I'm so tired
I haven't slept a wink
I'm so tired
My mind is on the blink

Examination of the building's layout suggested that the most likely point of entry would be on 6th floor, south entrance. Squads 4-6 [Dorn, Esk, Forn] of Ryloth Company were dispatched to prepare an ambuuuuuuu

Kallus's head jerked up. He blinked once. Twice. He'd fallen asleep again, hadn't he?

Seeing the mess of letters, he sighed. As much as he wanted to, this was not the time for dozing off. Tarkin had made it clear that unless he wanted to face the consequences, he would have these reports filed and submitted before midnight. Which at this point was over two and a half hours ago, but he could only type so fast.

That said, he wasn't particularly worried. He'd fiddled with his computer's chronometer, making it look like he'd submitted the reports several hours before. It wasn't cheating if there was no one keeping score.

He rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and deleted the extra letters.

Squads 4-6 [Dorn, Esk, Forn] of Ryloth Company were dispatched to prepare an ambush, led by Captain Magash Holt. Squads 7 and 8 [Grek, Herf] sealed the sewer entrances in the immediate area, led by Captain Ulbi Khyper and Major Varada Toralei. Squads 1-3 [Aurek, bEshmCesssssssss

His eyes snapped open. Damn it, even worse than the last time. All-nighters weren't a regular occurrence in his life, but he'd pulled them off before. What was making this one so difficult?

He took a deep breath. Just finish this report, he told himself. Just this one last report, then he could go home, fall into bed, and be dead to the galaxy for a few hours.

Squads 1-3 [Aurek, Besh, Cresh] accompanied mysekf tot he senate riim where Traybjs has afewws ri neeeeeeeee

His chair squeaked as he fell back with a frustrated sigh. This report was starting to look like Aurebesh soup.

A short chime sounded, his computer's way of saying it was 2 AM and that he'd spent five straight hours typing up reports. Whether that reflected his workload or his work habits, he had no idea, but it was ridiculous nonetheless.

He drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk. He could just leave. It's not like

Tarkin could wait another twelve hours for him to finish the reports. It's not like he was going to read them anyways. They'd just go into one of the Empire's massive databanks and sit there, gathering proverbial dust.

But if he did take issue with it, well…he wasn't going to think about that.

He made sure to save the report before he set the computer to turn off. He'd already wasted an hour retyping one he'd forgotten to save the night before. As it began its shutdown sequence, he opened an empty drawer and knocked the datapads inside. Immature as it was, he took a bit of pleasure in the sound of them clattering against the bottom of the drawer.

With everything squared away, he pulled his coat from its spot beneath his desk, pulling it on as he exited the room. Yes, it was getting old and the stitching on the shoulder was somewhat worn, but it was waterproof, kept the cold out, and fit like a glove. Kallus didn't like many things, but he'd kill a man for that coat.

Well, maybe not kill. Maim, perhaps. Killing someone without making a mess would be too difficult. And the sudden presence of a corpse would raise too many questions. Though if he hid the body, it would be averted, but that was a problem in and of itself...

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He needed sleep.

The doors shut behind him, and he stopped to button his coat. No point in wearing it if it wasn't closed. He grabbed the first button and pushed it through only for the threading to come out. Another pull, and the button fell into his hand. He muttered a curse and shoved it into his pocket.

A low moan cut through the silence of the complex. He paused and looked around. There was no one in the hall besides him, and as far as he knew, the others with offices in this area had left a long time ago. As much as he wanted to shrug it off as the building settling or a droid, he couldn't. It sounded too human.

He held his breath and listened for a second one. It came within seconds, slightly quieter than the last. It was definitely a person making those noises. A person in pain. It was coming from nearby, likely on the other side of the hall.

From Minister Tua's office.

He frowned. He didn't exactly hate the woman, but he was too tired to deal with her. All the same, if something had happened to her, he would be the prime suspect.

His footsteps echoed loudly as he crossed the empty hallway. He pressed the buzzer on door panel. The chime sounded, but there was no activity on the other side. He pressed it again, this time hearing muffled speech. She was inside, but why wasn't she responding?

He rapped on the door with his knuckles. "Minister?" No response. He raised his voice. "Minister." Still nothing. Now he was slightly worried.

He touched the door panel, and it slid open. Tua slumped over her desk, arms folded around a small pile of holopads, her cheek resting on the topmost one. Her hat sat neatly on top of a smaller stack.

