stonegirl78

[EADU BASE] The next day dawned cold and rainy, as usual. Petra woke up to the beeping of her alarm and got up, groaning. She'd tossed and turned for hours trying to get to sleep, only to wake up every two hours as her brain continued to spin. Nevertheless, she rolled out of bed immediately and stood, getting the worst of her morning out of her way in one fell swoop. Her hands moved on autopilot, pulling out her exercise gear and getting into it, pausing a second over the water resistant jacket. It didn't breathe properly, and if she got drenched, so be it. She settled her knives and grabbed her comm and set out, covering the distance between her bunk and the base entrance in a few minutes. The troopers at the side door she'd used the day before nodded at her presence and waved her on her way. Petra nodded back, then ran down the bare slope, away from the Base, away from the bunk that was always a few degrees away from true comfort, away from the constant cameras and vigilance. Away from confusing messages and scientists that wouldn't stay dead. Just away. ......... It was 1800. On Thursday. I was ready. Or as ready as I was going to get. I hadn't brought my pulser with me, solely because I wasn't sure I could resist shooting Erso on sight if I had it handy. And that wasn't the mission. Damn the mission. I shook my head, just once, to clear it, then opened the closet just outside the lab that I'd ducked into moments before, took five steps, and entered the Materials Lab. I shut the door behind me, scanning the room, and found the lone figure inside almost immediately. He hadn't changed. Except for a few more greys in his hair. But the Galen Erso I knew was still visible, from the set of his shoulders to the directness of his gaze as his head shot around to look at me. He held up a hand, and I froze as he made a few passes at the keyboard. "We're secure now," he said, looking up once more. "Our images will be removed from the surveillance feeds, both here and in the hall." I nodded. "You're early," he said, standing. "I must confess, I rather doubted you would come at all." "Did you think you'd suddenly end up with a pulser in your skull?" My voice was harsher than I normally used, all of the anger and hurt I'd felt showing far more obviously than I intended. Why did this man always make me lose my cool? He barked a chuckle. "The thought had crossed my mind," he admitted. "Although I rather doubt you would have allowed me to see you first." I nodded. He was correct. "So. Explain. What's happening in two weeks that justifies me waiting to give you that pulser dart I promised." Erso's face dropped, for a second, then smoothed once more into neutral. "Come over here - I have something to show you." "What is it?" I asked, doing my best to not fall back into my assistant's role. "Unfortunately, the Empire regards my expertise as rather more military than I'd prefer," Erso said. "I have helped to design a weapon." I was around his desk, standing behind his chair as he sat and pulled up a holo. "That's not just a weapon," I said eventually, watching the giant base turn slowly. "That could kill entire worlds." Erso nodded. "Why?" I had no idea why I asked, why I thought the man could still be redeemed. But the question still sprung from my lips, and I wanted to hear the answer. "Because if I didn't cooperate, they would kill the people I cared about," Erso said without turning. "And they keep me on rather firm suicide watch." Gods. "Why two weeks? What happens then?" I wanted to change the subject. Get back to business. I didn't want to feel sorry for Erso. That never ended well. "I give in the final plans for this in two weeks." He turned in his chair to face me. "I'm sabotaging it," he said, gaze meeting mine. "It has to be small - I'm not the only engineer on the project. But it will be there, and if they build exactly to my blueprints..." "Millions of lives," I said softly. "You weren't exaggerating," I said with a wry twist to my mouth. "No," he agreed. "Possibly billions. I cannot allow this weapon to be allowed to be built without a chance of its destruction." Everything clicked into place for me then. I had to protect Erso, at least for the next few weeks. Until he submitted the plans. After that - who knew? But for now, the mission parameters had changed. Erso was right - we couldn't allow the weapon to exist without some way to bring it down. "Can I have a copy of those?" I said, gesturing to the plans. Erso nodded, inserting a chip into the reader. "Physical copy," he explained. "Impossible to trace where it's going. Unless they find it on you." "In which case I'm already dead." "Please don't joke about that." I gave a mental frown. Since when did Galen Erso care whether I was alive or dead? He handed me the chip, then turned away as I stuck it into my bra, face reddening ever so slightly. "We need to figure out a reason to meet," I said. "If I'm going to be making sure you stay alive until you hand in those plans." "I suppose 'old friends' won't work?" Erso asked wryly. I glared at him. "I need to think about this. Are you in this lab for a reason during the times you've given me?" He shook his head. "It's just barely after hours, but I don't usually work late. I could blame it on-" I shook my head. "Arousing suspicion now is stupid." I frowned. "I'm going to go running between 0600 and 0800 every morning. If your pilot wants to find me while I'm off-Base, that's easiest. If there's an emergency, the anonymous message will work a few more times." Erso nodded, and I turned to go. "Jaida." That name stopped me, made me turn on the spot. Erso shook his head. "No, that's not your name, is it?" I shook my head. "I just..." "Say what you have to say and be done," I said, the ice back in my voice. He was doing the right thing - at long last - the least I could do was give him the opportunity to try and excuse himself. "I'm glad you're alive," he began. "I wrote it in the message, I know. But..." he turned his head away, looking at something on the wall to his right. "I thought you were dead. I thought you and your brother - he was your brother?" "Yes." I spat the word. "I'm sorry. I don't deserve your forgiveness," he said, looking back at me. "I don't expect it, never expect to earn it." He paused. "But you - you and Jyn, wherever she is - are the reason why I started this." He gestured at the plans, then gave a small smile. "I suppose I'm trying to say thank you. For giving me the courage to do what I should have done before." I wanted to snarl at him, to tell him his 'thank you' and 'I'm sorry' meant less than nothing to me. Because they didn't. No words could undo the fact that Cassian had barely emerged from the University on Coruscant, bleeding out and all because of Erso. That I'd had to go underground for good after that, my name and face too recognisable to ever go anywhere without some form of disguise. But I had to keep him alive. For two weeks. And I'd find that difficult if all I wanted to do was put a knife in his back. So instead, I just nodded. "You aren't forgiven," I said. Erso nodded. "Like you said. I'm not sure that'll ever happen." I sighed. "But you're doing the right thing now. And I'm going to make sure you're alive to submit those plans. What happens after that - well, I'll follow my orders." Erso nodded. "More than reasonable." "Have Bodhi find me in a few days," I said, turning to go once more. "Wait," Erso said again. "What?" I was done. Needed to be done. There was only so long I should be out anyway, and Erso was pushing his luck. "What do I call you? If you aren't Jaida." I considered that, then I smiled. "Bodhi calls me 'C'," I said. "Use that." "Very well." Erso smiled. "Be safe, C." "Don't die," I shot back, and exited the Materials Lab, suddenly very conscious of the chip hiding beneath layers of clothing.

