(A/N)- This was the chapter that gave me the most headaches. It's not as funny as the others, mostly set-up and exposition, so it was a slog to try to write. Hopefully it's still a little funny though.
Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Nope. Boo.
Chapter 2: Missing Case Logs And Other Forms Of Unfortunate Miscommunication
-SW-
Klipspree Airspace - Imperial Cruiser The Revenant - Outside Conference Room B
8.5 hours after "The Incident"
The betting pool on the Revenant was in a bit of a scattered disarray. The going over-under rate for "Length of time it takes for Vader and/or Gideon to strangle someone" had been sitting pretty at "Approximately 40 minutes" but now that the current favored first targets for their wrath—Dreyn and Bells—had escaped their debriefing interview remarkably with throats intact (reigning popular theory was that Vader and Gideon had found them just too pathetic to kill), everyone was scrambling to re-place their bets with the Commissary bookie. The new favorite times were "one hour", "halfway in", and "right before lunch".
Brysi Tanner up on Deck 4 had already somehow made a killing within the first hour, and that was something TK-8574 absolutely could not let stand.
He went down the row of nervous, soon-to-be-intervieweds and advised them all to play up the same traumatized meltdown that had let Dreyn and Bells escape, figuring that watching the same sniveling performance over and over was bound to wear Vader and Gideon down faster.
Sooner or later one of them would snap. And then TK-8574 would be raking in more credits than a prissy stuck-up OPS director could ever dream.
"Take that Brysi, you blonde pompous pinhead," he muttered to himself as he watched a new set of officers step into the conference room.
-SW-
Hyperspace - Hydian Way - The Ghost Freighter Living Area
1 hour before "The Incident"
Hera switched on the holoprojector in the dejarik table, bringing up the blueprints provided to them by Rebel High Command.
"All right, IRO Alpha-Four, can everyone see okay?" she asked.
"No, but don't let that stop you," Kanan immediately quipped, standing against the near wall with arms crossed, grinning beneath his eyemask.
Hera smiled and chuckled. "Would you like me to turn on the closed captioning, dear?" she teased sweetly.
"Nah, that's what padawans are for," he joked back. "Right, Ezra?"
Ezra let his eyes roll a little bit, but then studied the map dutifully. "Doesn't look too different from a lot of other Imperial installations," he said. "Big courtyard for deploying TIEs and walkers in the front, barracks in one corner, labs and offices in the other. North Tower high up at the top of the facility past all the guard stations and security." He leaned back on one foot. "Pretty standard, actually."
"You'd think, but they also have one of those nasty rapid-warning systems that gave us trouble on Felucia," Hera told them. Her hands leaned intently on the rim of the dejarik table, glaring narrowly at the holoprojection. "Trip that and you bring down basically the whole garrison on you," she continued, tapping a button and zooming out a little, to encompass the wider general area. The Imperial garrison was clearly marked with bright danger red, in stark contrast to the blue of their target and the neutral yellow of the surrounding city. Chopper had even marked the facility with a blinking digital arrow and a label in binary that flashed, "LOTTA IMPS. KEEP AWAY."
"Sounds to me like we're going to need a distraction to draw the garrison away," piped the voice of Sabine. The brightly armored Mandalorian had an eager gleam in her eyes. "I'm thinking three explosions, one here, here and here," she said, pointing at various places on the map.
"No explosions," Hera shot down immediately. "Major Derlin was very explicit that this remain a stealth mission. In and out. Undetected."
From his seat in the booth, Zeb huffed. "You know that's never how it happens," he said dryly.
"Well, let's be optimistic," Hera replied with a smile. She studied the map for a bit. "All right, looks like here's going to be the easiest access point."
"Maintenance hatch on the south side, 'bout fifty clicks up from the street," Ezra described to Kanan in an unobtrusive whisper.
"You'll infiltrate the lower levels first, then take this turbolift up to Floor 7," Hera continued.
"Near the top, gonna be six chimes."
Sabine, meanwhile, was not quite willing to give up on her favorite incendiary pastime. "Can I talk you down to two explosions?" she asked. "I can time them to cover our escape."
