Message #266660

[Flipz]

-==Carrie's Rebel Base==-
Suddenly, there is a proximity alarm, followed by a resounding metallic knock at the main door.

-==Imperial Base==-
Inside the launch control port of Mech Hangar 7, a woman stood at attention.  Normally this would not have attracted the control officer's attention, but this woman was a knockout.  Her black jumpsuit was so tight he could have seen the mint mark on the quarter in her pocket…if she had pockets.  A magenta belt hung around her waist like a lovesick boa constrictor, utility pockets arranged artfully around its entire circumference.  A streak of identically magenta hair stood out from the black hair that rested on her shoulders, hanging right in front of her...magenta eyes?  An odd choice, considering the sleek black look of the rest of her outfit.  The woman obviously had a thing for magenta.  Maybe he should switch out his tan trenchcoat and brown fedora for his magenta set during his next coffee break...

Unseen by the controller, a man wearing a black armor suit with a concealing helmet stepped out of the shadows.  He spoke, his voice distorted by the suit’s comm system.  “This was supposed to be a private meeting.  Shall I ask our friend here to leave?”

For the first time in an hour, the woman spoke.  “No bother.”  In a smooth, almost imperceptibly fast motion, she drew her weapon and shot the controller in the head.  She didn’t bother to see if she’d actually hit him; she didn’t have to.  She never missed.  “He was getting on my nerves anyway.”

Ironic, thought the man, considering he hadn’t had a chance to say anything to her, since he was on-duty.  The Empire did not allow its lower staff to engage in personal activity on the job.  Failure to comply led to death.  As it had for this man.

But such thoughts were irrelevant.  “Agent Bailey, report.”

“Mission was a success.  Target thought I had mistakenly left him a way past our blockade.”

“And?”

“I educated him on the error of his judgment.”

“Proof?”  Neither the man’s superiors, nor the Emperor, would accept his word without evidence.  It was an occupational hazard of Intelligence & Recon, but I&R members were conditioned not to be bothered by insults or slights.

That didn’t mean they wouldn’t be properly repaid.  With interest.

Agent Bailey held up a small capsule.  He might have mistaken it for a medical pill...if he didn’t know his agent was in perfect physical condition.  “Remains.”  The man didn’t question how Agent Bailey had accomplished her task.  All that mattered was the success of the mission-and if the methods required were highly illegal, even for the Empire, well...

All the better.

“New assignment?”  Agent Bailey was not one to waste time on trivialities like polite conversation...or “down time.”

The man gestured at the observation viewport.  “See those agents?”

Bailey threw him a look.  Of course she had.  The late and not particularly lamented control officer had spent the two hours guiding them to base and walking them through the post-mission checklist.

The man decided not to mince words.  “Them.”

Bailey raised an eyebrow.  “Eliminate?”

The man shook his head almost imperceptibly.  “Observe.”

“Traitors?”

“Failures.”

She asked again, almost confused.  “Eliminate?”

“Observe.”  The Emperor had plans for the six of them, but he needed someone to make sure they remained on task.  If they failed…well, the Emperor had not revealed what exactly would happen, but he did make it clear that the consequences would be dire for everyone involved.  Including him.

“Reports?”

“When you can.”  The man paused for a moment.  “To me.”

Bailey glanced out the viewport at the pilot of the Light.  The man’s outfit was not unlike the one her superior wore.  “I’m not the only one assigned to this, am I?”

The man grimaced.  Secretly, and not for the first time, he was glad she couldn’t see his face.  Other agents had learned the hard way it was a bad idea to show weakness around Bailey.  “I was not given any information indicating that you are not.”  That sounded a lot better than I don’t know.

It didn’t help.  Bailey’s face spread with a wide, predatory grin.  “What an interesting complication.”

“Dismissed,” the man added, unnerved.  Her smile remained on her face as she left the control center.  The man pushed the dead body out of the chair and sat at the control panel, trying to regain his composure.

The man glanced up and saw the woman approaching the pilots of the battle-damaged mechs.  Just before she walked within their sight, she turned back to the observation viewpoint.  She was still smiling.

Yes, he needed to get Agent Bailey out on this mission soon.  And, not for the first time, he secretly hoped she failed.  Or perished.

For his sake.