Friday, February 29, 2008

Diplomatic Relations (pt 2)

For a long moment, Dara didn’t trust herself to speak. When she did, her voice was as cold as Hoth, and it was Redding’s turn to send warning glances her direction. “Tell me you and yours didn’t do this.”

“We did not,” Marna said, completely unruffled.

“Now tell me why we should believe you,” was her flat reply.

“You wished an explanation. I am now prepared to give you one.”

Dara sat back, arms folded. “I’m listening.”

“The State is supreme,” Marna began. “It has always been so. They go to great lengths to ensure that it remains so.”

“Hang on. You expect us to believe that the State blew up the Hall?” Redding cut in.

“I expect you to hear us out,” Marna replied mildly, and Redding glared at him balefully. “I am sure you are well aware of the extreme precautions they take to enforce their absolute control: searches, monitored and limited communication, restricted assemblage, filtered and censored news networks, curfews, and the list goes on. They did not even know what these measures safeguarded against when they set them in place, except the possible threat that, someday, someone might challenge their authority. No one did, and yet the laws remain in force; in fact, they became worse. They began arresting citizens on even the suspicion of treason or sedition—even a casual joke would serve as evidence—and then the executions started.”

“Why haven’t we heard any of this?” Dara interjected.

Marna raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think that the State would tell you or your diplomat? None of this is official, but it’s all true.”

“If it’s not official, why should we take your word that it happens? We have no way to verify.”

“It’s not official, but it is documented. Unfortunately, while we have the documents, we do not have the encryption keys. We were hoping you could take the information we will give you back to your New Republic so that they may better understand what kind of a society this is and why we are doing what we do.”

Redding is an excellent slicer. If anyone can break the encryption, he can,” Dara said shortly. “But what do you mean, ‘what we do’? Who is ‘we,’ and what exactly are you doing?”

“We are the State’s worst nightmare come true.” The man next to Marna finally spoke. “We are the resistance movement they fear, but they don’t even know we exist.”

“So far as you know,” Redding said, and earned a malevolent glance for his trouble.

“We believe it’s time for a change—for the better. It’s time to be free, and we are not afraid to die for it.”

“You’re not doing a very good job convincing me that you didn’t blow the Hall of Roses.”

“The State has been doing its research, and it has learned of the New Republic’s roots. They have changed their minds about wanting to ally themselves with an organization steeped in a rebellious mindset,” Marna said.

“They didn’t dig far enough,” Redding muttered.

“In order to save face, they must have a reason for withdrawing their request. The simplest course they saw was to prove that such an alliance would cause great disruption on our world, and that the New Republic cannot even protect its ambassadors.”

“That’s ludicrous,” Dara protested.

“Completely. But it gives them the out they need without public embarrassment.”

“You mean to say that killed over two hundred of their own people…to save face?” she asked incredulously.

“You see why our movement is vital. We love our world, but the government is destroying it. We do not ask you to accept this on faith, of course. If your man is truly as good as you say, he should be able to access the proof you require.”

“What would you want from us, should this prove to be true?”

“Only to warn your government that the State has not been honest with them and that their flaws go deeper than deceit and paranoia.”

“That’s it?” Redding had a hard time keeping all the cynicism from his words. “You don’t want troops or weapons or an invasion?”

“Would you be able to give them should we ask?” Marna countered, and both Dara and Redding shook their heads. “We are looking for a complete change in our society on all levels, and it will take more than regime change to accomplish that. Our planet would resent it if you tried. We’re aiming for a slow, bloodless—insofar as it is possible—and lasting revolution. It will take time, but it is time we are willing to invest. We are not willing that the State call in other governments so that they will have more guns to play with.”

“I can respect that,” Dara said, and shuddered slightly at the thought that the State might turn next to the remnants of the Empire.

“So if we’re not prisoners,” Redding said, and Marna nodded confirmation, “when can we leave?”

“That’s the tricky part,” the guard said. “See, they blew up the Hall of Roses to kill you. They’re not gonna exactly be thrilled to see you walking around now. Your starfighters are probably already impounded, and I doubt your stuff will be at the hotel for another hour.”

“Can we get in touch with Diplomat Raven?”

“Not likely. They’ll have cut off her communications, pending an investigation of your deaths.”

Dara let her surprise show. “They’d treat a diplomat like that?”

Marna shrugged. “Paranoia is a way of life for them. They don’t know any other.”

