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The woman is staring at her from across the bar. There is something about her gaze that seems off. She’s dressed casually, in a strappy black tunic, and wearing her hair down, but Harper’s made a living on her instincts, and her instincts tell her that whatever the woman is here for, it isn’t a good time.
Harper is though. There for a good time. Even if it’s not anyone else’s idea of one. She has the schematics for an Imperial weapons storeroom, freshly picked off an officer on tour last week in her pocket, and a meeting with some of Saw Gerrera’s rebels scheduled in five minutes. She turns away from the woman with only a quirked eyebrow, and surveys the room from her spot at the bar.
A few minutes later, the masked group make their way in through a side entrance. Harper stands up out of her chair and spreads her hands in greeting, “Ladies and gentlemen, so good of you to meet me here. You won’t believe what I have to offer you today.” The group shift nervously, uncomfortable with drawing attention to themselves, and the shortest one gives a curt reply and gestures over to a side table. They sit down, and Harper motions to the bartender to bring them drinks. He sets the bubbling concoctions on the table, and they exchange an imperceptible nod. Joey is a friend, and he and his girlfriend, Pia, work tables when they’re not fixing poker games in the back room. If she ever finds herself in a tight spot she can’t talk her way out of, she knows she can count on them for back up. It’s the reason that she conducts most first meetings here. Harper may enjoy the thrill of making deals, but she isn’t stupid.
Harper is well on her way to impressing the rebels with the usefulness of access to the Imperial troop rotation schedule, and just about to bring up the topic of a fair price, when a fight breaks out on the other side of the room. Her suspicions about the woman from earlier are confirmed because there she is in the middle of it, her blonde hair flying, the bar lights reflecting off it and giving her an angelic air. Harper’s gaze is broken when she is jostled slightly. The group of rebels have startled, and are making a hasty retreat, scared to stick around in case any Imperial officers show up. Damn.
She turns back to direct her ire at the woman and catches her breath slightly. She’s fighting without a discernible weapon. Despite growing up in a holy city, Harper has never been one to buy into mystical tricks, when slights of hand will do, but something about her movements seem too smooth to be entirely natural. Still, fighting isn’t Harper’s modus operandi, so she just makes a mental note, and while the rest of the bar dissolves into chaos, she slips out the side door.
--------------
Harper is halfway down the back alley, past the remnants of the next door shopkeeper’s rotting vegetables, and almost to one of the hidden rooms she keeps around the city, when she hears a voice.
“You.”
She turns around. There’s nowhere to run, her back is against a warehouse, and the woman is standing a few meters away. With the scowl on her face, and without the bar lights to illuminate her, she looks less like an avenging angel and more like a demon. Does Harper only imagine that sparks of red light crackle from the tips of her hair?
“The name’s Harper. Harper Rose, actually.”
“I need to know where I can find Ray Pratt,” the woman says, ignoring her name. She has a blaster in her hand now, and she gives it a warning flick with her wrist.
“Well, this would all be very”--Harper glances pointedly down towards the weapon--“convincing, if I could help you, but I can’t.” While she's talking, Harper’s fingers reach behind her back and make contact with the door lock. The woman glances down at her movements, briefly, and her voice betrays a trace of nervousness.
“You’re not leaving until you tell me where I can find him.”
“I don’t think I’ll be of much use to you with that. See--"
“I saw you wave at his associate, the bartender, earlier. I know you know him.”
“I know a lot of folks on this moon. Don’t think I know you though, pleasure to meet you, what did you say your name was?"
“I didn’t.” The woman’s glare doesn’t waver, but she reaches with her free hand into the strap of her dress and unfolds a paper of some kind, which she dangles in front of her. There’s a grainy photograph on the front.
“Ray escaped from a prison ship two weeks ago. There’s a bounty for 10,000 credits out for his arrest. Perhaps that might help you remember?”
“I’ll get back to you on that,” Harper says. And then she’s unlocked the door, and is slipping through it and securing it again behind her before the woman has time to think about firing her blaster or asking any more questions.
----------------
When Harper is back in her room, she sends out a message to Pia. Have you seen Pratt lately? It only takes a few minutes for her to reply. Last I heard he was locked up on some Imperial prison ship, why?
