Shen as a prisoner is younger here than his canon counterpart, having been nabbed at fifteen instead of seventeen. He isn't able to break the conditioning as the canon Agent does.

Both the Inquisitor and Warrior lines have you question prisoners. In the Warrior quest, it’s implied that apprentices usually go offworld for their questioning. Furthermore, an option for disposing of one of your prisoners is to send her to Imperial Intelligence. Since Sith can do what they want, I imagine this situation would come up more often. Intelligence can’t afford to turn these “recruits” away, but I doubt they’re happy to get them.

I seem to recall Doctor Lokin implied that he served with the man who would later become Keeper, but I’m too lazy to comb through youtube videos to confirm it. He also had a hand in developing the Agent’s restraints, even if it wasn’t his primary focus.

Darth Jadus had to be an apprentice sometime, and he's always been interested in Imperial Intelligence.

The warder gave one final yank on Shen's shackles before leaving. The bolt on the door locked with a sharp rap. Strapped semi-upright to a medical diagnostics table, Shen took in his surroundings. He did not like this turn of events one bit. The last time he'd been in one of these bare “consultation” rooms was straight out of the system picket's brig, two, maybe three years before. Or longer. He wasn't sure. The days long ago flowed together into months and years.

He doubted it would be a pleasant experience this time around. They pulled him out of the mine mid-shift. They never did that for anything routine. He hadn't killed anyone. Recently. That they knew about. He hoped. And he hadn't stolen anything they could trace. Well, maybe those extra meal packets he scammed off the new fish, but he didn’t think that counted. No one cared before.

The door slid open, admitting two men. Shen had never met either of them, but the leader’s uniform was clean and crisp and he had plenty of decoration but no name badge. One of the penal colony’s high mucky-mucks. The second was tall, powerfully built, his clothes tailor made and of expensive fabrics. A cowl hid all but his chin, and that was square and clean-shaven. Human skin tone. Barely.

Colony Official stepped aside, “As your master requested, my lord. Shen, no last name, caught with the crew of a vessel smuggling weapons and other contraband through the Druckenwell system four years ago.”

“Leave us,” the cowled figure said. Shen felt a shiver run up his spine at the words.

“My lord, he doesn’t speak Basic,” said Colony Official.

“Leave us,” Cowled Figure repeated.

"As you wish, my lord," Colony Official acquiesced, bowing low and backpedaling out the door. The bolt slid home again.

Cowled Figure's attention turned to Shen.

Shen knew plenty of bad men. Callous, cruel, or indifferent, he’d seen it all. Something about this one, his stance or voice, told him this was a very bad man. An air of quiet menace hung about him as though it were part of his cloak. Shen became acutely aware of his own body odor, the fact he hadn't bathed or changed his clothes in stars knew how long. Rank and reeking of dirt and sweat and raw Andris spice among other less savory things. There was a tight knot in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.

"Why do you believe I am here?" Cowled Figure asked.

The lie came to his lips out of habit more than thought, "No speakee Basic," Shen replied.

Purple lightning danced on the man's fingertips and Shen already regretted his glib answer. "Then you best learn quickly," said the cowled figure.

Three days later...

The agent reread his orders, “I'm getting tired of these junior Sith thinking they know better than Intelligence recruiters."

"Be careful, Agent," replied his companion, "Fixers are required to report sedition."

"You won't report me, Fifteen," the agent said, "you'd be reassigned pending results of the investigation, and you don't want to be reassigned."

"True." Fixer Fifteen agreed, though it was unclear which part of the agent's statement he agreed with.

The agent glared at the flimsi, “Proceed immediately to Sevarcos II penal colony to collect and develop potential asset,” he declaimed. He started to crumple the sheet, then folded it neatly instead and slipped it into a pocket, “By order of Jadus, Sith Apprentice.”

“Interrogation is a standard part of the final year curriculum, or so I have heard,” Fixer Fifteen said.

“Yes, I know,” the agent snorted, “Interrogation is an art. Extracting useful information from an unwilling subject. Their interrogation ‘training’ is a thinly-disguised excuse for torturing a victim for amusement. None of these ‘specially chosen subjects’ know anything of import and the ‘puzzling cases’ are anything but.”

“Perhaps extracting information is not the goal.” Fifteen said.

The comm crackled to life, “A-agent? And fixer? Sevarcos colony Warder Serin seeking p-permission to board,” stammered a lower-class, Imperial-accented voice.

The agent looked at the fixer and rolled his eyes, “Do you have the ‘asset’ Lord Jadus requested?” the Agent asked.

“Yes, s-sir. Right here. I’m to deliver him,” Warder Serin answered.

Fixer Fifteen returned the agent’s look and shrugged. The agent released the hatch’s interlocks, “I’m going to regret this,” he muttered under his breath. The ship’s airlock opened to reveal a young man with a stubbly beard and a rumpled brown colony uniform. Warder Serin. Behind him a burly warder pushed a floating repulsor-stretcher, its occupant curled into a fetal ball.

“Agent?” Warder Serin asked.

“Yes?” the agent replied. He peered past Serin’s shoulder, trying to get a better view of the stretcher but the warder stepped forward and shoved a datapad in his hand. The agent took the datapad, his thumb falling on the printbox. The datapad beeped. The agent looked down to see a bright green ‘identity accepted’ stamp on the display screen.

“Transfer papers,” Warder Serin said, moving aside as the second warder shoved the stretcher past the agent into the ship. “He’s all yours now.”

“Wait, what?” the agent said, staring dumbfounded as it drifted along and ended up in the passageway.

“Yours. Your custody, sir,” Warder Serin said, backing down the gangway, “The pad has all our files and Lord Jadus’ complete interrogation report. You just accepted transfer of prisoner 18181220. Thank you, sir,” he said with a halfway salute, “Always a pleasure to be of service to Imperial Intelligence. S-sir.” Serin and his mute partner beat a rapid retreat.

The agent’s brow furrowed but he let them go. He saw no point in trying to get more out of the delivery men. He resealed the hatch and turned his attention to his new passenger. It was a male Twi’lek on the young side of young adulthood. Smallish, with the stringy build acquired from heavy physical labor and not enough food. He wore a ratty sleeveless mesh undershirt and a filthy green jumpsuit, its arms tied about his waist. His skin was some reddish shade, but the agent couldn’t be certain of the exact color or the patterns on his lekku between bruises, scorching, and heat blisters. Useless. Sith and their interrogation training. What was he supposed to do with this alien?

Fixer Fifteen read the stretcher’s output, “This man should be in kolto,” he met the agent’s eyes, “that is, assuming you intend to keep him.”