“And we’re the only ones who made it out,” Redding said dully. “Dog and Jayem…”

Dara felt the cold touch of grief on her heart, which she abruptly suppressed. “…Made it out, too,” she said firmly.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“There were two very nervous men in black at the Hall, looking at their chronos and generally acting suspicious. I sent Dog and Jayem to follow them.”

“You think those men set the explosives?”

“I’m sure of it. Dog and Jayem are fine.”

“For now,” Redding said dourly. “How are we supposed to find them before our paranoid pals do?”

“They’re resourceful,” Dara assured him. “We’ll get out of this. All of us.”

“Our people will be looking for them,” Marna promised.

* * *

When the speeder finally stopped, Dog and Jayem eased their bikes into the shadows of an alley. They watched in silence as the two men in black got out, followed by two more men. All four walked swiftly into a building and the door shut behind them.

Jayem sighed heavily. “Great. Just great.”

“Now what?” Dog asked, leaning forward on the handles of his bike. “The Hall of Roses is gone, and the smart credits say that the two jokers we’ve been following had more than a little to do with it. I’m not keen on following them into that building. Dara and Redding are dead, and we have no comlinks and no way of knowing how to get back to the hotel or find Diplomat Raven.”

“Wait a minute,” Jayem said. “How do you know Dara and Redding are dead?”

Dog glanced at him sharply. “Did you somehow miss the gigantic explosion? Did you forget that Dara and Redding were inside the building that was inside the gigantic explosion?”

“You don’t absolutely know they were in there. Maybe there’s a secret underground movement who found out about the explosion and warned them to get out.”

“Or maybe there’s a secret underground that caused the explosion and didn’t care who was in there. Come on, Jayem. Be logical. There’s no way they made it out of that. We’re on our own.”

Jayem nodded silently and glanced away.

Dog slid off his bike. “Look,” he said, less harshly. “I wish they hadn’t been. I’d be more than happy to see them walk around the corner right now. But we don’t have time to mourn. We have to—”

A commotion by the building cut off his next words. Three men had come back outside and were arguing loudly. One of them was pointing to the ally where Dog and Jayem were.

“Sithspit,” Dog growled. “You want to fight or run?”

“If we fight these guys, we’ll have a better chance of finding out who murdered over two hundred people, and we can always split before reinforcements arrive.”

“You sound confident that we’ll win.”

“You’re not? You’re the combat expert. You tell me.”

Dog grinned. “Just checking.”

Jayem jumped off his bike, ditched his jacket, and joined Dog at the mouth of the alley. One of the men spotted them and shouted, then all three ran toward the pilots.

Jayem frowned. “What, no call for backup?”

“Don’t look like it, but don’t count on it.” Dog pulled off his jacket as well, slung it across the speeder bike, and dropped into a fighter’s crouch.

The three Stawlians never knew what hit them. Dog’s attack was precise and controlled, while Jayem made up in enthusiasm what he lacked in years of extensive training. The first Stawlian was overeager and couldn’t check his approach as he almost tackled Dog. Dog sidestepped and tossed the man over his hip, into the speeder bike. His head was no match for the metal of the bike, and he slid to the ground out cold.

The second swerved to avoid Dog, thinking that Jayem would be an easier target. The demolitions expert took a few hits, but held his own and floored the Stawlian with a devastating gut punch that left him doubled up, gasping, while his friend circled Dog warily. Dog taunted him, ducking in and out of reach, letting him land a few punches, then hammered him until he crumpled.

Jayem wiped blood from his cheek onto his sleeve, then knelt next to the first man and quickly searched his pockets. “Dog,” he said sharply. “We have to leave. Now.”

Dog turned away from the groaning Stawlian. “Why?”

Jayem tossed the ID card he had pulled from the man’s shirt pocket to Dog.

“Sithspit! These guys are State?”

“This one is. I’d bet that the others are, too.”

Dog verified that with a swift check of the other ID cards and put them all in his pocket.

“Do you realize what this means?” Jayem said angrily.

“Talk later, leave now.” Dog grabbed his jacket and climbed back on the speeder bike, and Jayem followed suit.

“Where are we going?” Jayem yelled above the roar of the engines.

“No idea,” Dog called. “Anywhere but here.”

* * *

Dara stretched and rubbed her eyes. “Did you get in, Redding?”

