Shara's eyes seemed to open mere moments after they had closed. Grappling with a sense of disorientation, she fumbled around in the dark for a few moments, trying to find her bearings. Her right hand brushed across cold, tangled sheets for a few inches before colliding soundly with a solid surface. At the same time, however, she could feel cold air tickling the soles of her bare feet and sending a shiver down her spine. Strange. It seemed she'd managed to turn herself completely the wrong way in the middle of the night, and now she found herself curled up next to the head of her bed. Only the fact that she'd slept with her knees tucked halfway up to her chest had kept her feet from hanging off the edge.
She was grateful for that latter fact. It would have been annoying to discover she'd kicked over her bedside lamp in her sleep.
A dull boom of thunder sounded, followed seconds later by a few distant flashes of light. It wasn't enough to illuminate her bedroom, but, after carefully lowering herself to the ground, she managed to switch on her bedside lamp with minimal fumbling. Once the spots had faded from her eyes, the same bare, spartan accommodations she'd fallen asleep to greeted her once more. Behind her, she could hear the wind whistling through the towers and the first crackle of rain overflowing from the sky.
A quick glance at the chrono sitting next to the lamp revealed that she would very quickly be running late if she didn't pick up the pace.
Practically sprinting through her morning routine, she rushed out of her apartment. So caught up in shaking off the vaguely uneasy feeling of waking up and getting dressed in a strange place was she, that she collided head on with a small figure who stood in front of her doorway.
A small figure whose knocking, she belatedly realized, had probably been the very thing to drag her from her slumber.
"Oh! I'm sorry! Are you alright?"
The knocker turned out to be a boy, no more than nine or ten by her estimation. He regarded her silently with dull, dark eyes from beneath a mop of auburn hair. One small fist hovered in the air, frozen as though in the midst of repeating his slow, solemn greeting. She'd heard the soft, dull thuds while getting dressed, but she'd ignored them, sleepily attributing it to the creaking of old pipes.
How had she not put the pieces together sooner? He had to have been standing out there knocking on the door for several minutes at least.
The boy didn't answer her spoken query. He merely continued to stare at her with his creepy, unnerving gaze. Then, ever so slowly, he lowered the hand that had been knocking. Only once this hand had returned to his side, did he extend the other hand to her, something clutched in his fist.
It was a message, written on a slip of paper no less. For a moment, Shara simply stared back at him. Then, with hesitation, she retrieved the anachronistic device and glanced at its surface. It felt strange beneath her fingertips, stiff and heavier than she'd expected. In neat, small script, she read,
"Hello, neighbor! I see you just moved in. We live down the hall from you in 1607. Stop by for tea sometime. I insist.
P.S. Don't mind my grandson. He's not very sociable."
Shara's brow furrowed as she contemplated the message. Despite its friendly tone, she couldn't help but be a little weirded out by the whole ordeal. That may have been partially due to the messenger though. Raising her eyes once again, she opened her mouth to speak to the boy...only to find that he'd disappeared without a trace while she'd been reading.
Outside, she could distantly hear the rain increasing in intensity, beginning to batter the building with the force of its downpour.
"...I really don't have time for this..." she muttered.
Imperial Intelligence
"Came back, did you?"
Shara looked up from the report she'd been composing, but she took her time about doing so. When she met Watcher Three's gaze, the latter looked irritated, though Watcher Two had a feeling it was a characteristic expression for her.
"Where would I have gone?" she didn't mean the question to come out quite as sarcastically as it did, but there was no taking it back once she'd said it.
Setting her mug of coffee on Shara's desk, Watcher Three replied calmly, "Home, you daft idiot."
Shara's fingers paused, hovering over her keyboard. Initially, she'd continued typing even as she looked at and spoke to Watcher Three, but now she stopped. "Well, that's not really an option for me, Watch..."
"Spare me your sob story," Three cut her off with a raised palm. "I've heard every variation a hundred thousand times in this line of work, usually from the lowlife thugs I deal with. I don't need it from you."
"Is there something you needed?" Shara asked bluntly. She raised her hands to begin typing again, but kept her gaze trained on Three.
"Did you get in touch with Cipher Six yesterday?" the woman had picked up her mug of coffee once more and was now in the process of taking a sip.
"I did."
"Well? What'd she say?"
Two didn't like the way Three drew out her words as though speaking to a toddler.
"I don't see how that's any of your concern, Watcher Three. It's my assignment."
"It's Two's assignment," Watcher Three corrected, her hawk like eyes regarding Shara coldly.
"Well, I am Watcher Two now, so if you'd kindly go do your job so I can do mine?"
