"Are you the real Rusty??" the young child, dressed as an amalgamation of two different
R.C. Joh characters, asked from across the autograph table, comic book in hand, his mother looking a little embarrassed at her child's enthusiasm.
Ronval chuckled from his seat, almost as tall sitting as the child was standing.
"
Yep, in the flesh," he smiled, adjusting his own 'uniform'. It had been a while since Ronval wore one of these for a PR event, and even longer since he'd worn real fatigues.
"Did... did you really infiltrate a Magus base on Sigma Nine and make their leaders fight each other? How did you escape? How did you know they weren't friends?" he asked, wide-eyed.
Ronval smiled and held out a complimentary mini-scale toy from a discontinued R.C. Joh sub-line as a gift.
"
Here, let me tell you," and he leaned over to whisper the secret.
The kid listened intently and pulled away, the toy now in his hand.
"
But shhh, don't tell anyone! Some secrets stay between Johs," he winked.
The boy beamed widely. "Will you sign this for me?" the child asked, handing his comic book over. Ronval signed on its cover and handed it back.
"
Of course, anything for a fellow Joh."
"Wow, thank you! I'm gonna show this to my friends!" And with that, the child sped off, his mother apologising to Ronval for his sudden departure and chasing after him.
Ronval turned his attention back to the front and the queue behind the child. Nothing like a good old fiction and toy convention. Families, nerds, tourists...
He had been lagging behind on his GADF PR duties, he admitted. Too many of the past few years were spent on...
that other project, first against an unassailable wall of Corporatists and growing Imperialist influence, then trying to keep up the momentum of the ongoing Populist pushback. All the while monitoring and giving soft nudges to the 'saplings' under his supervision. While any other agent would get extremely agitated over the nebulous and ever-shifting level of control he could exert on the 'saplings', Ronval would have it no other way. FORESTER-targeted groups
should be wilful and independent.
A bit presumptuous to think they're my 'saplings', but I ain't sure I like admitting the reality of things, he thought, as he signed another book for the next fan in line. So here he was, taking a break and catching up on his PR obligations as the GADF demanded. The convention was modestly sized for Coruscant standards, but in absolute terms it was gigantic. The convention hall was packed full of various pop culture celebrations and booths. Ronval was a little surprised that The Owners had found space for R.C. Joh, but then he remembered the stacks of merchandise just beside his table and realised it was not surprising at all.
He was surprised at how neutral he felt at all
this. He did not really like the publicity, and he despised those types that puffed their chest about their time in service to sell lurid novels, but Ronval told himself his PR duties were different. Yes, sure, he was essentially selling merchandise at this moment, but most of his PR duties most of the time were as representative of the Galactic Alliance Veterans' Information Network.
Y'know, like actual government lobbying for vets. And as SIA loves to remind me, to keep sounding the horn about Imperial aggression.
He signed the holovid casing of the next kid in line and waved goodbye. There was another angle to this, he supposed. He
had played a minor part in that live-action remake some years back, so really, he was here as an actor too!
And I kinda like the new animated series. See, it's not all ghoulish commercialisation.
His communicator beeped a priority alarm. Ronval excused himself from the table, and one of the other autographers (an extra from Season 3, Ronval was sure) stepped up and took his place, signing a poster of Rusty owned by the very disappointed-looking kid who was now head of the queue. Heading 'backstage' (really just a slightly cordoned-off area from the merchandise booths), Ronval checked the transmission.
-
| FILE | MESSAGE | INBOX (2) | SETTINGS |
From: ASPHALT
VERIFICATION CODE: Crimson Eta-4-4....
Verified
//ENCRYPTED FILE ATTACHED//
FORESTER Observation Team Aurek Report 23.A ready for download//
[DOWNLOADED] [SELECT TO VIEW]
VIEWING...