Marna had brought them to a safe house and given Redding access to a computer. Even though the security measures on the State files weren’t elaborate, they were numerous, and fighting through all of them took time. After about an hour, Dara had dozed off.

“Yeah. You should see this.”

Dara leaned forward and watched as Redding pulled up report after report of political executions, arrests, property seizures, and flimsy accusations of treason. “They weren’t exaggerating,” Daramis whispered. Every report was State authorized.

“None of them can be found in any official folders. This is black ops stuff. Look at this one. I had to do extra digging to find it.” He pointed to a form for massive amounts of explosives to be delivered to the Hall of Roses.

“Fun. Can you pull copies onto a datadisk?”

Redding tossed her two cards. “Already done, Major Mother.”

She grinned and pocketed the disks.

“You have made progress?” Marna asked from the door.

“Yes,” Dara replied, standing. “Redding’s confirmed what you told us, and I admire your decision to make a stand.”

Marna shrugged slightly. “It is our world. And we are not alone in our desire for change, I think.”

“I trust that you will show others that they are not helpless. Has there been any word of our friends?”

Marna shook his head sadly. “They have not been sighted. I will let you know if we hear anything.” He glanced at his chrono. “It is late. If you are finished, I can show you sleeping quarters.”

Dara looked to Redding, who nodded and switched off the console and stretched.

“Sounds good,” he said, and they followed Marna out of the room.

* * *

Jayem yawned and shut his eyes for a moment. It was just after local midnight, and he and Dog still did not know where they were or what to do. They had stopped at a small late night store to ask directions, and Jayem, being so much taller than the average Stawlian as to be conspicuous, had opted to stay with the speeders while Dog went inside.

Jayem opened eyes to find Dog handing him a cup of caf, which he accepted gratefully. “Which way do we go?”

“We don’t,” Dog said grimly. “The State has made some not-so-subtle implications that Raven had something to do with the explosion.”

“What?”

“They’re claiming she was jealous of us, or some such nonsense. Anyway, she’s under house arrest and the entire city is nervous and on edge, equally afraid of the State and of the New Republic’s reaction.”

“Great. The State destroys the Hall of Roses and shifts the blame. They could have easily gotten away with it if they had just stayed quiet, which leads me to assume that we were at least the secondary, if not primary, targets. It would explain why we were scheduled to appear earlier than any of their important people were.”

“It gets better. Curfew is at 0100, and they’ll arrest anyone on the streets after that. We’ve got half an hour to find a place to hole up.”

Jayem downed the caf. “Any ideas?”

Dog shrugged. “Not really. Do you have any money?”

“Only New Rep chits. That’d be a dead giveaway.”

“Doesn’t leave us with many options.”

“You could come with us.”

Dog jerked his head toward the voice, and Jayem spun around, both reaching for blasters they didn’t have. The woman leaning against the wall of a nearby building snickered.

“Definitely off-worlders,” she laughed. “So, you coming?”

“I don’t think so,” Dog replied.

“You don’t have a choice.” A vibroblade appeared in her hand, and the pilots noticed two men hanging a little further back who also had vibroblades.

“Yes, we do,” Dog said evenly, letting the vibroblade hidden in his uniform slide into his hand and tossing a second to Jayem.

Jayem did a double take as he plucked the blade out of the air and thumbed it on. He determined to ask later how Dog had managed to get them past the weapons scan at the State dinner.

The woman chuckled and shut her blade off. “You, I like. You’ve got nerve.”

Dog glared. “Who are you?”

“No need to be so hostile. My name’s Celeste. That’s my backup.” She jerked a thumb at the two men still lurking in the shadows. “Who are you?”

Dog and Jayem glanced at each other, then Jayem answered, “I’m Barada and he’s Tessek.”

She clicked her tongue sympathetically. “And here I was, thinking that you were Dog and Jayem from NRSC. But, since you’re not, I can’t help you.” She moved as if to leave.

Dog took two quick steps forward. “Wait. How do you know who we are?”

Everyone on Stawl knows who you are. The welcome banquet was a State-approved broadcast, and you can be sure they wanted everyone to see when the Hall of Roses exploded. In fact, my money says that the guy in there,” she nodded to the store, “knew who you were as soon as he laid eyes on you. Whether or not he called his friends or the law is anyone’s guess, but you’re not safe on the streets.”

Her reference to the Hall of Roses did not escape the pilots’ attention. “And we’d be safer with you?” Dog asked dryly.

