THE EARLY DAYS DUET:
BOOK TWO: THE WILL OF THE FORCE
Chapter Six – Charting a New Course
As lead strategists for the mission at the Kassoti bar, Santo, Dané and I had been summoned to give a full overview of our mission to our senior officer, Daéla Boran. Ordinarily Daéla would only require a logged entry of our recollection. But since the mission deviated significantly from the initial plan, Daéla required further inquiry to try and discern why our plans went awry. When surprises happened, we would often run the risk of making future mistakes or overlooking crucial evidence on why things didn't go as planned. Daéla Boran was nothing short of thorough.
Naboo held itself to a certain standard. The stout pacifist policies of the Amidala administration went through great lengths to ensure that we maintained a strong illusion of safety for the masses. As a handmaiden, I had often assumed that meant the populace was in a harmonious state of peace. As a field agent, I learned rapidly that aggressive tensions undulated even outside of the political regime. Unfortunately, our job was less about protecting the citizens of our planet, and more about scrubbing away and suppressing any semblance of criminal activity. The more we strove to actualize a global utopia, the less enticing it became as a reality.
"This was supposed to be clean and simple," Daéla reprimanded. "In and out; no ruckus. Now I've got Captain Panaka breathing down my back because your operation went public. Explain the situation."
Daéla was an imposing individual; broad and chiseled in a way that would make any middle-aged woman look like she was carved from obstinate matter. Her eyes were hard and direct, and her lips seemed to be permanently sealed in that severe, judgmental manner. Her trademark was one arched eyebrow that never seemed to settle into a softer symmetry. Her appearance revealed a very active and abrasive life prior to her promotion as a senior officer, indicated by the hashes of old scars that scored the length of her jaw and neck. She was unarguably dedicated to her cause, and that hard-pressed vehemence reinforced our own tenacity on the job.
My counterparts and I sat opposite of Daéla, our postures as stiff and prosaic as the chairs in which we sat.
I spoke first. "Jonash Solo made an unexpected appearance," I reported. "We were overrun by members of his crew. Solo managed to slip through our fingers during the chaos, but we still met the objectives of the mission."
"How did this happen?" I knew the question was in regards to our oversight.
Dané piped up "I was recognized by Solo," Dané said. "Had we known he would be involved in the spice cartel; I wouldn't have risked going undercover. Santo's surveillance records indicated that the meeting at the Kassoti bar would be a one-on-one exchange with an independent buyer."
"Obviously not the case," Daéla replied.
"We had no knowledge of Solo's involvement," Santo defended respectfully. "Since he has had run-ins with us before, it is likely that he knew about our monitoring patterns and either found a different method of communication, or decided to take advantage of our ignorance."
Daéla cast her gaze toward Santo. "Is there any reason to assume your surveillance system may have been hacked?" she asked.
Santo shook his head. "My mainframe is airtight," Santo said. "I have full assurances from my team that nothing had been tampered with—inside or out."
Daéla nodded. "Just in case," she said, "I want you to double check the transmission history files. Make sure nothing interceded our encryptions prior to the mission."
"Yes ma'am," Santo rose from his seat, recognizing the dismissal.
Daéla continued, "Dané, I would like for you to oversee the interrogation protocols. See if there's any additional information we can get out of the Weequay we have stored in our holding cell. Here's the paperwork on all the information we presently have." She slid the folder across her large desk.
Dané followed Santo out the door, pausing briefly to look back at Daéla and myself before resuming her exit.
I wanted to shift uncomfortably in my seat; to avoid Daéla's unsettlingly direct eye contact. But I refused to give any indication of my discomfiture.
"Evoria." My name was said curtly.
"Yes?"
"How would you feel about working a long-distance op?"
"I will go where I'm needed," I replied. "What's the job?"
"I have an informant with a lead on Jonash Solo. He was spotted near the Kasotti landing bays, hitching a ride to Corellia. We cannot risk having his eventual return cause a repeat of this spectacle."
"I agree," I lied. As much as I disliked the vagabond, I disliked the RSF's prerogative for decorum even more. Hiding the existence of crime was perhaps the biggest crime of all. Jonash Solo was hardly an active threat so much as a public nuisance.