[Three klicks from EADU BASE] It turned out Eadu was everything I hated in a planet. Cold, dark, and rainy. ‘You can’t choose where the Resistance sends you, Andor,’ I reminded myself. ‘Even if it’d be great to have all missions be somewhere like Scarif.’ Nevertheless, I pushed myself to move faster as I hiked back to the Base, feeling like the journey had been uphill in both directions. My breath sounded loud in my ears, drowning out the sound of the rain on the stone and the pounding of my heart. Except… that wasn’t my heart. That was footsteps. I slowed slightly, pretending the climb was getting to me, and loosened one of my wrist knives. “Hey,” a dark-haired man wearing a pilot’s uniform skidded to a stop in front of me. “You’re the new courier, right?” “Who’re you?” I asked in reply. “Are you the new courier?” he asked again. “Come on, it’s important.” “It’s also important that you answer my question, pilot,” I said, wishing I’d brought my pulser along for this little jaunt. “I’m Bodhi Rook, ok?” he said, “And yeah, I’m a pilot here. But that’s not important.” “Why is that not important?” I asked. Sooner or later he’d realize I hadn’t answered his question. Something was definitely odd. This pilot seemed too... earnest to be a spy. Which begged the question of who exactly had put him up to this. “Are you the new courier or not?” Rook demanded, twisting his hands together in front of him. “I should never have agreed to this,” he muttered. “I am,” I said at last. Admitting my identity, which was easily verifiable at the base anyway, seemed to be the only way of ensuring the pilot got to the point. Whatever his point was. I didn’t think it was murder. The man, although slightly taller than I was, was lean and exuded about as much danger as a bunny rabbit. “Was that so difficult?” Rook muttered, then actually backed up as I gave him my patented vicious smile. “Sorry, sorry.” He pulled out an honest-to-goodness piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. “From a mutual friend. He said you’d know who he was.” I accepted the paper and unfolded it. On it were a few words, scrawled in damnably familiar script. [1830 Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Materials Laboratory.] Below it was something that looked like it had been erased. I started to peer closer, realized the futility of reading it in the low light of the rainy evening, and shoved it in a pocket. “Why you?” I asked Rook. It wasn’t like Erso to embroil others in his plots. Whatever he did, he did alone. “I’ve been working here for years,” the man said, relaxing slightly now his task was complete. “I think our mutual friend trusts me.” “He must,” I agreed. ‘Gods know why.’ Rook continued standing in front of me, rain beginning to drip from his overly long nose. I quirked a half-smile. “Was there something else, Mr. Rook? Or are you going to continue standing there in the rain all evening?” “Oh. Sorry.” He shook his head and stood to the side, motioning for me to move past him. “We’ll go back together, Mr. Rook,” I said. ‘I’m not leaving you behind me to put a pulser dart in my back. No matter how harmless you seem.’ Rook nodded jerkily and set off just in front of me. “You aren’t what I pictured,” he said a minute later, as the base began to appear in the distance. “Explain that.” I was too shocked to be polite. “Our mutual - you know what, this is ridiculous - Erso - he talks about you.” I kept moving. Or at least, I tried. I hoped Rook hadn’t noticed my millisecond’s hesitation at his words. “He does?” I asked. “You and his daughter,” Rook nodded. “But you’re not her mother, right?” I barked a laugh. “How old do I look, Mr. Rook?” Jyn Erso, wherever she was, was about ten years younger than I was. Twelve years, if we were being exact about it all. “Sorry, Courier.” He paused. “What’s your name, anyway? It’s strange, calling you by your rank all the time.” “There’s a reason for that, Mr. Rook. Couriers don’t form personal attachments with Base staff.” “But you weren’t always a courier,” Rook protested. ‘No. And I’m not one now.’ I kept moving. “But I am one now. And we’re supposed to be interchangeable. So you’ll have to keep calling me Courier.” “I could call you Jaida,” Rook said, glancing back at me with forced casualness. I grabbed the man by the flight harness and slammed him into the cliff wall next to us, putting a forearm over his windpipe with one hand and drawing my knife with the other, mind still reeling with the knowledge that Erso had not only spoken about me in general terms to this pilot, but also that he’d told Rook my name. Rook’s eyes were wide as he stared back at me, white showing all around the edges of his irises. “Jaida is dead, if she ever existed,” I informed him coldly. Dispassion was no longer possible, not now I had him shoved against a cliff face. Instead, I’d have to terrify the man. ‘I wish this still bothered me,’ I thought absently, then returned to showing Rook the extent of the blade that I’d concealed on my forearm. “And if you ever mention her to anyone - that includes Galen Erso, by the way - I will kill you.” I felt Rook swallow underneath my forearm. “Is that clearly understood?” I released the pilot just enough so he could nod, if he chose. Which he did. “Never saying her name again. Got it.” “Good.” I pulled away, moving out of his range in half a second, sheathing my blade more slowly. “Now. Let’s get this straight. I’m a courier, you have no need to know my real name. Assuming I even have one.” I let the awareness that I might just be a trooper roll through Rook’s head for a moment, then continued. “If you wish to keep playing messenger for Erso,” Rook nodded, and I raised a mental eyebrow. Even after what I’d done to the lad, he still wanted to help Erso. Interesting. “Then you can pass him a message.” “All right.” Rook had a hand to his throat, even though I’d barely touched him. He probably wouldn’t even have a bruise tomorrow. “Tell him yes.” “Yes?” “Yes to his note.” Yes to the explanation. Yes to the meeting. “He’ll know what I mean.” Or he should. He’s a smart man. Unfortunately. Ok, how much fun is Bodhi? And I'd love to know what y'all think!