Three's face was impassive for a long moment. Then, raising her mug in a vaguely mocking salute, she said simply, "Alright then. Don't bother me unless it's an emergency."
You already told me that. I haven't forgotten. Besides, you're hardly the person I'd go to in a crisis.
Shara's eyes flickered around at the other members of Imperial Intelligence, all of whom were thoroughly absorbed in their work. The trouble was, she wasn't quite sure who else fit that description. She knew no one here.
No one but some non Imperial claiming to be a Cipher on the other side of the galaxy.
"Did you find everything you needed to get started?"
"Yes, sir."
Shara resisted the urge to fidget. She didn't like being in this office again, sitting under a stranger's scrutiny. Well, that may be a bit of an exaggeration. Keeper seemed almost relaxed compared to the day before. Still, she couldn't help but remember the surge of panic from yesterday. The claustrophobic sense of being trapped in her own body, carried along as a mere passenger while a total stranger manipulated her actions, made her feel ill. If Keeper sensed her discomfort, though, he didn't show it.
"Has Watcher Three helped you get oriented to your assignments?"
"Yes, sir."
"Don't lie to me, Watcher Two."
"Then why did you ask, sir?"
She hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud until her mouth stopped moving and she noticed the slight furrowing of his brows.
I'm really going to have to get better about that.
He didn't comment on the remark. Instead, sounding as though he'd had this conversation more than once, he said, "Watcher Three is difficult to work with. She has very little patience and is often known to be...rather rude. However, she's good at her job, which is why she's here. She used to be a field agent, and she never quite shifted out of expecting most new Intelligence members to die within six months. She'll become more tolerable with time."
Well, considering she made it very clear I couldn't possibly be a field agent, I'm not sure that's a sufficient explanation.
"Yes, sir."
"Did you make contact with Cipher Six?"
"I did, sir, and, I was wondering why she isn't..."
"Imperial? Cipher Six came to us from a now extinct Mandalorian clan. I would advise against asking personal questions directly. You can find everything you need in her dossier."
"Yes, sir. It caught me by surprise...her accent, I mean."
"Accents can be faked," Keeper replied. His attention flickered to a holocomm beginning to buzz on his desk. "But you'll find Six traveled extensively as a child. Again, this is in her dossier," impatience had crept back into his voice as one hand moved towards the holocomm's control array. "I have to take this."
Watcher Two took that as her cue to leave, stepping out into the main control center once more. A quick glance at a chrono on the wall revealed just how late it had gotten. Apparently the sun had decided to slip out when she'd taken the time to blink. Not that it really mattered, of course. Two days and she had yet to see natural light other than lightning on this planet. The permanent chill in the filtered air was starting to get to her. She'd more or less grown up in a lab, but, somehow, Intelligence Headquarters just felt immeasurably colder.
As she thought this, she tugged at the sleeves of her uniform, grateful that they at least covered her arms.
"You know you can go outside if you need to warm up, right?"
Shara flinched, startled by the voice that had sounded out of nowhere. Glancing around, however, failed to reveal the speaker. It did elicit more bodiless communication however, "Oh! Haha, sorry. I forget I have this thing on sometimes..."
Four feet in front of her and to the right, a shimmering rift split the invisible curtain of the air, and a red haired man stepped through the gap. "Wotcher, Watcher," he grinned, seemingly pleased with his attempt at...a pun?
"You are the new Watcher Two, right?"
"Depends on who's asking," Shara replied dryly.
"Agent Forty Six, at your service, but you can call me Fort," Fort stuck out a hand, brown eyes twinkling merrily. Without waiting for a response, he pulled his hand back once more to idly scratch the bridge of his nose. "Can't have been here long, or I'd have seen you around, I reckon. You just get here then? Welcome to the family. I can show you around? I doubt that crotchety old woman, Three, bothered to do anything besides point you to Two's desk. Sorry, guess it's your desk now." He looked grim at this statement.
"Poor Two...Got one of our agents killed with his scheming. The Minders caught him eventually, though. Heard Minder Twelve had a hand in that. Now he's rotting in a box for the rest of his life, unless the higher ups decide to kill him and be done with it. Shame. He was nice bloke. It's like my old mentor used to say though, "Trust no one. Only, he'd yell it really loud right in your ear." Fort stuck a finger in his ear as if to demonstrate, wincing at the memory.
"It's nice to meet you," Shara replied lamely. "But no, I don't think a tour will be necessary. I have work to do..."