The corner of his lips curled into a half smile. It was somewhat comforting to know that he hadn't been the only one working late. It would have been more amusing if her expression wasn't pained, eyes squeezed shut and brows knit together. What could she be dreaming about?

As if to answer his question, she mumbled in her sleep. "No, don't...they don't..." A shudder, then another moan like the ones he'd heard earlier.

His smile faded. That wasn't a dream. That was the sound of a nightmare. And he'd bet his life that he knew exactly what it was. He'd had it a few times himself.

Though he tried to convince himself otherwise, it would be a lie to say that Tarkin's "message" hadn't shaken him up a bit. It wasn't the deaths themselves that disturbed him - Aresko and Grint had annoyed him to no end - but by how quickly and coldly they were carried out. The grand moff had said in no uncertain terms that he was next in line for the chopping block.

He rubbed his throat. There were worse ways to go, but he had no interest in getting his head lopped off.

She moaned again, and he sighed. He should probably wake her up. Steeling himself, he touched her shoulder. "Minister-"

Her squeak of surprise made him jump back. She looked around wildly, eyes wide. "What-?! Who-?!" They settled on him. "Agent Kallus?" she asked.

It took him a moment to find his voice. That squeak had surprised him far more than it should have. Exhaustion had frayed his nerves, it seemed. "Yes," he said.

She blinked at him, then fall back. "You terrified me," she said. "I was having the most awful dream…"

"I heard your moaning from the hallway."

Pink tinged her cheeks. "Y-You could?" she asked. He nodded. She sighed. "I apologize. The sheer monotony of this…" She gestured at the datapads. "I thought I'd close my eyes for a moment. What time is it?"

"A quarter past two."

Her eyebrows knit together. "You're joking."

"I don't 'joke,' Minister."

A blue glow filled the room as she activated her desk's holographic display. She groaned and buried her face in her hands. "And I'm not even halfway done," she mumbled.

To his surprise, he felt a twinge of sympathy. She was just as tired as he was, if not more so. Tarkin had given her the same ultimatum, despite the fact that there wasn't anything she could have done to combat the rebels. She was a bureaucrat, not a combatant. The blame lay on him and the Inquisitor. Mostly the Inquisitor.

He gently pushed her chair out of the way. "What are you doing?" she asked as he knelt down beneath the console. He felt around for the metal seam that protected the computer's guts from people like him and pulled. The panel came off with a thud. "Agent Kallus, what are you doing to my desk?!"

"This is a favor." While most digital programming determined most of the computer's inner workings, its internal clock was an analog component. He didn't know exactly why, as the device was fragile and easy to break, but he suspected that it had to do with some engineers who wanted to avoid the consequences of procrastination. "Read the display's clock."

"2:16," she said. "If you break anything…"

With his thumb, he rotated the biggest gear several times towards the left. "And now?"

"20:16…" she said. He turned the gear again. "Now it's 19:16."

He gave the mechanism a tug, but it didn't slip out like it had in his own desk. Judging by the epoxy that attached it to the side, it had been repaired recently. He felt somewhat bad about breaking someone's handiwork, but he quickly got over it. The gears crunched under his heel as he gave it a good kick.

As he pulled himself out from underneath the desk, Tua side-eyed him. "What did I just say?" she demanded.

He ignored her. "I broke the chronometer," he said as he replaced the panel. "Whenever you submit the reports, the timestamp will read yesterday at 23:16."

Pale brown eyes went wide. "Th-Thank you," she stammered. "But… why?"

He stood up and dusted himself off. "Because you're as exhausted as I am," he said. "Go home and get some sleep." He turned and left, leaving her staring after him. He was determined to take his own advice, even if it killed him.

The door swished as it closed behind him, and he increased his pace. The silence of the complex at night made him uneasy. It was stupid to think that he was being watched, but a healthy amount of paranoia had saved his life on more than one occasion. There was no shame in not wanting to linger in one place for too long.

"Wait!" Tua had her coat in her arms and was quickly approaching. "May I walk with you?" she asked.

Every bone in his body told him to say no, but he didn't. Tarkin's arrival had drastically changed the playing field. He couldn't afford to make an enemy out of her.

"You may," he said.

Epigraph taken from "I'm So Tired" by the Beatles.