Diplomatic Relations (Pt 4)

{Sorry for the Delay. I blame Finals.}

Dara had been impressed with the Fringe’s efficiency. Every trace of their presence had been removed in less than two hours, except that which could be explained by the presence of a married couple who had lived there for several years—the house’s cover story. No one had panicked or shown any trace of fear beyond their initial reaction to Stella’s news; rather, they had worked in relative silence, with no words wasted beyond the occasional curt order. Their movements showed that they had done this more than once.

The trip to the new safe house had been tense, but they made it safely, without incident. Dara saw the wisdom of scattering, even beyond splitting forces to cover trails and not draw attention. The safe house that Josh brought them to was already occupied by a four-man communications team. Josh, Redding, Dara, and Stella took that count to eight, a tight fit in a house with four bedrooms, one of those crammed to bursting with computers and monitoring equipment.

Redding took one look at their set up and Dara knew he was lost for decent company. The Fringe was surprisingly well-supplied when it came to electronics, and the last thing Dara heard Redding say as he disappeared into the room of wires and consoles was an incredulous, “How did you get a hold of a Centurion Alpha Decrypt Processor?”

Dara helped unload the speeder and get the house set up as an acting headquarters for the Fringe. It was to be their command center because Josh was now in charge. Dara watched him with some significant measure of approval as he eased into the vacant leadership position. He slid competently from task to task, whether the job was calming frantic worries as news of Marna’s arrest spread throughout the Fringe, or if it was delegating the many chores that needed to be accomplished. As Dara looked on, she concluded that Marna had made a wise decision when he chose his second-in-command.

Dara felt rather useless as the day wore on. Redding was in his element, teaching the Stawlians new tricks of getting into State-protected files and regaining access to Diplomat Raven’s communications, while Josh was completely absorbed with adjusting to his new role. She took some time to update her report to Rogue, and spent the majority of the rest of the day talking to Stella, trying to get a better grasp on the Stawlian mindset and exactly what the Fringe was trying to accomplish.

Four Days Ago

“I’m sorry, Dara. We can’t risk it right now.” Josh spread his hands, palm up, apologetically. “All unnecessary traffic between safe houses has been restricted.”

Dara carefully kept the disappointment she felt tucked behind smooth features. “I understand.” And she did. Less than a week on the planet had given her a fast education on what the State was capable of when operating on ultimate suspicion. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Josh nodded absently, his attention already half-turned on the next task.

Dara walked through the house, preparing herself for another day of frustrating inactivity. The laughter coming from the living room told Dara that Redding had emerged from the computer room long enough to realize that Stella was the same girl he had bumped into the night of the welcome banquet and that he was doing a great job distracting her from her emotions over Marna’s arrest. Not wishing to disturb them, and with nothing better to do, she went to her room to revise the report she had written for Rogue.

* * *

It was raining, a steady downpour that did nothing to alleviate the heavy feeling of despair that had taken permanent residence in the safe house. Even Celeste’s perpetual good humor had disappeared beneath lines of worry. The only person who was not downcast by the weather was Jayem. He was unnaturally cheerful, depressingly cheerful, even, though he tried to temper his expression of his mood.

Dog sat by a window, staring alternately in consternation at the rain and at the newsfeed from the Holonet playing in the corner. The Stawlian news network was doing a fantastic job of talking incessantly and yet saying nothing at all. He glanced over at the doorway and saw Celeste, clutching a glass like an EV pilot would cling to life support. Her features were taut with stress and anxiety.

Dog stood and faced Celeste, frustration plain on his face. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “We’ve been here three days, and you haven’t told us who you are or who you were taking us to meet. Now you say the meeting’s been called off, and everyone in this house is acting like the Emperor resurrected, and I doubt it’s due to the weather.”

“The meeting hasn’t been called off, it’s merely been postponed,” Celeste said tightly. “And because of security concerns, I can’t tell you more than that.”

“You think we don’t understand the need for security?” Jayem asked. “We’re in the military, Celeste. We’ve been on our share of classified missions. Is there anything you can tell us?”

Celeste’s features tightened even more, and anger sparked in her eyes. “You don’t understand,” she snapped. “How could you? You were never beaten at school because someone started rumors that you didn’t support the State. You never had friends walk past you on the street without a glimmer of recognition because your brother had just been executed for treason and they feared any familiarity would condemn them, too. In the rest of the galaxy, information is power. On Stawl, information is deadly. We don’t tell more than we absolutely have to. Ever.”

“You’re right,” Dog countered, making no attempt to hide his irritation. “We never experienced any of that. But I’ve lost count of the number of covert ops we’ve been on, where one word in the wrong ear would obliterate an entire squadron in a heartbeat. We’ve been privy to tactics and strategies that, if leaked, would destroy what the New Republic was trying to accomplish in entire sectors, costing thousands of lives. In the military, you learn to keep your mouth shut, because you never know if the resulting vibroblade will find your back, or your buddy’s.”

“We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on,” Jayem added in what he hoped was a reasonable tone of voice.

“Let’s get one thing straight here,” Celeste bit out. “You are not here to help us. We are helping you, and the skies know why we’re bothering. You’re in our territory, you play by our rules. Understood?”

Dog’s jaw clenched as he met her gaze fiercely. Without replying, he wheeled away and returned to staring out the window. Celeste shifted her burning stare from him to Jayem, who merely shrugged. With no other opposition to fight, she stalked angrily out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Brilliant,” Dog muttered. “Not only is the State crazy, but the other side is crazy, too.”

“What does it matter, as long as we get offworld?” Jayem asked.

“If we get offworld. Have you noticed any plans being made to accomplish that end?”

Jayem shook his head slowly.