"Ah, Keeper's got you going on Two's assignments already? Well, I'll leave you to it then. Maybe you'll have some of my cases in the future, though Two usually only dealt with the Ciphers. I wanted to be a Cipher too, you know, but Keeper says I 'lack necessary qualities'. Which means the ability to behave myself on high stakes missions."
He grinned again, seemingly proud of this confession.
Shara ran through all possible responses to that statement before settling on, "I'll keep that in mind."
Fort laughed at that, saluted her smartly, and then activated the cloaking device he wore, disappearing from sight.
"Oh," the disembodied voice didn't cause her to jump nearly as badly this time, and she was proud of that. "About what I said earlier: you are allowed to go outside every once in a while, you know? It gets pretty chilly in here, but a quick walk down the platforms ought to do the trick. I'd recommend walking very quickly past the Sith Citadel though. The apprentices tend to hassle anyone who lingers too long. They usually don't bother us, but it's better safe than sorry."
Shara didn't hear his footsteps retreat, but when nothing more was said after a few long moments, she realized he'd left. Deciding to take at least a portion of his advice, she, after a quick look around to make sure Three wasn't watching, quietly slipped out of the building.
Outside, a breath of fresh air, the feeling of rain on her skin, and the now gentle wind tugging at loose strands of hair refreshed her more than she'd expected. She didn't have the time to linger for long, but getting a glimpse of stars through a ragged patch in the clouds was worth the momentary delay in work. Only a few stragglers utilized the walkways between the platforms at this time of the night. Leaning against the rain slicked railing, she turned her head, watching a shuttle fold its wings into its body as it hovered to a stop over the Mandalorian side of the platform. Several bulky shadows disembarked, one of them turning and gesturing to the others as it spoke. Though too far away to discern any details or hear what as being said, the basis of the message became clear enough as the group began striding purposefully towards the entrance of the Enclave.
Nearer to herself, a brief flash of scarlet caught her eye. A shadow darted through the darkness, the bloody beam intersecting with a second figure. Shaara blinked, certain she'd imagined witnessing the head of the second phantom toppling from its body and rolling off the edge of the platform.
Turning her gaze away, she pushed herself back from the railing and headed inside.
There was a man she'd never seen before standing beside her desk. He was older than the agent she'd spoken with earlier, perhaps in his late forties or early fifties. His light brown hair and beard were flecked with streaks of grey, and his gaze was shrewd as he carefully ran a finger across the surface of the desk. Raising it to eye level, he appeared to be looking for dust.
"Watcher Two," his back was turned to her, but he spoke before she'd had a chance to do so herself. Hand still raised, his pointer finger and thumb pressed together, the man turned.
"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Watcher Two said finally, when the man did not go on to introduce himself. He'd elected to regard her with the same, appraising stare she'd started to associate with Watcher Three, and it did little to endear him to Shara.
"I am Minder Twelve. Remember my name, and remember me, Watcher Two," he paused, studying her once more. "I saw you speaking with Agent Forty-Six. Then you disappeared for approximately," he glanced at a chrono on his wrist, "Eight and a half minutes." Sharp eyes flickered back up to meet hers.
"Yes, the agent mentioned you," Shara answered awkwardly. "And I was just getting a breath of fresh air. I didn't mean to cause any trouble by it."
"Trouble, hmm. Funny you should bring that up yourself. Are you the sort of person who often causes trouble, Watcher Two?"
Growing more irritated, Shara replied tersely, "I wouldn't know. I haven't had much opportunity to find out."
Unfazed, Minder Twelve continued, "No, I would imagine your handlers in the eugenics program didn't often let their subjects out of their sight. It's truly a wonder how signs of Watcher X's abnormal mental state were missed."
Shara couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not.
"I wasn't aware that anyone besides Keeper..."
"Knew of your origin? Or your unique status within Intelligence? Don't worry. If you'd meant to keep it a secret, I am one of the few who do know. Keeper deemed it relevant for internal security reasons. I act as something of an expert within my division, you see."
"Fort...Agent Forty-Six mentioned you were involved in the apprehension of the previous Watcher Two."
Minder Twelve's neutral expression soured in a moment as he scowled. "I was. What of it?" he retorted sharply.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause offense."
Of course he would take questions about that personally, if he was one of the people who let it happen in the first place. Stupid. Why didn't you just read the report instead of trying to place nice with the locals?
The scowl softened, but only minutely. With the corners of his lips still downturned, Minder Twelve spoke, "On the subject of secrets, Watcher Two, I would advise you against keeping many. Imperial Intelligence will always find out. I will always find out. Now, as you were..." Back straight and head held imperiously high, he left, never deigning to wait for an answer or look back.