[Solved] Episode II - CAT C - Rishi - FF - Out of a Long Retirement

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Qolla squinted as the black hood was pulled from her head, the light blinding her. She tried to lean forward, but was checked - only then did she feel the cold metal bands wrapped around her wrists. Her hands were secured behind her back. She blinked as her eyes slowly adjusted to the light. There was a man sitting across from her, watching her. Evaluating her.

She bared her teeth and attempted to break free from her bonds, but the stun cuffs held. After a few seconds of struggle to test her restraints, Qolla accepted that she could not escape. Warily, she looked up at her captor. 

 “Are you finished?” drawled the grim man across from her. He was leaning back in his chair, one leg over the other, arms crossed. He was wearing a dark tan uniform she didn’t recognize, but his tousled dark hair and matching beard hardly looked military. He seemed almost bored. “I ain’t got nothin’ but time.” 

Qolla snarled at him. “Where am I? Who are you? Why am I here?” The questions came out in a rush. Qolla couldn’t remember how she had gotten here. She had been in her cell back on . . . well, she never had found out what planet she had been imprisoned on. But the last thing she remembered was a noise in her cell, waking her. She had tried to sit up, but then felt hands holding her down as a wet cloth was pushed over her face. Now, she was here. Wherever that was.

“Where you are doesn’t matta’ right now. Who I am… well, we’ll get to that lateh. Why you're here – well, that’s an interestin’ question.” The man spoke slowly, his words flowing like wroshyr sap – an accent unknown to her. “I guess the real reason you're here is ‘cause once upon a time you seemed to want to help people. And I wuz wonderin’ if that wantin’ wuz still in you?”

“What the karf are you on about?” Qolla barked. Waking up with her hands chained, in a room she’d never seen, with a barely intelligible stranger asking her barely intelligible questions was just too much. 

“There’s no need for that kind o’ language, ma’am,” he said, raising a hand to forestall her. He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Shore, I could prob’lly do a better job explainin’. I guess it’s polite to introduce myself. My name is Abibaal - but my friends call me ‘Abi.’ No need to tell me your name. I know all about you, Miz Qolla. And that’s really why I’m here.”

The man pulled a datapad from the table next to him and began to read. “Qolla Aerith. Forma’ drop troopa’ for the Alliance to Restore the Republic. Continued service with the New Republic. Honorably discharged afta’ the Battle o’ Jakku, 5 ABY. Arrested for multiple counts o’ murda’ and disturbin’ o’ the peace in 6 ABY. Sentenced to only 50 years of confinement, takin’ into account the distinction o’ her service.” He stopped reading and looked up at her. “That sound right to you?”

Qolla glared at him. “Where the hell did you get that information?”

He ignored her question. “Seems a bit rough. 50 years is a long time, ‘specially in a place like the Serpent.” 

The Serpent. At the name, sensations sprang unbidden to her mind. Bones breaking under the batons of the guards, the all-consuming gnaw of constant hunger, months of isolation. But worst of all, the feeling and smell of her skin burning off her hands and feet as she was forced to endure the blasted surface of the planet without protective equipment, scrabbling for her daily quota of useful salvage. She had resigned herself to die in that miserable hell-hole where she had spent the last four years. It had nearly broken her – in fact, it might already have. 

She snapped back to her current surroundings as the man continued talking.

“I’ve got a proposal for you, Miz Qolla, one I reckon you might be interested in. You can stay in the Serpent for the rest o’ your sentence - or as long as you can survive - or, I can getchuh out now, in return for services which you are… particularly suited fo’.” He inclined his head, in an almost respectful way.

A shock of something akin to hunger sparked within her, and she sharply inhaled. Here was an offer of the freedom she had tried so desperately to win back, the freedom she had finally despaired of ever regaining. But the tantalizing offer of liberation from her personal damnation was almost too much to believe. In fact, it was too much to believe. The mistrusting side of Qolla that had kept her alive over the years asserted herself.

“What exactly do you want?” she asked, suspicious.

The man chuckled. “Why, nothin’ untoward, I assure you. I work for a group o’ people called the Freedom Fighta’s. You probably haven’t heard much o’ us down in the Serpent. We really started afta’ you wuz put in prison. All you really need to know is, we’re the people who stand up fo’ the little guy. Farma’s, settla’s, factory worka’s, the like. When they get in trouble, and no big shot in the New Republic or any high-minded Imperials either notice or care, we come to help. And we think you might fit right in.”