It seems he isn’t any longer. And he’s got a bounty hunter on his tail. Probably best to watch your back the next few days as well. Tall, blonde, rather impressive in hand to hand combat.
I’ll let Joey know.
Harper disengages the com device, and paces. What did Pratt do that makes him worth that much to the Empire, she wonders? And more importantly, she needs to restart negotiations with the rebels after the unceremonious end to their last meeting.
She puts through call to her rebel contact to try to arrange another meeting. Her contact, however, is being reticent.
“I’m sorry, but Saw Gerrera has put an end to any further negotiations, he’s got it in his head that you’re a spy for the Empire. I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now. If he found out...”
“It’s fine, Link, I won’t call you again. You know how to reach me if he changes his mind.”
Harper reclines on her bed and thinks about her next move.
-----
With the rebel deal apparently off the table for now, Harper decides to pay Joey a visit at the bar the next day. It turns out that Joey isn’t working that afternoon, but Pia is wiping down the tables in the still mostly vacant lounge area, so she floats some ideas to her.
“I’ve been thinking about those plans I got a hold of, the ones for the weapons storehouse out in the Western Desert."
“Hmmm.” Pia says.
“What’s something someone would be interested in paying for, other than the plans themselves, you think?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” says Pia.
“The weapons themselves, right?" Harper answers. "You wouldn’t have a contact, a smuggler with a ship say, who might be interested in getting their hands on those, maybe?”
“Hmmmm, but how are you actually going to get the weapons out of the storehouse though?
“I’ve got some ideas, please, Pia,” Harper pleads, and gives her best puppy dog eyes.
“I’ll put a few discrete notices out and see if there are any takers,” Pia relents.
“Thanks, Pia, you’re the best,” she knocks her fist against the bar top, slides on her jacket, and heads back out, thinking about hitting up the marketplace, maybe finding some pilgrims to pickpocket.
Instead, when she gets there, she runs in the blonde woman from the day before. When their eyes meet again, the woman immediately starts to walk towards her. Harper is really not in the mood for more questions, so she starts to run, but the woman does too, and catches her arm, tugging her back against one of the tents. Harper goes limp and switches to the offensive.
“We really have to stop meeting like this.”
“Did you think you could outrun me? I only let you get away last time because I wanted to see if you would lead me to him.”
Harper only laughs. “People have a way of letting me do things all the time. They think they’re in control, but they’re not. If you want to make this a competition between the two of us, you’re going to lose.” She grins, and adds, “But don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll enjoy it.”
The woman takes a step closer, threateningly, and now they’re practically pressed together against the tent. “I just want to know what you know about him.” She’s got the damn wanted poster out like before, and she grips it in her hand like it’s a holy book or a winning game ticket. Harper stares down at the way the muscles in her forearm flex.
“I can tell you one thing,” Harper says. “You’re not going to last long on this moon holding onto shit so tightly. Whatever it is that’s got you so upset, you’re going to have to learn to just let it go.”
When that doesn’t get the woman to loosen her grip on her jacket, she tries a different tactic. “Listen, how about we do an even trade here? You tell me what you know, and I’ll fill in what I know.”
The woman lowers her fist and releases Harper. “Fine,” she exhales. “Ray killed a man in drunken dispute over a card game and got arrested by the Imperial authorities. But while in prison, he paid one of the tech officers off, got them to give him access to the door locking mechanism, escaped and, along with a few other political prisoners, reportedly hopped an unregistered refueling ship out of there.”
Harper paces, digesting the story, slightly impressed that Ray managed that. “Look, Ray used to be a part of our group. Sometimes he worked the gaming tables with Joey and Pia, sometimes he had valuable information to trade. But he was never a reliable member, and I haven’t seen him in this city in more than a year. We’d heard word that he’d been arrested, but nothing concrete, and I haven’t seen him since, I give you my word.”
“What about places he might be hiding out?”
“He used to live in the older part of the city, but most of that area’s been bombed out in skirmishes between the rebels and the Empire. And obviously he frequented the bar sometimes. But say Ray did come back here, and I were to help you find him, what are you planning to do, arrest him and hand him over to the Empire for money?”
