said with a smug grin. "Doctor Aphra…professional treasure hunter, and I guess you can say…part-time information broker?"
"Well that's an interesting resume, it is." Freya commented. "Ensign Thorne. Pleased to make yer acquaintance."
"With the info I got? Yeah, I'm sure you guys are more than happy to have me over for a meet and greet." Doctor Aphra shrugged. She walked over to a couch in the room and plopped down, propping her boots up on a low table. "And with what I'm getting paid for this little spy job…I can't complain too much myself." The young woman yawned. "It'll at least get me back into somebody's good graces. Nice accent, by the way. Where you from?"
"Breoh'Lar. It's a planet in the outer rim…"
"Out by Utapau, yeah." Aphra interjected. "You people sure do have a fun history, don't you?" She rolled a hand in the air. "So, let's get down to business, Ensign Thorne."
"Aye. Right." Freya said. "You have the location of a hidden rebel base…right?"
Aphra grinned. This young officer was so annoyingly cute and awkward. She felt like she could tell this Thorne that the rebels were hiding in The Maw, and she would go looking for them. Chelli Aphra didn't think she could do that though. Despite her lack of morality, especially when dealing with the Empire, she couldn't do that to a girl seemingly so naïve. It would be too bad spirited. Aphra wasn't going soft over a cute girl though. Not even close. The twenty-thousand credits Vader had promised her for viable information was a major motivator to do this right. He even vowed an additional ten thousand if they found a specific rebel on the base.
It wouldn't be an easy thing to do, leading a contingent of Imperials to the rebels' doorstep. It would no doubt be dangerous, but Doctor Aphra never shied away from danger…especially if there was a decent payday waiting for her afterwards. Take these imps, go rendezvous with whatever forces they had in orbit, go to Mimban, show them the little secret playhouse the rebs had there, let them do their thing and get paid. Simple enough. She smiled at the officer.
"I do, in fact." Aphra said. "They're on Mimban, and I don't mind showing you people exactly where."
"Can we trust you?" Thorne asked.
"Nope. No more than I can trust you." Aphra returned innocently. "My boss always pays on time, but in my experience, Imperial officers aren't exactly the most…loyal and honest people in the galaxy." Freya crossed her arms over her chest. Aphra shrugged. "Sorry I'm not sorry, kid." She said.
"Well, I dunno wot kind a' dealins ye had before an' with who, but I don't cheat nobody, Miss Aphra." Thorne stated. "I'm 'ere t' do a job, and I don't see a point in bein' underhanded about it. You can trust us."
"Yeaahhh…I kinda believe you." Aphra replied. "For some reason. So, I figure we'll all take one ship to save fuel. I'll let you guys chauffer me around, seeing as the Empire is footing the bill. Me and my droids will ride along on your command ship. You bring me back here when we're done. Deal?"
"Sure. I don't see a problem with that." Freya nodded. "We can leave at once if yer ready."
"Okay, so we gonna go meet with the rest of your forces or whatever and head over to Mimban?" Aphra inquired. Thorne narrowed her eyes.
"Rest o' what forces?" She asked back. Aphra's mouth fell open.
"You gotta be kidding me!" She exclaimed. "There's what? Like six of you?!"
"Nine, actually."
"Nine imps against a rebel base? Yeah sure, it's a teeny, tiny rebel base, but there must be a couple dozen fighters there. Who did you piss off to get sent on a suicide mission like this?" The archaeologist gestured into the air. "How do you plan on attacking a whole compound with just nine of you?" Freya grinned.
"Well, we took out a base about three times the size o' the one yer describin' just last month." The ensign explained. "An' that was with ten of us, it was. Though I did have t' spend some time in th' ole bacta tank after. Had ourselves a right holiday little while back too. Ended up in th' middle of a city full a' rebels usin' us fer target practice. Don't ye worry, Doctor Aphra. These troopers are more'n enough for a few rebels."
"Okay, who are you people?!" Aphra shot. Thorne made a theatrical bow.
"Delta-7, Imperial Special Forces…sneakin' in an' slotting mean ol' rebels is our specialty." Aphra slapped her leg and laughed. She pointed a finger at Thorne.
"Now you, I like!" The doctor exclaimed. "Alright, let's go. Try not to get dead, and I might buy you a drink afterwards.
Bet none of you saw that one coming...and I don't want to hear any guff about random, unsolicited cameos. We got to see Zeb in The Mandalorian, and I'm sure you all loved it. Besides, Aphra is canon, she's an amazing character, and deserves more appearances...her and her skewed moral compass. She's here now, and there's no going back, so that's that. Timeline-wise, this is right before she breaks with Vader, so it works in canon.
Now the team is venturing over to Drakken's old stomping ground on Mimban. If you know anything about that scughole, you know that Freya and crew are in for an assignment and a half. What will happen once they reach their destination? And how will Drakken and Zala stop the rogue ISB agent? Tune in next time for more sci-fi combat, drama and weirdness with 'Imperials'. Until then loyal readers, Cheerio!