Thank you! I'm still in a great mood from it all! Update: So yesterday was a bit of a write off. But that's ok. I kind of figured it would be - first full day back, trying to balance the urge to get right back on my feet and the urge to take a day off. Lots of cleaning. Lots of reading. Some practice. I went out to see the new Underworld movie (don't judge too harshly - I love me a good bad action movie). Holy crap Lara Pulver. That's all I'll say, except that I really enjoyed it, and I got back home at about 1:20am this morning (which wasn't my choice - it was literally the only showtime for Underworld in London). And, to make the story better, I was up at 6 and running at 6:30. #choosethebadassoption continues. So: Run: 1/7. Irish: 0/6 Tracking: 0/6 So if I'm honest, I'm a little pissed at myself. After all, the goals I set for myself this month weren't incredibly high. (Except for the 2017 miles in 2017 one. But whatever.) And I still don't think I had a perfect week. (Except for zero week. But I was home) On the other hand, I had a cold week 1, and week 2 had two auditions, and week 3 was my trial. So perhaps it's to be expected that I had a few snafus? I mean, I'm sure there are people who would just soldier on and do all those things and continue with their habits. But I'm not that person yet. That's the person I'd like to be. Thoughts? Am I just typing crap? Anyway, the next story portion is coming up after this. Hope everyone is at least somewhat entertained reading it, because I'm really enjoying writing it. For the Resistance, Stoney

[COURIER'S QUARTERS: EADU} Petra practically threw herself back onto the Imperial issue mattress, which gave a little as she impacted, throwing her an inch or so in the air before she landed once more. She was safe. Or as safe as she could be, for now. No cameras or listening devices - she’d swept the room as soon as she’d found it, and her knives were once more firmly strapped about her person. Her fingers traced the sheath strapped to her wrist absently, letting her mind wander. Trying to deal with the emotions that had been roiling mostly unchecked since Senator Organa had revealed she wasn’t allowed to outright assassinate Galen Erso. ……… ‘Evening, Acedo,’ Erso said, coming to lean against my work station. I - or Jaida, as I had been then - looked up. ‘Hi, Professor,’ I made to stand up. ‘Is there a problem?’ ‘Only that my assistant is here in the early hours of the morning instead of asleep, as she should be.’ ‘But it’s not -’ I glanced at the clock on the wall, then shook her head, smiling, seeing the unexpected 02:46. ‘Sorry, sir. I must have lost track of time.’ ‘There is nothing to be sorry about,’ Erso said, in that very exact manner of his, as if he thought about every word before he said it. ‘Other than the fact that you still call me ‘sir’.’ ‘Sorry, Professor,’ I dropped my head, then looked back at Erso. ‘But do you want to take a look at these results?’ I gestured at the holos I’d been examining. ‘The crystals - I’ve never seen anything like it before!’ ‘Show me.’ Erso moved to stand behind my chair, and I did my best to ignore his presence at my back, his breath, warm on my neck as I pulled forward the relevant files. Erso wouldn’t hurt me. Well, he wouldn’t hurt the person he thought I was, Jaida Acedo, doctorate from the Academy at Couruscant, research assistant to Professor Galen Erso. Who knew what he’d do to Sargent Petra Andor of the Resistance. ‘It’s these tests here,’ I said, gesturing to a few lines of numbers. ‘The results from the analysis of the UB18957 samples? I ran them again just now, and they tested the same.’ Erso leaned forward even further, until his face was level with mine, peering at the holo. I was struck again by how close we were, his chest almost brushing my shoulder - how easily he invaded my space, and, perhaps more surprisingly, how easily I let him. Abruptly, he pulled back, reaching to the next workstation to pull up a chair of his own. With half a smile at me, he sat and looked at the results again. ‘These are indeed singular,’ he said, reaching an arm out to scroll down the results. ‘What about the other samples - anything else showing this level of involvement?’ ……. Petra huffed and lurched back to sitting, still half-lost in the memories of that day, of that time. The months that she spent as Professor Erso’s research assistant, worrying about the pure science, about faculty disputes, about normal things. Until the end. “Doesn’t matter now.” She was a bit surprised to hear herself murmur out loud, but it was the truth. It didn’t matter now, the time that she’d had with Erso. Not after what he’d done - what he’d tried to do to Cassian. A ping sounded, and Petra’s hand shot to her comm, opening it and reading the new message there. It was a simple one, from an unknown number somewhere on the base. Not that it was necessary for the sender to identify himself. [Kill me if you must. But please, wait two weeks. It involves the lives of millions. If you wish an explanation, I will provide one.] ‘Asshole,’ Petra hissed, memorizing the message and its originator codes, then deleting it, and deleting the ghost of the message’s existence. How had Senator Organa known? There was something suspicious going on here. If Erso was solely working with the Empire, she would be dead already. If he was protecting her - which also made no sense - why send the message at all? And what was so damned important that Erso would try and finagle two weeks more life from her? Was he just playing her? Buying time? The possibilities swam around in Petra’s mind as she sat back, allowing every possibility she could think of to come forward and have its say. After a while, she had three likely candidates. One: Erso was trying to draw her out and expose her as a Resistance spy. She thought this possibility was unlikely. Two words from Erso and her quarters and effects would be searched, she’d be found out and shot. She’d looked up the chain of command - Erso was technically higher in rank than most people here. Accusing a courier would be well within the bounds of his authority. Two: Erso was trying to save his own skin. This was the possibility that made the most sense. He knew she wanted him dead, and that she killed people for the Resistance, so he was buying time so that he could get off-planet and disappear again. The ‘lives of millions' were just a ploy. Three: Erso was telling the truth in his message. This was the least likely option. Or, perhaps more appropriately, the one Petra least wanted to believe. However, she wasn’t able to discount the possibility that Erso was trying to avoid some kind of unnamed disaster - if nothing else, the man wasn’t a mass murderer - and he saw her as a means to an end. Although he hadn’t asked for her help. Simply that she not kill him for two weeks. Which begged the question: what was happening in two weeks? Petra needed to get some air. She glanced at her comm once more and was unsurprised to find she’d been thinking for almost two hours. ‘I’ll get out of the Base, get some fresh air. Clear my head. And then I’ll figure out what to do about Erso.’

