Mission Accomplished

“Before we begin, you need to know that this mission is strictly volunteer. If you don’t feel comfortable with it, I’ll understand.” Commander “Rogue” Garcia paused, waiting for the surprised murmur to fade.

His second-in-command, Daramis Mcejo, glanced at him questioningly. He gave her a reassuring nod, then looked at the rest of his command, judging their reactions.

Jon, his teenage demolitions expert, looked bored. But that was no surprise; he always looked bored, even when he was setting hair-trigger explosives. Roberta had a datapad close to hand, ready to take the notes she would need for her quartermaster duties. His two snipers seemed relaxed, though Tresk looked curious and Jeff “Killer” looked suspicious.

The newest member of Rogue’s detachment, Redding, piped up. “Sir, why—“

Rogue cut him off. “Hear me out, soldier.” Redding was fresh from the academy, and his curiosity often overpowered his good judgment. But this was an informal briefing, and Rogue didn’t want to be too hard on him.

Redding flushed and nodded silently.

Rogue’s gaze fell pointedly on the eighth chair that was noticeably vacant. He could see in his peripheral vision that everyone followed his gaze, except for Daramis, who watched him carefully.

“You all know that we lost Dog three weeks ago.”

“At the end of the mission with the botched intel,” Dara grumbled. Her comment was needless. The events were still all too fresh in their memories.

They had been slated to investigate a rendezvous point between known smugglers and Imperials, in an effort to trace the Imperial supply line. It should have been a routine assignment, but there had been much more firepower than intel had predicted, as well as two capital ships that weren’t reported. To top it all off, it seemed as if they had been expected, and Dog had gone out in a blaze of glory. Though he mourned Dog’s loss, Rogue had considered it a statistically low casualty rate, considering the odds.

“Exactly,” Rogue confirmed.

Before he could continue, Killer cut in. “Revenge mission?” he asked eagerly.

Rogue shook his head and met disappointed stares. “Better than that,” he said. “We’ve been piecing together bits of information gathered from various sources, and it’s been all but confirmed that Dog is alive and being held in a detention center on Brialt.”

Hope flared in Roberta’s eyes, then dimmed. “Sir, this is impossible. People only come back from the dead in Rogue Squadron and holovids. We all watched Dog’s fighter burn.”

“We saw it burn, yes. It never exploded.”

“But we couldn’t raise him on the comm,” Tresk pointed out. “And his life support systems were gone.”

“The flames would have destroyed both,” Rogue agreed, “but he was wearing his flightsuit, and we were in atmosphere, as thin as it was. Life support was not vital. Also, this pilot—who obviously wasn’t named in Imperial transmissions—was apparently picked up minutes after his engines caught fire. Remember the cruiser that moved between us and Dog? We never saw his fighter go down.”

There was absolute silence for two pairs of heartbeats as they absorbed this information.

“We are going to get him, sir?” Dara’s voice was soft and dangerous. The realization that one of their own had been enjoying Imperial hospitality for three weeks without their knowledge made her furious. Killer reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Well, that’s what we’re here for. It won’t be easy. It won’t be pretty. There’s a chance that we’re wrong. Volunteers only, and no hard feelings if you opt out.” He gazed around the room and was pleased and not at all surprised to see every hand in the air, though Demolitions still looked bored. “All right. Let’s hammer out a plan.

“The Brialt Detention Center isn’t the Imperials’ biggest, which should make our job that much easier. It is adequately defended with both air- and ground-based defenses. This is going to be of necessity swift and sneaky.” He touched a button on the arm of his chair and a holoschematic of a military complex sprang up in the middle of the briefing table. “That’s the BDC.” He paused, letting them study the building for a moment.

“I’m still working on our apology for launching this mission, so—“

Redding raised his hand. “Why an apology?”

Dara answered for Rogue. “Risk seven soldiers on an attempt to rescue one who may or may not be alive? In this case, it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. We just hope that we’re successful and that they decide to retroactively sanction this.”

Rogue nodded. “Dara, Redding, Tresk, you work together and find a way to get in, get Dog, and get out intact. Roberta, Killer, Jon, same thing. You’ve got one hour.” He turned his attention to his datapad as his people separated themselves into groups and started their quiet, earnest discussions.

After two hours of mashing together the results of the two planning groups, slicing off the excess bits, smoothing out the rough areas, and hashing out the questions of supplies, Rogue decided they had a workable, if not perfect, plan.

“Redding, I need you to make sure we don’t get pulled for duty while we’re gone. Can you handle it?”

