Mutiny!

{ The lastest installment in the DT Chronicles. ;o) }

Dara rapped lightly on her commander’s door with the back of her knuckles and waited for the eventual “Come!”
She opened the door and stepped inside, letting the door shut behind her before she saluted. “Sir!”
Rogue, seated, returned the salute informally and gestured to a chair. “Dara. Good to see you. Have a seat and tell me what’s on your mind.”
Dara managed a small smile and perched on the side of Rogue’s desk instead of taking a chair, half-turning to face her commander. Rogue lifted on eyebrow curiously.
“Sir, we need to talk.”
“I’m listening.” His second, so often cheerful and lively, now worried him with her serious demeanor.
“There’s been something that we’ve discussed in the past, and I don’t think you’ve been taking me seriously.”
Rogue looked surprised. Though he and Dara often joked around, he thought he gave her proper credence as the situation warranted. “What are you talking about?”
“This.” And then there was a blaster approximately four centimeters from Rogue’s nose.
“Uh, Dara, if this is a joke….”
“This is what I’m talking about, sir. I’ve warned you this day was coming, and you laughed it off. I told you I would mutiny, and you treated it like a joke.” She shook her head sadly, though the blaster never wavered.
Rogue held very still. A cold, hard knot was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach as he realized she wasn’t kidding. “Dara,” he began.
“No, Rogue, you had your chance. It’s too late now.” She reached over and lifted his blaster free from its holster with her left hand and tossed it across the room. “Just believe that this is for the greater good.” She raised her voice. “Killer! Dog!”
Rogue stared speechlessly as the two men entered the room and moved to stand on either side of him.
“Terribly sorry about this sir,” Killer shrugged, “but orders are orders.”
“Whose orders?” Rogue demanded.
“Hers.” Dog jerked a thumb at Dara and grinned cockily.
“I did warn you, sir,” she said softly, then nodded to Killer and Dog. “I’d rather we avoided violence, Rogue.”
Even had Rogue wanted to resist, the entire situation was too surreal for him to even formulate a plan. Also, Dara still had her blaster, his lay across the room, and Dog and Killer both wore theirs. He stood and looked Dara in the eye. Her lower lip quivered slightly, and she turned away.
“Go,” she said, and Rogue was escorted out of the room. She bit her lip and sat in Rogue’s chair. Moments later, she was joined by Roberta and Tresk.
“Well?” Roberta wasted no time.
Dara’s lip quivered again, and she raised her hand to stifle the giggle that slipped out.
Roberta grinned, her question answered. “Poor Rogue.”
Tresk’s brow furrowed. “I still don’t think this is a good idea. If we get caught?”
“We won’t,” Dara assured him. “Redding has sliced loops into the security holocams covering the route and area of the detention center Killer and Dog are heading for. I supervised his work. I also put in a request for two weeks’ leave in Rogue’s name. It’s been so long since he requested any that it was almost immediately approved. The fact that we’re technically off the duty-rotation right now helped, as well. We’ve all got leave coming, as a matter of fact. The two weeks starts tomorrow, and I can finish his work today. No one will ever know.”
“Except Rogue,” Roberta commented.
“Yes, well…” Dara half-smiled. “I’m sorta hoping he’ll forgive me.” She winked at Tresk, who still didn’t look convinced.
“Is she even here yet?” Allison had appeared in the doorway, and she stood with one hand propped on her hip.
Dara nodded and glanced at her chrono. “Her shuttle touched down an hour ago. Davra and Sean went to go meet her.”
“How long are we keeping Rogue cooped up?” Allison asked.
“Until tomorrow evening.” Dara laughed. “I’ve been telling him to get some rest. Now he has no choice.”
* * *
They were halfway to the Detention Center when Rogue’s mind started to clear and reality set in. The absurdity of the situation struck Rogue: his second-in-command was attempting a mutiny in a fully-staffed NR base. Their squadron wasn’t the only one housed there. Though Rogue hadn’t seen any other personnel since leaving his office, he knew that if he could evade Killer and Dog, he would be able to make it to an occupied portion of the base and contact military police. He wanted answers.
