Tink
Tink
Shara stared at the older woman blankly as the Sith used the Force to place the tea spoon onto a colorful ceramic coaster. Blowing gently on the liquid, the stranger took a cautious sip of her beverage, testing its temperature. It seemed to suit her, as she took a longer drink before setting the cup carefully on the tabletop. The Watcher didn't know what kind of wood it had been carved from, but thin, spidery lines of grey radiated in intricate spirals throughout its pale, nearly white surface.
Shara still stood behind a large, overstuffed armchair positioned opposite the woman's couch. Her mouth felt dry, and her stomach clenched uncomfortably when the Sith's eyes rose to lock with hers once more.
"I hadn't given it yet...my Lord..."
"Such formalities," the woman's laugh was warm and soothing. Her whole demeanor, in fact, was overwhelmingly approachable. In spite of the obvious threat, some small, instinctive part of Shara's brain was fighting against the urge to just relax and go with the flow.
Sit down. What could it hurt?
She didn't remember moving. Nokomis smiled at her as she leaned forward, placing a cup in her hands. Though smooth in texture, the grooves and dips of the original shell had not been sanded down when the cup was made. Shara found some small comfort in the lack of tactile uniformity, gripping the cup tightly in her hands.
"There, perhaps you'd prefer to do it? Help yourself," one hand waved to indicate the tray on the table between them. Settling back onto her couch, Nokomis folded her hands together under her chin and leaned forward.
"So, here you are. Your work must keep you awfully busy. I'd hoped to meet you sooner."
"I'm sorry, my Lord," Shara replied reflexively. The cup held in her palms was warm, but not unpleasantly so. Fragrant, floral aromas wafted up on the steam to tease her senses. She wouldn't have been able to tell if it'd been poisoned. Only an idiot would use something that could be seen or smelled.
"Tsk, none of that 'my Lord' nonsense, now. We're neighbors. If I wanted you to grovel, I'd prance about in armor like the rest of the young hooligans that plague this city," Nokomis wrinkled her nose in disapproval. "What I would like, however," here her eyes sought Shara's earnestly, "is to know your name. Tell me all about you. I do love my boy, but it gets awfully lonely with just the two of us at times."
Shara didn't know what to do. Internally, she was panicking. The most basic tenet of Imperial Intelligence was anonymity.
She was, strictly speaking, allowed to communicate her affiliation while in home territory. Usually though, even that action was permitted only when absolutely necessary. This was home territory. Shara wasn't sure if the need to escape evening tea with a Sith met the second requirement.
But her name?
Absolutely not.
Under no circumstances could she ever reveal that piece of information.
Nokomis was watching her. Her friendly smile still held, but Shara didn't want to test how long that would last.
Adopting her most apologetic tone, she said finally, "I'm sorry, my Lord. I'm not permitted to give my name. I work with Imperial Intelligence. You can call me Two, though."
The woman sat back abruptly with a scoff, and Shara felt a split second spike of fear race through her, certain she was about to be killed and mutilated. Or tortured at the very least. She wondered if she should have just gone with a fake name, but, doubtless, the woman would have eventually discovered the truth. Being found out as a liar would have been just as bad.
"Two. Hardly a name for a bright young person such as yourself...Oh, but I suppose it will have to do. Rules being what they are. Do try to relax, dear. You look awfully tense."
Shara let her shoulders drop minutely, but the action felt stiff and awkward. Luckily, the appearance of the boy in the doorway drew her out from under Nokomis's scrutiny for a brief, blissful moment.
"There you are, Kam. Come here, darling. Get your tea while it's still hot."
Kamau shuffled forward, silent and strange as ever as he did as he was bidden. Once laden with tea and a plate of scones, he settled back on the other side of the couch, his feet not quite touching the floor. Munching on the pastry, he openly stared at Shara with his eerie dark eyes, causing her to feel like she had been placed under a microscope.