“No, I plan to kill him." She says it with so much conviction, that Harper, who doesn’t believe most things that come out of people’s mouths, let alone her own, actually believes her. “I plan to kill him if it’s the last thing I do,” she continues, “Because the man he killed over that poker game was my brother.” Her eyes have gotten red and watery. A single tear slides down her cheek, and she wipes it away with an impatient gesture.
“Hey, hey,” Harper says making her voice softer, “If I see him again, I’ll let you now. But if there’s a bounty on his head, this is probably the last place he’ll be running. Actually, that’s the one part that still doesn’t make sense to me. Why would the Empire bother putting a bounty on his head for the killing of one man? Was your brother someone important?” Then she pauses and gives the woman a look of appreciation.
“There never was any reward, was there?”
“I needed something to get your attention,” she admits.
“You’re better at this than I gave you credit for, Blondie.”
“You can call me Frankie,” Frankie says.
----------------
As if he knows that he’s being talked about, Ray Pratt suddenly appears in the city. Or rather, he appears in her room one evening when she returns home, sitting in the chair in the corner. “Harper," he calls out, "It’s been too long.”
“Ray, you’re causing me so much trouble, it’s like you never left. What happened? I heard you got sloppy and got caught.”
“Just some bad luck. The lounge I happened to be operating in got caught up in a sweep for suspected rebels. They started investigating every little bar fight. That doesn't matter, the important thing is how I got out.”
“That did impress me. Our Ray staging a full on Imperial prison break. How’d you do it?”
Ray’s weakness was that he could never resist bragging about his jobs. It was probably part of the reason he got caught. He’s more than happy to regale her with his tale of how he was able to bribe a sympathetic maintenance technician to teach him how to disable the door lock on his cell, and then on the rest of the ship."
“But I’ve got a debt to repay. I need to get some information to Saw Gerrera. Was wondering if you might help me out with that.”
“Ray, you know I always want to help you, but it doesn’t come free. Since you’ve got some experience with Imperial door locking mechanisms, however, you might be able to help me. I’m organizing a plan to smuggle some weapons out of the Imperial depot to the west of here. We’ve got the schematics and troop rotations, but no one with the first hand knowledge you have. If you’re as good as you say are and can help us get in, I’ll give you a tenth of whatever we get from the haul, plus my contact with the rebels. What do you say?”
Pratt grins and a wide smile emerges out from under his mustache. “It’s a deal,” he says, and slides back out into the cold Jedha night.
-----------
The next afternoon at the bar, she fills Joey and Pia in on the latest development in her plan.
“I’ve figured out how we can get the weapons out of the storeroom. Ray’s back in town and he’s a little on the desperate side. But he has experience breaking into, or shall I say, out of, Imperial facilities. Someone else corroborated the story to me, so he’s not just making it up. If Ray has a way to bypass the door locking mechanism, he could let us in the storeroom. All we need to do is use the troop rotation schedule, time it so there are as few guards patrolling as possible, take them out, and transport the goods to the ship Pia’s going to hook us up with. What do you say?”
“I’ll look at the schematics," Joey offers. "See if I can come up with a strategy. You mind if I keep them a few days, Harper?” Reluctantly, Harper fishes the schematics out of her back pocket and hands them over. “I wouldn't just hand those over to anyone, you know.”
“I know, Harper, don't worry, they're safe with me," Joey reassures her.
“Oh, and you might want to keep quiet about Ray,” he adds, and nods over to one of the corners, where a jacket clad Frankie is sipping on a drink and surveying the room. “She’s back. She’s come in here every evening this week. And he’ll be no use to us if she hands him back over to the authorities.”
Harper glances over to where Frankie is laughing with some off-moon trader, as if she hasn’t a care in the world, even if Harper knows differently.
“Maybe you should have Trey give her a job.”
-----------
Harper is being sarcastic. But Trey, the bar owner, actually thinks it’s a great idea, and apparently, so does Frankie. So Frankie’s presence becomes an unavoidable part of her weekly routine. Especially as she needs to be in frequent touch with Joey and Pia as they plan their operation. At one such meeting in one of the back rooms of the bar, on a day Frankie is strangely absent, Joey brings up a roadblock.