The agent touched the half-melted shock collar on the Twi’lek’s neck. He jerked and his eyelids fluttered before squeezing back shut. He slurred something and pulled his limbs in tighter around himself. His breath whined in his chest. The agent turned his attention to the datapad and opened a file. A tiny holoimage resolved above the display. A powerful man even in reproduction. His dark robes and hooded features marked him as Sith. “I am Lord Jadus. This creature proved quite resistant to questioning. What is more, he managed to hide his knowledge of Basic from his captors for four years. Though not from me. I sense he will be of value to Imperial Intelligence. I consign him to you. Find a use for him.”

Fifteen cocked his head, “He could easily die of his injuries, agent. No questions, no investigation.”

The agent looked back at his prisoner. The Sith would not accept that excuse, reasonable though it might be. “Do what you can for him, Doctor.”

“As you wish,” Fixer Fifteen said, taking charge of the stretcher.

The agent stared at the Twi’lek as he passed, “He has no loyalty,” the agent sighed, “I can’t imagine a worse choice for an intelligence operative. In any capacity.”

“Well, I may be able to help with that, if you will entertain a suggestion,” Fixer Fifteen replied over his shoulder.

Seventeen years later...

Shen strolled into the rotten cantina, paid for a slimy private booth, dropped a two-meter radio bomb to disrupt any spyware and shoved a dataspike into the holoterminal. The booth’s private dancer disappeared, replaced by the image of a older Human in an Imperial uniform. “Ittu, Agent, you bring me in from the rim for Hutta? Thanks for nothing,” Shen lit up a spice cigarette and blew the smoke through the man’s holo.

The figure in the holo folded his hands behind his back, “I thought you’d feel at home,” he said.

“This karking planet smells like Evocii crotch.”

“I wouldn’t know,” replied the image.

“Skrek ta,” Shen cursed, making an obscene gesture beneath the table.

“And it’s Keeper now. You ought to be able to remember that,” he continued despite Shen’s interruption.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Climbing the bureaucratic ladder,” Shen leaned forward toward the projector, “You still haven’t gotten over the language tape thing, have you?” The holoimage was too small to register the slight grimace at Shen’s mention of the language lesson fiasco. But it was there. Shen knew it was.

“Agents could have been killed for that mistake, Shen. No, I haven’t forgotten it,” Keeper said.

Shen blew more smoke through the blue figure, “Weren’t no mistake. You never asked for polite Rodese.”

“You knew better. We can’t have agents cursing like sailors with every breath.”

“Not my fault,” Shen said, lounging back and getting comfortable on the worn seat, “Was what I learned.”

“You might have mentioned you learned from a Rodian wh*re,” Keeper said. He refolded his arms over his chest, “I don’t care to go over this again.”

“Engineer,” Shen said darkly, “she was an engineer, better than the menndo stoopa on navy ships calling themselves engineers--”

“Don’t make me use the keyword, Shen. You know how I feel about it,” Keeper said.

“Yeah,” Shen tapped the ash from his cigarette into the projector, “wouldn’t want you getting all dirty or nothing.”

“Keyword:--”

“Alright, alright,” Shen groused. He sat up straighter so it looked like he was paying attention, “Tell me about the karking job so I can get the kark off this snatto planet.”

“And cut the profanity. I’ve had enough of your mouth for one day Shen,” Keeper said.

Shen heard the telltale warning note in Keeper’s voice. Something was needling him beyond their typical exchange. “So what’s the job?”

“Subversion,” Keeper said.

Shen shifted on his grimy seat, “That’s a new one. Moving me up? Finally?”

Keeper went on, “Hardly. I’ve just lost a junior agent on this mission and time is of the essence. I don’t have the luxury of prepping another agent with culture, language, and proper credentials. I need someone who can step in and fix this mess now.”

Shen blew another puff of smoke through Keeper’s image and tapped the ash on the floor. Explained Keeper’s nerves. And his call. Mop up detail as usual. “Alright. What’s the rundown and how did your new fish screw it up?”

Shen imagined he could hear Keeper’s teeth grinding. “It may have been a problem with his cover identity. Details are still coming in, we don’t have a complete report yet. His mission was to bring Nem’ro the Hutt and his Shvash gas operation in on the side of the Empire. To that end he developed a relationship with Karrels Javis, one of Nem’ro’s lieutenants.

“Unfortunately, on top of the agent’s untimely demise, we have received word that Javis’ sons, both free traders, had a run-in with a Sith apprentice. One was killed, the other severely injured. When Javis receives the news he will undoubtedly push Nem’ro to stay independent at best, go over to the Republic at worst. We cannot allow that, and we cannot delay the message any longer without arousing suspicion.

“I need you to eliminate Karrels Javis, throw suspicion on the Republic, and complete the agent’s mission. Nem’ro’s other favored lieutenant is a volatile Twi’lek, Toth’lazhen. I expect you will be able to relate to to him--”

“Sure. Us Twi’leks always look out for each other,” Shen grumbled.

“Regardless, it is vital you win his trust and quickly. Your identity is a gunrunner out of occupied Balmorra. You’re looking to cut a deal for Nem’ro’s shvash gas for your company’s weapons and you’re willing to pay well,” Keeper concluded, “And you’re willing to help Nem’ro secure the gas pocket, if that’s what it takes.”

Shen grimaced, chewing on the stubby end of his cigarette, “Hope your people did a better job with that identity than the noob’s,” he reached for cutoff switch.

“Shen,” Keeper began, his hands warding off Shen’s disconnect.

“Yeah?” his finger paused above the switch.

“Do try to keep the body count to a minimum this time,” Keeper said.

Shen’s grimace opened to a thin-lipped smile, blue spice smoke drifting up from between sharp teeth, “Cleaner One out.”

"Wow," said Kirsk.

He had docked his ship at the Republic station orbiting Corellia and come over to Havoc's ship.

"Wow," said Kirsk.

Vector watched the two of us, turning his head back and forth just enough to suggest that the focus of those black eyes was moving.

"Wow," said Kirsk. "Brother, you don't get to complain about me biting off more'n I can chew ever again. Ever."

"I'm chewing," I said.

"So I guess you've gotta find someone on scenic Corellia? They can't be calling him Cipher Nine there."

"We do know the name he gave to the military," said Vector.

"Good, that's a start. Any idea where he spends his free time?"

Vector shook his head. "With a war on he might find…entertainment…anywhere,"

"That's kind of alarming," said Kirsk.

"Quite."

"All right. So we'll look. That brings up the other question. I'm an open-minded kind of guy, but I'm kind of surprised you're willing to hand over the mother of all conspiracy theories to the Republic just to stop this Cipher."