“Yes sir!” The eager young slicer saluted crisply.

“Okay. We’ve got three groups: Meet’n’greet, Hide’n’seek, and Getaway.

“Meet’n’greet: Killer, Redding, and myself. We make a lot of noise. We draw attention. We kill Imps. We try not to get killed ourselves.

“Hide’n’seek: Dara, Jon, and Tresk. They search the compound, they avoid imperials, and they find Dog. Dara will head up that group, Jon will blow up anything that gets in their way, and Tresk will provide cover fire and any medical attention that Dog may require.

“Getaway: Roberta, and partly Redding. She stays with the transport, monitoring communications in the hopes that we’ll be warned before the Imperials do anything drastic. Redding stays with her for the first ten minutes in order to slice into the BDC’s computer mainframe and locate Dog. Any questions so far?”

No one ventured any comments, so Rogue continued. “An analysis of BDC’s defenses shows a heavy reliance on TIE fighters, but mostly human guards. They haven’t had an infiltration in twenty years, and their defense commander attributes that to his performance, but in reality it’s due to the fact that there hasn’t been an attempt in twenty years. We will, of course, be exploiting his overconfidence.

“Dara’s group studied observations on the guards’ patterns and discovered that there is a service entrance that is only guarded by one trooper for thirty minutes just before local sundown. Every other entrance is guarded by at least three troopers, with more patrolling the perimeter.

“Meet’n’greet will open fire on the back door, doing our best to make it look like we’re it, all the while drawing the Imperials’ attention away from that service entrance. Hide’n’seek will neutralize the guard and enter the compound. I figure we can hold the guards’ attention for ten, maybe fifteen minutes on the outside, and that will hopefully be enough to get Dog out.

“Hide’n’seek will rendezvous with Roberta, and then we will disengage. We’re hoping Roberta can provide enough cover fire that Meet’n’greet can board and we can be in the air and on our way before BDC can scramble their TIEs.”

Killer raised his hand and Rogue acknowledged him with a nod. “What’s to stop them from scrambling their TIEs the minute they know we’re there?”

Rogue hesitated before replying. “The defense commander is very proud of his ground troops. He’s issued statements to citizens concerned about the aerial damage TIE fighters are noted for that the TIEs are and will be a last resort.” He glanced around. “Look, we’re not kidding ourselves here. This is a risky mission, built on maybes and hypotheticals. Even if we pull it off, we could all be staring at a court martial for taking the initiative. This won’t be easy or clean. Again, if anyone wants out, I’ll understand.”

No one moved.

He waited for a handful of seconds, then smiled grimly. “Roberta, can you get us a transport?”

“Already done, sir. I had Redding reroute a small Corellian transport that was scheduled for routine maintenance.”

“Excellent. All right, people. Get in your teams and hammer out the details. Let’s make sure we get out of there alive, come what may.”

Waiting is the hardest part, Daramis thought as she sat back in her seat and tried not to fidget. They were in transit to Brialt, and Dara’s nerves were on edge. She had twice had to prevent herself from snapping at Redding for his ceaseless, nervous chatter, and now decided that she should devote her energy to cleaning her blaster. The methodical, habitual motions eased her mind slightly.

She snapped the charge back into her blaster and slid it into its holster. A hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped, twisting halfway around in her seat and consciously not drawing her blaster. Killer grinned down at her sheepishly and she relaxed.

“Sorry,” he said, dropping into the seat next to her.

“No, it’s okay. I’m just a little tense,” she admitted.

He touched her hand. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, worry coloring his tone.

She met his eyes. “Yes,” she said decisively. “I will be fine.”

“If you say so.”

They sat silently for a long time, lost in their separate thoughts.

The sound of a loud buzzer jerked Rogue from his reverie in the cockpit. An automated voice announced that the countdown to reversion to realspace was three minutes. Rogue activated the intership comm.

“The clock is about to start, boys and girls. Take your positions. Reversion in three minutes.” He could hear the muffled activity as his team scrambled to prepare. In a way, transit had been all too long, but in another, it seemed to have taken no time at all.

Rogue could feel the familiar knot of excitement tinged with fear forming in his gut. It had been his pre-mission companion for ten years, and he wouldn’t have felt comfortable without it.

Brialt was something of a backwater world—one of the reasons the Imperials had chosen it to house a medium-security detention center—and the Corellian transport had no problem slipping through the security on the night side. They kept a low profile as they flew to a position half a klick away from the BDC, just outside of immediate scanner range.

