Operation Arrakis: Baghdad By Majick and Prophet Kristy Observations On Terra Group, New Republic Intelligence Unit operating on Terra ("Unknown F4-G56U-7"). Prepared by R2-N8, Code Upsilon Entry #075 The trip from Jerusalem to Baghdad is not a long one, and yet it seems to this droid that the journey takes a great deal of time. It is evident that Terra Group is fracturing under the strain they are experiencing as part of this mission. While previously the group was working alongside the experienced pilots of Rogues and Wraith Squadrons, as well as Page's Commandos and vast New Republic resources, this time they are ontheir own. Our pilots for the trip are the openly antagonistic pairing of the Lieutenants Chalk and Cochran. They have taken every opportunity to bark at one another and more than one of their colleagues has left the cockpit to escape the constant arguing. The Major, meanwhile, has been a paragon of calm and peacefulness, in so far as he has done nothing to counteract the arguing. In fact, he has done nothing since taking the communication officer's seat shortly after takeoff. He appears to be enjoying the show that his officers are putting on. I suspect that his presence is all that has kept the two Lieutenants from spilling one another's blood. We are currently in Jordanian airspace, nominally a bad place to be, although as the Air Force of this country does not possess equipment sophisticated enough to detect a cloaked vessel this is less of a concern than it could be. All we must worry about is whether our pilots will steer us into the ground or not. They seem capable of this task. The Major has given each member of the Group their assignments. Lieutenant Jedi Cochran, Lieutenant Brad Corletti and His Royal Highness Thayer Atner of Mendellia will fly the Group's X-Wings, while Lieutenant Noreh S'ytsirk will fly Lieutenant Clark's TIE Defender. The presence of this craft was previously unknown to New Republic Intelligence and I am investigating its abrupt appearance in the hold of the Red Home during my free run-time. The prisoners - Achmed, Khalil and Rouddim - are to be guarded by the man identified only as Fes. He is also available for consultation on the intelligence gathering side of the mission. Agent ke Hanadi, Captain Henscheid and Lieutenant Bush will be scouting. The unit's protocol droid, Z3PO, has been assigned the task of creating something akin to native female dress, that is, complete body-coverage in thick, black material. Neither member of Terra Group appeared thrilled at the assignment, but they will be effectively invisible in such a disguise and will be able to travel almost anywhere. Agent Arrek Lorrdain will be supervising this operation from the Red Home. The wisdom of placing Agent ke Hanadi straight into a mission so soon after childirth - for she is certainly not the same woman who completed her Intelligence training in near record time - is questionable, as is placing trust in the questionable sanity of Terra Four. I assume that the Major has his reasons for these decisions. As for the Major himself, it seems that he intends to do what every good commanding officer does during a mission. He will relax, observe, and presumably finish off the copy of Dumas' The Three Musketeers that he took to Coruscant with him. * Noreh and Brad worked silently on the ships they would be flying. Brad tugged at a laser cannon and grunted in satisfaction at the minimal movement allowed by the unpowered actuator which would suppress feedback when the lasers were fired in combat. Noreh worked to keep herself distracted. The TIE Defender had been checked over a dozen times on Bertie's farm and twice more since then. Everything about the craft was fine. She wondered if that were the case elsewhere. Noreh had made one amendment to the plan devised by Josh Cochran and the Major: The four starfighters would be disembarking the Red Home in mid- flight rather than launching over Baghdad. It would be tricky, but the four pilots were capable and it would be better than launching over Baghdad itself. I'm surprised Josh isn't here, working on his ship, she thought, as Thayer appeared in the doorway and began to check his X-Wing for flight readiness. He's usually the first in the hangar on flight days, running through his pre-flight checklist. Noreh was intelligent enough to know that part of the American's absence was due to his ongoing conflict with Mike. She was a little unsure as to the exact reasoning behind the two males' dispute, but she trusted Mike enough to be sure that he was in the right. I think I do, anyway, she allowed. Waking alone in Mike's bed, and not having heard from him other than a terse message to begin checking on the Defender was not exactly the best way of inspiring trust in a person. I sound like a woman scorned. Mike's busy What we did was. . . Perhaps it was just the wrong time. Perhaps we should have waited. Perhaps he wishes that it never happened. The thought was treacherous in its appearance, and instantly she was worried. She thought it unworthy, both of herself and of Mike. She didn't know anyone she felt as strongly about as him, but they'd never