"We are not convinced that its power is something that can be harnessed. Whether it truly is or not, Cipher Nine must be stopped at any cost, by anyone in a position to do so. It so happens that the Captain took us into custody before we could report to true Imperial authority."

"We saved your life," Jorgan said darkly. "Talk about 'custody' if you want, but you never would've made it to Imperial grounds."

"Only we brought his path out. Only he can bring our path forward," Yuun said. "Symmetry."

I shrugged that observation off. "You think we can find him, Yuun?"

"Difficult. But possible, with Vector's help."

"I could report as ordered," said Vector. "And determine where Cipher Nine's squad was deployed to."

"Are you joking?" I said. "No way are you walking out of here without an escort."

"And nobody on board can plausibly pass for Imperial to go with him," said Jorgan. "Aliens, a Republic droid, and a guy with an Imp rap sheet half a parsec long?"

"I could do it," said Kirsk. "My rap sheet's not nearly as long, and I've got papers for an even more upright citizen. I could tag along, see that things go to plan."

"No way," I snapped. "I'm not sending you into an Imperial base. They would kill you before Hyllus even got a chance to stab you in the back."

Vector shifted. "We are willing to report and receive our orders, with or without supervision. It may be our only chance to locate Cipher Nine."

"You're not walking, and you're sure as hell not taking my brother anywhere."

"If we wished to turn on any of you," Vector said coolly, "we would already have notified the nest, and Killiks would already be converging on your location."

The room managed to get even quieter. I exchanged looks with Jorgan, Yuun, and Kirsk.

"Can you do that?" said Kirsk.

"It is one of the gifts of Joining."

"You've been in touch with them this whole time," said Jorgan. "Haven't you."

"Only to share that we are alive. Only to…" And then, suddenly, Vector started out of his chair. I whipped my rifle to readiness but he just stood there. "The fingerlings," he breathed. "They survived."

"The what?" I said suspiciously.

"Fingerlings," said the black-eyed Joiner. "Our smallest brethren. A number of them accompanied us when we departed Alderaan. Some reside within our flesh." He didn't seem one whit self-conscious about that revolting announcement. "Some larger ones came along to take up residence in the cargo hold and observe our travels. We were certain that the ones we left behind had been killed by Cipher Nine, but…it seems he did not eradicate them. Their song is weak; we could not hear it from a distance. But it still sings."

"Can you home in on it?"

"Yes. We know where you should seek to land."

*

The biggest Imperial spaceport on Corellia was far from the Republic-held one. Too far. Even after we did land there I knew it'd be reckless of me to go in with the team to the Imperial facility. We used Kirsk's ship and Kirsk's fake neutral-merchant ID papers, but still, anyone who knew to look out for a two-meter-tall guy with a scar and an attitude would blow the whistle.

But I wanted to be in on the hunt.

We ran into trouble with clearances when we sought out Cipher Nine's ship at the spaceport. He had his hangar locked up pretty tight, both in the automated systems and with the regular guards.

"Can we hit the maintenance door?" I suggested.

"It is likely also secured. In addition, Cipher Nine's ship has certain prototype…safeguards…against unauthorized entry. Neither I nor you would survive the attempt."

"So we're stuck waiting to intercept."

"Looks like it," growled Jorgan. "Not like a sniper's never seen that before."

Vector had folded his hands together in front of him and squeezed his eyes shut. After a long moment he opened them again. "The fingerlings do live. They report that Cipher Nine arrived about thirty hours ago. They do not know where he went, but if necessary they can disperse through the spaceport to watch for his return."

"Do it. I want our people staying together." I turned to Yuun. "Set up a camera by one of the observation windows?"

Yuun nodded and fished the device in question out of his pack. I turned back to Vector. "Hyllus, can you hear confirmation from your little guys when you're a few klicks out?"

"Certainly."

"Then let me know if Cipher Nine shows his face. We'll have that and our cameras. Maybe we can't touch the ship, but he can't touch it either without us knowing."

*

We returned to Kirsk's ship. Yuun went through the normal motions of retrieving Vector's correspondence and handing him the holo-disabled datapad with the results.

Vector's eyebrows went up. "Interesting. Cipher Nine has been declared dead under his civilian name. Killed in an explosion at the Corellian Museum of History."

"Yeah," snorted Jorgan. "Right."

"There seems to be a lot of declared-death going around," I said. "What does this mean for us?"

"The Cipher makes an obvious end to his trail," said Yuun. "As he has before. Another trail must leave it. If he wishes to put distance between himself and his pursuers, his ship is the likely next stop."

"Not if his higher-ups already know it's his ship," said Jorgan. "If I were him I'd be playing it cool on the surface or hijacking someone else's vessel."

"You're not him," I snapped. I didn't mean it to come out that harshly, but I meant it anyway.

*

Against my better judgment I took everyone but Jorgan out to the collapsed museum. The place was a mess – intentional demolitions, ugly and thorough.

"Got anything for me?" I asked my Findsman.

Yuun shook his head. "Not yet. The only signs are those of efficient destruction."

So it went. He could track the destruction of the building, identifying the point sources of explosions, but any sign of someone departing was long gone.

There was nothing else to do. We went on back to the ship. I got ready for sleep. To this day I'll never know how I managed to sleep that night. The exhaustion won out over the adrenaline, I guess.

Didn't last long. Someone pounded at my door in the middle of the night. "Captain!" Vector was shouting. "Captain, wake up!"

I had my blaster in hand before I opened the door. "What?"

"The fingerlings report that Cipher Nine has returned to the spaceport."

"Damn. Get the others." I made straight for the bridge to start getting landing clearance.

Kirsk showed up a minute later. "So, adventure?" he said cheerfully.

"Something like it," I growled. "Take over here, I have to get dressed."

We got departure clearance almost the same time Cipher Nine did. Then we moved to trail them.

When I got back to the bridge I looked over Kirsk's shoulder at the streamlined little luxury vehicle before us. It was hard to keep my eyes on for some reason – it flickered invisible half the time. Weird stealth tech, maybe more prototype than real production quality, I don't know. What mattered was that we could track it.

"If they hit hyperspace," I said, "we're toast."

"They won't," said Kirsk. "If they wanted to they would've done it by now."

The damn thing was fast, but we kept up in pursuit a ways behind. I shot a message to Balkar to let him know where we were going. I wasn't really sure if we could get out again. We followed the silver ship well out of Corellia's main planet's orbit; now we were coming up on a small rocky planet, and in the shadow of that planet was a little space station. No markings, no traffic. Apart from one or two lights in the upper spire it looked dead.

"This our guy?" I said.

"It is," said Vector.

Kirsk and Yuun, between the two of them, managed to remotely slice controls for one of the few hangar doors and the forcefield that went with it. We landed.

