Status: Super Moderator
Join Date: Mar 2008
Location: Warwickshire, UK
Current Game: The Old Republic
Ok, I haven't written for a while, but i'd been thinking about writing a proper espionage action-adventure for some time. So, here's the first part.
“This is your last warning! Drop your blaster and release the girl, or we’ll send in the TSG!” shouted Sergeant Noa Cryn through his loudspeaker.
He was crouching behind a Coruscant Security Force patrol speeder, with a dozen other officers, opposite a diner in CoCo town. Some spice-head had broken in while they were closing, killed three of the staff, and was now holding a fourth, a young waitress, hostage. Officers had surrounded the building, and locked down the entire area. The Territorial Support Group, a unit designed for precisely this purpose, was waiting for the order to storm the building. Cryn nodded to its squad leader, Sgt. Arvan, who nodded back, before ordering his men to fan out. Three would go through the front, while three would go in at the back.
Quietly they moved towards the diner, the three at the front stopping either side of the door, while one prepared a flash-bang grenade. Sgt. Arvan kicked the in the door, as one of his squad tossed the grenade. Cryn saw the three officers enter, followed by a commotion and the sound of blaster fire.
Shortly afterwards, Sgt. Arvan exited the building, carrying the waitress over his shoulder, and dragging the cuffed criminal behind him. Officers quickly came and took both of them – the hostage to a medical speeder, and the stunned criminal to a prisoner transport, to be taken to a holding cell following an interview. After the diner had been confirmed as clear, Medical Droids entered, to recover the bodies of those killed.
“Why so serious, Cryn? Another day, another spice-head taken off the streets!” Cryn was always amazed at Arvan’s ability to stay light-hearted even after the most horrific of crimes. Cryn couldn’t help but be disgusted or angered, but nothing much seemed to bother Arvan. He guessed it was his background – Arvan had fought against the Empire before joining the CSF, while Cryn joined the CSF straight out of school. He’d never cared for the Empire, even going so far as leading his officers against Imperial forces when the Republic landed on Coruscant.
“Yeah, we took one spice-head off the streets – for good. But he took the lives of three people, and that girl’s going to need therapy for a long time before she gets over this… I’m sorry, Arvan. It’s just been one of those days. What do say we get a drink when we’re off-shift?” He often drank to escape the rigours of his job, but it was more frequent now, since his wife left him.
“Sure, I’ll meet you in the speeder bay when I’m finished.”
A few hours, and several bottles of Dressellian beer later, Cryn awoke in his apartment, unsure as to how he got back. His head was pounding, but not enough for him to mistake the sound of someone moving about his living room. It must have been Arvan, too drunk to make his way home last night. Dragging himself off the bed, he started for the living area.
“Hey, Arvan! Pretty rough…” It wasn’t Arvan. A man in a grey jumpsuit was going through a chest of drawers in the living area. He turned around, and pointed a blaster pistol at Cryn. Cryn froze.
“Who are you, and what are you doing in my home?” He asked, his hands outstretched, in a calm, non-threatening manner.
“My name isn’t important, Mr. Cryn. I apologise for the intrusion, but I need your help” The man looked dishevelled – like he hadn’t slept in days, yet still retained an energy like Cryn had never seen.
“If you want my help, put down the blaster, then we’ll talk” Cryn was willing to hear the man out before he called for back-up – but only while he wasn’t being threatened.
“Of course – but only if you’ll promise to listen to me. I’d hate to end up in one of your holding cells” He lowered the blaster, and sat down in a chair behind him. Cryn moved to sit down opposite.
The man leant forward, placing his blaster on the table. “I work for the New Republic intelligence bureau – I’ve uncovered a plot by a ring of Imperial agents to assassinate several important members of the Senate, and I believe that they are planning to strike within the next two weeks”
Cryn wasn’t sure if this was the truth, or if the man was simply crazy.
“That’s very interesting, but why are you telling me? Can’t you tell your superiors in the intelligence service?” Cryn asked, leaning forward, mirroring the man’s moves.
“Ordinarily, that would be the first thing I’d do; but I’m being watched, almost constantly. It took me three days to lose them before coming here, and I can’t be sure that I have in fact lost them” He opened a pocket on his jumpsuit, and pulled out a datachip.
“This chip contains all of the relevant information. I want you to take it to Major Dannil at the Intelligence headquarters. He’ll know what to do with it once he has it. Don’t give it to anyone else, or even tell anyone else that you have it” He tossed the chip onto the table, and it bounced towards Cryn.
He picked it up, and looked it over – it was definitely government issue – but that didn’t exactly corroborate the man’s story.
“Alright, but if this is a wind-up, If I see you again after this, I’ll have you arrested for home invasion, and wasting an officer’s time”
“Thank you, Mr. Cryn. You’re doing a great service to the Republic by delivering that chip” The man stood up, and started towards the door. The door-chime sounded, and the man went pale, reaching for his blaster. Cryn stood up, grabbed his own blaster and moved towards the door.
“Go and wait in the living area – I’ll get the door. It’s probably the maintenance droid – my water’s been malfunctioning lately”.
Cryn pressed the door release, and the next thing he felt was a durasteel gauntlet connecting with his jaw. He went down like a sack of blumfruit. He tried to get up, but the blow had been heavy enough to unbalance him. He saw a dull, armoured figure standing over him. It looked remarkably like a Mandalorian. He took Cryn’s blaster, and moved into the living room. There was some shouting followed by a rapid succession of blaster shots. The assailant calmly stepped over Cryn, and disappeared.
He managed to regain his balance, and dragged himself up. He headed straight for the living room. The man was dead – a smoking blaster hole in his forehead, and several more in his chest. He ran out of the apartment, desperately searching for the attacker. He couldn’t find anyone who looked like them.
He did find a CSF officer, who was running towards his apartment.
“Did I just hear blaster fire?” Asked the officer as he stopped to catch his breath.
“Yes, there’s been a murder. We need back-up here right away” said Cryn, leading the officer towards his apartment.
He explained what had happened, and who he was, and showed him the scene. The officer looked puzzled.
“So, sir, you’re saying that you were having drinks with this man? And then you answered the door, and were attacked by an unknown assailant who you claim was a Mandalorian Bounty Hunter, killed your companion with your blaster?” Cryn had omitted some of the details – the stranger’s murder proved that at least some of what he’d been told was true.
“That’s correct, officer. I know it sounds ridiculous, but you have to believe me” He could tell the officer about plot, the Imperial agents and the datachip, but it was too risky – anyone could be working for them, whoever ‘they’ were.
“I’m sorry sarge, and I hate to do this, but I’m going to have detain you until we can corroborate your story” the officer was reaching for his binders.
“No! You can’t arrest me! I’ve done nothing wrong!” He couldn’t let them arrest him. If his attacker found out that he had the datachip, he’d come after him, and he’d be a sitting duck in a holding cell. He had to get the chip to this Major Dinnal. He pushed the officer aside, and ran out of his apartment, with the officer following closely behind. He needed to lose him – he ran down some steps into lower CoCo town – it would be heaving at this time in the morning – he could easily lose himself in the crowds. He ducked down several alleyways, before entering a TapCaf through the back. He could lie low here for a while, while he tried to figure out his next course of action.
He felt guilty. Here he was, a CSF sergeant, now a fugitive from the law for a crime he hadn’t committed. He had no idea where he would find the Intelligence headquarters, or even if anything he’d been told was in fact true, but he had to find out. If it was true, several people would die. If it wasn’t, he needed to figure out a way of clearing his name.
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