She shrugged. “We’re your best option.”

“We don’t even know who you are. And I don’t mean your name. I want to know what your interest is.”

She sighed and stepped close to Dog. Jayem had to move nearer to hear, her voice was pitched so low. “Have you ever heard of the Fringe?”

They shook their heads.

“How about the name Darx? Or Mayell?” When she received another negative response, she sighed. “Then you’ll just have to trust that we want to help you, which is more than the State can say.”

Jayem glanced at Dog. “Lesser of two evils, if nothing else,” he murmured.

“I’m touched,” Celeste said, rolling her eyes. “You coming or what?”

“We’ll follow,” Dog said. “If we decide we don’t like it, we’re leaving.”

“As you will.” Celeste motioned to her back up, and all three turned and climbed into a speeder that had emerged from its waiting place in an alley.

“Do you trust them?” Jayem asked as he mounted his bike.

Dog shook his head. “But what else is new?” He started the engine and roared after the speeder, Jayem close behind.



(to be continued...)

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Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Diplomatic Relations (pt 1)

{Inspired partially by Robin McKinley, partially by Aaron Allston, and partially by a conversation with Redding. Written from 3rd person omniscient, but it is, admittedly, a little Dara-centric. Can't imagine why.}

Someone rapped at Commander Rogue’s office door, startling him out of a light doze.

Exhaustion was catching up with him, and he had fallen asleep while going over some reports. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly for the past week, ever since the report from Stawl had appeared on his desk, bringing with it a heavy grief that Rogue had tried to bury in work.

Rubbing at his face with his palms, he looked around, trying to figure out what had wakened him. There was another knock, and Rogue sat up straight, grabbed the nearest report to hand, and tried to look engrossed in the detailed description of the damage suffered by standard troop transports when the fuel lines were not routinely flushed.

“Come in,” he called, eyes fastened on the report in a concentrated effort to look busy and not sleepy.

“They told us that you would have the forms for replacement dress uniforms, sir.”

Rogue froze, his breath caught in his throat. Slowly, afraid that his mind was playing a horrible trick on him, he forced his gaze from the report to the door.

Four soldiers crowded there, bruised, wearing dirty, ripped dress uniforms and tired grins. Daramis, who had spoken, had her left arm propped on Redding’s shoulder as she saluted with her right. Dog and Jayem stood behind them, looking rather the worse for wear, but very much alive and in one piece.

Rogue was on his feet before he was conscious of moving, his mouth working soundlessly as he searched for words. Finally, he clasped his hands behind his back, met each gaze in turn, ending with Dara, and said in a strained, disbelieving voice, “Report.”

Dara took the first step, leaning heavily on Redding and favoring her right ankle, and then they were all in his office.

“Well, sir, it was like this.”

Nine days ago

“With all due respect, sir, I think this is a bad idea.”

“Completely off the record, Major, I agree with you. But this isn’t my decision, and there’s little chance the order will be rescinded.”

“I realize there is precedence,” Dara admitted, “but pilots do not make good diplomats. I thought that was made clear on Adumar.”

“Actually, public perception of that incident was far more positive than you may think. Though the Diplomatic Corps denounced the methods used, all the general populace can see is that General Antilles established a united government on a fractioned planet and led them into an alliance with the New Republic.” He held up a hand to forestall the comment he could see forming on her lips. “We both know that’s not precisely how it happened, but the message that our pilots can do more than vape TIEs was transmitted in the clear. Now other worlds want to meet examples of our famed Starfighter Command.”

“And I’ll bet the diplomats are having a fit.”

Rogue grinned. “You have no idea. I’ve already had an earful from the diplomat already groundside about ‘proper deportment,’ and ‘delicate negotiations,’ and ‘best behavior.’”

Dara couldn’t help but laugh. “I find it strangely comforting that he’s none too happy with it, either.”

“She. Her name’s Tania Raven, and she’s determined to make the best of it. You should see the schedule she’s got lined up for you.”

Dara groaned. “Do I at least get to know what I’m walking into?”

Rogue nodded and switched on a holoprojector. A small sphere appeared in the air and began to rotate slowly. “This is Stawl. Its government recently contacted the New Republic about joining, but they’re not completely convinced that we can offer them the protection they need.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Dara muttered. “We only overthrew an oppressive regime and sent the Imps scurrying off with their tails tucked.”