"No explosions," Hera repeated. "Split up once you reach the North Tower, cover the doors and this hallway while Chopper gets into the data core and downloads the intelligence."
"Oooh, that hallway's got a flashbang light defense grid. Better let you handle that one if things get hairy, since it won't affect you," Ezra quipped.
Kanan cuffed him softly upside the head. "Don't be cheeky," he chided playfully.
"Signal me once you've got it and I'll start heading over with the Ghost. I can land in the courtyard here," Hera kept going.
"I'm hearing one and a half explosions," Sabine pitched again.
"How can you have half an explosion?" Zeb muttered.
"They'll probably know something's up when I approach so you might have to fight your way through this auxiliary exit," Hera said. "If that's blocked you can take this passage through the main doors. Oh and take care to avoid Sector 4B, from my preliminary research they're experimenting with some kind of prototype nutrient gel intended to replace parts of standard Imperial rations," she finished up.
"Oh come on, that's gotta merit at least one grenade!" Sabine argued desperately. "Hera, that has 'Let Sabine make a big splattery mess' written all over it!"
"Kanan, you take point. Ezra, I want you inside the North Tower covering Chopper. Sabine will..."
Hera trailed off, glancing at the girl.
Sabine quivered with anticipation, giving her best Loth-Wolf puppy eyes.
"...You know what? Maybe you should stay here with me and hold the hanger instead, Sabine," Hera quickly changed her mind.
"What?! But—!" Sabine sputtered, immediately scandalized.
"Ah heh heh heh heh!" Zeb gave a loud guffaw and slapped the table, laughing at the girl's expression and misfortune.
"You too, Zeb, I want you stationed by this door until extraction."
The laughing immediately stopped, grin dropping off Zeb's face and replaced with a sour frown. "Awww!" he groaned, pouting with crossed arms.
Hera put her fists on her hips as she straightened. "Everyone understand the plan?" she asked.
A round of mumbled, "Yes Hera"s, some more resentful than others.
"Good. Then we'll—"
Chopper interrupted her, rolling brazenly into the room with loud blorts.
"What is it, Chopper?" Hera asked.
"WAAAAAAAAAAB WUB WHAB WUB," he beeped.
Hera furrowed her eyes. "A message from the Alliance?" she repeated, confusion pinching between her brows. "What did it say?"
Chopper waved his pincers dismissively with another series of warbles.
"Well, why didn't you answer?!" Hera demanded. She ran a palm down her face, switching off the holotable. "Ugh, nevermind, I'll listen to it later. Go time is at 1100, people. Be ready," she ordered, marching off down the hallway towards the cockpit.
Sabine waited until she was safely out of hearing range and then slumped in the booth, in a mirror-image crossed-armed pose to Zeb's, face sour like a child deprived of their favorite candy.
"She takes the fun out of everything," she grumbled.
Ezra patted her shoulder sympathetically.
-SW-
Hyperspace - Hydian Way - The Millennium Falcon cockpit
40 minutes before "The Incident"
"Ccchhhkkk—come in Fal—skkkhhhh—please please respon—krshhhh—shhhhhkk—nother team at the same—skkkkkrrrrr—watch—"
"Sir?" Threepio inquired towards the legs stuck halfway inside an open panel. "There appears to be a message coming through to us from Rebel Command."
"Yeah?" came Han Solo's voice, muffled by the machinery and wires he was currently stuck up inside. "What d'they want?"
"Unclear sir, the message is very garbled," Threepio reported regretfully. "I'm quite unable to parse it at all I'm afraid."
Sighing, Han pulled himself out from the open access panel, hydrospanner in hand. "Yeah the comm's been on the fritz for a while," he told Threepio. He gestured with the hydrospanner. "Get Artoo to look at it, see if he can't figure out what's wrong with it."
"Right away sir," Threepio said, bobbing his head.
"Just out of curiosity," came a feminine voice from behind them. "Is there anything on this steaming junk heap that isn't on the fritz?"
Han resisted the sour twist that came over his face, plastering on a congenial smile as he turned to face the princess, who was leaned against the side of the hallway just outside the cockpit.
"All right, so the Falcon isn't in the best of shape right now—" he admitted.