“I’ve been going over the plans of the depot. To unlock the doors, we'll need to get to the control room, which is located at the north end of the compound, a good 200 meters from where the weapons locker is. It’s the most heavily guarded part of the complex. Even during the night shift, there are about four guards at the main door here. The weapons that we’re interested in are stored in the southeast part, down here.” he points to the holo-diagram.
“So we go to the control room first, unlock the doors, and then head south?” Harper supplies.
“Actually, I think it would be best to split up. Have one group head to the control room to disengage the door locks. Then as soon as they do, the second group is waiting near the storeroom. We’re in and out as quick as possible and before there’s time for anyone to notice us and bring in back up.”
“Makes sense,” Pia agrees, “So do you want to head to the control room with Pratt, while Harper and I handle the weapons?”
“That might work, except there’s going to be at least two guards that have to be neutralized before you can get in there, And I know neither you or Pia are good in a fight.”
“I have an idea. Let me get back to you on that,” Harper says.
----------------
Frankie is easy enough to find in the bar the next night. During one of her breaks, Harper slides into the chair across from her, spreading her arms over the adjacent seat to discourage any more company.
“I have a proposition for you,” she says.
“I’d love to hear it.”
“Some friends and I are planning to break into the weapon storage facility out in the Western Desert. It’s a bit of a bigger operation than we usually run, and there are more security risks than usual.”
“Than usual?”
“Than usual. Anyways, I’m quite good with my mouth”--she risks a glance up, but Frankie doesn’t react-–“but not much good at taking out stormtroopers. Basically, we need someone to help us get past a few guards, forcefully if necessary. And I can’t help but think of your impressive performance here a few weeks ago. I thought you might be interested.”
“And in return you’re going to help me find Ray?”
“Oh, I’ve already found him.”
“You know where Ray is?!” Frankie lurches out of her seat.
“Shhhh. Do you want the entire bar to find out and tip him off about you? Sit down.”
“I’d rather not. Why don’t we step outside so we can settle this.”
“There would hardly be a point to that because we both know you’d win. And then you’d never find out what I want to tell you about him. Now as I was saying—"
“How long have you been keeping this from me?” Frankie grits out.
“As long as it was necessary. But now it’s necessary that I don’t. See, I need your help.”
“You promised me you hadn’t heard from him. When did you see him?” She slowly settles back down into her chair.
“It was a strange coincidence, actually, a few days after you fell into my life, Pratt decided to fall back into it as well. You were right, he’s back in Jedha, which seems like a stupid decision to me. If it were me, I’d be getting as far away from the Empire as possible. But he’s decided he needs to get in contact with Saw Gerrera’s rebels, some business he owes a guy who helped him escape. I’ve done some jobs for them in the past, and he wanted to know if I could help him. Which I agreed to, provided he help us with our little operation. And when he helps us, he’ll be out of hiding long enough for you to kill him. That is, if you’re there. So the long and short of it is, I have something that Pratt wants. You have something that I want. And I have Pratt, who you want. So what do you say, is it a deal?
“How do I know you aren’t planning to screw me over like you’re screwing over Ray?”
“Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”
-----------
All in all, Harper is having more fun than usual putting together this deal. One of the nicer aspects is that, after agreeing to participate in the operation, Frankie has decided that Harper should have some rudimentary self defense training, in case she encounters any unexpected stormtroopers. And Harper has never been one to turn down something offered for free.
They’ve agreed to meet up one morning in one of the abandoned courtyards in the older part of the city. And when Harper arrives, Frankie is stretching in the corner. Harper stops in one of the arch ways to watch, until her curiosity gets the better of her.
“So are you one of those Jedi knight then?” she calls across the room.
Frankie breaks form, turns, and snorts. “Why do you ask?”
“You fight like one.”
She holds out her empty palms. “No lightsaber. I learned this from my aunt. Now come over here and pay attention.”