“Well, they’re not sure if they believe all that. I get the impression that the entire culture is a little paranoid.”

“Fun.”

“As far as economic potential, weapons production, valuable exports, military value, or trade routes are concerned, it’s a very unimportant planet, politically useless. The only thing of worth is the population of 1.2 billion sentients—human, mostly—and their worth fluctuates with who you’re speaking to.”

“Which is why we’ve been assigned instead of Rogue Squadron,” Dara supplied.

Her commander shrugged. “You could look at it that way, I suppose. In any case, Stawl has requested to meet some of the famed pilots of Starfighter command, and, whether as punishment, reward, or luck of the draw, our squadron was chosen.”

He turned off the holoprojector and leaned back in his chair. “So. You and three of your squadmates will fly to Stawl, spend a week shaking hands and telling exciting stories of New Republic victories, and then back you come, leaving Diplomatic Corps to handle all the messy details.”

“You make it sound almost like fun,” Dara winced. “Three squadmates? Who?”

Rogue grinned again. “This is the part you’ll love: Jayem, Redding, and Dog.”

Dara blinked. “I’m sorry, sir. Could you repeat that? I could’ve sworn you said Jayem, Redding, and Dog.”

Rogue only laughed, and he laughed harder when Dara buried her head in her hands.

“Please, tell me that you didn’t pick them,” she said.

“I plead not guilty. Their names—and yours, for that matter—were attached to the orders I received yesterday. Do you really think it’ll be that bad?”

Dara hesitated, searching for tactful words. “I don’t have a problem with any of them, and they’re all amazing pilots. I wouldn’t hesitate to walk into a firefight with any one of them at my back. But what you’ve described is seven straight days of parties, and, even for pilots, these guys are lousy diplomats. They’re going to hate every minute of it. Allison, Roberta, or even Tresk would be better choices.”

“You’re probably right, but there’s nothing I can do. Tresk has been borrowed to teach a flight sim class, Allison is on leave, and I need Yofin here. But even if I could spare them, I doubt we could get the orders changed, particularly at the last minute. I’m sure you’ll be fine. I’ll tell them right after lunch. Anything else you need to know?”

“You said the last minute? When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Eight Days Ago

“Quit griping and fly straight,” Daramis Mcejo told her small command. “You’re drifting out of formation.”

“Oh, come on, Dara, you know this mission is a joke,” Jayem’s voice said through her helmet’s speaker. “It can’t possibly matter.”

“What I think about it is irrelevant. It’s my job to keep you three goofs in line. Command will have our heads if we mess this up.”

“If they take my head, does that mean I won’t have to attend the state dinner tomorrow night?” Dog asked hopefully.

“No, and you’ll still have to do it in dress uniform. And if you forget to say please and thank you, I’ll have your head.” Dara couldn’t quite keep the smile from her voice.

“Yes, Mother,” Redding quipped.

“That’s Major Mother to you. Now hush up and concentrate on landing instead of crashing. The nice people are watching, and we want to make a good first impression.”

They set down without incident and were met by four people, whom Dara assumed to be the diplomat and her small entourage. Dara saluted as her three companions clustered at her back.

“Diplomat Tania Raven?” She directed the question to the woman who looked most likely to be in charge, and was met with an amused expression.

“No, Diplomat Raven is at her office, meeting with a Stawlian official. I am Liah, her chief aide.”

Taking this as a cue, Dara made and received formal introductions of her companions and Liah’s. The diplomat’s aides, even in their civilian dress, looked poised and professional, while Dara was all too aware of the uniforms fidgeting restlessly behind her.

“Diplomat Raven has suggested that I show you to your quarters. She will meet with you later this afternoon, before the welcome banquet, so that you may review your schedule together.”

“Sounds good. Should we get our luggage?”

Liah looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, but, as a safety procedure, the Stawlian spaceports to a thorough scan of all incoming ships to ensure that there are no illegal items on board.”

“Ah,” Dara said, understanding more why Rogue had said the entire culture was a little paranoid.

“Your luggage will be brought to your rooms as soon as it is cleared. Please, this way.”

They followed Liah out of the spaceport, the other aides trailing behind, and to a luxury speeder. Liah and the four pilots climbed inside, and the rest boarded a second speeder. As they started down the street, Dara looked out the window and noticed clumps of people—no more than eight or nine to a group—lining the road, roughly five meters separating each group. They cheered as the speeder passed and held up welcome signs. Dog and Redding were eating it up, waving back and grinned. Jayem sat with arms folded, looking bored. Dara turned to Liah, a question on the tip of her tongue.