Leia snorted. "Is it ever?" she challenged.
"Hey!" Han's voice turned just slightly sharper, losing the smile. "Watch it, she's sensitive."
"Yeah Han, that's our problem," Leia pointed out. She shouldered off the wall and dropped her hands as she gestured. "We've got an air cycling unit that only works half the time, the repulsor coils are filling up with gunk, and there's a smell in the 'fresher pipes from something that I don't even wanna know about but it's vile."
Deeper in the cabin, Chewbacca roared out an addition.
"And we've still got a leak in the hyperspace fuel line, thank you Chewie," Leia finished.
"Yeah, thanks Chewie," Han muttered.
Threepio had borne witness to the argument (this made number three-hundred and seventy one this week, a new record) silently up until now, merely tilting his head towards each party in turn, but now he piped up.
"In fairness, Your Highness," he addressed Leia, "the fuel line leak could have been avoided had the Dugs not turned their alternating mounted carbine turbolaser on us."
"Han didn't have to shoot at the Head Councilman!" Leia pointed out indignantly.
"He was a pain in the ass and he smelled bad," Han defended grumpily. "Look, stand here and keep flapping your gums if you want," he said, turning his back on her and bending down to look through the open toolbox next to the panel. "Otherwise... make yourself useful."
Leia began rolling up her sleeves. "All right, fine," she declared.
Han felt a jolt of alarm as she knelt down panel level, looking like she was reaching into the open access.
"Woah woah hey, what are you doing?!" he demanded, protectively inserting himself between her and the blue-lit wires and parts, hand splaying across the open panel.
Fixing him with an incredulous look, Leia said, "I'm helping repair the Falcon."
"No you aren't, are you crazy?!" Han asked her, poking his head just inside and checking to make sure she hadn't gotten any of her icky princess germs in the interior veins of his baby. "You don't just touch a man's ship!" He grabbed a rag and rubbed furiously at a spot he thought she might have breathed on too closely.
He leaned back on his heels, satisfied he'd removed all traces of princess from the walls. He reached for the toolbox's handle and handed the whole thing pointedly to Leia. Turning, he slid himself back into the hatch, head and upper torso disappearing inside the ship.
"You wanna help you can pass me the tools like a good girl," he called back out at her.
Leia stood slowly, the toolbox in her arms, almost too offended to even fume properly.
She considered her options for a moment, rifling through until she decided on petty.
She upturned the box and dumped the contents squarely onto Han's stomach.
Han yawped loudly as several heavy wrenches introduced themselves to his solar plexus. And... lower down.
Leia let the toolbox itself drop, releasing it out of her hands dismissively. Han grunted, the legs stuck out from the vent curling up comically in pain. Leia swiveled on her heel and stalked out, shoes tapping on the floor.
Han screwed his mouth, heavily thinking every single swear word he knew in Shyriiwook, Huttese, Rodian, Galactic Basic, and one really foul expletive he'd learned from Sullust. He pulled himself out of the open panel with a grimace, gingerly maneuvering due to his ah... injured area.
"I really hate that woman," he muttered, reaching for the tool he needed.
"I don't think she's very fond of you either, Sir," Threepio observed.
Glowering, Han glared at the protocol droid. "Fix the damn comms," he ordered, his head disappearing into the open compartment again.
-SW-
Luke slumped at the dejarik table, arms draped across the edges, and rolled his father's lightsaber back and forth with his fingers on the surface. He stared straight down the emitter as he idly fidgeted with it.
Entering, Chewbacca shuffled into the room with a separate (un-upturned) toolbox, fur a bit greasy from having fixed the leak in the hyperspace fuel line. The Wookie took one look at Luke and grunted a concerned-but-blunt question.
"Arrrrr rraaaagh rrrraaa?"
"I'm not moping," Luke denied, flicking his saber again. It rolled a few inches left, it returned those few inches right, back to his hands.
Chewbacca gave a skeptical huff.
Sighing, Luke stopped his fidgeting and straightened up, leaving the saber on the table. His back slumped into the seat now, instead. "It's just... there was so much more that I needed to learn about all this 'being a Jedi' stuff," he admitted. His eyes were saddened, his smile grim and humorless. "I'm not any good at it without Ben."