Still untrusting, she persisted. “But why me?”

The man leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees. “Unfo’tunately, helpin’ the little guy ain’t as simple as deliverin’ supplies and the like. There’s bad people in this galaxy who want to take moh’ and moh’. And so the Freedom Fighta’s ain’t afraid to show up to help with a blasta’. But even then, it’s sometimes too much fo’ the normal folk to deal with. That’s where you and I come in. I’ve been tasked to put togetha’ a group o’ people who’re a little moh’ skilled and ready fo’ the worst o’ things. And from what I can tell, you might have just the set o’ skills I’ve been lookin’ foh’.”

With each word he spoke, she felt her newsprung hope drain within her, replaced by sickening anger. She knew she was not the kind of person they would want. She wasn’t some kind of hero. Clearly this man had made a mistake. “Why the hell would you want me for a job like that? Have you seen my record?” 

“Miz Qolla, I assure you, I have seen your record, and that’s exactly why I wanted you.”

“I really don’t think–”

“Both records, ma’am. As an offica’ in the Intelligence branch, I have access to all the details o’ your… moh clandestine endeavoh’s. Aesolian, Jakku, Coruscant - I’ve read about them all. And if your military actions wuz all I read, we wouldn’t be havin’ this convuhsation. Moh’ impohtantly, I’ve read the records from befoh’ you became a Drop Troopa’.”

Qolla looked up, confused. She had no idea what he was talking about.

“I’ve read about the relief missions. The food an’ supplies you brought to Jabiim, Mimban, the others. I read about you takin’ on refugees and straggluh’s, everywhere you went. I read and I saw a good heart unda’ all that pain. The admirals weren’t convinced at first, but I talked ‘em around in the end. You’ve got the hands of a warrior, but somewhere down there you’ve got the soul of a savior. And I need both from you.”

Qolla’s mouth dropped open, unbidden. She hadn’t thought about those missions in years. Memories flashed through her mind – the look on a refugee woman’s face as she brought food to her starving family. The relief of the young Abednebo couple she had helped escape from the Empire. The joy she had felt in sharing her latest escapade with Macks and the patrons of the Massassi bar. And the smile that Dannan would flash at her as he— NO!

Before the wave of grief could overwhelm her, she shut it down, as she had done so many times over the years. The only thing that mattered right now was survival. This man was offering her a way out of the Serpent – who cared if she wasn’t the hero they wanted? She could pretend if it meant escape.  She couldn’t go back to the Serpent.

“What would you want from me?” she asked.

Abi’s eyes widened a little – whether in surprise or pleasure, Qolla wasn’t sure. He began to speak a little quicker, which wasn’t saying much for him. “Well, I already have a small team - crack shots, an’ fightuh’s. But they don’t have any real experience. What they need is a leaduh. Now, I’d do it - havin’ been in somethin’ of a few tight spots myself - but Command wanted me in moh’ o’ a - whadyacallit - supervisory role. I need someone like you to lead them on the ground. They don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout you yet, you’d get a, uh, a clean slate, as they say.”

A clean slate. She didn’t think she could ever truly have one of those again. Her actions had developed a reputation – one that tended to precede her. People looked at her differently when she met them –  whether with admiration, horror, or something in between. She had gotten so used to those looks that she only just now realized there was something else in Abi’s eyes. Not pity… she would hate to be pitied. Perhaps it was simply kindness. Uncomfortable, Qolla let her eyes drop. Suddenly, an obstacle to her ‘clean slate’ became apparent. 

“Won’t the prison jumpsuit give it away?” she asked dryly.

 Abi smiled and took a small remote out of his pocket. “There’s a change o’ clothes in the refresha’ fo’ you. Come out when you’re ready.” He clicked the remote and Qolla’s stun cuffs beeped once before falling to the floor. She was free.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Qolla walked out of the refresher in her new combat fatigues to find Abi waiting for her. As he led her out the door and through a series of corridors, he began to tell her about the ship and the people on it.

“This here is the FF Benevolence, but folks have taken to callin’ her ‘Ole Bennie.’ She’s been through quite a lot in her day - olda’ than half the crew. Bennie is an ole’ Munificent class frigate from the Clone Wahs days.”