Liah had anticipated it. “The State forbids gatherings of ten or more people, except State-sanctioned, State-guarded functions. They have a deep-seated fear of rebellions and uprisings. By the way, you should not refer to the New Republic as the Rebellion. We’ve been trying to present the image of the Emperor as a usurper, and our side trying to regain what he took.”

Dara had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. She suspected that this was only the first of many banned topics of conversation and wondered what possibly could have happened to make Stawl so fearful. She smiled and waved for the rest of the ride, wishing that the rest of their stay would be as simple.

They were taken to an upscale hotel in the middle of the capitol city, and Liah led them straight to their rooms.

“I trust you will be comfortable here. If there is anything you need, there is a direct line to the front desk, and they will assist you. If ordering food, I suggest you avoid the rinwam.” She smiled faintly. It’s a local rodent, boiled in very hot spices, and it tastes rather rubbery, though they do say it’s a delicacy. I’m afraid you won’t be able to use your comlinks while here. It’s considered very suspicious, and the channels are mostly jammed. The direct lines are the most efficient and available means of communication. If you need to speak with either me or Diplomat Raven, the front desk can connect you.”

“Are our rooms bugged?” Redding asked what Dara considered to be the next logical question.

“Normally, yes, they would be. But we have asked for and received special permission to remove all listening devices. A driver will be here in three hours to take you to meet with Diplomat Raven. She will brief you on your schedule and tell you a little more about the people you’ll be meeting.” She extended her hand to Daramis. “Your luggage should be here within the hour. I will see you at the banquet.”

Dara shook it, and they said their farewells. Then the four pilots disappeared into their respective rooms. Dara looked around at the spacious area, noting the balcony access, the oversized bed, the computer terminal, and the ornate furnishings. Counting on being woken up by the return of her luggage, she fell backwards onto the bed, sank down a good five centimeters, and closed her eyes.

Half an hour later, there was someone pounding on her door. With some effort, she tumbled off her bed and opened the door, expecting to find someone with her bag. Instead, Dog, Jayem, and Redding greeted her with “We’re bored,” and walked into her room.

“What, you guys can’t keep yourselves entertained for one hour?”

“There’s nothing good on the Holonet,” Jayem complained. “Everything is State sponsored, State approved, or State censored.”

“And so you felt that you had to come bug me?” They all grinned, and Dara sighed. “All right. What’s your impression of Stawl so far?”

“Nice, but weird,” Dog said, playing with his vibroblade. “I think they’re taking their security measures too far and too seriously.”

Redding, who stood by the door to the balcony, looking at the city, added, “And apparently for no reason. I don’t think they’ve had a civil uprising in decades.”

“How do you know that? Dara asked.

“I went down to the lobby, talked to a couple people. Don’t worry, I was very discrete,” he assured her.” Anyway, most of their security isn’t very good, either. I could walk through the security firewalls in their computers, no problem.”

“Good to know. Jayem?”

Jayem shrugged. “They’re paranoid. Over the top paranoid. I’ll be very surprised if Raven can talk them past their fears enough to sign on, our presence regardless.”

Dara nodded. “Well, be prepared to soothe those fears and tell stories of New Republic military might, but be careful what you say and ask.”

“Yes, Major Mother,” Jayem smirked.

Dara threw a heavily embroidered pillow at him.

* * *

“Major Mcejo, I’d like to make one point exceedingly clear. You and your men are not diplomats. You are pilots; you are heroes; you are symbols of the protection we can offer Stawl; but you are not, repeat not diplomats. You will not make promises, give amnesty, or endorse viewpoints, and you will refer all such requests to me and my staff. Is that understood?”

Desperately trying to hide a smile, Dara nodded sagely. “Perfectly, ma’am.” She had already decided that she liked this woman.

Tania Raven glanced at her sharply, but didn’t press the issue. She looked at the three men over the top of her glasses and frowned. “Not quite what I had hoped for,” she said in the same blunt fashion that the pilots had come to realize was normal, “but you’ll have to do. This isn’t Adumar, and the people aren’t pilot crazy, but you’ll have your share of admirers. Try not to let it go to your head. I expect all of you to behave with the dignity and decorum as befits decorated pilots of the New Republic Starfighter Command.”