This makes me so happy Almost as happy as... well... I have to say that I finished my trial (and it was magical) and came home yesterday. Today, I woke up, and there was an email in my inbox asking me if I was free to come back in early March!!!!! Dude. Even if I'm not free, I'm free. SO. MUCH. EXCITE!!!!!!! I'll post a full recap of last week in a bit, and the continuation I've written after posting this. But for now...

Thanks Wolfie!!!!! I kinda thought we'd lost you to the whole Deathstroke thing. (Hey, Slade! You're not allowed to kidnap him forever - I'm telling Wade on you! ) And thanks for all the cheers - I really and truly appreciate it. I just posted an update - hope you like it, and I honestly hadn't appreciated the GOTG parallels, but I do now, and they made me happy.... And choosing the badass option is most definitely a swanky-ass plan! So. Update: Running: 3/7. My hundred miles for the month is within spitting distance - it will go down tomorrow!! I will also workout tomorrow. No rehearsal until 3pm means I have more time to workout in the morning! Irish: Yep. 3/6. Tracking: Again, yep. I'm honestly not doing so well on the evening food front - I'm so tired by the time I get back from rehearsal that I'm eating less well than I'd like, and staying in a hotel doesn't really help. But logging is happening, which is the main thing. 3/7. Day Two was, if anything, better than day one. We were in the real hall today, and it's gorgeous, and sounds great, and I had a moment of disbelief when I first walked in. (It's still amazing. I'm getting paid for this shit.... ) And I got to sit all the way up front for one piece, and it's my favorite, and it was so much fun, and I think I levitated my way to lunch afterwards. Tomorrow's the concert, which is really exciting too - I'll post a picture of me in my concert black, if anyone's interested in seeing - and I get a morning off, which means time to do some basics without feeling like anyone's listening in while I warm up. And now I'm off to see if I can catch up on sleep. Funnily enough, I haven't been sleeping too well. Apparently stress will do that to you. For the Resistance, Stoney

RESEARCH BASE. EADU. “Welcome to Eadu.” The storm trooper in front of me held out a hand, and I put the case into it, watching with a certain amount of hidden glee when he almost stumbled to the side with its weight. He straightened, visor hiding any expression, and motioned with his free hand. “This way, please.” I just nodded once more and preceded the trooper to the screener, stepping inside the metal box without complaint or any outside show of trepidation. The machine locked, then hummed. Even though I knew there was nothing on my person that would trigger the box, I still felt like I was standing an upright coffin. A sitting duck. Anyone who knew what I was could shoot me like a fish in a barrel while I was in this contraption. Even so, I breathed deep, keeping my heart rate within acceptable limits. Everyone got nervous inside screeners. It was an evolutionary thing. And then it was over. The door unlocked and hissed open, and Petra stepped out of it to find the storm trooper from before handing her the case, untouched, seals unmarred. “You’re cleared,” he said, somewhat unnecessarily. If Petra hadn’t been cleared, she would have been dead already. “Are you bound for Eadu, or are you headed elsewhere?” “Stopping at Eadu awaiting orders,” Petra replied easily. It wasn’t uncommon for couriers to be held at one base or another, ready to carry some important piece of cargo at the will of the Powers That Be. The trooper handed her a chip, which Petra pocketed. “Your quarters are down with the officers - it’s the only place that has lockable bunks spare. Maps are on the chip, and you report to the Commander while on Base, as usual.” The trooper paused, then continued. “Oh, and a few people on the science staff take precedence over you as well - but it’s all” “On the chip,” Petra completed. “Thank you, Troop.” “Not a problem, ma’am,” the trooper said. “Do you need an escort to your bunk?” “I’ll find it,” Petra said, allowing her sense of humor to rise to the forefront of who she was pretending to be. “I might be here for a while. Getting lost might be useful, for once.” The trooper’s chuckle was muffled by his helmet. “Very good, ma’am. Just stay out of the restricted areas.” “Thanks, troop.” Petra hefted the case and strode off into the base. ..... An hour or so later, she was thoroughly ‘lost’. She’d worked her way through hangars, the main security establishment, and wandered past the less secure bunks. Now she was in a corridor that seemed to lead nowhere in particular, searching for those ‘restricted areas’ the trooper had warned her about. She turned a left and stopped for an instant as she saw three men walking towards her. She kept walking towards them through sheer training - she couldn’t just stop and stare as she wanted to, eyes irresistibly drawn to the man walking leftmost of the three. ‘Galen Erso.’ She couldn’t help keeping him in her eyeline as she strode forwards. ‘So you are alive, you son of a bitch.’ Unexpectedly - although, to be fair, she should have expected it, being the only other person in the corridor - Erso’s face turned and his eyes met hers. His step stuttered, his eyes widened, and his mouth opened, as if to say something. For one endless millisecond, Petra was sure Erso was going to give the game away. But then his eyes moved away, facing directly in front of him as he passed her as if she was invisible. Petra kept moving, even as she wished she could stop and catch her breath. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, and keeping her breathing even was taking far more effort than usual. She turned the first corner she came to and was face to face with a bright red door. ‘So this is the restricted area,’ she thought, looking the door up and down for any weaknesses and not finding any. It was blaststeel with a keypad. No way of getting in without the combination. She glanced behind her - a camera sat there, red light blinking steadily away. No possibility of a brute force cracker either, then. She nodded, once, then turned. Her stop at the door had let Erso and his cohorts vanish out of sight, and Petra retraced her steps back to the normal bunks and wound her way towards the officer’s quarters and her own bunk. She needed time to think. And to plan. As she walked, cataloguing the twists and turns by reflex, one thought kept winding its way to the front of her mind. ‘I can’t believe he’s really still alive.’ Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