They were heading toward a corridor intersection. Rogue counted the steps, ready to barrel into Dog and run down an adjoining hallway. They drew closer. Rogue tensed, then sprang into action…
…Only to find himself flat on his back seconds later. As he lay there, gasping for air, it occurred to Rogue that his escorts had not been chosen lightly. Dog was the squadron’s unarmed combat expert, was in fact the best in the entire wing. Killer could out-lift anyone on base when it came to free weights. Rogue decided that Dara had expected him to attempt an escape.
“Sorry, sir,” Dog said, leaning casually against the wall. “Nothing personal.”
For some reason, the use of the honorific “sir” infuriated Rogue. He could imagine the mockery that dripped from the word. “If Daramis is giving the orders now, why do you keep calling me ‘sir’?” he demanded angrily.
Killer smiled easily. “Habit?” He reached down and offered Rogue a hand.
Rogue pushed it away, climbing to his feet on his own. Desperate to attract the attention of anyone who could stop this madness from continuing, he lashed at Dog. Though caught momentarily off-guard, Dog deflected the chin-strike easily, diverting the force of the blow to one side. Rogue tried again, a feint-strike combination, but it was ineffective. For what seemed like hours, but in reality could only have been minutes, he tried every trick, dirty or otherwise, to get past Dog. Dog effortlessly deflected each one without retaliating.
Then Rogue’s anger was spent, leaving his exhausted, slumped in defeat. Killer rested a heavy hand on his shoulder and propelled him forward. Dog followed warily. They walked the rest of the way to the Detention Center without further incidents or even speaking, until Dog keyed open one of the cells.
Rogue hesitated, glancing from one man he had once trusted to the other. “Why is she doing this?” Rogue asked softly. “What did I do? After all these years, why now?”
Dog grinned. “Rogue, if I could understand women, I wouldn’t be wasting my time in the military.”
Rogue almost smiled, then looked to Killer.
“She said it was for the greater good,” he shrugged.
“Whatever that means,” Dog said cryptically, then shoved Rogue—not too hard—inside the cell. The door shut before Rogue could turn.
Rogue sank onto the sleeping platform and rested his head against the wall. He had seen the cells before, had even been inside one, but never as the intended occupant. It offered new perspective on how bare and hopeless the cells were, perspective he could have lived without.
His only hope now were the security cameras. Surely the security detail would notice that he was occupying the cell, or investigate the scene he had made by attacking Dog. It could only be a matter of time before they released him and someone would explain matters to his satisfaction.
In the interim, Rogue began to sift his memories of the last few weeks, searching for something that could have prompted such uncharacteristic behavior from Daramis Mcejo.
* * *
Daramis Mcejo settled into the chair at the head of the conference table, the chair that Rogue normally occupied. She felt odd that Rogue had been cooling his heels in a cell for the past three hours, and that he thought it was on her initiative. That wasn't entirely untrue, but it wasn't for the reasons that Rogue would be guessing.
She shoved those thoughts aside and looked around the table at her fellow conspirators. Davra sat next to her, leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, looking for all the world as if he were napping. Killer sat on her other side, and Tresk next to him. Dog and Sean were laughing loudly over a ribald story. Roberta, Allison, and Redding were discussion the day's training sessions and cheesecake. Jon sat one chair removed from everyone, managing to remain an aloof, bored loner while still part of the group.
Daramis cleared her throat to get their attention. After a moment, the side conversations died down.
"I'm sure everyone knows by now that Phase I was a huge success. Rogue currently resides in cell--" she glanced at Dog.
"32-C," he supplied.
"Thank you. Cell 32-C, and he is probably going stir-crazy by now. Fortunately, none of our highly irregular activities were noticed, courtesy of Redding's slicing skills." There was a smattering of applause, and Redding jumped to his feet and bowed.
Dara smiled and waited for him to sit. "The welcoming committee reports that our guest arrived intact and in high spirits. She's settled into the guest quarters and is fully supporting both Phases." She glanced at her datapad. "How are we coming on Phase II?" She looked at Roberta.