Daéla continued, "Captain Panaka has informed me of your extensive skills as a covert operative. With that in mind, you have been the one I've selected to eliminate Solo."
No amount of training could have stopped me from hiding my shock. "Eliminate? You can't mean for me to assassinate him?"
"You're a killer shot, and an expert at remaining unseen," Daéla said, unfazed by my audacity. "This needs to be seamless, quick, and untraceable; and you're the best candidate for the job."
I was flabbergasted. "With due respect, the Galactic Republic has clear stipulations on planetary jurisdiction. I can't just fly to Corellia to murder a petty thief. What you're asking me to do is highly illegal."
"That's never seemed to stop you before," Daéla said. She tossed the familiar S-3 microchip at me.
I seized it reflexively, feeling a fresh wave of alarm course through me.
"What are you implying?" I asked, trying to mitigate my rising panic.
"There's nothing to imply. A spice dealer would have little need to erase a client on his roster. The data corruption on that chip could only have occurred from someone here on base. A quick surveillance check led me straight to your little exchange with Santo."
Daéla switched on her hologram projector on her desk. It was an image of Santo and myself in the hallway near my quarters. The image silently conveyed our conversation; his persistence, my feigned agitation. Then the track slowed to a pause when I performed my sleight of hand for the microchip.
My stomach churned in dread. I had been caught.
"Expertly handled," Daéla observed blithely. "I probably wouldn't have even noticed the theft if you hadn't done such a rush job on manipulating the microchip in the first place."
"Is this blackmail? Are you going to turn me in if I don't pursue Solo?"
"Oh, far from it." Daéla countered. "I have no intention of revealing this information."
"Why not?" My instinct to act on pretense was now on high alert. I kept my eyes locked toward her and remained seated, hoping to discern what Daéla meant by her comment. To my frustration, her countenance remained expertly neutral.
"Frankly, it's because you're one of my top agents," Daéla said. "Out of the two years you've been here, this is the only time I've ever seen you slip up. Panaka was foolish to remove you from the Queen's secret service. You may have a tendency to defy orders, but your records indicate that you have always done so for the right reasons. I rely on that kind of innovation. It ensures that the job will get done, regardless of what it may cost you. It may not have worked to Panaka's advantage, but it sure as hell works for me."
I side-eyed the paused hologram. Despite her reassurances to the contrary, there was no mistaking that she now held evidence that could easily destroy me. I was irreparably trapped. If I were to defect from any of her forthcoming orders, she could easily show the documentation to Panaka, and my career might come to a screeching halt. I could be imprisoned. Or if I became too much of an interference, I could end up eliminated in the same way I would have to eliminate a paltry smuggler. She knew this as well as I did. This was as much a performance for Daéla as it was for me.
I was now left with no choice. I had to go to Corellia and kill Jonash Solo.
Daéla rose from her chair and migrated around her desk, leaning against its edge. She weaved her fingers together and firmly set them against her lap. It was a subtle, authoritative gesture designed to juxtapose her power over my inferiority.
"Off the record, I'm none too pleased with the way things are run either," she sympathized with an edge of patronization. "But our loyalty is to the safety of Naboo. Surely you of all people remember the consequences we faced when Naboo lost its last line of defense."
I also distinctly remembered how we had no way of protecting ourselves because the advisory council perverted Padmé's pacifism into a political weakness. We were overrun; without weapons, without military. The radicalization of pacifist ideals made us vulnerable, and almost seemed to invite the Trade Federation to strike against us. And whatever semblance of military had been formulated after the reclamation was quickly restricted by the advisory council's unchecked bidding. Naboo had always been oppressed…Even before the Trade Federation made its appearance. I was just too blind to see it at the time. But I couldn't risk exploiting them yet. And I knew better than to confide in such thoughts with Daéla. I had no idea where her allegiance truly resided. For all I knew, this entire mission could be designed to lead me into a trap.
With that in mind, I retained my charade. "I remember all too well," I rejoined.
"Glad we're in agreement," Daéla said, returning to her seat. "A tracker has been planted on the vessel Jonash Solo departed on. Its sequence has been plotted into the nav computer of your ship."
"My ship?"
Daéla continued as if I hadn't interrupted her. "All of the arrangements have been made. You'll be departing from Dock 12 within the hour."