Lol. Nope! Quick update: First day of trial - a success, I think, although I won't know anything about the actual position until the end of the trial, I'm pretty sure. Running: 2/7 Irish: 2/7 Tracking: 2/7 We'll see if I have time to write more tomorrow. For the Resistance, Stoney Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

Ok, people of the Resistance, here's a status update. I'm in Liverpool. The trial starts tomorrow. I'm not freaking out (thanks to the caipirinha I had with dinner), but that won't last. I'm trying to enjoy as much as possible, because it really is a cool thing I get to do. I mean, people are paying me to play music - how crazy is that?! Challenge Update: I ran 6 miles and did NF3A this morning. Runs: 1/7, Workouts 1/3 I've logged all my food today (including the churros and the caipirinha). But they're logged. Also, I found half-decent Mexican food in Liverpool - who'd have thought? I'm going to do my Irish now, then head to bed. Random thought: I have my motto for the year - "Choose the Badass Option." Like running in the frost and the mist this morning. It was miserably cold and absolutely awesome, all at the same time. For the Resistance, Stoney

[On an Imperial transport to the planet Eadu.] The uniform chafed. The uniforms always chafed. Even when the fabrics were of good quality - when Petra was playing the part of an officer or an aide and the uniform blouses were of finer cloth that was like silk on her skin - the uniforms always itched. It was more psychosomatic than anything else, of course. She was well aware of that. But that didn’t help the fact that Petra found her hands drifting to her collar, wanting to adjust the fabric around her neck, wanting to breathe more freely. And isn’t that just a great metaphor, she thought sourly, settling into the mess with her cup of caff and staring off into the middle distance. At least the journey would be wrapped up in the next ten hours - the flight techs were already starting their preparations for entering Eadu’s atmosphere, complicated by the storm systems that were reported to always be whirling above the research facility. 'At least I’m a courier this time.' Petra took another sip of caf, keeping her face as neutral as possible. Her stone face, accompanied by her Imperial Courier’s uniform, should fend off any passerby wanting company. She stared into the cup of caf, considering the mission at hand. 'Find Galen Erso. If he’s still alive. If he’s working on this base.' 'Don’t kill him as soon as you see him.' A flash of anger tried to creep through her mask of indifference, but she squelched it. 'Find Erso. Figure out if he’s really working for the Empire. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. And if he is - and only if he is - then put a pulser dart in his brain. And one in his heart. Assuming I can find the damn thing.' 'And then I go home and tell Cassian he’s dead.' A small, satisfied smile crept to Petra’s lips in spite of everything, and she took a gulp of caf to cover it. “All crew be aware we are two hours out of Eadu orbit, that’s two hours out of Eadu orbit. Make sure your belongings and persons are secured within the hour.” The voice came over the speakers, and everyone paused for a few seconds, listening. 'Guess my break is over.' Petra stood abruptly as the message ended, tossing the leftover caf and its cup into the nearest waste receptacle. She strode to her quarters unobstructed and keyed in the combination. As a courier, she merited a lockable bunk, one in which she could store whatever the ‘Empire’ said she should be carrying. The door closed behind her, and Petra slung the uniform coat on her bed, removing the holster that sat underneath as well as the knives she had strapped to her wrists. Screening going into Eadu would find any weapons she kept on her person, so off they had to go. Petra felt as if she was stripping naked as the weapons piled up on the bed. Four knives, the pulser and the holster. Her normal load-out. And she’d be walking into one of the most heavily guarded bases in the Empire with all of it out of reach in her courier’s case. But there was no choice, if she wanted to look for Erso. 'Well, I’d rather kill him. But if they want me to look for him first, I will,' she thought grimly, transferring the weapons carefully into the specially designed Imperial Courier’s case. The pulser she saved for last, in case something went horribly wrong. Not that it would do much good if she was discovered. She’d be dead if that happened. The only question would be how quickly. “Courier?” A rap came at Petra’s door, and Petra buttoned her uniform coat and made sure the case was closed before answering. “Yes?” The single word dripped with as much condescension as she could muster. “You requested a primary debarkation once we land?” The tech gulped and looked at his pad. Petra nodded. “If you’ll bring your case and follow me, Sir. Primary Debark passengers spend re-entry in the hangar.” “Very good.” Petra spun on a heel smoothly, picking up the case and checking one last time that she hadn’t left anything, incriminating or otherwise, behind. She let the door close behind her, then entered the code that would lock it until the next courier arrived. The tech looked at her nervously, and Petra motioned imperiously with the case. “Carry on,” she said, and the tech practically scurried ahead of her. 'That’s right,' Petra thought. 'Let’s get me off this ship. I’ve got things to do. Places to go.' 'People to kill.'