We rolled out.

We had landed on the mysterious space station hidden in the shadow of one of the smaller planets of the Corellian system. Somewhere in there was Cipher Nine. Kirsk stayed guarding the ship while Havoc Squad walked. Vector, unarmed, came with us; he might come in handy.

Upon leaving the hangar we found a broad curve of hallway studded with stacks of crates and surrounded by doors to who knew what. And in the middle of all that stood an Imperial, young, dark-skinned, uniformed. "Stop where you are," she said. Her voice had a slight tremor to it.

Havoc Squad drew their weapons as one.

"Hey! No! Look at me!" She waved a little at all of us. I watched her. "We're not going to fight. Just keep looking at me."

Of course I wasn't going to shoot her. I wasn't going to fight. I kept looking at her.

"Ensign," said Vector, stepping forward, "surely you realize that Cipher Nine cannot be allowed to continue this power grab."

"I just need you, to stay still, and keep looking at me," she said. She was signaling something with one hand. I didn't look around to see who was answering it.

"Sir, we must not allow ourselves to fall victim to this Imperial trick!" Forex brayed. "Your deception is useless, dastardly Imperial! The cause of freedom will always triumph!"

The girl turned wide-eyed to the droid. At that moment it occurred to me to start doing something.

I set my rifle to full auto and let loose.

In the scream of blasters it hardly registered that a door was bursting open to my left. A woman's rich voice pealed throughout the room. "Hel-lo, ugly!"

I brought my sights around. The woman who'd yelled was armored head to toe and carrying a rifle half her own size. She dodged my first flurry of shots with a loud ringing laugh.

After the auto streak it'd be a second before I could get a decent rate of fire. I dove for the nearest cover and heard her slamming footsteps pursuing.

The thermal detonator she tossed came past my corner before she did. I cursed and scrambled back to get out of the blast radius. By the time I was clear I saw her blaster fire angling in to where I would've been standing.

It was Yuun who practically flew in out of nowhere to close with her and activate his electrostaff full power. Focused on me as she was, she never saw it coming.

I made sure she was down before I looked around. Jorgan was down on the ground, squirming to avoid the claws of a huge rakghoul. Vector, having been unarmed from the start, was staying behind cover. M1-4X was on full blaster fire against the monster; it hardly seemed to care.

I added my blaster fire and heard Yuun doing the same. The thing reared, sprang towards me. Then curled up halfway through. It skidded to a halt at the ground at my feet, staying balled up tight and unmoving.

It lay still for a few moments. The squad started drifting back together.

Then the rakghoul jumped.

It was probably pretty well equipped to deal with 99% of combat-capable humans. Not me. I caught the damn thing as it sprang up for my face, and…well. I'd just as soon not describe how I took that one down. Hand to hand and claw to claw I'll admit to. I could say the details were blacked out in straight-up fury, but that wouldn't be true.

Still. It needed killing.

We shot it a few more times to be sure. I wiped my hands on the uniformed woman's jacket. Then we did a sweep of the room. It was empty but for one open door that framed a completely immobile humanoid droid.

Oddly, it wasn't trying to kill us. I signaled to hold fire while I approached. It stayed standing in the doorway, arms relaxed at its sides. "Fascinating," it said in some strange tight mix of feminine voices.

"Out of my way," I said.

"You have come for Cipher Nine," she said.

"Yeah."

"I estimate a ninety-seven point four per cent chance that you will succeed in eliminating him. Less if I oppose you." She tilted her head. "But not much less."

I hoped Forex's weaponry was rated against machinery like her, because my blaster rifle would have to get a lucky shot in some wiring joint to have any effect at all and durasteel is one thing I can't take hand to hand.

"I wish to discuss terms," announced the droid. "I believe you present unique opportunities for learning."

"Like hell," I said. "Forex, why don't you show her how a real war droid works."

"With pleasure, sir!" Forex's missile turrets sprang to readiness. Then he got started.

Over the whine and crash of small missiles I could barely hear her saying "This chassis is inadequate." Then she toppled and fell, Forex's blaster bolts streaming almost continuously until she stopped moving.

"Good," I said. "Now. Let's keep moving."

I knew which way to go. Toward the center. It was practically calling to me, and, with Jorgan covering my back and me covering his, we hit a smaller inner-ring corridor. And a big half-open door.

"Any more insights for me?" I asked Vector quietly.

"No. There is nothing of the nest in there."

"Right. Well then, we do this the old-fashioned way. Don't fire until I do or he does, people. I'm going in."

"Sir," Jorgan said in the voice that meant he wanted to argue. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Too late for that. Don't worry, we've got this."

I hoped I had it.

The working title for this chapter was "Ensign Temple, Speed Bump."

I really struggle with some companions...ah well, at least all I have to do with them in this continuity is kill them off. No deep conversation required.

"It's yours now. Everything we built, everything we kept hidden from you. But between you and me, I want to show you one last thing."

The man called Hunter tapped a couple of buttons on a wrist console. A shimmering holo effect swept around him, and then, suddenly, he was a she, slight, wounded, damaged, kneeling at Cipher Nine's feet.

"I haven't shown anyone my real face in a long time," she said, her voice almost leaden.

I'm touched," said Cipher Nine. "I was starting to think our time together didn't mean anything to you."

"Heh. You know how much it meant. You never gave up me. I couldn't give up on you."

"True. It wouldn't do to walk away. One of us was made for the other. With the serum, with everything? I know you, Hunter. I knew you the day we met. When Ardun Kothe activated my keyword, my first thought was, does Hunter know? Because I bet he'd like it. You did love it, didn't you? Loved owning me? Teasing, all those possibilities. Would you really have let me die with the Shadow Arsenal? There was so much more you could have done. I might've even liked it."

Hunter stared up at him and shook her head. "You still don't get it, do you? Sure, it was fun, but what matters is that the Cabal and the Codex are the powers that buy us freedom. If you're going to wreck our party, make it count. Show the Jedi and Sith we won't bow to them any longer."

"Why would I waste this on the Jedi and the Sith? Setting up that kind of war does sound entertaining, but honestly I've got some fun ideas for myself in mind first. Don't pretend you were using it for noble ends, Hunter, you don't care about the Jedi or the Sith any more than I do. You were in it for the fun of pulling strings. Just like me."

"You're wrong." Hunter's smile was long gone; now she looked up at him with something akin to disgust. "I'm not that kind of girl," she said with a tired remnant of humor.

"No? That's awkward, then. Because that's the kind of guy you're leaving in charge." Cipher Nine smiled. "Much obliged, Hunter dear."

