#Kelika Re'daro

[jonathan-nevermore-smith]

A Rising Beast

“War is coming, Agent Re’daro.  I dream about it every night.  With the Rebellion, within the Empire, with a hundred different revolutions spread across a thousand worlds.  Fires that need to be quenched, lest they consume the galaxy.  So I ask you, Agent, as one of the Empire’s many hands: Will you help me?”

The quarters on the top deck were spartan, utilitarian.  A steel bed frame held a simple mattress, comfortable enough and better than some of the rocks she’d slept on.  A foot locker for her things, a small table in the corner.  Until she arrived, the rooms only occupants.  Cold steel shone dully from the artificial lighting, leaving the quarters devoid of character beyond their functions.  Only one element broke the simplicity; A viewport to the outside, illuminated periodically in flashes of azure blue and crimson red.  

“Home for a night.  Better than being outside.”  

A mechanical hiss sounded behind her as the door slid closed, and she sighed as the bag carrying her stuff slid from her shoulder to rest on the floor.  From one starship to another, tiny, blank spaces such as these had been her home since she enlisted.  The past few months had seen that broken up, with her own ship and her own place to call home.  That, however, had been stolen from her, bringing her back to this familiar space.  

A flash of azure light stole her attention back to the viewport, the pounding rain diffracting the light across the room into a gentle blue.  A breath later another flash of crimson lit the sky, bathing her quarters in violent red.  Both bolts cracked the sky as they sounded, noiseless thanks to the ship’s dampening field, splitting the clouds with jagged clarity.  

“I wish I could hear you.  The rain would be nice noise to fall asleep to.  But I suppose others wouldn’t like it, so I’ll take this instead.”

Kelika stepped across the room with purpose in her stride, boots clicking softly against the steel deck.  Not two steps forward and she paused, then walked back over to the door to tap the switch for the overhead lighting.  Her quarters fell to the darkness immediately, the inky black of night eagerly filling the space in between the azure and crimson bolts.  

Violet eyes shuttered closed as darkness took the room, her knees bending to bring her to a seated position on the floor, legs crossing.  Even after the day’s events she wasn’t exactly tired, her mind wandering to the many things she had seen and learned.  Over and over, she came back to that trooper, Xane.  The armor was unmistakeable; she’d seen it several times on different operations that required a more hands-on, extended approach.  The weapon too, it was no different than hundreds of others in service across the Empire.  His other weapon though...It was the weapon of Lord Vader.  Of the Inquisitorius.  Of the old, corrupt Jedi.  She might have acted like she could have fought him, but there was no way she could have done so and won.  He would have made a mess of her inside Nexmu and Luvri’s ship.  

Another flash of blue illuminated the cabin, and with it her thoughts shifted to brighter times.  

“I won’t forget this, ma’am.  If there’s anyway I can ever repay you, you only need to reach out to me.  I may be going into hiding but I have many friends.”

She shifted uncomfortably at the awkward, far-too-tight hug the Baran-do had given her, slowly prying herself free from his grip.

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind if I ever need it.  Now get out of here, and don’t let me hear about you in Imperial space again.  I won’t be able to save you a second time.”

A crimson bolt broke the darkness, bathing the cabin in passionate red.

“You are leaving the Bureau?! Why?!”

Rho’jhan looked both concerned and betrayed, a hand reaching up to grab her shoulder.  

“You are one of the best agents I’ve ever trained! We’re doing so much good for the galaxy, you, me, the others.  We’re making changes, making the galaxy safer-”

“Are we, Rho’jhan?  Are we making it safer, making it better?”

She wheeled on him, arm pointing back to the flight deck they’d both come from.  

“I just executed a man who did nothing wrong.  He never turned himself against the Empire, he never hurt anyone.  He wasn’t even planning on hurting someone.  And I just killed him, for no reason.  So tell me, Rho’jhan, who exactly are we helping? Who exactly are we making the galaxy a safer place for? The people in it, or the Imperial brass and bureaucrats?”

Another flash of blue from the viewport, rain distorting its colors into a kaleidoscope of sapphires.

“Nexmu, Luvri.  I need a favor from you.”

“That depends.  You gonna take our ship again?”

“No.”

Kelika drew a stack of chips from a pocket, handing them to the pair along with a slip of cloth paper.

“There’s a man aboard my vessel, a Kel Dor.  Take him to these coordinates,” she looked pointedly at the cloth, “That’s six thousand credits; There’s another fourteen waiting in escrow upon completion of the job.  Do it quietly.  Avoid known hyperspace lanes.  Take as long as you need to.  If you need money for fuel, contact me through this channel,” she pressed a second piece of cloth paper into Luvri’s hand, “I have a little extra I can spare for expenses if you need it.”

The pair of Zabrak looked at each other, an unspoken question asked between them before Nexmu spoke up again.

“Ah, grife...who’s the cargo and who wants him dead?”

“The Empire will, if they ever find out he’s still alive.  I officially shot him,” the agent looked down to her chronometer, counting briefly in her head, “six hours ago.  He’s dead, according to the reports I’ve filed.  So he needs to stay that way.  Officially.  And you two are the only people I trust to not screw me, and there’s a pretty high chance of that happening anyways.  So will you take the job or not? My money is good either way.”

The wisp of thought petered out and died as uninterrupted darkness took the room.  Sweat beaded on her brow, the memories taking more of her mind than she had intended.  Kelika shook her head, trying to return to where she left off.  

Something is coming.

This was not where she had left off.

It is unstable.  You cannot maintain your footing.  Something is coming.  