It turns out that the only part of hand to hand combat that Harper is particularly good at is falling down. Frankie actually gives her some tips on how to do this so that it’s less painful, but after about the twentieth time that she’s been knocked down into the dusty pavement of the courtyard, or wrestled under Frankie, as nice as that may be, Harper suggests that they relocate to somewhere with food. Harper recommends a vendor in the marketplace who sells roasted vegetables, and they settle down on an abandoned cargo container to eat them.
“So after you kill Ray, are you going to finally relax?”
“I’m plenty relaxed.”
“I just mean, you seem so focused on doing this thing. It’s like even when you’re pretending to have a good time, I can tell you aren’t really. Whereas, when I’m pretending to have a good time, I actually am. Like right now for instance.”
Frankie smiles.
“What do you get out of killing him, though, I’m curious?”
“A sense of closure, justice for my brother. I made a promise to myself that I would make sure he paid for his death, even if it’s the last thing I do, even if I have to do it with my bare hands.”
“See to me, it seems better just to move on.”
“That sounds pretty naïve to me, you’ve never lost someone before have you?”
Harper snorts. “You can’t grow up on this moon and be naïve. Wasn’t any time to be naïve. Just to survive. And since the occupation, there’s not a lot to survive on here, but what there is a lot of is people who want something. So that’s my business. Then I figured out I’m pretty good at it. And if things go south on a deal, I could get upset about it, but where would that get me? Not off this moon. So I might as well enjoy what I’m good at. That’s enlightenment. Don’t you Jedi study that in your texts?”
“I’m not a Jedi.”
“You’re something.”
-----------
Despite the fact that Harper doesn’t seem to be getting discernably better, their training sessions continue. And Frankie joins in on the meetings now with Joey and Pia about the operation, which are proceeding well.
One afternoon two days before the scheduled day of the operation, they’re leaving their usual courtyard when a large container next to Frankie suddenly explodes. Frankie dives out of the way, pushing Harper down underneath her. Harper looks up and spies a masked rebel on the causeway above them, and an armored imperial vehicle to her left.
People are screaming and running for cover, and blaster fire is randomly going off around them. They both scramble to their feet.
Frankie stands up and fires her blaster at the nearest stormtrooper, then turns back to Harper. “I know a place we can hide,” she yells, but in the din of weapons fire, it sounds like a whisper. She takes off running down the alley to their left, and Harper follows.
------------------
Frankie’s room is less of a room and more of a glorified storage locker under one of the crumbling sections of the old city wall. They enter through an iron door through the roof, and the ceiling is barely taller than Frankie’s head. But in contrast to the heat outside, the air inside feels welcomingly cool.
As soon as they enter, Frankie is removing pieces of her clothing and tossing them into the corner. Harper stares. She’s still breathing heavy from running there. And so is Frankie.
“You got, uh…I don’t suppose you got a bucket of water or something I could use to clean up?”
Frankie turns around and meets her gaze, then flinches. She takes a breath and points to the corner. Harper reaches to grab the sponge there, and notices there is a cut on Frankie’s arm and a rather nasty bruise forming on her side.
“You got hurt,” she says.
“Baby, I didn’t know you cared.” Frankie says. She starts pulling bandages out of her pack on the floor with the same brutal efficiency that she had removed her shirt. She’s being flippant, and it occurs to Harper, watching her wind them around her forearm, that of the two of them, Frankie is the more cynical. Flippant or not though, the topic is out there.
“I do actually,” Harper says, a bit surprised by it. “And I care about your arms, too. They’re pretty nice. As is the rest of you, generally….”
Frankie is looking smug. “You think so, huh.”
“You must know how good looking you are.”
“Yes, but I wanted to hear you say it.”
The bombing earlier must have transported them into an alternative universe, one where Frankie is the flirtatious one. She finishes her bandage and is stalking forward, a half smile on her lips. When those lips meet hers, Harper doesn’t even think of dreaming up an escape plan.
---------
Sleeping with Frankie is better than fighting with her. At first, Harper tries to be careful not to touch the bruise already forming across her left side, but Frankie’s hand is against her chest, pushing her back towards the makeshift mattress that lies on the floor, and it gets difficult to remember after that.