She horrifies me. Kaliyo is saner and better-adjusted than she is.

Also, in all fairness, this Cipher's final moments with Hunter will stay with me too. The poignancy is soured by the fact that there might have been no one at all to oppose Cipher Nine if Elara Dorne hadn't died. Vector might have been more than a speed bump if he hadn't been found in the nightmare lands, but probably not much more.

I stepped in and all my attention was caught at once by Cipher Nine, in the room's center, standing over a woman slumped on her knees.

The Imperial agent turned around, a smile spreading across his broad face. He set a hand on his blaster and chuckled.

I shot him before he could get a word in. Then I shot him again. The first blaster bolt would've been enough; I've got decent aim. Still I kept walking. I kept shooting. The son of a b*tch fell over without so much as a tremor.

I stood over him and put a last bolt in, then looked back around at my crew and at the very surprised-looking woman. "I hate Imp speeches," I said.

Take that, monologues!

More to come, I promise. But this had to be settled.

Like a lot of the underworld, the activity at Nem’ro’s never really stopped. It reached a crescendo in the dark hours then waned with the morning. A relic of when less than legal activity respected natural rhythms of night and day. So the constant party was at ebb when Shen investigated his predecessor’s quarters.

He sliced the door controls and it opened without a fuss. Easy as a fifty credit wh*re. Two steps into the dark chamber and it hissed closed behind him. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for in here, only that it had been the noob’s. Keeper wanted a report on the situation--which in Shen’s opinion did not include finding out how and why the fish got himself killed--but Keeper overruled him. So here he was wasting valuable time.

He spotted the holoterminal in the corner. Standard procedure was to sweep for listening devices, then--

Nem’ro’s security consultant and chief bully, Kaliyo Djannis, stepped out of the shadows, blaster drawn, "Well, well," the Rattataki woman purred, "looks like I caught another fish."

Shen froze, hands empty but hovering at his side. Damn it. Did the woman run on stims or something? He told Keeper this was a bad idea.

She stalked around Shen. "I didn't expect a new one so soon. Whatever you got going must be pretty important. So, who are you really working for, I wonder?"

Shen followed her with his eyes, "I could tell you," he said. She was behind him now, and he didn't like that, "but then I'd have to kill you."

The Rattataki barked a laugh, "Right. Like I haven't heard that one before." She came back around front, hand on her blaster, "Exchange? Yjal? Another of the Hutts? Seriously, you need a new job."

Shen chewed on his cigarette, "Seriously, I'd have to kill you," he said.

"Funny guy," she said, “It’s Yjal, isn’t it?”

Shen had no idea who this Yjal was, but mentioned in conjunction with the others, he must be an enemy. He could work with that. He snorted, “Damn, he said you were smart. Yeah, Yjal sent me.”

“Ha. Knew it,” she laughed, “Have a seat.” She gestured to one of the room’s chairs. Shen did as she directed, while she leaned against the edge of the table, “So how much is he paying you?”

“Not enough, I can tell you that,” Shen complained. He leaned back in the chair and hooked one arm over the back. Ash spilled onto the floor.

“I bet,” the Rattataki smiled. She leaned forward, her blaster balanced on her knee, “So now the question is, what to do with you.”

Shen took a drag on his cigarette, “Yjal’s cheap. I’m open to a better offer.”

Kaliyo cackled with laughter, “Oh, right, like I’m going to pay off Yjal’s hunter.” she leveled her blaster, “Thing is, though, if Yjal sent you, you didn’t have to vape Karrels or suck up to Toth’lazhen. Or check out this guy’s room. I figure you and him are either rivals or buds, and you got something bigger going on. Care to try again?”

“Not really,” he said. Shen expected she noticed him schmoozing Toth’lazhen. Little bit of a surprise she made the connection with Javis. Pretty clear what bit the noob. Oh well. Her habit of abandoning employers whenever she felt like it meant another mysterious disappearance wouldn’t arouse any suspicion. Disintegration was so convenient.

“I want in,” she said, “but I think I’ll just shoot you and try the next one.”

Not a chance. Shen flicked the cigarette at Kaliyo’s face. Her first bolt smoked the chair he’d been sitting in. He'd already spun out of it to the floor, drawing a compact blaster, the biggest thing he could smuggle past Nem’ro’s paranoid security. Before he could bring it up the Rattataki lunged forward. She stomped at his outstretched arm with one heavy boot. Shen rolled out of the way and her foot crushed the trailing tip of one lekku instead. Pain rocketed up and exploded inside his skull. Stars blurred half his vision and he felt nauseous. He cursed whatever cruel power created Twi'leks with three d*cks, but only one of them good for fun. He finished the roll on his knees, then slipped sideways again as her next bolt vaporized a hole in the floor.

Someone addressed her from behind. "Kaliyo Djannis," and Shen had never before been so pleased to hear Keeper's voice. Kaliyo whirled and sent a blaster bolt through Keeper's center of mass. Or what would have been his center of mass if he weren't a hologram. Shen took advantage of her distraction and launched himself at her, wrapping his left arm around her throat. She dipped her chin so he didn’t get a clean hold and sank her upper teeth into his forearm. He hissed and pulled her in tighter, pressing his blaster to her side. Her temple would have been more dramatic, but messy. Messier anyway. Dammit, he hated hand-to-hand and the holdout he packed wasn’t good for much else.

“Do not kill her, Cleaner,” Keeper said.

“F*ck all, you’re an Imp?” Kaliyo exclaimed. With her teeth in his arm only the vowels came through.

Shen took back the nice thoughts he had about Keeper a few seconds ago, “Won’t be a body. Thought I saw her heading for the spaceport.” She tried to stomp on his instep but he wrenched her sideways. His crappy hold let him do that much. She dug in and he felt a trickle of blood run down his arm.

“No, Cleaner” Keeper said. His attention returned to Kaliyo, “Imperial Intelligence, to be precise,” he continued. “As is my operative. We are aware of your activities here, as well as your background and associations. And we have a proposal.”

“No, we don’t. She’s interfering with the op,” Shen growled. If this was Keeper’s real play all along, he was going to have a chat with him. “What settling pond do you want your atoms scattered in? That’s the only deal you’re getting.”

“Overruled, Cleaner,” Keeper said.

“I can still put you in a medbay for a year, spulta,” Shen hissed in her ear. He shifted the blaster’s focus to her hip. Probably wouldn’t kill her. Right away. “And forget walking without servos.”

“Tell your dog to back off,” she snarled around her gag.

“Not quite yet, I’m afraid,” Keeper said, “As I was explaining, you have a unique skill set that could prove quite useful. You would become a well-paid servant of the Empire. Still interested?”