You certainly did - I hope I did you justice! (I made Wolf kill someone with his amputated arm. I think I'm doing ok there ) And thank you! Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

Yay, so glad you like it! And yep. Stressful's definitely the word. But if I get the job, I'm paid for something I'd do for free, so that's a perk... And thanks for the validation - I really and truly appreciate it! Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

Checking In... So last week was almost as much a wash as the week prior. Lots of trying to get better (seriously, I was much more ill than I realized when I was trying to audition. It took me until at least Thursday to get completely over the cough, which for me, is major...) Which means I've... not run nearly as much as I planned, and the streak is broken. Which sucks. Also, this last week was basically me being super stressed. One, cold. Two, audition which happened today, which I was truly not as prepared for as I would have liked (it went much better than it deserved to, which is awesome, but hours of sleep were lost, hours were practiced, and worries were worried.) And three, the big one - my trial in Liverpool (I'm going up to play two concerts with them so that they can see whether or not they want to employ me more permanently) starts Tuesday, and I go up tomorrow. Which means I've been stressing about the music. And the experience. And the fact that I might or might not have a real job soon. And gods, I want a real job. So yeah. Not stressful at all. But! Somehow, I always exercise and eat really well when I'm traveling for business, not quite sure why. So, I'm using that to give myself a kick up the ass and get back to my challenge. Because two weeks (and zero week) of kicking ass are better than zero, right? (Please say yes, I could use the affirmation.... ) So. I'll be running at least 5.5 miles every day I'm there, and fitting in a strength training workout on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I'll be getting back to my Irish, and my food logging. and I'll be getting paid an actual, more than minimum, wage to do what I love to do and have actually paid to do before. Crazy. (Also, I auditioned at the actual BBfuckingC today. Life is weird. And awesome.) The only other thing - what do y'all think of the latest plot update? Why does Petra really want to kill Galen Erso? How long can I continue to go before throwing out the plot along with the baby and the bath water? (Hint: probably not long....) For the Resistance, Petra

Thanks, Miz! Doing my best not to die over here. I think I'm mostly healthy now.... May the Force be with us all, right? Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

Thanks, Tank! This week has definitely been Plague Protocols. And lots and lots of practice and trying not to freak out. As always, you're the best! Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

Yavin IV. Petra rolled over on her bunk, groaning silently as she regained consciousness. "Welcome back, Commander." K2's voice seemed like it was coming from a great distance, and Petra's eyes flickered open with great effort. "K2? What the hell?" Her own voice was swimming ever closer. "What happened?" "Some asshole poisoned you." That was Cassian's voice, and Petra shot to sitting. Or tried to. A familiar hand - Cassian's caught her breastbone halfway up and made her lay down once more. "Shit." Petra looked over to find Cassian staring down at her from her bedside. "Tell me he's dead." Cassian nodded, just once. "Mothma authorised it." K2 was as matter of fact as he always was, and I was silent a minute, digesting the knowledge that the Senator had stepped off her white horse for once and actually acknowledged a hit. "Do I want to know the story?" I asked, looking at Cassian once more. Cassian frowned. "The transport you were on coming back from Echo Base. Someone must have suspected who you were. The compound got snuck into your water. You dropped after a day, and the bots have kept you under ever since." I nodded, then braced myself on the bed, pushing myself upright. Ignoring the disapproving looks from my brother. But hey. I didn't puke, and my vision didn't blur. I was fine. Unfortunately, neither the Senator, the med-bots, nor my body seemed to agree with my brain that because I was now conscious, I was able to go back to work. I hung around the base for a solid week, inconveniencing people, doing ship repairs, and actually catching up with gossip. "So you did what with what?" I chuckled, eight days (seven hours, and three minutes) later. "I beat him to death with the pulser rifle that was still clutched in his amputated arm," Wolf repeated with no small measure of glee. "Dude, that's a lie. Drink." I gestured to his beer with my own. "All true!" he protested, looking around for someone. "Hey, hey, Tank - get your ass over here - Andor doesn't believe me about the Arm Incident." Wolf was hardly a small man, but Tank dwarfed him, slapping a hand on the redhead's shoulder and looking at me. "Hate to tell you, Andor, but for once in his miserable life, he actually did what he's boasting about." "Driiiiink!" Wolf sang, grinning his head off. "Come on, Commander! Money where your mouth is!" "Fine, you reprobate." But I was grinning as I said it. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I took one, two long pulls and drained it, slamming the empty down onto the table. "I see you're back to full health." The bar went silent as the Senator's presence registered. Wolf's smile drained from his face and he sat up straighter. I turned slowly, unwilling to let the Senator have any more power over me than she already did. "I was at full health three days ago," I informed her. "As you're well aware." She gave me that half-smile that could mean anything from approval to disdain. "I take it you aren't drunk enough to prevent you from coming to a briefing?" I just raised my eyebrows at her. As if I'd let myself get drunk while I was waiting for a mission. She just nodded. "Very well. We're ready for you now." And she turned on a heel, robes swishing as she exited the bar. "I'll buy you that drink later," I told Wolf, who was still in his version of Seated Parade Rest, staring after Mothma. I waved a hand in front of his face, and he blinked twice, then refocused on me. "Free drink. On me. Put it on Cassian's tab." Wolf's smile turned into a grin. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am." "Not your boss, Wolfie," I called as I half-jogged out of the bar to catch up with the Senator. General Draven was in the room the Senator entered, as were Senators Bail Organa and Jebel, and Red and Gold Leaders. I nodded at them all, standing opposite the Senator. "So. Who do I kill next?" Senator Jebel made a face, as did the General. I shrugged at the Senator. "It's what you have me for, right? No use getting scared of it." "This time we're more interested in information than a body," Mothma said repressively. My eyebrows raised, this time in interest, as a hologram rose from the center of the table. "I'm sure you're familiar with Eadu, correct?" "Empire controlled world," I said. "Mostly research, right?" Mothma nodded. "We have heard rumors that someone we're interested in is there. Galen Erso." A familiar face floated in the center of the table. I did my best not to clench my jaw. 'Erso. It had to be Erso.' Mothma kept talking, although something about her left eyebrow let me know I wasn't being as stone-faced as I would have liked. "We want you to confirm his existence there. And find out what he's doing there. If he's there." "If I find him, can I kill him?" The question almost ripped itself out of my throat. "After getting the necessary information, of course," I added as an afterthought. Senator Organa spoke up. "If he is working for the Empire, you are authorised to terminate. But only if he is working for the Empire, you understand." "Who the hell else would he be working for?" I asked. Organa just looked at me. "Keep your mind open, Commander Andor. There are whispers Galen Erso's allegiance may not be what it seems." I wanted to roll my eyes. I wanted to snap back at Senator Organa. But I wanted the chance at Erso. So I kept my mouth shut. "I'll leave by end of day." I glanced at them all, sparing another look at Mothma, who was looking back, face impassive. "Unless there's something else?" Mothma shook her head. "Good luck, Commander. May the Force be with you." I nodded and turned on a heel, getting well clear of the room before spitting out my retort. "The Force has less than nothing to do with the work I do."