Something in her tone made all four sit up a little straighter, or perhaps it was the gleam in her eye that said she knew what they were capable of and would expect their best. Whatever it was, Dara understood a little better why she was a diplomat despite her blunt speech.

“Now. There will be the welcome banquet in two hours. You brought your dress uniforms, I trust? Tomorrow, there is the official State dinner. There will also be dancing, but Stawl has some curious notions about what dancing is, so I’ve already made your excuses.”

Tania Raven went on to detail an exhausting week of parties, dinners, appearances, and meetings with dignitaries. For the most part, the four pilots would be appearing as a group, but there were a few overlapping events that Raven said they would split up to cover. Just before they felt completely overwhelmed, Raven set down her datapad and peered over her glasses at them.

“Are there any questions?”

Dog raised his finger. “What kind of political factions will we be hearing from?”

“Excellent question. There is only one political voice heard on Stawl: the State. Leadership is an interesting mix of succession and democracy. Authority is passed down through families—gender doesn’t seem to matter—but the people have a right to vote a family out of power, a right they’ve exercised four times in the last four hundred years.”

“You said the State is the only voice heard,” Jayem said. “Are there other voices?”

“Yes. Because of the insane paranoia this world maintains, it’s been almost impossible to discover anything about them, however. We’ve identified a strong leaning toward absolute monarchy, and also faint whispers of a revolutionary force that would like to see the State abolished altogether and a people’s republic set up in its place. These are only whispers, and I would strongly advise against mentioning them or fishing for more information. We have Intelligence operatives for that sort of work.” Diplomat Raven gazed sternly at them, then said briskly, “Any more questions? No? Then I will see you in precisely two hours.”

* * *

“I could get used to this,” Dog said, leaning against a pillar, holding a plate of food.

The welcome banquet was finally starting to wind down, after two hours of speeches and applause and even a song in honor of the NR pilots. They were embraced as celebrities and lauded as heroes.

Jayem rolled his eyes. “Don’t. We’re only here for a week, and, even if we were to stick around, they’d get tired of us.”

“Don’t you have something to blow up, Demolitions?” Dog scowled.

Jayem shot him a withering glare. “Have you seen Dara?”

“I think she was with Diplomat Raven,” Redding interjected, “talking with some Stawlian high muckety-muck or other. That way.” He jerked his head toward an adjoining room.

Jayem nodded his thanks and wandered off.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” Redding told Dog. “Do you want anything?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

Redding turned, heading to the drink table, and collided a beautiful Stawlian girl who lost her balance and crashed to the ground. Redding flushed and stammered an apology as he helped her to her feet. But when she assured him that she was fine, Redding smiled charmingly and asked her name.

She blushed prettily and whispered, “Stella,” before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Redding glanced over to find Dog laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

“That’s probably the only time you’ll ever knock a girl off her feet,” Dog snickered.

Redding gave a longsuffering sigh. “Get your own drink,” he said, and walked away.

Seven days ago

The State dinner was to be a massive affair, held in the Hall of Roses, with over three hundred members of the government, both minor and important, crowding in to see the New Republic visitors. Over half had already arrived, and they milled about in a spacious room, waiting for the signal to go into dinner. Some of them were clustered in the middle of the room, participating in what Dara could only assume was their form of dancing. Groups of three and four faced each other, heads bobbing to a beat hidden within the music, but not in any discernible pattern. Every so often, someone would clap twice, or spin in a circle, but Dara could see no rhyme or reason to it at all. She finally gave up and turned her attention to the guests who were not dancing.

According to Liah, nobody truly important would arrive until just before dinner. This included Diplomat Raven and the Head of State, as well as the more influential members of the governmental departments. Dara was assured, however, that her presence and that of her companions so early was in no way a slight. The explanation for the breach in protocol didn’t make much sense, but she and the others didn’t much care.

“I don’t see any roses,” Jayem murmured in Dara’s ear.

“Maybe they’re out of season.”

“Funny. I’m bored. Can we go home now?”

“You’re always bored, and, no, we can’t.” Dara turned to yet another Stawlian official and greeted him warmly. Though her companions complained constantly, Dara had to admit that they were presenting a good image to the people. Even Diplomat Raven had nodded her approval at the welcome banquet the night before.