Chewbacca barked some encouragement, gesturing with a paw.
Luke's smile twitched, turning a smidge more genuine. "Thanks Chewie. Glad at least you think I've made progress." He shifted in his seat, turning more forward. "You knew some Jedi, you said? Back in the Clone Wars?"
"Rraf!" Chewbacca confirmed, with a proud and vigorous nod.
"I don't suppose you have any advice for a greenback Jedi learner do you?" he asked hopefully. "Any Force techniques you could tell me about?"
The Wookie barked apologetically, giving a chagrined shrug.
Optimism falling right off his face, Luke sighed again. "No, yeah, I guess that makes sense. It would be hard to describe if you don't 'have it', you know?"
"Rrmmmph," Chewbacca agreed.
A flutter from the doorway announced a new presence. "Kid having his usual moping session about how he's the only Jedi left in the galaxy?" Han asked, wiping his hands on a cloth as he entered.
"I'm not moping," Luke pouted sourly.
"Rrraaa grraa rrhmph!" Chewbacca chimed in in agreement at almost the same time.
Han rolled his eyes. "Yeah whatever, kid. Listen: Rebel Command has got some new task they need us to do so if you can pull yourself out of your pity party, your limited skills would be much appreciated."
A little incensed, Luke put his hands flat on the dejarik table. "Come on, Han, you're old enough to remember the Jedi. Don't you ever wonder where they all went?" he challenged.
"Not sure if I should feel insulted by that," Han muttered. He tossed the handcloth aside haphazardly into a random corner and stepped over to the booth. "I mean, yeah, one minute they're all over the holonet, leading armies and fighting battle droids, stuff of living legends, all that." He shrugged, his shoulder sloughing nonchalantly. "And then the next they're just... all gone."
Luke was vibrating, hanging on Han's every word, as meager as it was. "What do you think happened to them all?" he asked breathlessly.
Han groaned. "I dunno, kid, I was ten. Intergalactic politics wasn't exactly at the top of my mind back then." At a stern look from Chewbacca he continued, "There were some whispers about them being traitors or something. Assassination attempt on the chancellor I think." He dropped into the booth, sitting across from Luke. Glancing from side to side with his eyes, he lowered his voice, spoke almost conspiratorially. "You think maybe the Empire... pulled an Alderaan on them?" he asked.
There was a scrape and shuffle from somewhere further in the ship.
"REALLY?!" Leia's voice bellowed out, incensed and offended. "Oh, real mature, Han! Real sensitive!"
Not even questioning how Leia could possibly have heard him Han immediately defended, "What?! I'm saying the Empire probably wiped them all out, that's a bad thing!"
Luke groaned, turning his head in aggravation. What was that, the third time this hour Han and Leia had gotten into it?
Being on this junk heap was insufferable enough without those two butting heads every few minutes.
He half wanted to tell them to get a room to work their issues out.
Only half.
He dropped his curious questions about the Jedi and their fate, choosing instead, as Han's voice rose even louder to counter Leia's shouts from somewhere in the belly of the ship, to dismiss himself with an overeager, "You know what? I'm gonna go clean the air cycler conduits." as he stood up from the table.
Chewbacca quickly agreed with him, and the two hastily exited as the shouting grew even louder behind them.
-SW-
Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Communications and OPS Ready Room
30 minutes before "The Incident"
There seemed be an unusual agitation at the comms station, Mon Mothma noticed, as she made her rounds of the Command Center, having already checked in with Espionage, Maintenance, Supplies and Storage, and the Music Division. (She still wasn't quite sure why they had that last sect but she supposed it was for morale purposes and didn't interrogate it much further.)
One of the operators looked stressed out of his mind, repeatedly calling into the speaker on his console with pinched features.
She caught snatches of what he was saying as she walked up.
"Rebel Command to Millennium Falcon? Falcon come in." An anxious beat or two and then, "Please come in, Falcon," the operator begged.
Concern growing inside her, Mon Mothma hastened her pace to step up behind the stressed operator.
"Ensign?" she addressed him. "Is something wrong?"