“Then either they’re not being made, or our hosts aren’t telling us about them. Frankly, neither option would surprise me, but nor do they help us. We’re effectively stuck, and the minute Raven leaves Stawl, our last reasonable chance of getting off this miserable planet leaves, too.”

“So what do we do?”

Dog heaved a sigh. “What can we do? We keep pushing. They have to tell us something sooner or later.”

Jayem rolled his eyes to express his sentiment of that course of action, but Dog was no longer looking at him. His attention had drifted back to the newscast, where the reporter was reciting crime statistics. Jayem shrugged again, then wandered off in search of something to eat.

Three Days Ago

“Josh, we need to talk.” Dara leaned against the doorway to the computer room, hands jammed in her pockets.

He glanced up and signaled her to wait. Dara watched the activity in the room with passing interest while Josh finished at his console. Then he removed his headphones and stood, turning toward her.

“We have a time,” he said, walking past her and leading the way to the kitchen. “The New Republic will be picking up the rest of the diplomatic team in two days, at 1500. They’re still arguing about where.” He poured two drinks and handed her one. “What’s on your mind?”

“We need to talk about Marna.”

Despair flicked across his expression. “What about him?”

“I’m concerned about your people’s fatalistic attitudes. In all the conversations I’ve heard, they refer to him as if he’s already dead. Is he?”

“No,” Josh admitted. “But he might as well be.”

“Are you telling me there’s no hope?”

“Dara—“

“Answer me.”

He heaved a sigh. “The chances of Marna surviving State confinement are very slim.”

“And what are the chances of getting him out?”

Josh’s eyebrows flew up and he let out a startled half-laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Very. Why can’t we get him out?” She set her drink down, untouched.

His features darkened. “Don’t say that so the others can hear you,” he said softly, anger in his voice.

Dara crossed her arms and tilted her chin defiantly. “And why not?”

“You’ll give them false hope. No one has ever escaped State confinement. Ever,” he said flatly, keeping his voice low.

“That you know of,” Dara countered. “It is perfectly plausible that the State would want to cover up something like that.”

“No. We would have heard of it.”

“So you won’t even try.” Dara matched the volume of his voice.

“It would be pointless and futile. I won’t send my people on a suicide mission, and neither would Marna.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Marna knew the danger in such a venture.”

“There’s a big difference between knowing the risks and letting the possibility of failure scare you into inaction.”

“I’m not scared, I’m being realistic!” he whispered fiercely. “Our numbers are too few to risk a doomed mission.”

“Listen to yourself! This is exactly what the State wants: your belief that they are omniscient and infallible. Your whole movement revolves around proving that they aren’t, and, frankly, slowly leaking information, patching in ghost transmissions over newscasts, and word of mouth will only get you so far. You have to show that the State is not as untouchable as it appears to be if you want anything changed, and rolling over and playing dead when they capture your leader is not the way to do that.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Dara. Moving slowly and covertly is the only way we’re going to make any changes at all.”

“So you all die of old age while the State remains as strong as ever.” She held up a hand to forestall any reply. “As an overall strategy, slow and covert is a great way to bring about permanent change, but every so often you have to make enough noise to let the State know you’re here.”

“The point is that they don’t know we’re here,” Josh said patiently.

“How long has your group existed?”

“Six years.”

“Then you can bet they know about you,” Dara assured him.

“Impossible. They would have come after us long ago if that were true.”

“Why would they? You’re not a threat to them as long as you’re jumping at your own shadows. And no one else is going to listen to you if you stay ineffective. A move like this would get your leader out of jail and it would send the message that you’re serious. If you don’t believe in your cause, then no one else will fight for it, either.”

“First you say I’m a coward, now you say I don’t believe in our cause?” His fists clenched at his sides.

She met his gaze evenly. “Do you?”

Silence hung thick between them for several seconds.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I do.”

“Do they know that?” She jerked her head towards the door, indicating the rest of the people in the house.

“They should.”

“They should?” she echoed. “What will do you to make sure they do?”

“Is there anything else, Dara?” Josh’s voice was strained from the effort he was making to control his anger.

“Yes,” she said. “Marna started the Fringe, correct?”

“Yes,” he said slowly.

“Then doesn’t he deserve the chance to see this all the way through?” she asked quietly.

Josh stared at her, his jaw muscles flexing.

“Revolutions aren’t safe, Josh. You’ll have to take a chance some day, about something. Why not about this?” She held his gaze for a moment, then turned and walked out the door without waiting for a reply.

She almost bumped into Redding just outside the kitchen. She eyed him narrowly. “How long were you listening?”

Redding shrugged and fell in step with her. “Long enough. Do you think he’ll change his mind?”

Dara sighed and lowered her voice. “I hope so. Marna is the adhesive holding this group together. Josh will do an admirable job, but he lacks the ability to see the big picture. He’s very protective of his people, but he needs to learn that they’re willing to die for this, and that he must let them accomplish something measurable. Rescuing the man who has the vision, passion, and potential to make a real difference in this world would be perfect.”

Redding nodded.

“Don’t speak of this to anyone,” Dara added. “Regardless of his decision, I don’t want to undermine Josh’s authority here.”

“As ordered, Major.” Redding tossed her a casual salute and veered off towards the computer room.

* * *

“Dara.”

Dara looked up and saw Josh standing a few steps away, hands clasped behind his back and feet slightly apart. Slowly, she rose and matched his military posture.

“Yes?”

“You said a lot. Some of it was dead wrong. You don’t understand how many risks we take just to distribute information. But some of it was more than right, and I thank you for reminding me that we are a revolution and not just a political movement.”

Dara nodded acknowledgment. “Sometimes all you need is an outside perspective.”

“So. We’re going to try something that’s never been done. Where do we start?”

A grin broke across Dara’s face. “Get Redding and your computer expert, and we’ll see what we can come up with.”