High Priority Updates:
NONE
Medium Priority Updates:
C-class
- Aargau: Established first-level ties with Justice Bloc in Aargau Governance Committee. Base aid provided to affinity groups claiming concordance with the Down With Tithe popular movement [cf. affinity group - SIA Internal Reference Manual Appendix A]
- Brentaal IV: Increased Security in Analyst Stations
I-Class
- Carida: Root-induced severance of ties with Democratic Freedom Army in ongoing uncertainty of political system. Re-establishing networks with other groups [reference: Appendix B]
- Castell: Coalition of Liberty fully composted. Re-establishing networks with successor groups [reference on full situation: Appendix C]
Low Priority Updates:
[CLICK TO EXPAND]
Other Team Updates
[CLICK TO EXPAND]
APPENDICES
[CLICK TO EXPAND] |
//ENCRYPTED FILE ATTACHED//
//Present VIPs Notes v1.4 ready for download//
[SELECT TO DOWNLOAD]
Attached Message:
BIG_HOUSE is open Soon. Get your rear over there now. You're relieved of con. "duty"
SEAFOAM command hated it when Ronval did something as unsecured as read coded reports in public, but hey, no one ever fired an agent for being too dedicated. Data flashed across his dataslate as he checked the report updates. Increased agitation here, successful negotiations there, update on counter-protests further there. And the ever-present 'root-induced severance of ties', a euphemism for a grassroots movement or radical activist group who smelt a Fed from miles away and kindly told Ronval's operatives to beat it. Perhaps it was the idealism still in him, but he couldn't bring himself to be too annoyed at that. He liked it that way: no sense being a forester if most of the trees weren't natural.
He looked again at the last message. Looks like it was time to put aside Ronval the D-tier celebrity and act as Ronval the D-tier public figure. He hated going to the Senate Palace for hobnobbing.
But anything for the boys in blue, and white, and yellow, and many other unit-specific paint markings.
Ronval sighed as he exited the backstage area and headed hrough the crowd for the exit of the convention hall. At this critical point in time with all the elections, SEAFOAM, and especially FORESTER, were stuck without support. The political situation was simultaneously too sensitive to make waves but also too important to not maintain vigilance. While the SIA higher-ups fixed their attention on what they
could control right now (namely the ongoing operations in the Deep Core), it was up to middle-management like Rusty to keep the ship steady at home.
"
Are you Sergeant Rusty?" Ronval put his communicator away, seeing a young woman now at the head of the queue. She was short and thin, bespectacled and a book in hand, one of the new Stellar Cantata spinoffs. A slightly older man was waiting beside her, slightly bemused. An older brother maybe? Could almost be her dad.
"
That ah am. Nice to meet you, youngster," Ronval extended his hand.
The young woman extended her hand, and in it, she held a holdout blaster. An unnaturally deep and booming voice echoed from her mouth:
"Krataa kia skystas"
Ronval jumped out of his chair, flinging himself to the side as the blaster fired, the bolt barely missing him. The table was too long for him to flip, so the agent committed to the sideways fall, rolling to his feet, blaster drawn. The young woman was clearly unprepared for the response, as a gasp was her only response as Ronval burned a bolt through her brain.
The older man was much more ready, as he pulled an almost comically-sized thermal detonator from his jacket. Already the convention hall had erupted into panic, everyoe fleeing the area. He could hear his own communicator buzz with emergency frequencies.
"
Stand down hero, before everyone in a mile radius buys it!" he screamed, loud enough for his voice to pierce the screams of the fleeing civilains. Ronval knew, and he knew the other man knew he knew, that the detonator was modified with a dead man switch.
"
What do you want?" Ronval countered, steadying his aim and getting to his feet. In his peripheral vision he could see most of the crowd in this section of the convention hall had scattered out of the worst of the blast range. Contrary to his boast, Ronval knew the exact detonator charge was nowhere that powerful. Judging by the size, inertial mass, and manufactured components, maybe 30 Fill-grain of Visored Thermite. These assassins were clearly amateurs. Had the older man fired the detonator before the girl pulled her gun, at least two hundred would be killed or wounded in the packed convention hall. Now it was maybe the two of them with a dozen of the nearest civilians attempting to escape.
In the back of his mind, he knew something was still wrong. Deeply wrong. None of this made sense. But Ronval had to deal with this threat right now, stall him before the terrorist could get another step ahead of him. Ronval shifted his head ever so slightly, activating an embedded emergency communicator behind his ear. His SIA handlers on the other hand would hear everything. Hopefully whoever was listening in would be able to get in the loop of the security forces already rushing towards them.