Harper wakes up the next morning feeling damp with sweat, and cold. Her head rests against Frankie's back, in between her shoulder blades, and her hand is gripped tightly on Frankie’s bare thigh. Counting to five, she relaxes all the muscles in her body and slides out carefully. The humidity of the cellar has caused her hair to spring about in all directions, and she tames it back under her headband, tucks her pants in to her boots. Sometimes life throws a punch at you you don’t expect, and you have to just roll with it. The iron door barely creaks when she lets herself out.
----------
Harper makes a quick stop at her own rooms to wash and try to make herself a bit presentable. Then she heads out for the group meeting. When she reaches the bar, Joey pulls her aside, and introduces her to a smartly dressed man in the back, a pleased expression on his face. “Harper, this is Logan Pierce. He owns a ship, and he’s agreed to help us smuggle out the weapon’s materials. If you can get them out of the depot.”
Logan hops out of his chair, and Harper shakes his hand, “Pleased to meet you. I’ll make sure that this is worth your while.”
“To be honest, I don’t really need the money,” Logan says, “I used to run a very successful mining company in the Outer Rim, but it got so boring. I’m looking to do something a bit more adventurous, and I've been told you can provide that. In which case, I can provide the ship.”
“I think we’re going to get along just fine,” says Harper.
----------
They all assemble into one of the back rooms. Frankie is the last to arrive, and they only exchange a brief glance before Harper starts the meeting.
“Okay,” Harper says, “So here’s the plan. We’ll be doing this tomorrow night, when visibility is the worst and when the fewest stormtroopers are on patrol. Ray can’t make it tonight, but he’s going to meet us at the loading dock tomorrow. We’ll fly out from there to this ridge, overlooking the facility. Pia will stay there and keep watch and man the radio. Frankie and Pratt will head for the control room. There are two stormtroopers stationed at the side entrance they’ll be using, here. And four at the entrance to the control room. Ray will use one of the guard’s badges to gain access to it and then Frankie will neutralize anyone working in there. Then, Ray gets the doors unlocked. After that, their part is done, she nods to Frankie. While they’re doing that, Joey and I will head for the weapons locker room. There are guards stationed here and here. As soon as they’re removed, it should be easy enough to load the weapons onto one of the storage trucks and carry them over to the ship. We’ve allowed twenty minutes to get as much as we can, which is how often they do radio check-ins. Anything other than that happens and we get out, and get back to ship. Got it?"
Everyone nods in agreement.
She pulls Frankie aside after the rest have dispersed, and whispers in her ear. “As soon as you get word from Pia that we’re into the weapon’s locker, you can kill him. Make sure you switch your radio off first. Then you head back to the ship, you say that one of the stormtroopers shot him before you could take him out, and you had to leave him behind. And that’s the end of the matter. We get in, you get your revenge. And everyone’s happy.”
“Everyone’s happy,” Frankie repeats, and Harper takes a step back and pretends that she isn’t staring at her lips while she does so.
“Hey listen, I don’t know if I properly thanked you for getting me out of that bomb attack yesterday. Well, I guess maybe I did thank you, but uh, that’s not what I meant, what I meant was that, well…” Harper pauses for a second, then she looks up at with a pleading expression, “Will you help me out here?”
Frankie’s lips curve upwards, “I thought you were good with your mouth.”
“Are you disputing that, after last night?”
“Not at all.”
“Good. Okay. So what I meant to say was that I really appreciate everything, and also, that I don’t have any expectations beyond that.”
“No expectations. Yes, I know you don’t.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow night,” and Harper leaves before she can say anything else stupid.
------
On the evening of the appointed rendezvous, everyone is in a sour mood. Logan is complaining about the lack of good entertainment on Jedha, Joey and Pia are bickering about the best route to get to the depot, and Frankie is gazing warily at the loading dock doors for Ray, who is ten minutes late. A crease has formed in between her brow, and Harper can see her arms and shoulders are tense. An unfamiliar protective feeling wells up in Harper’s chest. She pats her goodnaturedly on the shoulder. “Smile, and remember this is supposed to be fun,” she says.
“You have the strangest ideas of fun,” Frankie replies, but her shoulders relax slightly.