Kaliyo’s struggles slowed, “How well-paid?”

“Well.”

“He vapes me if I say no?” she mumbled.

“In essence,” Keeper agreed, “Cleaner is an effective asset, but not a subtle one.”

Shen tugged on her again, “This is not a good idea, Keeper.” He could hear the wheels turning in her head. His bruised lekku sent waves of pain into his head with every heartbeat. He wanted to get rid of her and continue fixing the botched mission.

“I want in,” she said finally.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Keeper said, “Let her go, Cleaner.”

“Not a good idea, Keeper,” Shen reiterated. If she were smart, she’d kill him when she had the chance. He wasn’t about to give her that chance.

“Let her go.”

Profanity in half a dozen languages filled Shen’s mind, but he said nothing and relaxed his hold. Kaliyo bit deeper for a fraction of a second, then stepped out of his grip. She gave him a smirk and wiped his blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, “So now what?” she asked through red-stained teeth.

“You will work with Cleaner for the remainder of this mission--”

“No, no,” Shen said, “You want her, you take her. I work alone.”

“I want you to evaluate her performance in the field, Cleaner,” Keeper said, “You will remove Fa’athra’s threat to Nem’ro’s mining operation. Permanently. Retreive your predecessor’s possessions. Included among them is a dataspike intended for use in Fa’athra’s computer systems. Kaliyo has inside knowledge of Fa’athra’s palace and will accompany you. The evidence on the spike, combined with what you already planted, will convince Nem’ro that Fa’athra was working with the Republic. That is all we need.”

Shen wanted to throw something at Keeper. All he had was his crummy little holdout blaster, and bad as it was, he wasn’t giving it up. “You do remember all my evaluations say ‘does not work well with others’.”

"I am well aware of your performance evaluations, Cleaner," Keeper said.

"So, how well-paid, exactly?" Kaliyo interjected.

"There will be time enough to negotiate your salary after you aid my operative," Keeper said.

Oh. Oh, got it. Keeper's game was deeper. He wanted to get more mileage out of her death. Not a bad idea. He could sell that to Nem'ro easy. Sacrificed against Republic-armed troops...wanted him to bring the data back...yeah, "Fine," he groused, "you're in."

"Try to keep up," Kaliyo said with a smile.

"I expect a full debrief from you on Dromund Kaas, Kaliyo," Keeper said.

Damn. Maybe not.

“So what kind of a name is Cleaner, anyway?” Kaliyo asked, taking the seat opposite Shen in the ship’s dining hall.

Shen picked up his sandwich, “They send me in when an op craters and it’s all picking up body parts and scr*ping sh*t off the walls,” he said, taking a bite, “the Cleaner,” he mumbled around the mouthful. Nice thing about official Imperial transports, the food was usually decent.

“Huh,” Kaliyo said, “When do I learn your real name?”

“You don’t.”

Kaliyo’s first line of dialog is her standard line when you enter Kaas City with her as an active companion. Near what looks like a bus station just after you enter Kaas City from the south is a little bit of flavor text with some Kaas City security and a large alien (a Nikto, I think) where they impose a harsh sentence on him for a trivial offense. It stinks to be nonhuman in the Empire.

Kaliyo disembarked the tram behind Shen. She looked around at the wet city, shining damp in what passed for daylight on this world. “Kaas City, huh?” she said, following him down the station stairs, “all shiny and new. Makes you want to burn it all down.”

“Don’t spit on the sidewalk,” Shen said, “Ten years hard labor.” He paused for a moment as uniformed security personnel frog-marched a Twi’lek, loudly proclaiming his innocence, toward a back room.

Kaliyo followed his gaze, “Even better reason.” she said.

Shen bought a crunchy stick of strong-smelling fried something-or-other from the tram station vendor. “Want one?” he asked.

“It stinks like grilled Houk feet. No,” she grumbled.

“Suit yourself,” Shen said, taking a bite. Chewy. He dropped the disposable napkin the vendor handed him with his food and a sudden gust of wind sent it fluttering away. Chasing it down, he tossed it in a bin.

Kaliyo watched him, hands placed scornfully on her hips, “Aw, lookie here. You sure do live up to your name, Cleaner.”

“Skrek ta,” he cursed, safely out of earshot of Kaas City security, “You have any idea what the penalty is for littering around here?”

“No,” she sang, “but I bet you’re going to tell me.”

“Transportation. For life,” he replied, “to Kessel or worse.”

“Ooo. Guess I’ll watch my step,” she said.

“You do that,” he said. It would be a convenient way to get rid of her. Easy. Plausible. He’d keep it in mind.

The kneeling woman was in bad shape. Her jacket was torn and scorched and she was bent over some wound I couldn't see. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide while she stared at Cipher Nine's body. "You. What have you done?" she said hoarsely.

"Only what needed doing." I gestured for Yuun to pull out a medpac while I approached her. "Do you need assistance, ma'am?"

Her eyes widened. She laughed, a shrill and hysterical sound in the otherwise silent room. "You know," she wheezed, "it's hard to tell which is worse, keeping him or not? At least he knew."

"You're not making sense, ma'am." I knelt and accepted a medpac from Yuun. Whatever she was, whatever she was doing here, patching her up seemed the right thing to do.

But when I reached out to take her arm she scrambled back. "Don't bother, Vierce. The game is over."

I stopped cold. "You know my name too, huh?"

"And a hell of a lot more than that." Something hard was growing in her voice. "We've spoken before."

"Hunter." It was Vector, from the doorway. "Your aura writhes swiftly now."

She looked over my shoulder. "Vector. The only man who ever annoyed the Cipher as much as I did." She half laughed. "I got jealous sometimes, you know."

Hunter the disappeared SIS agent? "Jorgan," I snapped, "take Hyllus out of here. The rest of you, out." I wanted to be alone with Hunter for this one. I waited until the door was shut before I turned back. "You were running this whole show?" I said.

"I had help. Until Cipher Nine wiped them out."

"You could've stopped him."

Her lip twitched. "I was curious how far he could get. And then, then he thought he could take it from us." She rocked herself a little. "You don't have much, Captain, but I guess we'd better put you to use."

"I've got no interest in getting used by you."

"Oh, I'll be out of your way soon enough. And what, the power to sway the galaxy beyond what the Jedi or Sith could even dream of doesn't strike you as a good thing?"

"Good? That's not what I've been seeing."

I don't know what the look on my face was, but it got her to sneer and whuff a laugh. "I've protected you from horrors you can't even imagine, Vierce. Armageddon doesn't stop itself. Time after time, it's me who stepped between you, all of you, and disaster."

"You want me to thank you for the harm you substituted?"