"
No stalling. You denied us a righteous sacrifice. You'll do exactly what I say or the charges I have placed at the exits go off and take out the stampeding sheep. And of course, this charge goes off and the good men and women of Coruscant's Security Forces die."
Ronval steadied his breath, processing the information.
Why in tarnation would he act in this sequence? This don't sit right with me.
"
Like I said, mister, what do ya want?"
The older man's eyes flicked back and forth, watching his surroundings like he was looking for something. The security forces were closing in and Ronval could see the nearest approaching, weapon drawn, from halfway across the convention hall, vaulting over toppled stacks of merchandise.
"
I've got a list, and you'd better start on it before they come over," his voice quavered. It was almost... theatric? Something was definitely not right.
"
Okay, okay, calm down, just tell me," Ronval continued, spreading his arms to the side and pointing his gun away.
The security forces were approaching very near now, no more than a few seconds away. On the upper levels of the hall that looked over this area, Ronval could see security forces and... media? Those were unmistakably new media camera operators.
The man turned to see the security forces, and spotting the media, hissed aloud, but Ronval detected no frustration in the hiss.
"
Freg! Listen up soldier boy, change of plans," he snapped, turning back to Ronval, his voice now only loud enough for Ronval to hear. The uncertainty in his voice completely gone, replaced with a... grin? A bad sign things were going to go from bad to worse.
"
I know about your little gardening operation, boy, and what the spooks in the SIA are doing. All your nice little saplings sprouting where freedom don't shine. Corp worlds, Imperial autocracies... I know every last one of them," his grin widened, revealing sharpened teeth.
"
Aargau, Bilbringi, Byss, Carida, Castell, Denon... Sound familiar? And they're not all. So once the newsmen up there train their remote audio recorders on us, and the cops arrive, I'm giving myself up, and I'm going to start spilling the beans, as they say. Your entire op ruined forever. Unless you kill me first."
Ronval's stomach dropped. Things were starting to coalesce, almost making sense, but not enough. He
needed more information. He knew he only had time for one last question before the terrorist carried through with whatever next step of his insane plan was. Ronval maintained composure and asked:
"
And I would do that, why? You have the bombs."
"
You will do it because you are a hypocrite, Mister Rubat. You SIA types are all the same; you would rather preserve your sick little games than save the people you claim to, hmm, serve, and though your secret is preserved, they are all still going to know you shot me for unknown reasons, causing the death of all these poor little civilians. So what's it gonna be, R.C. Joh?" he curled his lips in sarcasm.
Ronval had to admit this plan made some twisted sense. Set Ronval up to either tarnish his own reputation, cause the deaths of hundreds, but preserve the secret of FORESTER, or give up years of effort to preserve democracy in the shadows to save these people. And this man knew Ronval would absolutely take the shot. But something else was missing.
His embedded communicator buzzed inside his skull, a message transmitting directly into his earbones:
<"Lumber One, threat is green, take the shot.">
Ronval raised his pistol.
"
You're bluffing, sicko." And fired.
The blaster bolt struck true, piercing the chest of the man. He dropped the detonator, and it continued beeping as it bounced and rolled across the floor, stopping as it hit an R.C. Joh toy package. As if a dam had broke, security forces finally reached the area and immediately swarmed the place, securing hiding locations, the corpses, and bagged and ionised the fake detonator.
Ronval walked over to the dying man, choking on his own blood as he lay on the floor.
"
How... how did you know..."
He could have said a lot. That the girl cursed him in Sith with her last words, and that a Sith would have set off the bombs early for mass death if the bombs existed. Or that if such a large-scale detonation transmitter existed, it would have been drowned in the barrage of signals now flowing between emergency services. Or that his plan would not have worked if Ronval had killed him and the detonator went off. How else would a man like him gain the satisfaction of watching Ronval struggle with the public fallout if they were all dead. Or that his handlers had given him reasonable assurance the threat was not real.
But no, this man didn't deserve to die knowing. Ronval strode up, got on one knee, and whispered to the man's ear as he breathed his last:
"
Some secrets stay between Johs."
Aerarii Tithe
's term, many major worlds now hold elections or other selection processes to find their Senators. In the middle of trying times for the Alliance, the Senate that leads the nation into the future is of crucial importance. Every citizen has a vested interest in their leadership – not to mention the many other invested parties. The election season begins today.