"Yes ma'am." I said, rising from my chair. Realizing I still had the microchip in my hand, I returned set it on the desk before I made my retreat.
"And Sabé," Daéla called after me.
"Yes?" I turned, reproached by the permanent arch of her judgmental eyebrow.
"This operation will require the fullest extent of your undercover capabilities," Daéla warned. "Don't give me an excuse to expose your shortcomings to Panaka."
So I was being blackmailed. My limbs began to tingle with a blossoming resentment for my senior officer. It took all of my self-control to avoid balling my fingers into a fist. Instead, I sustained an air of placidity in my reply.
"Understood."
I tried desperately to quell my nerves after I left Daéla's office space. My whole body wanted to tremble and shudder in response to the fear, relief, and tension that had been hitting against me like rollicking waves. My training in self-control had managed to subdue the worst of my anxiety; but I couldn't eradicate the isolated tremors in my hands as I hastened back to my quarters.
I couldn't stay under Daéla's thumb forever. After I finished my job at Corellia, I would have to go dark. There was no way I would be able to continue my pursuit with Daéla's new hold over me. I was about to enter into fugitive status.
As soon as I entered my room, I discovered it was completely barren. My maps, charts, and information packets had all been removed from the premesis. Daéla must have ordered someone to clear out everything during our meeting. Even Todo was missing. I had nothing left. I was overwrought with a sudden exhaustion. But fear and panic kept me from collapsing in utter defeat.
They had taken everything. Everything that I defined my sense of purpose. I suddenly felt very cold with fear.
Daéla wanted to ensure that I had no resources left to encourage me to defect from the RSF, that much was clear. I had made one false move, and now everything was falling apart. I wanted to cry; to curse, and scream and dismantle everything in sight. But I knew I had to act quickly.
I pulled my Q2 from my bootleg and double checked the chamber, relieved that I still had Todo's memory database in my possession. I would have to find a similar Todo360 model to access the information. But at least I still had it. That was a start. And it was just enough to convince me to hightail out of here.
The Jewel of Zenda warmed against my skin, effectively calming my physiological tension. Despite my ongoing quandary with the gem and its incessant pull for me to succumb to a so-called 'destiny,' I found myself comforted by its familiarity in the midst of all this chaos.
I touched my throat, realizing that I would have to perform a self-surgery to remove the subcutaneous comlink in order to cut off any point of access for the RSF to track me down. That would not be fun. But at this point, if I was already a criminal, I may as well get used to living my life as such. Instead of ducking under rules, I would be completely at liberty to just ignore the rules in order to meet my own ends.
After I killed Jonash, Daéla would be left to assume that she had me under her complete control. It would be a small window of time, but it would conceivably be the best time to cover my tracks and escape for good. My new mission was to fade out of existence and strategize a new plan to find Kasaré Veruna and help overthrow the government.
The docks were no different than they had looked any other time I had been to the main hangar. But knowing this would be my last time walking the floors made my heart hurt a little bit. The RSF was located adjacent to the plasma generator pits and below the hangar itself. The location harbored many memories for me.
My mind's eye conjured recollections as I passed through the vast room. As the large entrance door opened, I recalled the formidable sith assassin that dueled with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon during the Reclamation.
I passed by the parked J-Type Nubian cruiser and remembered how we had barely escaped the occupation with our lives. I remembered struggling to enact my role as a decoy for the first time, donned in a black gown with a feathered Shirayan headdress, running frantically from battle droids and blaster fire.
I heard the roar of the waterfall that spilled out from beneath the hangar's runway and into the Solleu river far below, remembering how I had organized teams to liberate camps that were scattered along the lengths of the river's shoreline.
As I neared Dock 12, I looked out towards the bright afternoon sky, remembering how I had watched Obi-Wan depart on the same day I had been discharged from the Order of Sanctuary.
None of these memories were happy ones. But they were my memories. And they were memories that shaped who I had become. They were memories that reminded me of what I was fighting for.
"Sabé!" My melancholy was interceded by the sound of Dané's voice. She came running toward me, her face flush from the exertion. She must have been trying to catch up to me for a while.
"Dané?"
"Thank the stars I got to you in time!" she said. "I heard you had a new field assignment."
I nodded. "That seems to be the case."