You feel it, beneath you.  Sand, miles of it in every direction, shifting and folding upon itself.  Something will rise from beneath the waves.  A beast, terrifying to behold, waking from it’s slumber.  It will rise, and you will know fear.

Something is coming.

Kelika’s eyes jerked open, the irregular pulse of red and blue making her cover her eyes with her hand.  It was too much, too stimulating, it was too much...Somehow, in the middle of her fever dream, she had sprawled herself upon the floor, one hand reaching towards her gear bag.  For what, she couldn’t tell.  What she could tell, as she picked herself up off the floor, was that she was done reminiscing.  It was time for sleep.  She could ponder her past tomorrow.

“Something is coming, Kelika.  I’ve seen it in my dreams.  Please, help me.”

#Kelika Re'daro #Star Wars

[jonathan-nevermore-smith]

“One, Two, Three, Four. Death is knocking at your door. Time to go away, And play another day, One, Two, Three, Four.”

Blast, it was cold.  Two days lying in the snow, buried up to the waist, breathing through this scarf-blast again this rifle is cold.  Requisitions can’t spring for a wooden buttstock, or maybe a warming plate built into it? There has to be a way to-

Focus.  Scan your surroundings.  Watch the environment.  Look up from your scope.  Good girl.  Trees are in the same place.  More snow on that one, less on the other.  Why is there less? Has it moved? Was it bumped? Is someone else out here? The base is a little less than a mile away, a patrol might venture this far out if some local decided they hated living.  They know to stay away-

Focus.  Breathe.  Anything else? No? Look through the scope.  Watch the buildings.  Count the soldiers.  Ignore the cold.  Ignore the wind.  They are distractions.  Walk through the target’s area in your head.  Ferrocrete bunker on the left, four meters from the parade ground.  Your first shot will startle them, everyone will freeze.  Your second will make them realize they’re under attack.  Your third will hit it’s mark.  Anything after is staying too long, unless Chari needs more time to get out.  

Blink.

Chari will need more time, they always do.  Find a fourth and fifth target when they arrive.  Motor pool is twenty meters away, a few more seconds of exposure than the bunker.  Best options will be officers who break for it.  Remember to breathe, girl.  The scarf will cover it.  No one can see you.  Stay focused, keep scann-

That was noise.  A speeder bike, modified Imperial design.  Has that high-pitched whine.  Another.  Do we scrub? No, Chari hasn’t said to scrub.  Follow Chari’s lead.  Remember what Rho’jhan said.  Do not panic; Panic will kill you faster than any blaster bolt.  Stay calm.  Follow Chari.  Don’t actually follow Chari, you’re on the long gun this time.  But follow their lead.  Stay Calm.  A third bike, now a fourth.  This is it.  Go time.  Check the safety, make sure it’s off.  Missing a shot would be embarrassing.  Keep the scope on the parade grounds.  Finger off the trigger.  Breathe.  Breathe steady, girl.  Breathe.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  They’re assembling, krikking Rebels.  Threats everywhere, better off dead, all of the-

Focus.  Think on the targets.  General Bwon Sonwaaks, Duros.  Blue skin will stand out once he takes his helmet off.  Captain Desulbo Sqeen, Sullustan.  Head is small, shoot her first.  Nuc Futoth, Bothan.  Chubac Bothan cunspas, pawket chubac doh wash du farkeem- Focus.  He goes second, when everyone is still trying to understand what is happening.  The general is third.  Targets of opportunity for the rest- more bikes.  “Chari, you need to leave.  Now.  More on the way, more than we planned.  Get out-” They cannot.  Rebels have blocked their entrance, found their opening and are investigating.  They are trapped.  More bikes.  A transport speeder.  Who is coming? Check the woods, keep the rifle in place.  No one.  No one is there.  This is what happens when your spotter is also your sapper.  Rho’jhan said this was a bad mission, we should have had a third.  Breathe.  Breathe.

Look through the scope, check the motor pool.  They’ve parked.  Assembly time.  More soldiers.  Conscripts, no armor among them.  Are those-

“Chari, you need to go.  Rebel SpecForces are on a transport speeder and they are coming your way-No, Chari, stop, you need to leave.  Forget the assignment, they don’t know I’m here, I can still-No, Chari-”

It’s not time, it’s not time, no…

“Chari, wait.  When the Duros’s brains are splattered across your coat, trigger the explosives and run like Vader himself was after you.”

Wait.  Let them assemble.  No explosions, good.  Chari knows how to listen.  We all should.  Wait.  Let the scum bring her forward.  Be patient.  Check the safety, make sure it’s off.  Check your surroundings.  Woods are clear.  There’s the general.  Fool took his helmet off already, ha.  The Captain, good.  And the Bothan.  And there’s Chari, damn fool.  Dedicated, but a fool.  They’re assembled.  

Finger on the trigger.

Breathe.

Wind is 4 knots northwest.  Target is 1,452 meters out.  Drop of two feet.  It’s cold, but we’re almost a mile above sea level.  No humidity.  Rotation was factored in already.  Adjust.  He’s speaking, how cute.  Ignore the blue dildo, the Sullustan first.  That Redbird makes for such a nice target.  

Focus Kelika.  Focus.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.  Hold it.

Shoot.

She’s down.  Next target.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.  Hold it.

Shoot again.

Bothan is dead.  Now the general.  He’s pointing a blaster at Chari-

Fire.

They’re hurt, he shot them.  They aren’t moving, they need to move, they need to detonate those explosives.  Detonate the explosives, Chari.  Just push the button, just please, push the button, I’ll come get you, just blow them and I-

I won’t forget you, Chari.   Go peacefully

#Kelika Re'daro #Star Wars writing