The young officer hung his head, his hand still stretched out over the console like he wanted to collapse on top of it.
"Draven said he assigned the Falcon a mission," he explained, muttering wearily.
Her brows scrunched. Draven had a bad habit of not waiting for authorization to give out assignments but that wasn't anything new. The Rebellion was full of cocksure mavericks, it was as infuriating as it was effective.
"All... right...?" she said carefully, tone subtly plying for more information. "Was there a problem?"
Turning in his seat, swiveling towards her with chagrin on his face, the operator grabbed a flimsi sheet from off the console and handed it to her. She took it in her hands carefully, eyes scanning over it briefly and recognizing it as one of their official mission logs, records of each ship and team they had sent out into the field and when.
"The Ghost was already assigned to a mission at the same facility," the operator told her, miserably. "I've been trying to raise both ships for almost half an hour now to warn them, but they won't respond," he continued.
Mon Mothma's face froze as she confirmed the discrepancy for herself in the log and then it did several things in rapid succession:
First, she blanched, turning whiter than a sheet.
Then her face turned a little greenish, mouth pinching in a flat line against some kind of horrified scream.
Finally, she cleared her throat, her cheeks flushing rapidly pink as she turned her eyes and handed the flimsi sheet back to the technician.
"I'm... sure it will be all right," she said, voice strained, not sounding sure of that at all. "Both teams are... competent and professional." She was going to be sick. "They'll be okay," she lied, drifting away from the comms station in a daze.
There was going to be sooooo much paperwork after this, she thought with dread.
-SW-
Corsin - Docking Bay 53 - Stinger Mantis Main Living Area
20 minutes before "The Incident"
"Cere!" came the excited, over-eager call.
The Jedi woman glanced up from her datapad. Cal was trying to shove his own pad in front of her eyes—Cere glimpsed the headline of an article about some kind of rare discovery in an archeological dig and leaned her head back, squinting.
"Another Jedi artifact?" she guessed.
"Saw says the Imperial Survey Corps is moving it from IRO Alpha-Four on Klipspree to the Inner Core in two days," he explained, withdrawing the pad and scrolling down through its contents. "Which means the best chance we have of grabbing it is right now."
"Exactly how many Jedi artifacts do we need to liberate, Cal, before you are satisfied?" came Merrin's skeptical comment from where she sat on the other side of the couch, feet up on the small table and nose buried in Arleen Tarokin's latest sordid romance novel. "We are running out of room on the ship," she grumbled, thinking of the overcrowded engine room where Cal had been storing most of their captures. It was getting exceedingly hard to move around in there, which made seducing—ah, courting her Jedi companion increasingly difficult.
"Plus Klipspree is horrible this time of year," Greez added from his seat in the cockpit, voice drifting back to them from the open hallway. "Bad weather, worse fuel prices, and it's feymaker season," he complained. "Damn pollens will make my allergies flare up like the frills of a Tontine lizard in heat. My nose is getting itchy just thinking about it."
"But it's the Winged Goddess from the library of Ossus!" Cal protested, eyes pinching, looking almost crestfallen as he turned the pad around again for Cere to see. "You remember, Cere? Younglings would take field trips to go see the gallery. That statue used to sit in the main corridor."
"I remember," Cere said carefully, already feeling her resolve beginning to crack. Cal was hitting her right in the "Hey, our entire culture was genocided" nostalgia and it was just a little bit aggravating how well the tactic worked.
"Kid, no. That place will be crawling with Stormtroopers," Greez argued from the cockpit.
All Cal had to do was turn his big blue eyes towards her.
"Please Cere?" he begged, eager and earnest.
Cere bit her lip, trying to hold out.
-SW-
Yavin IV - Massassi Temple - Office of Mon Mothma - Mission Debriefing
8.4 hours after "The Incident"
Cere shifted a bit uncomfortably at the incredulous looks that were being pinned on her.
"In my defense..." she said, "...he has very convincing puppy dog eyes."
The other women shifted their looks away, shuffling in their seats with murmurs of understanding and agreement.
(A/N)- Dropping one more chapter with this batch and then you're gonna have to wait until I write the rest of it.