"Kamau, it's not polite to stare," Shara thought that was a bit rich, given the woman's own piercing gaze, but she wisely chose not to comment on it.
The boy said nothing, but his eyes flickered down to his plate as he dragged a finger along its surface, collecting crumbs which he proceeded to slurp up. A tsking noise from his grandmother put an end to that behavior within seconds, however. Still showing no emotion whatsoever, the little boy placed his now empty plate on the table and daintily sipped at his tea. Shara noticed him sneaking glances at her every so often over the top of his cup.
"Kamau, this is Two. Two, this is my grandson, Kamau."
One small hand lifted from the cup in a brief greeting, but the boy continued to sip at his tea with no other acknowledgement.
"It's nice to formally meet you," Shara replied, not sure what else there was to say.
"He's shy, like I mentioned in my note," Nokomis explained, ruffling the boy's hair fondly. "I'm fortunate to have him. Does your own family live on planet?"
"It's just me, I'm afraid," Shara deflected, using her tea as an excuse to delay any follow up questions.
"Oh dear. You poor thing. Well, you'll simply have to come and visit us more often now, won't you?"
Shara paused, searching for the right words. There wasn't really a proper way to turn down a Sith's invitation. Ignoring it obviously hadn't worked.
"I'm not sure how often I'll be able to, my Lo...Erm. That is to say, I'm usually working well into the night."
"You leave rather early too, don't you?" a thoughtful glint in the woman's otherwise warm gaze reminded Two of Three's hawk like eyes.
"Yes. I suppose I do."
A long, awkward silence ensued. At last, Nokomis answered, "Well, do take care of your health, dear. You've got to sleep sometime, you know."
Two inclined her head respectfully, staring into her teacup. She couldn't help wondering just how closely this woman had been surveying her. Making a mental note to look into the matter, she managed to survive the remainder of the uncomfortable meeting remarkably unscathed but not unaffected.
Nokomis wanted something. That much was obvious. No one went to that much effort to make contact without an agenda. She didn't want to begin to contemplate what ulterior motives a Sith might possibly possess. Unfortunately, she reflected, as she lay awake late into the night, she had very little information to go on. Unlike most of the Sith Shara had heard of, Nokomis didn't seem to flaunt her status. The Watcher had gained no intel on potential titles or even her line of work. She could make educated guesses (the woman had seemed an avid collector of antiquities so the Ministry of Ancient Knowledge might have been an avenue of exploration), but she had nothing substantial to go on.
Shara didn't like mysteries. She especially didn't like that one was living on the same floor as her.
**"It's not as simple as cutting off trade. Sure, having a name helps, but we don't do business with Chayon. We do business with the pharmaceutical giants who manage all the other third party companies and small, single export governments, and backwater farmers that Chayon is either sabotaging or buying out. Half a planet's production of kolto goes rotten in the tanks one year, and someone comes along saying they'll subsidize the cost of trying out an 'experimental manufacture technique' with what's left. Government sees an Imperial uniform, hears an Imperial accent, and sees double the amount of credits with half the product when they've spent the last month worrying about who the Sith were going to execute for their failure. Is it really any surprise? Of course, by the time our actual partners get around to collecting, there's nothing left that hasn't been tampered with...but that doesn't mean they don't have production quotas to meet."**
"Why are you summarizing your former handler's report?" Shara blinked, the cool, fluorescent light of Headquarters suddenly seeming too bright and out of place. The miniature holo image in front of her tilted her head. Cipher Six stood with her arms crossed over her chest, looking unamused. A ragged patch of skin like dragon scales marred the entirety of the right side of her face, a burn scar left over from sometime in the past. It wasn't clear whether hair would grow over it or not, as the former Mandalorian had shaved her blonde locks to a bun on the top of her skull, allowing a short braid to trail along the back of her neck.