Rouge assembled his team. “Chronos synchronized? Comlinks functioning? Blasters charged, extra clips tucked away?” The checklist was routine, but completely unnecessary. His people were good.

After determining that everyone was good to go, Rogue turned to Redding. “Slice into their systems. Let us know what you find.”

Redding saluted and took a seat in front of his computer, immediately oblivious to the world around him. Rogue jumped out of the hatch, not bothering with the ramp, and the others followed suit. Without a word, they split into their assigned groups and moved toward the BDC. It was dusk, and the light was fading fast. Each of the infiltrators had night vision goggles for navigation on the return trip.

Two hundred meters away from the BDC, the two teams parted company: Rogue and Killer headed to the back door, and Dara’s team slipping through the shadows to the service entrance. Dara could just barely see the form of the guard when Redding’s voice came through the speaker in her ear.

“The pilot is being held in cell AD-587. Take the first left and go all the way down the corridor. Section AD will be the last entrance on the right.”

Dara double-clicked to confirm reception and give permission for Redding to join his group. She glanced at her chrono and waved Tresk and Jon forward. They had four minutes from that double-click to get into position before Rogue and his boys started the party.

They found cover behind a large pile of debris and scrap metal. Dara counted down the seconds, pausing to say, “Demolitions, get ready to take out that door. Quietly,” she added, and resumed her count.

Precisely on cue, Dara heard blaster fire and war cries. Lights flashed, and an alarm sounded. Dara raised her left arm, waited five seconds, and clenched her fist. The three of them ran forward in a low crouch. The guard had moved a few steps away from his post and was craning his neck as if to see what all the fuss was about. He never knew what hit him.

Demolitions set a shaped charge next to the door, took two steps back, and covered his ears. Dara glanced around impatiently, starting a little when the explosive blew the door inward.

“I said ‘quietly,’ Demolitions,” she hissed as she moved inside, scanning the corridor with her blaster.

Demolitions shrugged, grabbed his gear pack, and followed Dara and Tresk.

The corridors were empty. Dara concluded that it was either a wing that wasn’t used much, deserted after dark, or that the Meet’n’greet group was doing an excellent job. They moved through the hallways quietly, pausing every few moments to listen.

Section AD was clearly marked and Dara led her group into it, acting as point man. Only once did they hear footsteps, and those sounded to be heading the opposite direction. Dara could hear Tresk murmuring cell numbers under his breath.

Dara skidded to a stop in front of one of the cells. “Demolitions, knock on the door, but not too loudly.”

Jon dropped to one knee and pressed a special lock-demolishing device—his own invention—to the door, then moved back.

“Three—two—one—“ The charge exploded, leaving the lock in shreds.

Dara pushed the door open easily and stepped into the small room. Dog lay on the narrow cot, his hands tucked behind his head. He looked only slightly the worse for wear—there were untreated burns scattered across his face, arms, and neck, and his right eye was swollen and discolored. He seemed otherwise intact as he sat up, swung his legs over the side of the cot, and presented his wrists in one smooth motion.

“What took you so long,” Dog complained. “I expected you last week.”

Demolitions muttered something under his breath and Dara glared at him. She produced a thin wire about the length of her index finger and inserted it in the binders that restrained Dog’s wrists.

“Demolitions had a hangnail,” she quipped. “We couldn’t mount a rescue operation until it healed. Nice shiner, by the way.” She twisted the wire deftly and the binders released.

“Compliments of the duty officer. I don’t suppose we have time for me to return the favor?” Dog stood, rubbing his wrists. He accepted the blaster Tresk handed him.

“Sorry. Our window of opportunity is very narrow. But if we run into him on our way out, I won’t stand in your way.”

“It’ll have to do.”

“Are you two finished chatting?” Jon asked irritably.

“Chill, Demolitions, or I’ll give Redding your job,” Dara said mildly, leading the way out of the cell and down the corridor.

All was clear until they turned into the corridor leading to the service entrance.

“Halt!”

Dara risked a glance over her shoulder and saw an Imperial officer with four stormtroopers at his back. “Go!” she shouted, and sprinted towards the exit, the others hard on her heels.

Blaster fire scorched the air all around them, and Dara felt a tug at her left sleeve, but ignored it. One by one, they jumped through the exploded door. Dara stepped to the side, leaning against the wall. She was vaguely aware of the blood starting to trickle down her arm.

“Go!” she ordered the three men, who had paused beside her.

“But—“ Tresk started to protest.

“Now!” she ordered through gritted teeth.

Tresk nodded and set off at a dead run for the cover of the trees, Demolitions and Dog following.