--------
When Ray finally arrives, Harper breathes a sigh of relief. They strap in to their seats on Logan’s ship, and Logan flies them all out to a ridge above the depot. As they’re gathering their equipment and getting ready to head out, Ray pulls her aside. He wants to make a last-minute change in their plans, and insists that Joey accompany him to the control room instead of Frankie.
“I don’t trust her. I’ve never seen her before. I’ve worked with Joey before. Send him with me, and you team up with her, if you’re so enamored with her.”
“It’s nothing to do with that,” Harper tells him. “Listen, I’m not supposed to let you know, but Frankie is my contact with the rebels… you do a good job on this run, and they might decide to trust you enough to let you in closer to their circle.”
That shuts Pratt up pretty quickly, and Harper only feels slightly guilty about the lie.
When they rejoin the group, Harper catches Frankie watching them, a sulky look on her face. When they’re changing in the back of the ship, she ventures to ask, “You doing okay? I know its probably a bit of a shock to see him in person finally.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“What is it then?”
“It just surprises me, how easily you’re able to manipulate him. Doesn’t it bother you?”
Harper takes offense at that. “Hey--it’s the same as you’re doing. Actually, what you’re doing is quite a bit worse, on the scale of things.”
“Yes, but I’m doing it for a purpose. What’s yours?’
“Told you, I’m just here to have a good time.”
“You think you’re so much better than the rest of us because of that, don’t you? But at least I give a damn about something besides money, at least I give a damn about loyalty. What’s the point of living like this, if you don’t care about any of it? “
“Is this about the other night? I thought we’d agreed it was best to just let it be. I had a great time. But I am really not in the position to commit to anything right now.”
“No,” Frankie says, a little too forcefully. “I’m just saying. You think you’re mastering the game, but you’re just making yourself a pawn in someone else’s game. Would it be so hard to do something that means something for once?”
You have no idea who I’m loyal too, Harper wants to shout back, or what it’s like to need money. But before she can say anything, Frankie has shoved her blaster in her belt and is stalking off towards the depot, Ray scrambling behind her to keep up.
--------
From then on, Harper feels off. Something doesn’t seem right. Maybe it’s that the whole thing so far has been way too easy. She and Joey get the truck over to the south end of the complex. There’s one guard there, and Joey knocks him out cold before he even notices their presence. They continue across a small courtyard and then to the locker, where Joey takes out a second guard, and take cover behind one of the armored vehicles. Then they just wait, while Pia and Ray chatter briefly over their shared radio. There’s some smattering of blaster fire and some shouting in the background. And then it’s silent. And she can hear Frankie’s voice announcing, “We’re in.” The whole thing takes maybe two minutes, and then the doors unroll in front of them. It’s too easy.
“Alright Harper, what are we waiting for, let’s get going.” Joey prompts.
They crawl over to the nearest supply shelf and start transferring the weapons. They’re just starting to load the second pallet onto the cart, when Pia interrupts over the shared com.
“Heads up, there are about fifteen stormtroopers and an armored vehicle headed for the north part of the complex right now.”
“What?” Harper interrupts, “Pia, where did those stormtroopers come from? I thought the schedule said there were only supposed to be four in that section right now?"
“Affirmative. But there are definitely fifteen now headed directly for the control room. Frankie, Ray, can you hear me? Get out of there. Now.” There is silence over the com for a good thirty seconds. Then Pia states the obvious.
“They’re not responding. Huh. It’s like their coms have been turned off.”
“Can you see them at all?” Harper asks.
“No… wait, yes, I can, it looks like they’re in the northeast courtyard? Why are they going that direction? Uh, guys, I don’t want to alarm you if I’m wrong, but my night vision goggles are picking up something strange and metalic under Pratt’s trousers, it look like it’s around his ankle."
Harper feels a great sinking sensation inside her stomach, like falling over a cliff even though she’s still standing on solid ground.
“That’s an Imperial tracking device.” she says, her voice dead.