"So far, so good, Daramis. We'll be ready to go at 1800 tomorrow."
"We have permission?"
"As much as we've asked for," Roberta said dryly, and that prompted laughter.
"What the general doesn't know won't hurt him," Dara replied. "Rogue's leave goes into effect at 0600 tomorrow morning. I've managed to file all his report and finish the paperwork he didn't know he had, and I also posted a Do Not Disturb notice on his office and his quarters. He's off-duty in twenty minutes, so I think we can safely say that no one will notice his absence.
"For those of you who have reservations about this mad scheme, rest assured that you will not be implicated." She glanced from face to face, but they all seemed largely supportive. "I'll need status reports by noon tomorrow. Dog, Killer, you should be in place by 1750. Everyone else, meet no later than 1800. Allison, you're in charge of our guest tomorrow--answering any questions, showing her around, making sure she eats, and so on." Allison nodded, and Dara looked at her datapad again. "Am I forgetting anything?"
"Shuttle reservations?" Roberta asked.
"Made at 1300 today," Davra supplied.
Sean leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Dog tells me that Rogue kicked up quite a fuss earlier, Daramis. How can we be sure that he'll come with his escort quietly tomorrow?"
Dara frowned. "Ideas, anyone?"
"He really wanted to know why your sudden change of heart," Dog mentioned. "Perhaps if we told him you would explain, he'd be curious enough to avoid any more scenes?"
"All right. Do it. Anything else, people?"
Tresk raised a hand. "Do you really think Rogue will forgive us?"
Daramis grinned. "I think he will. But we should certainly be prepared for some sort of revenge."
"Well, that certainly eases my mind," Tresk deadpanned.
Amid the laughter that followed, Dara stood. "You all know what to do. Incidentally, attached to the approval for Rogue's leave was permission for two weeks leave for most of the rest of us."
"Most?" Allison raised an eyebrow.
"Well, I have some things to take care of for Rogue, so my leave will only be ten days, starting four days from now. Jon, you were approved to attend the advanced demolitions training, so you'll only get a week."
Disappointment and excitement fought for predominance on the teenaged demolitions expert's face, and excitement finally won out.
"And Dog, the general was hoping you'd volunteer to do some unarmed combat instruction for the new squad, but that's completely your choice."
"I'll think about it," Dog yawned.
"The rest of you, leave begins after Phase II ends. I'll see you all tomorrow."
Daramis excused herself quickly and was halfway to her quarters before Allison caught up with her.
"Daramis, I just thought of something."
"Yes?"
"No one outside of our squadron knows where Rogue is, right?"
"Right."
"None of the duty officers, none of the guards, no one in the detention center?"
"Right again."
"Then, who's going to bring him meals?"
"I am, of course. Did you think I was going to make Rogue eat prison food?"
"You?" Allison blinked.
"Well, everyone else is so busy with other preparations..."
"Of all of us, wouldn't Rogue be most upset with you?"
"I suppose so."
"And you're going to his cell alone?"
"That was the plan..." Even as she said it, it occurred to Dara that perhaps it wasn't the wisest idea. "Okay, so maybe not. Who, then?"
"I'll do it."
Dara considered. "Are you sure, Allison? You're already playing hostess tomorrow. Will you have time?"
"I'll make time," she said decisively.
"All right. I was on my way right now. The cook in the officer's mess is saving a plate for me."
"Is it all right if I pick it up instead?"
"It should be. Any questions, tell them to buzz my comlink."
"Yes, ma'am!" Allison saluted and ran off.
Dara crossed that task off her mental to-do list and continued to her room.

Rogue paced the cell, agitated. He had soon learned that it was five steps long and three wide, and he had discovered that after he had concluded that no one was paying attention to the security monitors
His chrono read 1400, and he was sick of staring at the same four blank walls. The night had passed uneventfully; any other time he might have even said it had been peaceful, but he was too uptight to appreciate the lack of interruptions. Consequently, it had taken him a long while to fall asleep, and then he didn't sleep very deeply. Time had been crawling all day, with only meals brought by a silent Allison to mark its passage.