So, people of the Rebel Alliance, it's been a while. While I could bitch and moan at the reasons, let's just say a combination of being super busy, traveling back to London, getting a cold, and preparing for an audition (which takes place in about three hours) kind of sapped my time. But since I have about two hours to kill, I thought updating this thread might be a good use of my time... Goal The First: I've kept up my streak, just barely. I've run every day, but the last three days have been token one milers, just to keep up my streak, because I've been hit by a particularly nasty cold. This meant, among other things, that I had to cancel my 25K on my 25th birthday run, so I'm feeling a little stressed at how far behind I'm getting. I'm at just over 50 miles for the month... at this point, either 10 or 15 miles behind, depending on which day you count. But I just have to remember that getting well is more important. That and remembering exactly how miserable my throat felt while running this morning should dispel any urge to run a sneaky 10miles when I get back tonight... Needless to say, the working out has also not been happening. But oh well... Goal the Second: I've fallen off the wagon with this one too. But I'm getting back on starting today, and, what with the fact that I'm home and not surrounded by the southern German meat and potatoes that my family love to eat, I'm hoping that my food decisions can be much better than December. Goal the Third: I only dropped a day on this one - a few days ago. But I'm still going on it. Ever so slowly progressing. For the Rebel Alliance, Stoney Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

Thanks! And I can't wait either! (Writing the next chapter is what's getting me through the next few hours before my audition. Eeek!) Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

Thanks Miz! I'm glad someone else liked the story! And yeah. Maintaining the streak, if only symbolically, has been pretty big for me thus far... Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

Love the tat! Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

I love the look of that suit - so so awesome. At some point, I'll get up the courage to do something that armor intensive - maybe fem-Winter Soldier? But I digress... I was going to say that my favorite site for cosplay stuff is therpf.com (Replica Prop Forum) It's like Tahiti - it's a magical place. So many cool build ideas and threads... also, I've heard people do amazing things with Worbla armor? Also, yeah. Being late is the worst. Slade would not approve... Anyhow... Also, please tell me you're doing the katana. And the eyepatch.... Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