**"Your eyes were glazing over. I figured you'd started daydreaming about what I look like naked again."**
"That is not...Let's get back on topic," Shara replied, suppressing a groan as the woman's image flashed her a grin. Cipher Six's humor had turned out to be...more than a little suggestive in nature. Shara hadn't managed to establish visual contact with the agent until their third meeting, but, during the second, possibly once Six's shock at Two's replacement had dulled somewhat, the very first question out of the woman's mouth had been, "What are you wearing?"
Watcher Two managed it how she managed most things that made her uncomfortable, by ignoring it and hoping it didn't become an actual problem. She was fairly certain Six was only trying to get a rise out of her, and she didn't feel inclined to give her the satisfaction of seeing her react. This seemed to have been the proper response, as she thought (though it was proving difficult to discern much of the woman's true feelings) that her lack of reactivity had garnered her a smidgeon of respect from the other woman.
**"I mean, you're the one who started fantasizing, sweetheart."**
Not much respect, though.
"I'm more than capable of multitasking, Cipher."
**"Yeah, I usually hear that from people who are about to get shot. No offense, Watcher."**
"None taken," Shara replied easily, her hands flying over an array of keys as she resumed her research. "I'm in a very low risk environment."
**"So what are you doing?"**
"Completing multiple tasks nearly simultaneously by switching my attention very rapidly back and forth," Shara replied dryly. "I was looking into a Rodian named Peih Xanpa. His name was buried in one of the staff logs you pulled from Tegeron, and I thought it sounded familiar. He used to work for a Hutt, Prinudd. He's been in and out of Imperial prison multiple times on trafficking charges. Two...the former Watcher Two, has a whole file on him. I thought it seemed a little excessive for a common drug dealer, though."
"Please tell me that 'used to work for' refers to when he was just a little maggot, instead of a fly."
"He left Prinudd's service a little less than a year and a half ago, actually."
"Shit..."
"Is something wrong?" Shara queried, her eyes flickering from her screen to see the image of Cipher Six covering her face with her hand.
"I don't like Hutts, but who does, right?"
"You think Xanpa's former employer is somehow involved?"
There was silence on the other end of the line. Shara shifted in her seat, reaching forward to fiddle with the holoprojector, thinking the signal had glitched out on her again.
"I might have killed one of Prinudd's scientists awhile back. Guy named Matturn Tarcolv."
The Watcher paused, her hands coming to rest on the base of the projector. "How long ago was this?" she asked. Her voice sounded odd in her own ears.
"About three weeks," Cipher Six replied flatly. "On Zetov. You remember, that little asteroid lab? The one that led me to the distribution center on Tegeron."
They'd spoken since then. Was that something I was supposed to know?
Shara wasn't sure what to say. She privately marveled at (and was also annoyed by) Six's ability to display none of the discomfort that seemed to be taking over her own body at the moment.
What else don't I know? Agents are supposed to have some autonomy in the field...but I can't really work with information I don't have. The Hutts are generally neutral in conflicts like this, of course. A single scientist doesn't necessarily implicate...
"So two former, or possibly current, staff members of Prinudd were both tied to the same operation. I guess you might want to look into that," she concluded. "I'll do what I can on my end," her eyes returned to her screen for a brief moment then back to Six. "Have you killed anyone else I should know about?" she finished, her tone dry.
The corner of Six's lip twitched upwards for a moment in a half smile so brief she thought she might have imagined it. "No one important. And I was already making inquiries."
Two inclined her head in acknowledgement. The rest of the conversation was brief, as her discussions with Six tended to be. Her report didn't take long to finish, and, in it, she indicated Six's admission, including her speculations about the possible link this Hutt may have. Prinudd was a small time spice dealer, easily dwarfed by the larger (literally) giants of the Hutt families. However, for all his lack of influence, he (or rather his scientists) did have one specialty.
They were swiftly becoming known for their poisons.
Interesting.