Dara stepped back from the press of people around her and surveyed the crowd. The Stawlians favored bright colors—the room looked like a vibrant rainbow—and perhaps that was why the two men across the room, wearing black, caught Dara’s eye. She watched them for a moment as they held a furtive conference, then one started to slink away, keeping close to the wall, while the other looked agitatedly at his wrist chrono every few seconds.

Dara touched Jayem’s arm and he detached himself from a conversation immediately. “What’s up?”

“Two men in black against the far wall,” she said quietly, and he nodded when he spotted them. “Take Dog and follow them.”

Jayem’s eyebrows shot up. “Is Stawl’s paranoia rubbing off on you, Dara?”

She glowered at him. “Very funny. Call it a hunch, and you said you were bored anyway. Just do it, please.”

He shrugged, looked at the men again, and nodded. Then he caught Dog’s eye and they both began moving through the crowd.

Redding, a few steps away, glanced at Dara. “What was that all about?”

She shook her head. “Later,” she murmured, and greeted another smiling official.

Eight minutes later, she was confronted by a more sober face. The man who belonged to the face was grim and didn’t look comfortable in his formal attire.

“Major Mcejo, my name is Robert Marna. I was hoping I might have a few words in private with you. I need your help.”

Dara frowned, wondering what agenda he would try to push. “You understand that I have no diplomatic capacity here and will likely be unable to assist you,” she warned.

“It is precisely because you are not the diplomat that I feel you can help me. Please.”

She hesitated. “All right, but anything you have to say can be said to my companions as well.” She nodded to Redding, and he moved closer.

“As you will.” Marna offered a shallow bow.

Dara glanced at Redding, and they followed Marna out a side door and down a hallway. When they reached an emergency exit, Dara’s unease had grown to where she wished for the sidearm she’d had to leave at the door. Before Marna opened the door, Dara held up a hand.

“There’s no one around. We can talk here.”

Marna shook his head. “Please, if you’ll just step outside, you’ll understand.” He pushed the door open, and no alarm sounded.

Dara and Redding followed him through the door, blinking at the glare from the setting sun. Dara raised a hand to shield her eyes as the door closed behind them, and saw a speeder pull up too close for comfort. The door opened and three men carrying blaster rifles jumped out.

Dara’s fists clenched, and she hear Redding swear behind her. She turned to Marna. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

“I do apologize, but it is necessary. If you will come with us, I will explain everything.”

She glared. “An explanation would be nice, yes,” she said sarcastically, and climbed in the speeder because she knew she had no choice. Redding slid into the seat next to her, Marna and a guard sat opposite, and the other two men climbed in front.

“Quickly, please,” Marna called, and the speeder shot forward at an alarming rate.

“You promised an explanation?” Dara said, her voice low and threatening.

Marna folded his hands in his lap placidly. “And I will give one.” But he didn’t say anything more.

Redding started to speak, but Dara laid a cautioning hand on his arm, and he fell silent. They waited quietly for ten seconds. Then, with a terrific noise, the Hall of Roses exploded.

* * *

“Why are we doing this?” Dog hissed.

“Because Major Mother said to,” Jayem hissed back. He poked his head around the corner. “They’re leaving the building. What should we do?”

Dog shrugged. “Follow them.”

Jayem watched the door shut and counted to ten before pursuing. They stepped outside just in time to see the men jump into a waiting transport and speed off.

“There,” Dog called, pointing to two speeder bikes.

“You think stealing speeders will enhance our diplomatic relations?” Jayem protested.

Dog shrugged again and hotwired the first speeder. “Don’t you remember? We are not, repeat, not diplomats.”

“Point.” Jayem started the second, and they were headed down the road moments before the transport turned a corner.

They had been ten minutes in pursuit when they heard the explosion.

* * *

Commander Rogue looked up impatiently from his desk. “Can it wait?” he asked his executive officer, a trace of annoyance creeping into his tone. “I’m swamped.”

Yofin’s face was pale, and her voice trembled ever so slightly. “I think you’ll want to read this yourself, sir.”

Understanding now that it was no mere status report or inventory list, Rogue accepted the datapad and scanned it.

“No survivors?” he asked around the knot in his throat, though the datapad had told him as much.

“No, sir.”

There was a long pause; then, “Thank you, Yofin. I’ll tell the others.”

She nodded and slipped out, leaving Rogue staring into the empty space between his desk and the door.

* * *

(to be continued...)

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