discussed it, not even once. Whatever their true feelings, they had been hidden behind a mask of humour and friendship. Perhaps for Mike, that's all it ever was. Sighing, Noreh resolved not to dwell on it. Whatever happened, happened. This wasn't the time to become emotional and overly clingy. She'd overridden her emotions before, when leaving her family to finish her schooling, and this would only be for a few hours. Today's the day that we complete this mission. Then Mike and I can talk, properly. Brad's comlink cheebled loudly. He clicked the receive button and listened to the message. Then he walked away from his own X-Wing and began checking Josh's. "Is Josh not coming?" "He'll be down to fly with us," Brad replied carefully checking the proton torpedo launch tubes. "He just doesn't want to stop what he's doing right now," he added indifferently. Men, Noreh thought, scowling briefly before going back to work on the TIE. * Mike watched the hangar monitors as the four starfighters eased gently out of the rear of the Red Home, the pilots changing smoothly from repulsorlifts to flight engines as they exited the craft. Sci, sitting in the co-pilot's chair, looked briefly at him before keying the comm unit. "Be strong in the Force, Hope Flight," the Major had sent. They had received four clicks in reply before the starfighters began a near vertical ascent, rising above cloud level and angling towards Baghdad where they would fly a racetrack pattern above the city until called upon to help. "Hangar secure, cloak secure, we are invisible once more," Mike reported in a monotone once the comm was deactivated. It was only a few minutes more before the Red Home began its descent. It settled easily on a hill not far from the outskirts of Baghdad. Sci was about to complement the smooth landing when Mike cut power to the repulsorlifts and the Home dropped the last foot or two downwards, crashing with a jolt. "I'd better go check and make sure nothing is damaged," Mike said, vanishing from the cockpit almost before anyone had the chance to catch their breath. * A few minutes later, Arrek stood with Kristy, Becki and Cheriss outside the Red Homes hangar entrance. "Just act natural," Cheriss said, tucking Becki's wrap more tightly around her. "Try and avoid direct eye contact, too. You've both been given comm units that will enhance what you hear, so listen out for anything that might be usual. The Major and Agent Lorrdain will be analysing the feeds received from us." "Sci doesn't speak Arabic," Becki said. "At least, I don't think he does." "Zee does," Arrek said, wiping the sweat from his brow. It was hot even in the shade given off by a large rock. He didn't envy the women their heavy outfits. "She can translate what we receive." "She didn't even speak French when she came here," Becki said. "But she speaks Arabic?" "Nick came up with a program before he left," Kristy said, glad that no one could see her flush under her robes. "It's a variation on an Imperial decryption algorithm that allows Zee to translate new languages with seconds." "That's useful," Becki said. "Can it be cross-wired to let humans do the same thing?" A few minutes later, Cheriss, Becki and Kristy left the minimal shade of the hilltop and began the long, slow, hot walk into the city in the hope that they could collect vital information. Cheriss, despite recently having given birth, was soon several metres ahead of the two Terrans and increasing her lead all the time. "Becki?" "Yeah, PK?" "If we don't find out where the shield is, what happens then?" "I don't know. Hope Flight can scan for GFFA technology, so we should be able to find it that way. If we can't, I don't know what we'd do then." "This isn't as good a city for praying in as Jerusalem, is it?" "No," Becki agreed. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to pray, though." "Me either," her friend replied, probably smiling under the wrap, although Becki couldn't be entirely sure. * Underneath her veil, Kristy seethed. It apparently wasn't enough that women in this culture had very few rights, even less personal freedom, and were basically property to stay at home and look pretty only for their husbands. "This culture" not actually being the local one--no, local females actually, surprisingly, had quite a bit of freedom. They were encouraged to pursue higher education and careers. Of course, she also looked nothing like the local women--hence her disguise as being from a much stricter sect. No, the worst was that in a desert nation--what could be considered the armpit of the planet if it weren't a dry heat--that sect insisted upon swathing the female form from head to toe, usually in dark colours. It was awful--torture by sweat. Kristy wanted to go back to Israel. (Or any other country that had more cordial relations with the West, where she could at least be accepted grudgingly as a tourist.) Sure, it was easier to hide a blaster in these robes...but it wasn't quite worth it. While its proprietor was busy haggling with another customer, Kristy took the opportunity to leave the table of wilted mangos on the market's edge that she'd been picking over. She rested one hand