Unprepared- Watcher One
Part of being an Intelligence officer was having the foresight to have many contingencies in place. Of course, one couldn't possible prepare for everything, but Watcher One liked to think that he was fairly close to having all potential bases covered, so to speak.
So when the doors to their hideout began to burn as lightsabers cut their way through the thick metal, he moved away from the operating bed on which Doctor Godera lay and moved to the computer console at this desk, calmly typing in commands whilst simultaneously checking his blaster and dart launcher attached to his wrist. He still hoped to have a long career after this, so it was best to make sure he had every advantage.
Still, the Jedi had certainly cut through his distraction much more quickly than he had anticipated. If he'd been lucky, they'd have died, but Watcher One had long ago learned not to rely on luck.
The doors burst open and a few of his men opened fire on the figures that stepped through; it was a foolish move, as their bolts were batted back into their chests and they collapsed quickly, lives snuffed out in an instant. Watcher One, Fixer Eight and a few of the other officers gathered near the desk, aiming their weapons but not firing like intelligent operatives.
The Jedi stepped into the facility, weapons lit in their hands, and Watcher One finished entering his command before looking up. "Ah, Jedi, you've arrived faster than I-"
And he stopped, blinked, looked again.
The Jedi were ragged. Their robes were torn, small scrapes marking their arms and legs and chests, and their faces were drawn into grim masks of determination. The female, Carsen, appeared in control, breathing slowly and calmly to recover from what had clearly been a very fast run.
But the male... the one who had choked Watcher One, Antilles... He looked more like a demon than a Jedi. Eyes narrowed dangerously, burning holes into One's, every centimeter in his body giving off the appearance of absolute... wrath.
Only one other had ever looked at Watcher One like that, a Pureblood whom the Watcher had hoped to forget. He swallowed his fear, steadied himself as Antilles spoke. "Watcher One. Release the doctor and surrender." Something in the words made the Watcher's spine tingle. It wasn't a request, or even a threat.
It was a command with a promise of utter annihilation should he refuse.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Watcher One said regretfully. "The doctor has information my superiors desire. If you take him, many of my compatriots will die. I'm sure you can see why I simply can't allow that to happen."
"We played your game, and killed the Sith and her terentateks," Carsen spat. "Nice trick, but it won't work again."
"No, I don't suppose it would," Watcher One agreed. "That's why I have another." He hit a key on his console.
A sudden crackling burst filled his ears, but it was far better than the sound he imagined the Jedi were receiving; they screamed, lightsabers falling from their fingers as the high-frequency noise assaulted their ear drums, perfectly synchronized to inflict maximum pain, then turned to an extreme volume.
Only the small devices in Watcher One and the other Imperials' ears stopped them from having the same reaction.
The Jedi fell to their knees, droplets of blood starting to leak from between their fingers, and as their faces contorted violently in agony Watcher One hit the key again, and the auditory attack ceased. "I doubt you can hear me," he drawled crisply, "but I did warn you."
"Ack... what... did you-" Carsen tried, falling to her elbows as she bowed her head in pain.
"Your eardrums have burst," Watcher One said calmly, moving around his desk and striding up to the docile Jedi; they would not have the energy to attack him. He'd seen better Knights fall to that particular assault. "Your mind is reeling from the damage, and your nervous tissue is also suffering from damage due to the magnitude of the audio blast. It will pass in time, but that is not the worst we will do to you." He flicked his fingers forward.
A trio of soldiers rushed forward, bindings their hands that they clasped to each Jedi's wrists, firmly pinning their arms behind their backs. They wrenched the Jedi to their feet, ignoring their groans of discomfort.
"I would kill you myself," Watcher One said honestly. "Though orders are orders. Angral will certainly torture you when you are taken to him. I regret having to follow through with that command. It lacks a certain... dignity."
"Dignity?" Antilles growled, teeth bared. "Dignity like... sending... a murderer... to kill... settlers?"
"I never said I liked that action," One replied easily. "But it was necessary. As is this." He regarded the soldiers. "Inject them with the sleeping agent."
One of the armored men produced a syringe, bared Carsen's neck, moved the needle to her skin.
And then stopped.
Watcher One stared at him. "Well?"
The man grunted, arm clearly flexing. "I... can't," he answered with difficulty, and suddenly the needle twisted and broke off, hovered in the air, and buried itself in the ground.
"Stun them," Watcher One said instantly. "Stun them now." If they had the chance to use the Force...
The soldiers aimed their weapons, fired; Carsen collapsed as the blue bolts struck her back, but Antilles took the shots, growling and glaring at Watcher One with such fire it almost burned.
The Imperial operative stared back coldly but respectfully. "Again."
Another flurry of stun bolts, and finally Antilles eyes closed, head lolling forward as his body toppled to the deck.
Watcher One let out a small sigh of relief. "Interesting. I'll have to mention that." He nodded to the men. "Inject them with sleeping agents, keep a watch on them. They won't be out for more than a few seconds. In one hour we move." He strode to his console.
An orange and gray astromech bumped into his leg, beeping loudly to get his attention. One raised a brow. "When did we get this droid?"
Fixer Eight looked and explained. "About a day ago. It's helping us compile the information we retrieved from Godera. Cross referencing and such."
"And it was cleared?"
"It shows up perfectly in our systems," Eight shrugged. "Our mole, Ruk, brought him in. It's legitimate. ID tags clear."
Watcher One rubbed at his brow tiredly. "Very well. What is it?"
The droid beeped again. T7=Contains message from Darth Angral.
Something isn't right. "You have a message from the dark lord?" he asked suspiciously. "Why hasn't it been received by our holonet transceiver?"
Information=too sensitive to be sent over holonet.
"... Despite our network being the most secure in the galaxy."
T7=given orders. T7=just doing job.
"Fixer..." Watcher One looked at his technician again. "Did the Jedi have any accomplices?"
"No sir," the Fixer replied cautiously. "The only information we received from our mole and the cameras we hacked was that these Jedi operated alone. We never saw any droid."
Watcher One looked at the Jedi, who were being dragged over to the wall by the soldiers. "What about their ship? Did we gain access to their ship cameras?"
"No, sir. They were on a separate network. There was no way to connect."
Watcher One had worked in Intelligence for a very long time, and in that time he'd learned that his instinct was usually correct. He stared down the little droid again, watched its single eye glow at him impassively, and knew that it was somehow working against him.
"Play the message," he said slowly. Best to see what this... action is before responding...
Not audio. Message=physical data card.
The sense unease within One grew. "I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered. "Very well. Give it to me." He held out a hand and from within the droid's casing came a small datacard, handed over via a small robotic claw.
Watcher One strode over to his desk and inserted the card into his console via the port at the side, waited for only a moment as it interfaced with the computer's systems. The screen flashed once, twice, and then faded entirely.
"What is this?" he asked calmly, retaining his control despite the almost-certain knowledge that he would not like the answer.
Then he spotted the droid's headlight flickering very rapidly: a data transfer.
"Fixer Eight!" Watcher One cried. "Blast that thing!"
As the man drew his pistol, the T7 unit beeped loudly and suddenly every light in the small compound shut off, drenching the base in utter blackness.
Watcher One dove for his desk, knowing the strategy; human eyes, even ones in helmets like the soldiers', needed a second or two to adjust, and ones without electronic aid would be effectively blind. The droid had no such limitations.
The door to the base slammed shut with a deafening clang, and then blaster shots, cries of pain as the Imperial soldiers were shot, then more silence.
Watcher One snatched his datapad from his desk by luck and activated it; the droid hadn't yet managed to shut it down. He accessed the lighting controls and entered his personal command key, overriding outward access and entering the core code of the system. Watcher One's eyes rapidly took in the information, found the bug the T7 unit had entered into his base, and with a lightning-fast series of keystrokes had eliminated it. The virus had been simple but powerful; once found it was easy to crush it.
And he would not be defeated by an astromech droid. The thought almost amused him as the lights returned to the compound, even though it had almost occurred.
Watcher One recovered his blaster and stood, finding Fixer Eight alive along with a few of the scientists. Godera was still on his table. The guards with blaster rifles were dead, and one of them held a sleeping agent injector, still filled with the liquid.
The T7 unit was at it's masters' sides, and it whirled on Watcher One, a small blaster extending from its dome. It fired a cluster of shots which the Watcher dodged in a quick roll before firing a small dart from his concealed gauntlet; the bolt struck the droid in the center of its chassis and instantly emitted a quick electromagnetic pulse; the little machine squealed in an imitation of agony as it's light flashed violently, before it slumped, disabled.
Watcher One sighed. "My, what a fantastic disaster that almost was."
"Sir, I had no idea-"
"That's alright, Eight," the Watcher said easily, waving aside the explanation. "I did not expect the droid to be so... independent. The Jedi didn't plan this. It came on its own accord." He strode over and tapped the droid with his foot. "Intriguing. I wonder how long it's been without a memory wipe."
He turned back to the Fixer and scientists. "We are out of time. Pack your things and the computer core; I'll kill the Jedi."
Eight's eyes widened. "But Darth Angral said-"
"I am aware of what he ordered." Given the circumstances, returning with Godera's information is better than returning with nothing... "But it is too risky to remain here and to take them with us. Therefore, they must be dealt with. Follow my orders." He eyed his subordinate seriously.
Fixer Eight rushed for the computer as the scientists and technicians gathered their bags of supplies and databanks. Watcher One turned back to his captives, regarding them coolly. "It was a interesting match," he complimented to their unconscious bodies. "A pity the game could not go on longer." He raised his blaster at Antilles' head.
"Sir!" Fixer Eight called, and Watcher One sighed again.
That boy needs to learn to be calm... "What is it?"
"The computer core! It's been wiped!"
Watcher One froze. The droid... All the secrets from Godera... Every bit of knowledge...
He knew what it meant. They would escape, only to face failure and execution from Darth Angral. Or they could stay, risking detection and retaliation and more failure. Another execution. In fact, Watcher One saw no path in which they were not executed. There was simply no more maneuvering room, no more choices. It was a matter of mathematics.
"Sir..." Eight looked scared. Terrified, even.
"Do not panic," Watcher One advised. It was best to go about this carefully.
"Sir... the men did not inject the Jedi with the sleeping agent..."
A stirring from behind Watcher One sounded like death.
Antilles was standing, eyes narrowed, body slumped but tense with power. The Watcher did not bother to raise his blaster pistol.
Behind him, his console suddenly bent inward, crushed by telekinetic force. The sound emitter fizzled and cracked into oblivion along with it.
I see, he realized with a distant sort of acceptance. It appears that this truly will be my end. He almost chuckled at the droid. I always did underestimate some more than others...
"Well, then," Watcher One said, placing his hands behind his back in a dignified manner. "It seems circumstance has favored you, Jedi Antilles."
"... Looks like it." Watcher One's blaster pistol levitated from his belt and was promptly tossed into a corner. Antilles winced, but took a step forward nonetheless.
"Do not come closer," the Watcher warned. "I leave what happens next to you. The Doctor is yours."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
Watcher One felt his head collide with the wall, because he'd suddenly been thrown into it with enough force to fracture his shoulders. He cried out involuntarily, felt his arms and legs pinned to leave him hanging helplessly.
Antilles was staring at him with that look again, the one which reminded him of the Sith long ago. "You killed innocent people," he accused. "And now you expect to walk away?"
"To the... contrary," Watcher One managed, as he underlings looked on in awe and terror, clustered in the corner. "I merely wait to see in what manner I cease to exist."
"You aren't making it out of here," Antilles promised, voice a low growl. "Justice has to be served. You will not just walk away from what you've done."
Carsen was still unconscious and Watcher One remembered that it had been her that had stopped Antilles' assault before. With her out of the way...
"I know," the Watcher whispered.
"Why aren't you fighting back?"
And the Watcher's keen mind glimpsed a truth, and he smirked. "My, my, Jedi. Can't stomach the idea of murder?"
Antilles' fingers twitched.
"You need me to attack you, don't you?"
"You're just... giving up?" the Jedi responded, avoiding the question but answering it all the same.
"It makes no difference." Watcher One answered truthfully. It was almost blissful, to be open like this at the End. "I'd rather die at the hand of a Jedi than tortured to destruction by Angral. That would be... uncivilized."