Rogue had given up trying to find a cause for his predicament. He had relived every decision, every conversation with Dara, every joking comment, everything he could remember from the last two weeks, and could find nothing that would explain mutiny. He concluded, much to his dissatisfaction, that he wasn't as good at gauging her moods as he had thought, and that perhaps he had said something in a joking manner that had been grossly misinterpreted. There was simply no other explanation.
From there, he had tried to recall if there had been any indication from the rest of the squadron. He remembered a few furtive glances, a couple of conversations mysteriously hushed when he entered the room, but nothing that could have hinted at a betrayal of this magnitude.
His chrono ticked away the numbers as the day passed. Rogue tried to distract himself with mind games and puzzles, but he would always return to constructing scenarios that would get him out of this mess.
He had spent what seemed like an eternity in that cell, the silence weighing on him almost as much as the forced solitude, wondering how his absence had gone uninvestigated for almost a solid twenty-four hours, when the door opened. he turned, expecting to see Allison bearing food, finding instead Killer and Dog framed in the doorway, blasters at their sides, but otherwise empty-handed.
"What, no binders?" Rogue asked, sarcasm edging his voice.
"We were sort of hoping that you would come quietly this time," Killer said.
"Why would I do that?"
"Because," Dog said lightly, "Daramis wants to see you. She wants to explain things to you, make you understand what this is all about and why it happened."
Hope surged through Rogue. If he could speak to his normally level-headed second, he was certain he could make her see reason. Perhaps this had been a gigantic misunderstanding. If he could just talk to her....
Rogue straightened. "Then let's go."
As they walked through the maze of corridors, Rogue once again noticed that the area seemed oddly deserted. Any other day, a five minute walk would have brought him into contact with a minimum of ten beings. They walked for several minutes, without seeing anyone, not even a droid, before Rogue realized where they were heading.
Killer and Dog stopped outside the officer's mess. "She's in there."
Rogue was confused. "Why here?"
"Ask her."
Rogue shook his head and keyed open the door. The interior was dark, but he stepped forward.
The moment he was through the door, lights blazed, the sound of music swirled around his ears, and he could hear people yelling, "Surprise!”
He threw himself back against the wall, reaching for the blaster that wasn’t there before he could curb the instinct. He gazed around, dumbfounded and speechless, at the festive decorations, the elaborate refreshments, the “Happy Anniversary” banner, and the sheer number of people filling the room.
Then Dara stood next to him, grinning sheepishly. “Happy Anniversary, sir.”
He blinked, then blinked again. Then he shook his head. “Everyone was in on this?”
“No. Everyone was in on the surprise, but only our squadron knows about the mutiny.”
“Then why didn’t—“ He stopped. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Dara laughed. “I’ll fill you in on the details later, sir.”
Rogue looked at her speculatively. “You know I’ll never forgive you for this.”
“Why don’t you decide that after you see your present?” Dara moved aside, and Rogue saw the most beautiful sight he had seen in months.
His wife walked through the door.
Sean appeared at his elbow, murmuring, “I believe it’s Dog’s job to drool, Rogue.”

Rogue abruptly shut his mouth, then was moving toward his wife, wrapping her in a warm embrace. He was faintly aware of cheering and “awws” in the background.
After an appropriate amount of time had passed, just before the onlookers grew embarrassed, Dara coughed lightly.
“Sir, that’s not all.”
Rogue drew back slightly, lost in his wife’s eyes. “This is plenty, Daramis.”
“Oh. Well, then, I suppose we can get a refund on these shuttle tickets to Hapes. And you won’t be wanting this two-week leave.”
Rogue’s jaw dropped again, and he turned slowly, not believing his ears. Friendly laughter rippled around the room at his _expression.
Dara smiled innocently. “Will you forgive us now?”
Silence hung in the air for a double handful of heartbeats. Then Rogue drew his wife close again, laughing. “You just might have earned my forgiveness. But beware my revenge.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, sir.”
And the music played.