over the bulge near her waist and the other on her head, feigning lightheadedness and moving to the edge of the crowd. This gave her an opportunity to sweep nearby buildings with her eyes--and, not so coincidentally, with the little remote camera mounted on her glasses. She strolled the edges of the market for a few minutes, trying to look Islamic while sweat ran down her body under the heavy robes. Finally she raised her hands ostensibly to adjust her veil, but also to hide the appearance of talking to herself. "Any luck?" "Three and Four are still washing your vid through the computer, Captain," Arrek's voice came back over the comm on her glasses. "Agent ke Hanadi wants you to check the next block to the south." "Maybe Agent ke Hanadi could come check the south block herself," Kristy murmured back wearily, praying for a breeze. "I'm dying in this thing." "She doesn't wear glasses." Kristy gritted her teeth. "Becki does." Her throat choked and she choked down a sob as her brain helpfully reminded her about Vickie's myopia, as well. Another missing teammate--how much more could she take? JoshN had been right, though, back in Mendellia. She had a job to do, and she forced herself to change the subject. "And why, again, am I pregnant?" Kristy glanced down quickly to check that the round bundle attached to her midsection was still straight. She suspected that Arrek was covering a snicker. "I can't comment on that one, Captain." You can just call me "One", you know--it's not like we're really all that military. But that was a more casual and involved conversation. "I'm headed south. If you get a feed of the ground, I've melted; come rescue me." * Arrek and Sci sat with Zee and Xtreme in the cockpit of the Home. The droid's eyes flickered as Xtreme converted her data feed into something legible. Arrek and Sci were surrounded by the sounds of a busy Baghdad street. Three streets, in fact, and it was difficult keeping track of what went where. Sci was listening almost absently, and perhaps only he could have said what he was waiting to hear. Arrek tried to listen to everything, and inevitably heard little more than nothing. Eventually he came up with the idea of converting the data to text, which allowed him to scan three screens of conversations. Sci nodded approvingly behind the new Agent's head and went back to his book, the sounds of the Baghdad streets still playing over the cockpit speakers. * In the skies above Baghdad, Hope Flight followed one another through a loose, changing pattern that would probably allow them to avoid detection. Their sensors were angled downwards as they sought to find the GFFA shield by the markedly different compounds used in its construction. "Lieutenant Cochran, should we go lower?" Thayer asked. Their height above ground appeared to be backfiring on them. While they were safe from detection from Baghdad, it also appeared that they couldn't properly detect the shield. "No," Josh said. "Let the others have their chance. They might have better luck than us, and I don't want us being detected before we have to go in and attack." * Mike stood in the centre of the hangar with the cameras all deactivated. A single light tube was illuminated in the ceiling high above him, offering meagre light as he began to run through a series of lightsabre exercises. He pirouetted on one foot and slashed, Vickie's lightsabre burning brightly in the darkened hangar. He hopped lightly over a workbench and sidestepped swiftly to move around a ladder lying on the hangar floor. Indeed, the entire floor seemed covered by obstacles and Mike was dancing through them and jumping over them while keeping his eyes fixed firmly forward. The practise went on, and his movements became more forceful. Swings with the lightsabre were harder, and his movements less sure. Twice he came close to crashing to the floor, only catching himself at the last moment. He was close to the edge of the hangar now, and he could move more freely. There were fewer obstacles and his movements became fiercer. He was away from the only source of light, too. With the floor around him free, his movements became more intricate. The equipment lockers that lined the wall behind him formed the backdrop to a series of sweeps and slices that quickened his breathing and made sweat bead on his brow, despite the cool air that he Home's air conditioning circulated around him. He was swinging around on one foot, his left leg coming up in a roundhouse kick, when his comlink chirped and he lost his balance. He crashed against the equipment lockers with a bark of pain, his lightsabre clattering hard against the metallic surface. Cursing quietly, he pulled the comlink from his pocket. "Yeah?" "We may have something. Come up." "Yeah." He stood, rubbing his shoulder where he had collided with the locker. His gaze fell on his lightsabre. It was impaled on one of the lockers, neatly puncturing the nameplate on the door. Mike pulled it out. JOSH COCHRAN, he read, the blade having sliced neatly between the first name and surname. Mike grinned as he deactivated the lightsabre, the shadows gathering around him as its light vanished to nothingness.