"I just finished my interrogation with the Weequay. He had some information that might prove useful for your pursuit." She handed me a datapad. "He revealed the location of his employer. He may have some clue into your investigation."
Upon inspection I noted the coordinates were located near one of Corellia's moons. I glanced up at her. How did she know where I would be going? I couldn't press her on the matter while we were surrounded by civilians and witnesses. But Dané anticipated my confusion and tapped at the coordinates. "Type these into the nav computer and you'll find the answers you need."
I was fiercely attuned to double talk. I could recognize every modulation in Dané's tone and decipher its deeper meaning accordingly. The Weequay's information wasn't just for my assignment. There was more to it. I glanced back at the information.
M-11: 201, 8052,001.
I recognized M-11 as the grid coordinates for Corellia. But the other sequence…they were in the Coruscanti coordinate system, but they were more than navigation symbols. They were a code. Dané had something more to say that she didn't want to risk having the RSF overhear. Was she onto me as well? Had I really messed up so spectacularly? I had no idea what to make of this, and now was hardly the time to press her for answers.
I played along with the charade. "Thank you, Dané," I said.
There was a quiet urgency that lurked behind the impregnable barrier of her emerald green eyes. "Best of luck on your mission," she said, offering me a handshake goodbye. I noticed a jammer peeking beneath her sleeve and into her palm.
Realizing what she wanted me to do, I clasped her hand and pulled her into a quick hug, activating the jammer. Our proximity would lead RSF surveillance to believe that our proximity wigged out the comlink frequencies. We had a brief moment of uncensored communication.
"Go to Corellia's farthest moon," Dané whispered rapidly. "There's a derelict satellite on its orbit. Kasaré Veruna needs to make contact with you."
The news was staggering. Overwhelming. I was dizzy with confusion over who to trust, what to do. As quickly as Dané had made the comment, she removed herself from my embrace. The moment of truth was over.
"Goodbye, Sabé." Her voice was casual, friendly, unwavering in nonchalance.
I blinked, recovered, and resumed my role. "Thank you. Goodbye."
I walked up the gangplank of my ship, forcing myself to avoid looking back at Dané. My unexpected ally.
I hit the clamp to seal the ship and made my way to the cockpit. My hands were gripped tightly to the datapad Dané had given me.
The whole time…Dané had known about my intentions the whole time. I thought I was alone in this. And I only found out she was involved on the cusp of my self-elected exile. I knew I couldn't go back. I think Dané must have known that too. I wondered how else she may have been helping me from behind the scenes…and for how long. Perhaps I would never know. But it was just as likely that she was planted by Daéla or Panaka as a means to keep me on my toes, to manipulate my every move. This was all the more reason for me to go rogue. I would heed Dané's involvement with a grain of salt.
My head was spinning. I still wasn't sure whether or not I could fully trust her. But she knew my intentions had everything to do with the Veruna conspiracy. Which, certainly now that I had a lead to go on, was true. But I didn't know whose side Dané was truly on. Daela and Panaka both seemed to have different motives at my expense. But both of them knew that they'd have to outsmart me in order to stop me. And that was too much of a headache to wrestle through just yet.
In the meantime, until I successfully managed to get off the grid, my goal was now to assassinate Jonash Solo, decrypt Dané's code, somehow make contact with Kasaré, and harass Jaina about why she was on the roster for purchasing Somaprin-3. Not to mention, I had also previously intended to procure some S-3 for my own use if possible.
I had a busy excursion to look forward to…with convoluted layers of additional secrecy just to complicate things. After I finished this mission, I promised myself to take the longest nap of my life.
I entered the cockpit, surprised to find a someone already manning the main console, donned in the burgundy jumper and domed helmet of an RSF pilot.
"Oh," I exclaimed. "I thought I would be alone on this mission,"
"Not to worry, sweetheart," the pilot said, revving up the ship's engines. "It'll just be you and me for a while."
I recognized that voice…The pilot swiveled around in his seat and I found myself facing the smug smile of none other than Captain Jonash Solo.
A/N: I know it's not a super long chapter but gosh, this was a super tough chapter to write! Please let me know if it's too confusing or inconsistent. I know I just threw a lot at you guys in a very short chapter duration...so reviews on this would be much appreciated. That way I can tailor and polish it as I go forward. Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be up in about two weeks.