If Six managed to get a sample, she could look for common manufacturing markers and compare them to the fake medicines being pulled daily from frontline camps. A match wouldn't necessarily indicate that a group of Prinudd's workers hadn't gone rogue, but it was a start. Burning down facilities and disrupting supply lines wasn't really a strategic long-term option. They needed to locate the source of the contamination and deal with it as swiftly as possible.
The agent's admission bothered her. It might have been a small coincidence, but the fact that the Cipher had seemed to immediately recognize the Hutt's name and had been able to identify one of his former employees...
And hadn't said anything about it.
Shara put the matter aside for the moment to attend to other issues, but Keeper himself brought it up less than a week later.
"Watcher Two, please come to my office."
The summons came unexpectedly, cutting off Agent Forty-Six's attempts at striking up a conversation with her.
"Excuse me," she apologized. Fort shrugged in response, waving cheerfully at her retreating back.
"Sit."
Shara did so.
"Is something wrong, sir?" she asked tentatively.
What could this possibly be about?
Had something happened with...him?
"I'm coming to realize that, despite your talents...and yes, I will acknowledge that you have them," Keeper looked pained at this admission, "you still don't quite grasp the extent of your roles and responsibilities."
Watcher Two kept her face neutrally blank while she debated his meaning. Mentally going over her work, she looked for errors, discrepancies, lack of complete information, or poor judgements from said information. Nothing immediately jumped out at her.
Deciding that silence was the best option in this scenario, she chose to let him continue, rather than replying herself. It seemed to backfire, however, when an annoyed frown crossed Keeper's face. His next words were slow and measured, "You must understand, Watcher Two," one hand came to rest on the desk separating them, "that not all of your duties here will be plainly spelled out for you. Additional needs may arise that you will be called upon to fulfill...no matter how...objectionable you may or may not find them."
Objectionable? Additional needs? What is that supposed to mean?
"...Sir?" Shara queried. Her mask of neutrality split, a confused expression crossing her face.
"What do you think your function is here, Watcher Two?" instead of answering, Keeper posed a question back. His gaze was difficult to decipher, blue eyes regarding her intently. "At its core?" His other hand joined the first on the desk, and he leaned towards her as he spoke.
"My function, sir...?"
"Your purpose for being here, yes," he cut in impatiently. "Why are you here?"
Was that a trick question?
His stare was beginning to unnerve her as she sought to grasp his meaning. Something that should, apparently, be blatantly obvious to her.
"What did you tell me your first day here?" he prompted quietly.
Shara thought back to that conversation and the initial query that had prompted it. "That I exist to serve the will of the Empire, sir..."
Keeper removed his hands from the desk, straightening up and smoothing out his uniform absentmindedly as he nodded. His eyes flickered towards the still closed door before settling on her face once more. "Yes. And sometimes the Empire asks things of you that you won't agree with. However, that is your job, and I expect you to do it without question."
Shara felt a little bit lightheaded.
"I recover and analyze data, sir..." why did her voice sound so nervous? "And use it to help Ciphers in the field make informed decisions. I think I've been doing decently well...I'm not sure..."
"But you didn't have all the data," Keeper cut in firmly. "In one of your reports, you mentioned that Cipher Six had taken out a potentially relevant target, but you didn't know about it till several weeks after the fact. These are the kinds of things you must know, Watcher!"
Oh. That's all this is...that makes sense.
Keeper looked troubled, but some sort of question appeared to have been answered by her response. What it was, she couldn't begin to fathom. "I don't expect you to be able to anticipate all of your agents' moves. I don't want to be the one to tell you that you're required to serve as a spy on your own people, but it is the reality of the situation. You should have used every resource available to track Cipher Six's movements. You cannot rely on the agents alone to keep you informed of their actions."
"Yes, sir. I understand," she rushed to say.
"I assumed you simply didn't realize this yet."
"No, sir. I...I won't make that mistake again."
Keeper held up a hand. "See that you don't. You're dismissed."
Shara was beginning to wonder how many times she'd leave this office with the desire to sink into the floor.