"It'd be a start. Listen. The Black Codex, there next to you. It holds the secrets of the known galaxy. Study it before you do anything rash, all right? It has things you haven't even imagined, everything you need to fix matters up yourself. You don't know what the Star Cabal is yet, but take a look. You have to know what we fought for is true. You have to know that we did what we had to."

"Take up the banner, huh?"

"If that's how you want to think about it, soldier."

"I don't," I said. "You think I want to end up like you or Cipher Nine? Change the galaxy or whatever you thought you were doing? Nothing changes because of people like you. You can rearrange all the mud in the galaxy as much as you like, but you don't make any of it better. What makes things better is people doing what's right and not being afraid to let anyone else see it. People of conscience. The people you think of as numbers while you're busy shuffling around the dirt that you think is all there is to life." I tossed the medpac at her feet and stepped back. "You had your chance. Now it's our turn."

"Ideals won't make your war go away."

"You can explain that at trial. I'm putting you under arrest." For what, I wasn't sure yet, but if she was cut from the same cloth as Cipher Nine there was bound to be plenty of reasons.

Her tiny bitter laugh came out as a snort. "Oh, good boy. Maybe they'll give you a medal for trying." Then she squeezed something on her wrist. Sudden ozone scorched the air. She shook and slumped even further. Before I could rightly identify her wrist console as a sudden source of electric shock, she was dead.

I turned around to the cube suspended in its stasis chamber. Was it everything Hunter said? I guess I would have to see.

Of course, Hunter would be proud and happy to personally arrange the flavor of Armageddon that would wipe out Force users. But I'm betting she's taken steps to prevent some major disasters, too.

"Vierce?" It was Kirsk's voice on comms.

"What?"

"Just thought you should know there's an Imperial destroyer coming in hot. Cipher's buddies or enemies or whatever he's got probably know he's in here."

"Damn. Going now." I grabbed the Codex cube – it was a heavy little beast – and ran. "Everyone, back to the ship. Now."

We hit the ramp at a run. Kirsk didn't wait for the full airlock cycle to open the forcefields. We darted out and saw the destroyer on visuals, moving in on the station.

"Tell me you've got hyperspace numbers up," I said.

"Working on it," said Kirsk. "Strap yourselves in, guys."

We all took our seats, and then we got out of there.

*

I sat in the holo room on Kirsk's ship. Vector was locked in an empty cabin; Kirsk was piloting; M1-4X was conducting a systems check and recharge in the cargo hold. Yuun, Jorgan and I sat in a triangle.

"This Codex will open many roads," Yuun said slowly. "Some constructive. Some dangerous."

"Agreed," I said. "This isn't really what I was prepared to do. We're soldiers, not… I don't know, arbiters of fate."

"Honestly, sir, the best thing might be to throw it away," said Jorgan. "This kind of thing will only turn into a weapon."

I shook my head. "It probably IDs a bunch of Imperial agents in our own ranks. Along with who knows what else. It's too valuable to just discard."

"That's always how it starts," said Jorgan. "Isn't it?"

"I know," I said glumly. "No easy answer."

"I don't want to know what Garza would do with it," Jorgan said. "Not after some of the orders she's given. We'll have to look outside the Army."

"The Jedi may possess the discipline to use it well," suggested Yuun.

"Everyone who died for this seems to have agreed neither Jedi nor Sith should get near it," said Jorgan. "Not saying that's a counterargument, but it's something to think about. The Jedi only work because they serve the Republic. Give them something that'll give them the pull to stage a 'peaceful' takeover of anything they want? I don't know."

"We can talk to Balkar," I said. "He stuck his neck out to get our start here, and stars know he would have a million good uses for it right off the bat."

Yuun considered. "It would light many paths the SIS must walk."

"Balkar's got a head on his shoulders," conceded Jorgan. "We'd still need to check up on him. This isn't something you leave in one person's hands."

I set the Codex on the floor. "I think he could do a lot of good with it."

Jorgan nodded. "Now we just have to figure out how smoked our careers are. We'd better check in with Garza."

"That'll be a hell of a conversation," I said.

"She can't yet get firing squads working via holo. We'll have the chance to talk."

"Think it'll make any difference, what we're giving Balkar?"

"Maybe," said Jorgan. " Maybe not."

Jorgan came with me when I went to the cabin we'd locked Vector in. When I opened the door Vector was waiting for us. He looked tired but not in especially bad condition.

"It is time, then?" he said, and I thought the calm of his voice was a little thinner than usual.

"Time to sort you out? Yeah." I leaned against the doorway's edge, not quite blocking Jorgan's view. "Question for you. Were you ever assigned to Nar Shaddaa with the Cipher?"

Vector shook his head. "We knew he went to Nar Shaddaa once during our association to make contact with the Republic. We did not accompany him; instead we met him on Dromund Kaas once he was finished."

"Then the name Elara Dorne doesn't mean anything to you."

He shook his head. "No. Why do you ask?"

"It factors into whether you walk out of this alive."

"Sir," Jorgan said in a low voice, "our people will want him for questioning. I'd have to call this guy high value, and there's been no agreement for safe passage."

"I know that," I said. But this seemed to be a sane guy. The kind we needed more, not less, of. And he'd given us Cipher Nine. With the Black Codex we were in a position to find everything else ourselves. Perhaps more to the point, he was the only Imp I'd ever met whose ethics reminded me of Dorne. Help the side that can do right, no matter the cost to himself.

I turned to Vector. "You're free to go," I said. "We can drop you off in neutral space. You've been a lot of help."

He blinked. "We...thank you. In truth we did not expect to survive this."

"Neither did I. Expect you to, that is. Now I suggest you get back to your diplomacy. The Imperial spy business is about to be in trouble."

"We have no desire to return to work as a 'covert assault operative'," he said. He obviously disliked the taste of the words. "Returning to our diplomatic roots would be a welcome change."

"Yeah," I said. I didn't want to get friendly. But there were other Republic people who might be willing to help people like him shake off the diehard bastards. 'People like him' meaning something other than the Imps I was used to. A new idea, really. One I wouldn't have believed a year ago. "Vector. I mentioned Elara Dorne. You owe her your life. Don't forget it."

He frowned a little. "Elara Dorne," he said reflectively. "We will remember." He paused and looked a little more intently at my face. "And as we remember, the nest remembers."

"That's..." Something caught in my throat. "That's good," I said.

The monster was dead. Justice had been served. The chase was over. For now, all I had to do was rest.

Would she be there?

I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. I dreamed the old park across from the Bomb Shelter cantina. There was no blaster fire. No explosions, no flyovers, no orange light on the horizon. The trees were all budding, a couple of the early ones already going crazy with white flowers.