Qolla looked around skeptically. “It belongs in a museum.” 

Abi grinned, and chided her, “Don’t let the Captain hear that kind o’ talk out o’ you. She’s been through moh’ battles than I can count an’ she’s made it this fah. Captain Freyg has commanded her fo’ ovah 30 years - and he’s made many improvements since bringin’ her to the Freedom Fighta’s. She’s a fine ship.”

“I’ve seen finer wrecks,” she said, not bothering to keep the sneer out of her voice.

Abi gave her a sidelong glance and continued, “The Freedom Fighta’s don’t always get the best equipment - but we make do with what we got. I will stake my blasta’ on the fact that we at least have the best people. Apart from the small command crew – as a Separatist ship, Ole’ Bennie was designed to run with a minimal crew, you see – we’ve got a small squadron o’ starfighta’s. We may have a moh’ - howdya say - distinguished command ship, but our pahtnahship with the SoruSuub company means we’ve recently acquayad the very latest model o’ snub fighta’s.”

Qolla was forced to give a begrudging nod of admiration at this. Her time in the Rebellion had shown her time and again the vital importance of having superior fighters. The Empire had always preferred a strategy of quantity over quality, throwing away pilots by the thousands in cheap, mass-produced TIE Fighters. Smaller organizations, such as the Rebellion or the Freedom Fighters, were unable to match these raw numbers. In order to succeed, they turned to more expensive, survivable fighters in small quantities to maintain space-superiority. That the Freedom Fighters could boast brand new, top-of-the-line starfighters was a credit to its abilities.

Abi’s voice brought an end to her musings. “That leaves us,” he said, proudly. “Team Hope – the finest group the Freedom Fighta’s could put togetha’.”

At the name ‘Team Hope,’ Qolla couldn’t restrain a snort. Do they seriously call themselves that? How pretentious.

Ignoring her obvious derision, Abi continued. “We’ve got a solid batch o’ mighty fine people. We may make a few additions here and there, but all we were waiting on wuz a team leada’. We’re heading to the bridge now, where you’ll meet your team and we’ll hear the briefin’.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 

Qolla followed Abi through the last pair of blast doors and entered the bridge. She could see from the look of the main viewports that they were traveling through hyperspace. A diverse collection of people and droids  – several of which, Qolla noticed with a start, were old Separatist battle droids – populated the bridge. Most noticeable was a diminutive Lannik. Despite his small size, he seemed to fill the bridge, pacing back and forth between various consoles while leaning on his wooden cane. His demeanor alone – not to mention his deep red uniform, bedecked with black epaulets – left no doubt that he was the master of this ship. His grizzled and scarred face told the tale of many battles won and lost.

A group of people stood apart from the bustling crew. They wore combat outfits like Qolla’s, rather than the crisp blue uniforms worn by the ship’s crew, and their obvious unfamiliarity with their surroundings marked them as fellow newcomers. Qolla surmised that they were the commando team she would lead.

She looked them over. Two humans, one male and the other female, stood on opposite ends of the little group. Between them stood a Rodian and a Gungan. They looked competent enough – they certainly seemed at ease with the weapons they carried. But she would reserve judgment until seeing them in action.

Abi cleared his throat and raised his voice, “If I could have everyone’s attention fo’ a brief moment, I’d like to introduce our command staff befoh’ we go ova’ the mission. Foh’ those of you who do not know me, my name is Commandah Abibaal Mithon of the Freedom Fighta’s. I am the commanding offica’ of the Freedom Fighta’s’ special forces branch.” He gestured to the Lannik beside him. “This is Captain Freyg, masta’ of the good ship Benevolence, on which we are currently residin’. He has graciously volunteered to support our little, howdyasay, endeavoh’, by offerin’ the Bennie as our mobile base of operations.

“The leada’ of our starfighta’ squadron is already in the hanga’ preparin’ his ships foh’ flight, but I’m sure you’ll all get a chance to acquaint yo’self with Lieutenant Sundoe at a latah date. Lastly, I’d like to introduce our newest memba’ o’ the team.” Abi motioned for Qolla to step forward; she declined to do so. Unperturbed, the Commander persisted, “Lieutenant Aerith will be the leada’ of Team Hope – she is an experienced and capable fighta’ and will no doubt be a valuable asset to our organization. Unfohtunately, I don’t have time to introduce y’all, but I hope we can have a propa’ little get togetha’ to get to know each otha’ afta’ the mission.”