{Author's Note: Rated M for language and violence. Ye have been warned. The Alliance isn't sunshine and roses, and the Andor siblings tend to stay in the darker end of the grime.} Hoth. Transmission from Cmdr. P. Andor to M. Mothma. [Access Restricted] {{message begins}} Senator - What they say is true. Hoth is as cold as the Emperor's left butt-cheek. And yet Echo Base is complete. It's been running for just over three planetary weeks. All seems to be going smoothly. I am pursuing three possible traitors to the Alliance. Please confirm what you'd like done with them, should their betrayal be discovered. I plan to return in a week. Andor. {{message ends}} Transmission from M. Mothma to Cmdr. P. Andor [Access Restricted] {{message begins}} Commander Andor - 1. I am no longer a Senator. As I have told you. Numerous times. 2. Standard procedure applies. I look forward to your return. Mothma. {{message ends}} Petra stood from the message bank, making sure once again that all traces of her presence had been thoroughly scrubbed. Members of the Alliance strolled past in their white snowsuits, chatting about everything and anything. She melded into the flow of foot traffic towards the mess, contemplating her options. The three possible traitors she'd mentioned in her first message to Senator Mothma had been reduced to one: Jed Waxley. A worker in one of the maintenance units for Echo Base who drank frequently, was well-liked, and managed a slew of lady friends without constant scuffling. Unfortunately for him, Petra had found the message chip he was going to send to the Empire's closest outpost underneath his bed, his fingerprints all over it. Too bad I found it, Mr. Waxley, Petra thought grimly. Looks like the Empire is going to be missing their newest spy. Taking a quick right, Petra half-jogged to her quarters, slipping into the room and locking the door behind her. Within three minutes, she had everything she needed to leave Hoth on her person. Her bag strapped to her back, her (for emergencies only, don't be stupid) blaster hidden in her jacket, and her anti-DNA spray out, covering her bunk with as much of the stuff as she could. She paused at the door only long enough to slide the blade out of her arm sheath and just shy of her palm. "Hey, Stein!" a voice called as Petra exited her bunk. Her head snapped around. "Bex," she said, relaxing minutely as the flight operator jogged toward her. "What's up?" "You coming to the bonfire tonight?" Bex's turquoise eyebrows waggled. "Lotsa new meat from the latest transport." Petra smiled, turning into Bonnie Stein, the lackadaisical, if competent, mechanic she'd been for the past two and a half weeks. "Yeah, I'll be there," her smile turned into a leer. "And I've seen some of them... They won't know what hit them." Bex cackled and turned, waggling her fingers. "You and me, kid." "Later, Bex." Petra gave her the same wave as she headed towards Waxley's duty station. She almost felt bad for lying to Bex. It wasn't that Bex was a bad person. Or a traitor. But the deception was necessary, so Petra stuffed the proto-guilt away and cleared her mind. Waxley would be in the armoury by now, getting out the shotgun every outside work team carried. Just in case. Footsteps came closer, and Petra's back hit the corridor wall closest as she waited for them to pass. Just because she could kill with impunity didn't mean it was wonderful to advertise her identity. The men took a left, and Petra swung into the corridor once more, ducking into the armoury. Waxley was alone. Petra locked the door behind her silently, padding into the room. "Hey, Wax," she purred, losing her pack and her jacket, careful to take the blaster with it. Waxley spun, eyes wide with surprise, then smiled slowly. "Stein," he drawled. "I wondered when I'd be seeing you." Petra hid her disgust. God's gift to females this man was not - he stunk with access to ready 'freshers and showers, covering it with off-market cologne, and the scar on his face made him look ugly, not rakish. Besides, there was no kindness in his face. He'd fuck her as a prize, then toss her away. But she had a part to play. "Couldn't stay away," she smiled, coming closer, standing up straighter so her chin tilted, exposing her throat. Waxley stepped away from the shotgun and towards Petra, who moved to the middle of the room, out of reach of any of the weapons that lined the walls. "I knew it," Waxley said, stepping closer, putting hands on her waist and pulling her so her hips were flush with his. Petra let out a fake-shocked gasp, then an appreciative noise when Waxley's lips started blubbering their way down her throat. So kind of him, to give me the appropriate angle, Petra thought, bringing her arms around him and taking the knife from her sleeve. With her other hand, she caressed his neck, feeling for his vertebrae and the space between. Then, with no warning, her knife descended into his neck, sliding in between his vertebrae and severing his spinal cord. Waxley jerked, then dropped, and Petra let him, letting go of the knife and letting him crash to the floor. She waited two seconds, then dropped to a knee to check the man's pulse. Dead. Good. She pulled out her knife, wiping it on his clothes, and stuck it back in its sheath. Next, she checked herself for blood spatter - nothing that wouldn't be covered by her cold weather gear. She stepped up onto a table in the corner of the room and pulled out a bug from her pant pocket and stuck it next to the security camera. It would wipe all footage of her from first the room, then the entire base. Last but not least. She opened her pack and pulled out a sticker. Heaving Waxley over onto his back, she arranged his arms over his chest, then stuck the sticker to his head. The sticker itself was fairly self-explanatory, the symbol of the Empire stark white against the black paper. Petra pulled her winter gear on, this time with gloves, and waited at the door until she couldn't hear footsteps. She made her way to the hangar, nodding to people here and there, exchanging greetings, letting her pulse slow gradually. Another mission complete. Another life taken. Even if Waxley deserved to die. I hate these solo missions, Petra groused, slinging herself into her jump seat on the next departing transport to Yavin. Mothma had better have my team ready for me when I get back... To be continued.... {So, what did we think? It's quite a lot darker than the other stuff I've written here, but, well, Petra's not the nicest human. (Although I love her...) And I need a team for her! I'd love to make this a collaborative deal, so if you'd like to be a member of Petra's team, leave me a name, or a description, or a specialism, something I can use to start my brain going. Thanks in advance!}

*sad face* The reason for Petra/Stonegirl is the same as your ancient Greek... but I got it from a book - one of the character's names is Petra, and she's awesome. But still, half a reference is still a reference! Thanks! Yeah, I'm a fan of not being roadkill... And I do the bodyweight ones (and I hate those side planks too...) Update: Goal the First: I ran 5.95 miles on the 4th, and then yesterday I had a bad day, and only did 1.5 on the elliptical on the 5th (this is what happens when I work in the morning, take an inadvertent few-hour nap during my running window, and then want to spend time with family in the evening.) But my streak is still going, so I'll take it. Besides, tomorrow is long run day. No workouts, but it dumped a couple feet of snow over the last few days, so I think I'll be shovelling our deck... And running again, because it's gorgeous blue skies outside. Even though it's -29C right now. I'll wait until noon. See if it warms up... Goal the Second: Every food logged. Not wonderful food choices, but they were logged, which is the main thing. I'm 4/6. Goal the Third: Irish every day!!! Still loving it, and speeding through the lessons. I kind of wish there were more explanation of grammar in the Rosetta Stone lessons, but maybe I'll run to a bookshop in London and pick something up... Maybe as my two week reward? I'm 4/6 here too. For the Rebel Alliance, Stoney

To continue to cats, yesterday Thing 1, also known as Winston, was using me as a pillow. My caption? No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die.... Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

I love morning pages! I've been doing them for a few years, both digitally and handwritten, and it gets to the point when I really notice if I haven't done them in a couple of days - like the extraneous detritus builds up in my head, or something. Following for awesome, and for morning pages! Stoney Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk