Prologue
"This is Watcher Two, agent. Reading you loud and clear."
Bright green eyes glowed under the light of a half a dozen monitors trained on the docks. Brilliantly white teeth flashed in a grin as the man named Two whispered, "I can see, everything."
There was a pause, and then the corner of the man's lip twitched upwards in a smirk as he rolled his eyes. "Well, it is my job, agent. You'd better hope I'm good at it. Why don't you just stick to scowling and shooting at people? We professionals will handle the complicated details."
Another pause, and then the man snorted in abrupt laughter at something said on the other end of the line. This reaction earned him a glare from the steely eyed man who'd been recently appointed to replace Keeper when the former had met a vague, untimely demise.
Skipping into an early grave seemed to be an occupational hazard of the job, though. Watcher Two wondered who the new Keeper had pissed off during his time in the military to deserve the honor of a transfer. He'd never ask, of course. Not directly.
Not that the visualization of Keeper's face if he did pose such a question didn't entertain the hell out of him.
"Your job, Watcher Two," the man's crisp, irritated voice cut into the sandy haired Watcher's musings, and the latter smiled placatingly in response.
"Sorry, Keeper. Just trying to keep up morale. You know how these new agents can be."
"I doubt your commentary will provide much comfort to a dead agent, Watcher Two."
"...yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
Watcher Two hid his smile as he lowered his head in apparent sheepishness. He turned away from Keeper to refocus his attention on the bank of monitors flickering idly in front of him.
"That? Oh, it's just Keeper. Nothing to worry about."
Pause.
Soft laughter, half covered by a hand over his mouth. "No, no. He's lovely. I've got a lot of respect for the man. Just no sense of humor. Upper management types, you know. Now, enough about that. Tell me...what do you see?" Two moved forward as he spoke, leaning both palms on his computer station and settling into a more relaxed posture.
**"An empty warehouse. (Flat) I think Thavellen's info has gone bad. (Scoff and a sigh) What did I say, Two?"**
"I wasn't really listening, agent. I tend to tune out the operatives when they start whining."
**(Laugh) "Bastard. I told you: Never trust a nobleman to do a job that requires getting your hands dirty."**
"I think you said something specifically along the lines of, 'Absolutely not, Two. I am not working with this smarmy, Alderaanian tosser'."
**"I thought you weren't listening..."**
"Oh dear," Two muttered. He was beginning to grow impatient, anxious even, though he kept his voice level, "I've given myself away."
**"So much for the professionals."**
"Cheeky. Are you sure you don't see anything?"
**"Just the thin veneer of Republic ideology rotting away in a warehouse...and some books? Oh...oh god..."**
"What? What is it?"
**(Sounds of faux retching) "Badly written erotica. About Intelligence, I think, actually. These Pubs are fucking weird, Two. Oh, and there's a bunch of spice stuffed in the covers. I don't suppose you want a sample...shit..."**
The smile slowly slipped from Watcher Two's mouth, his lips settling into an even line. "Everything alright, agent?" His voice remained calm, reassuring.
**"There's someone here..."**
A small, confused smile crossed Two's face as his eyes came to rest on the middle monitor of the top row. "Isn't that the point?"
The agent didn't answer him.
Four men appeared on his monitor, lingering at the edge of the screen. Two's stomach jumped into his throat as one of the men, a rough looking spacer with burn scars carpeting half his body, smiled into the camera. The screen went black.
"Agent? Can you hear me?"
**"You Lansal?" (Crackle. Muffled speaking.)**
Two frowned, fiddling with the speaker in his ear as he searched frantically for the source of the interference. His hand came to a stop as, one by one, his monitors began to die.
"No, no, no, you don't...damn it! Agent? Agen..."
**(Static)**
"Agent? Agent, can you hear me?"
**(Crackle. Hiss. Silence)**
3 Months Later
"And that is the Sith Sanctum. I would advise steering clear unless you're summoned, which is unlikely."
The woman didn't answer. She had stopped listening to the Ministry of Health representative about 15 minutes into hyperspace. Brown eyes glanced towards the far platform, drawn by a soft burst of light out of the corner of her eye. It was lightning, which illuminated the nearly black sky and reflected off the polished helmet of a Mandalorian who stood with his arms crossed and head tilted upwards. A growing barrage of rain began to strike the planet. The woman fancied she could hear the droplets pinging off the man's armor as they tumbled towards the platform. Sensing the distant gaze on him, the man turned to meet her stare, his face hidden behind an expressionless mask of durasteel.
A hand gripped her arm suddenly, and the woman clenched her jaw. With effort, she repressed the urge to jerk away, instead allowing herself to be directed towards the shadowy archway marking Intelligence headquarters.
"Don't get too ambitious on us just yet," the representative muttered with a nervous sounding chuckle. "Mandalorians are difficult to work with at the best of times. Come along now. I detest rain. Hate visiting this planet, to tell you the truth. Don't tell anyone I said that."
She didn't get nearly as many stares as she'd anticipated. On the contrary, she herself couldn't seem to look everywhere fast enough.
Charts, data displays, and holomaps poured data into the brain of the Empire as she was steered hurriedly past row after row of computers. Her eyes snagged involuntarily on several screens as she passed...
"Enjoying the view?"
She hadn't realized she'd stopped walking until the man spoke, startling her and causing her to wheel about to face him.
"I wouldn't call it scenic," she replied with the tersely polite smile she'd perfected under the teachers Trial and Error. "She has absolutely no grasp of spatial statistics. All the software in the galaxy won't fix stupidity," one hand raised to point to an oblivious individual who was currently immersed in analyzing a set of data points. "He's skipped over data in report because he believes it's irrelevant. How he missed a glaringly obvious connection to the individual he's tracking, I'm not sure. Those two don't seem to understand the interplay of the Anvaran religion and caste system with the terrorist state. And that one..." she frowned, her arm lowering as she glanced back at the man with a look of thinly veiled disgust. "Why is there an alien in here?"
"Because I employ him," the blue eyed man replied bluntly.
"Get a droid. They're better cleaners anyway."
The sound of hands clapping together broke the staring contest that threatened to break out between them.
"Right then!"
She had forgotten the Ministry of Health worker was present.
Again.
"This is Keeper," the stress on the word and the way he slowed his speaking as if addressing someone incredibly slow witted was about as subtle as a ton of bricks to the head. The pointed look of nervous earnestness and the 'don't embarrass me further' expression only added insult to injury. The woman bit her tongue and plastered the same look of robotic politeness over the grimace she wanted to display.
"Let's continue this discussion in my office, shall we," Keeper's eyes held disdain and that, more than anything, kindled the embarrassment she'd been burying under indignation.
I'm not wrong though.
She'd meant to fall last in line, trailing behind the other two with heavy steps toward Keeper's office, but the Ministry official seemed to have taken it upon himself to make sure she didn't wander off like a stray child. Instead, he placed himself firmly behind her, ushering her along with a shooing motion that made her ache to punch him in the face. The image of his nose, bloody and broken under her fist, provided momentary satisfaction.
A sharp flare of pain, like a metal spike cracking open her skull, sent radiating fractures of agony throughout her head. Her vision swam, and her stomach roiled. Tamping down the thought, she drew a shaky breath in through her nose, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it through her mouth. Focused on keeping her vision clear, she, fortunately, missed the pleasantries, not tuning back into the conversation until she heard her name uttered by the Ministry of Health official.
"...is Shara Jenn. She's the one who's going to replace Watcher Two after that nasty business..."
"Yes, I was informed," Keeper replied coolly. Shara got the impression, by the displeased thinning of his lips, that he hadn't had much say in the decision.
"She's one of our finest," the Ministry of Health official bubbled, oblivious to the tension smothering the room. "Top of this set in terms of testing."
"I hardly have need of a good test taker," Keeper cut in impatiently. The Ministry official faltered, like a salesman whose claims had been called into question. Regaining his composure, however, the latter man forged ahead, "Keeper, I realize you're only a few years into your term, and you've never worked with one of our subjects before. I really don't think you understand what we're offering you here..."
"Enlighten me," Keeper waved a datapadd under his nose. "I've read her dossier. If I wanted a calculator," here the man's cold blue eyes raised to meet Shara's, "I'd get a droid."
"I'd have an answer for you faster," she replied without thinking. "And unlike your software, I can better account for user error. Check the issues I pointed out to you. You'll find I'm correct."
"And how would you react in a crisis?" he insisted. "If one of your agents was in mortal peril on a planet where you had no resources to help them? If you had to choose between saving one of them and completing a mission? If you discovered one of your own was implicated in treason? These are the things that distinguish a good Watcher from a bad one."
Shara faltered, considering the question. He must have perceived uncertainty in her hesitation because his eyes narrowed in confirmation and his frown deepened.
"I'd do my duty, sir," she answered quietly. "I only exist because I was created to serve the Empire, after all. Everything else is secondary."
He didn't look look overly pleased with her answer, but he appeared to accept it for the time being.
"If I may interject, Keeper," the Ministry official leaned forward with all the eagerness of a child wishing to show off a new toy. "All of our subjects are completely within their handler's control."
"I seem to remember a certain Watcher X from shortly before my tenure began," Keeper replied flatly.
"Sister."
Shara's stomach clenched, and her head felt hot. She needed to move, needed to leave.
"...you'll find it's a very different circumstance..."
Her fingers rolled up into fists, flexing and relaxing as she resisted the urge to fidget further.
"...out of my hands at this point. Regardless, you can be sure I won't employ the same sort of lax oversight..."
"Thresh protocol..."
Keeper was looking at her, but he'd stopped talking. He looked bored. Shara tried to speak and found that she couldn't move her mouth.
Panic, sharp and frenzied, welled up inside her chest.
She was frozen, limbs locked in place, unable to stir an inch. For an infinitesimal moment in time, she had the distinct sensation of being buried alive, trapped within her own body and unable to get out or cry for help.
Then, like invisible ropes tugging her forward, she began to move. Her steps took her past Keeper to the furthest part of the room, where a metal security cabinet occupied most of the corner.
"Third shelf from the top."
The locked box was heavy in her hands. Every groove and contour of the cool metal stood out underneath her fingertips. Keeper took the box from her, setting it on the desk. He didn't look convinced at her display of obedience. Shara didn't know what the Ministry worker was doing in the meantime. She couldn't make out his facial expression from this angle, and she found herself unable to turn her head or her body.
"One of Watcher Two's assignments included tracking the growth of a counterfeit pharmaceutical company set up by the Republic. They've been tampering with medical supply shipments to the battlefield for over a year now." As Keeper spoke, he opened the box.
Rows of glittering vials, needles, and pill packets secured against the black cloth lining of the container greeted her. He retrieved one small, unmarked vial filled with a colorless liquid. Holding it up for her to see, he continued, "Further research linked this company to a spike in black market interrogation drugs commonly used by criminal organizations. This is a mild example. It won't kill you if left untreated, but you will wish it had."
Passing the vial and a needle to her, he said simply, "Inject yourself with it. Some of our agents have already been exposed to worse. You may find yourself administering worse, possibly to a former colleague at some point. Consider this the first of many field tests."
He seemed much more interested now, watching her closely for any sign of hesitation. Of course she wouldn't show any. She physically couldn't stop her hands from moving. The sharp prick in her arm felt like an insect bite as she pushed the colorless liquid out of the syringe and into her vein.
Half a minute passed. Then a full minute. Then two.
"I didn't realize you were the dramatic sort, Keeper," the Ministry official chimed in, cheerful as always. Shara detested him. "Well, since it seems everything is in order..." there was a shuffling noise behind her and a hand clapped her on the shoulder. "Take care. Cheerio, Keeper. I'll see myself out. Places to be, you know...oh, well, yes, I suppose you can show me out, if you insist..." the sound of a stranger's footsteps faded behind her, accompanied by the patter of her former handler's feet.
Keeper waited till the noise had stopped before addressing her.
"I did not choose you. To be perfectly frank, I fail to understand why Intelligence continues to utilize your program after the Watcher X disaster. However," he sighed, the corners of his eyes showing his weariness, "You are here. And you are assuming a title. From this point on, you will be known only as Watcher Two. Do you understand?"
She did understand, but she found herself unable to get the words out. It occurred to her that someone must have worded a command poorly when she wasn't paying attention.
Damn that idiot. Why was he the one responsible for dropping me off?
Keeper's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Regardless of whatever sort of special treatment you're used to, I won't tolerate...bloody idiot..." he scowled as the realization sank in. "You can speak when you're addressed."
"I understand, sir."
"Good. Your predecessor left a mess in his wake. I suggest you get to work sorting it out. Watcher Three can assist you with getting oriented. Dismissed."