The five Imperials burst through the door moments later, caught sight of the three men, and started after them, blasters blazing. They hadn’t noticed Daramis.

Dara grimly raised her blaster and fired at their unprotected backs, dropping the officer and two stormtroopers before they knew what was happening. They turned, bringing their weapons to bear on her, and Tresk picked off the last two. Heaving a sigh of relief, Dara jogged to catch up.

Rogue reached out and dragged Redding farther into the trees. He knew that they couldn’t hold the Imperials much longer. The element of surprise was long gone, and with it went the confusion among the Imperials. Their Academy training was starting to kick in, and the return fire was less random and scattered. They meant to flush Rogue and his men out, and didn’t seem to mind if they burned down the forest while doing so. Rogue could only hope that Daramis had found Dog and was on her way out of there.

He watched Killer out of the corner of his eye as he calmly chose each shot before squeezing the trigger. More often than not, he hit his mark. Killer, a seasoned warrior, was a stark contrast to Redding, who only had been in a handful of live combat situations. He sometimes had problems keeping his cool.

Static hissed in his earpiece, then Roberta’s voice came through loud and clear. “Fall back, sir. We’re on our way.”

Years of experience kept Rogue from letting out a whoop of delight. He knew it wasn’t over yet. He caught Killer’s eye. “Looks like we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Rogue said, moving back.

“Yes, sir,” Killer replied, firing another shot. “They say you should never be the last to leave a party.” He nudged Redding, and they both retreated farther into the trees.

A few more meters and the three men turned and broke into a dead run, counting on the trees to block Imperial fire. Rogue heard a dull thud and slowed down. Redding stumbled back a pace from a tree, clutching his forehead. He looked dazed. Rogue stifled a grin and caught the younger man’s elbow.

“C’mon, soldier. Move it!”

They passed through the trees a moment later and into a clearing where the Corellian transport waited for them, ramp extended.

“There’s a sight for sore eyes,” Killer gasped, running top speed toward it.

Rogue wholeheartedly agreed, but did not spare the breath to respond. He hurried Redding up the ramp after Killer and turned him over to Tresk. Rogue heaved a sigh of relief as the ramp retracted and the sublights kicked in.

He entered the cockpit, expecting to see Roberta at the controls. A grin split his face when he saw Dog sitting in the pilot’s seat, maneuvering the ship out of the forest and into the air. Rogue dropped into the gunner’s seat behind him.

“It’s good to have you back, Dog,” he said, bringing up the weapons display.

“The feeling is highly mutual, sir.”

“Any pursuit?”

“So far, so good.”

Rogue kept an eye on the scanners as Dog sent the ship hurtling through atmosphere, towards the comfort of space and the safety of hyperspace. By the time he saw the squadron of TIEs lifting from the BDC, they were too far away to be considered a danger. Rogue leaned back in his chair.

“You all right, Dog?”

“Fit to fly, sir.” He grinned cockily through a split lip.

“Good. Take us home.”

“Will do,” Dog said to Rogue's back as the commander walked back into the main cabin.

Redding held a cold pack to the large lump appearing on his forehead. Rogue knew that the young soldier would take some ribbing for running smack into a tree, and smiled at the thought. Everyone else seemed all right, except for Dara. She sat in a corner, expressionless, clutching her left arm. Tresk stood over her, frustration plain on his face, and Killer stood a step away.

“Killer, tell your girlfriend to let me take care of that arm,” Tresk said, exasperated.

Killer shrugged. “You think she’d listen to me?”

Dara firmly shook her head in response. Rogue came over to stand by her.

“Dara.”

“I’m fine, sir.”

“No, you’re not. ‘Fine’ doesn’t have blood leaking between her fingers.”

Dara glanced down and grimaced, but did not move.

“Let Tresk treat it, Daramis. That’s an order.”

She glared at him, and he winked at her. With a sigh, she removed her right hand and extended her left arm to Tresk. “Fine,” she huffed.

“Attagirl,” Rogue said, squeezing her right shoulder. “I’ll even let Killer hold your hand while Tresk works.”

She smiled and did not protest. Killer took the seat next to her and obliged.

Rogue staggered back as the ship jumped to hyperspace. Roberta was hovering over Redding, thoroughly embarrassing him with her motherly attentions. Tresk was peeling away the fabric of Dara’s sleeve as Killer distracted her. And Dog was in the cockpit.

“Mission accomplished,” Rogue remarked to no one in particular. He smiled. “Mission accomplished.”

*Mission Accomplished stars a few of the late night regulars from DT*