Shit. That’s the debt he had to repay. Ray’s been a spy all along. And Harper has just lead the Empire straight to the scene of their crime. And straight to Frankie. Frankie who, thanks to Harper, they now think is a member of Saw Gerrera’s rebel group. Frankie who is beautiful in battle, but who even on a good day cannot take out fifteen storm troopers at once. And Harper has no way to warn her because Frankie has already turned her damn com off in preparation for taking out Ray.
Harper’s next thought is that it is going to be very difficult to just enjoy this ride.
“There’s no way Frankie can deal with all of them, we’ve got to do something!” she shouts over the com to Pia.
“I’m open to ideas,” comes the reply.
Some of the inertia from the initial shock is wearing off, and her brain starts working again. When has Harper not had another move to make, after all? Think Harper. Work with what you have. Something to take the attention off of Frankie.
"I’ll be right back," she calls over her shoulder to Joey. And then she’s sprinting across to the opposite side of the storeroom. Her eyes scan the section for one item in particular, and… ahh there they are.
Harper thinks briefly about how much work it had taken to get those plans, and how useless they will be after this, and about the tear that had fallen down Frankie’s face when she told her about her brother. She lights the fuse of the grenade. And then, like she often does, she runs.
-----------
The explosion when it comes knocks her off her feet, and Harper has a split second to remember what Frankie had said about rolling into the fall before she hits the ground.
Then she’s struggling back onto her feet in a daze and Joey is there and he half carries her all the way back up the ridge to the ship.
“Holy shit, Harper, what were you thinking?”
“I had to do something.”
Back on the ship, Pia is sitting in the co-pilot’s chair, still frantically trying to regain contact with Frankie and scanning for signs of them on the horizon. In the captain’s chair, Logan looks with faint amusement at the screen in from of him. Joey drops her into one of the passenger seats and starts inspecting her for injuries. “I’ll be alright, I just got the wind knocked out of me. Go help Pia.” Then she turns to Pia.
“Pia, where are the stormtroopers, did that distract them?”
“Uh, yes, they definitely headed towards the explosion. It’s good you got out of there fast.”
“How about Frankie and Ray?”
“I lost visual track of them in all the commotion. And they’re still not responding over the com.”
“Ray sold us out to the Empire.” Joey states, as if the reality has just hit him. “What are we going to do?"
“I think we need to get out of here quickly, and not just back to Jedha, I think we need to get off this moon for at least a spell,” Pia says.
“Logan, is there any chance you could drop us at a different location?” Joey suggests.
“To be honest, you’ve certainly delivered enough interesting surprises already. I might be convinced to continue this arrangement a little longer.”
“Guys, wait, stop all this evacuation talk. We need to get Frankie back first.”
“Harper, something is happening in the weapon’s depot," Joey exclaims. "It’s not just the south quarter…some kind of reaction is happening and the whole complex is unstable… we’ve got to get out of here, and now,” There’s an underlying tone of terror in his voice that Harper’s never heard before.
“Give it one more second, I’ve got to call her, here Pia let me try,” she says. She presses the dead com link and wills Frankie to come back to the ship, even though there’s no way she can hear her.
“Lower the ramp, Logan! I’ve got to go back and get her.”
“Have you lost your mind again, Harper?! You’ll be going to your death.” Joey cries out.
Harper ignores Joey, and turns her pleas towards Logan, “Please, Logan, I can’t let her die after what she tried to do for us.”
Logan cocks his head, “Fine, it’s your funeral. But it won’t be mine. I’m not waiting more than five minutes. If you’re not back by then, we’re leaving without you.”
As soon as it’s lowered, Harper races back down the ramp. When she gets to the bottom, she stops.
A woman is staring at her from across the ravine in front of the ship. She holds a blaster in her hand. Her blonde hair falls in limp strands from underneath her cap, and a trail of blood drips down her left leg. When she speaks, the words are muffled by the distance still between them, but Harper knows what they are anyways: He’s not dead yet.
“Sometimes I find it’s easier to just let the universe take care of your business,” Harper says. “You want to get out of here?” And, in case Frankie’s lip-reading skills are lacking, she holds out her hand.
Maybe being chosen as an alternative to imminent death isn’t that big of a compliment. But it feels like the biggest score of Harper’s life when Frankie’s hand slips into hers.