“Now, most of y’all don’t know the, howdyasay, parameters of our mission yet. It’s time to change that. We are currently headed to the planet Rishi, as the vanguard of a Freedom Fighta’ fleet. The local folk are unda’ attack from some group callin’ themselves the ‘Scions of Nihil.’ Essentially, they’re a no good bunch o’ marauda’s takin’ slaves and plunderin’.” Abi crossed his arms as he spoke. “The call went out across the galaxy foh’ help.” He jabbed his thumb at his chest. “We answered. We are goin’ to help the locals regain their freedom. And we will send these Nihil murdera’s back with their tails tucked between their legs. Now, our chief o’ tactics, TB-D, will give us the low-down on the situation.”

What appeared to be an old Separatist tactical droid – though not a model Qolla recognized – marched forward. “Greetings. I am TB-D, strategist and Executive Officer of the Benevolence.” The droid’s mechanical voice was punctuated by odd pauses. “Rishi is a tropical planet with a large ocean and system of archipelagos. There are three main groups of targets- I mean, people currently inhabiting the planet. The native Rishii are a primitive, avian species. They live in tribal villages high in the mountains. Followers of the H’kig religion have also established a large presence here, with several settlements in the tropical valleys. Lastly, various pirate and smuggler outposts have settled along the coast.

“The invaders call themselves the Scions of Nihil. They claim to be the successors of an ancient group called the Nihil that used exotic weapons and ships to ravage hyperlanes approximately 500 years ago. This is the first appearance of these Scions, so we do not know their tactics. But based off of historical records, the original Nihil were slavers who frequently used gas to subdue their opponents.

“Admiral Raner has assigned our group to sector Besh-42. It is one of the more densely populated parts of the planet, where Rishii, H’kig, and pirates live in close proximity. It is sure to be a target of the Scions. There is a Nimbus agent on the ground who has provided valuable intelligence on the situation. The Nihil have already sent envoys to the pirates, in order to ensure their cooperation in the invasion. The Scions have left, but are expected to return shortly. This leaves a narrow window of opportunity for us to operate in.”

After the droid finished its monologue, Abi stepped forward once more. “There you have it, laydies and gentlemen.” He spoke gravely, taking the time to look directly into the eyes of each team member in turn. “We are facing far superioh’ numba’s of a well armed, deadly foe. As much as I trust the, uh, individual prowess of each of you, it is absolutely critical that we unite the local population. Without them, we won’t stand a chance. We’ll likely have no moh’ than a planetary rotation to approach them all, negotiate an alliance, and plan our defense of our sectoh’. TB-D, please present the plan.”

TB-D’s display aperture illuminated, projecting a hologram onto the deck. A miniaturized model of the Benevolence orbited a bright planet. As TB-D laid out the plan, the hologram illustrated the tactical droid’s brief.

“Our sources tell us that this sector of space is currently unoccupied by Nihil ships. We will come out of hyperspace close to the planet to avoid detection. I estimate that we have approximately 0.9652 planetary rotations before the Nihil return.” The droid’s mechanized words were accompanied by a small representation of a drop ship descending to the planet. “In that time, Lieutenant Aerith and her team will descend to the planet’s surface, engage with and destroy- I mean, establish peaceful cooperation with the three different local populations. When the Nihil ships arrive, the Benevolence will engage with our fighter squadron. Team Hope will prepare the locals to destroy- I mean – wait, yes, destroy the invading Nihil. If we achieve full cooperation of the native population, I estimate we have a 87.203888% chance of success.”

Abi stepped forward as the hologram faded to nothingness. “Thank you very much. As TB-D said, our success hinges on three things; a stealthy entry to the planet, in o’dah to give us enough time to establish contact with the locals; successful diplomatic relations with the three factions; and the cooperation o’ our ground team and space forces to defeat the enemy. Are there any questions?”

No one spoke or raised their hand.

“Sir,” one of the bridge crew said, “we’ll be coming out of hyperspace in two minutes!”

“Battleshtationsh!” thundered the Captain. 

Much more calmly, but with equal seriousness, Abi turned to the members of Team Hope. “Laydies and gentlemen - it’s time. Best get on down to the transport.”

The bridge of the FF Benevolence