Suddenly Antilles took a step back and lowered his arm and Watcher One collapsed to the ground, mind whirling. "Angral will kill you?" the Jedi whispered.
Watcher One coughed as his lungs drank in air. "We... failed him. The droid wiped our computers. We have nothing on Godera. If we return, Angral will find us and make us pay. It is the way of things in the Empire. As I said, dying at your hand is... honorable, in comparison."
"Honorable?"
"Do you know something, Jedi?" Watcher One smiled grimly. "I joined the military as a patriot, wanting to do good for my people. Somewhere along the way I ended up doing the dirty jobs no one else would, and in death no one will know my name."
Antilles no longer looked murderous, but confused. "I... I could bring you in," he said after a moment, looking like it took him effort to say the words.
Watcher One shook his head. "Do not attempt it. I will not allow myself to be picked for information." The implication was clear, and he fingered the small release on the inside of his gauntlet that would inject him with enough poison to end his life in seconds.
He and the Jedi stared at each other. Impasse. Antilles could not let him leave, yet he could not take him in. The only option was to kill Watcher One, but doing so would be murder. A fascinating conundrum, the Watcher thought, detached from his own demise.
After a very long while, Antilles' face wrestled itself into an expression resembling regret and he said softly, "The bed. The one Godera is on. I assume is hovers for movement?"
Watcher One looked at it, mounted on the wall. "It does."
"Then order one of your men to bring it down, and activate it."
The Watcher narrowed his eyes, but he decided to play along. "... Fixer Eight?"
"Sir," the boy said, clearly confused. Deeper, though, something like hope sounded from his voice.
Hope that he would not die. Hope that he would live to breathe for another hour, another week, another life.
Watcher One said, "Do as the Jedi commands. Quickly."
The young man rushed to the bed, brushing past the Jedi without so much as a hint of aggression. Antilles stared at Watcher One, for his part. "What are you playing at?" the Watcher inquired.
"I'm not playing at anything," the Jedi answered.
Ah. Using me to ensure his own success. It seems he reconciled his moral confusion, then. He let out a breath of preparation. What a strange one of his Order. "Very well. If you would be so kind as to make it instant, I would be grateful."
"I'm not going to kill you," Antilles said, and the bed fell to the ground with an echoing boom, before Eight activated the thrusters and the bed lifted off the ground to hover tranquilly a few feet high. "Reactivate my T7 unit."
As the Fixer did so, Watcher One frowned. "I am not coming with you, Jedi."
"I know."
"Then-"
The droid whined dangerously as it came back online, raising a blaster at the Fixer. Antilles raised a hand placatingly. "T7. Hold off. Just keep your eye on them. We're leaving." With that, the Jedi turned away and limped to his companion, where he knelt and gathered her into his arms tenderly and made for the entrance. The droid rolled up to the socket nearby and interfaced, and the portal outside the compound rushed open.
Watcher One remained on his knees, staring at Antilles. "Jedi Antilles..."
"Find someplace else, Watcher," Antilles called. "And hope we don't meet again." His footsteps disappeared after a few seconds as he marched into the wilderness.
And Watcher One was left with his subordinates in the silence of their base, empty of anything but failure.
He stared at the ground, finding the path before him... hazier than usual.
"Watcher?" Fixer Eight asked tentatively. "What do we do now?"
And for once in his life, Watcher One did not have an answer, nor a way to find one. "I do not know, Fixer. I do not know."
(O)(O)(O)
A/N: Agh. I'm terribly sorry about how long it took for me to return to this. Real life is busy, and my original work takes a lot of creative energy. I'm glad I returned, but I will not promise a date from now on. I will continue this fic until completion, but I don't want to make promises about dates and times. That doesn't mean updates won't be regular, mind you; I just hate being late, even for my own deadlines.
On the plus side, I have two chapters for you guys rather than just one. You may want to go back and reread the last three or so, to get the mood right and bring yourself back up to speed.
Anyhow. Thank you all so much for the continued support. It really means a lot, and I'm glad you all are enjoying this story. Extra thanks to those of you who reviewed; I try to reply to all of you, and I appreciate the effort to let me know what you think.
We have a couple more chapters on Taris, then off to the next planet...