I sat on the park bench, and things were peaceful.

I felt her walking up behind me. I gestured for her to come over, so she came around to sit next to me.

"I won't see you again," I said. "Will I."

"I don't think so, sir," said Dorne. "The part that applies to me is done."

"Yeah. I guess." I ran out of words.

"Thank you for seeing this through," she said.

"It was the least I could do."

"Now that things for me are settled, I expect you have matters to attend to elsewhere." She cocked her head and smiled almost impishly. "For example, somewhere out there is an incredibly fortunate woman who doesn't know it yet. At some point in the future you'll have to figure out who that is so you can let her know."

I took a few moments to look at her face, feel the gentle breeze. "Might've been nice for it to be you," I said.

"I think I would have liked that, Vierce."

We stood up at the same time. She reached up to hug me; I hugged her back. She kissed my cheek, very lightly, and then I let her go.

She took half a step back and saluted. "Sir," she said, just as warmly as she'd said my name. She left the salute to stand at ease. "Goodbye."

I woke up.

Jonas Balkar, working with trusted agents within the SIS, took charge of the Black Codex and started the careful progress, first of rooting out Cabal and Imperial agents within the SIS itself, then cleaning up the Republic bureaucracy. Not only did he find the right pressure points to allow Havoc Squad to be reinstated with current membership intact, he uncovered the Imperial machinations of Zian, the Senator who had pushed so hard to have Havoc Squad punished. Balkar now keeps in close touch with the members of Havoc Squad.

Kirsk Savins got a semi-regular gig as SIS informant, slicer, and tricky-extraction-jobs pilot. His security clearance was processed to retroactively make his involvement in the Cipher Nine affair legal. Actually he got a lot of paperwork retroactively declaring his blunders legal. The SIS gives him a long leash. He tries not to abuse it. Honest, he does try.

Aleksei Dorne requested a transfer into the SIS under Jonas Balkar's program and was, on the strength of his service record to date and the recommendation of Vierce Savins, accepted into the service. They stay in touch regularly as Aleksei continues to work through the transition from an Imperial-dominated sphere to a Republic one.

Vector Hyllus returned to the Imperial Diplomatic Service and transitioned into efforts on stable three-party agreements – Republic, Killik, Imperial – in contested worlds.

The secrets of the Black Codex gave General Garza all the pull she needed to restore Havoc Squad and reframe its members as heroes. Balkar cordially and firmly refused to give her open access to the Codex thereafter. Garza keeps a close eye on Havoc Squad now that they've returned to service; they haven't let her down. While they maintain close ties with the SIS, the squad dedicates itself to functioning as soldiers on straight-up military and humanitarian missions, just as Vierce always meant to.

Elara Dorne was, upon inquiry, cleared of all charges against her, and received her due entry on the monument wall that encircles the Senate plaza on Coruscant as a soldier of the Republic.

Elara and I were walking down the sidewalk in a less frequented area of Nar Shaddaa – maybe not the most wholesome place, but thugs were rarely inclined to mess with me and, when we were in town, she did like picking up supplies at that one shop.

I looked around. Oddly enough the place was completely deserted. Some puff of warm air, probably from a faulty recirculator, rolled down the street and ruffled Elara's hair.

Something about the moment caught at me, so I did the first thing that came to mind, which was lightly take and turn her to kiss her. She made a small surprised sound even while kissing me back. She pressed up close; her belly was getting big enough to feel now in these embraces, but she didn't seem to mind the pressure. Which is good, because I like holding her.

She dropped back a bit and smiled, and though it was a little self-conscious there was a sparkle in her eyes. "Not that I'm complaining, dear, but is there an occasion for this?"

No more than any other moment with her. "Just you," I said, and took a second longer to hold her before sliding one arm further around, letting her lean easily into me, and turning back to the road. "Let's go, Elara."

Requisitions Officer Log, New Import Cycle

Day 1:

RN S6-48231

Bio-Enhanced Force Adrenal, 20

Authorization: Dr. N. Godera

Received: V. Hyllus

RN S6-48974

Zeltron Personal Aroma Set, 1

Authorization: Jaesa Willsaam

Received: Jaesa Willsaam

Day 2:

RN S6-49441

Hyper-Battle Force Adrenal, 20

Authorization: Dr. N. Godera

Received: V. Hyllus

Day 3:

RN S6-51441

Exotech Force Adrenal, 20

Authorization: Dr. N. Godera

Received: V. Hyllus

Day 4:

RN S6-53341

Prototype Experimental Command Stim, 20

Authorization: Dr. N. Godera

Received: V. Hyllus

Day 5:

RN S6-55268

Prototype Life Support Med Unit, 1

Authorization: Dr. N. Godera

Received: V. Hyllus

RN S6-55269

Authentic Tionese Cuisine, 2

Formal Clothing, 1

Authorization: Cpt. M. Quinn

Received: Cpt. M. Quinn

RN S6-55270

Elegant Loungewear Set, 1

Authorization: J. Willsaam

Received: J. Willsaam

Day 6:

RN S6-57830

Primal Coordination D-Motivator, 1

Kinetic Reflex D-Enhancer, 1

Prototype Tech Surgeon Med Unit, 1

Authorization: Dr. N. Godera

Received: V. Hyllus

RN S6-58541

Alderaanian Fruit, 1

Affide Extract, 1

Authorization: Cpt. M. Quinn

Received: Cpt. M. Quinn

Day 7:

RN S6-61261

Kolto Tank, 1

Authorization: Dr. N. Godera

Received: V. Hyllus

RN S6-63838

Electrum Commitment Ring , 1

Emotional Unity Focus, 1

Authorization: Cpt. M. Quinn

Received: Cpt. M. Quinn

RN S6-63839

Personalized Holoportrait, 1

Authorization: J. Willsaam

Received: J. Willsaam

Day 8:

RN S6-64505

RD-02B Combat Jacket, 1

Transport Skiff, 1

Authorization: Dr. N. Godera

Received: V. Hyllus

RN S6-64621

RD-06B Eliminator Jacket

Authorization: Cpt. M. Quinn

Received:

"I'm sorry, Captain," Lieutenant Wendell apologized, "Your new jacket appears to have been mislaid, all I have here is a combat jacket with no tag. We'll have to reorder your replacement uniform."

Quinn ground his teeth but knew better than to anger anyone in Requisitions. "As long as I have a new formal for my master's ceremony all is well."

"Understood, sir." Wendell checked a box to expedite the order. "I'm sorry to hear about the Sith, she seemed very fond of you."

Quinn nodded acknowledgement then straightened, "Darth Baras's apprentice Jaesa was a capable Sith, and I will cherish our time together." He nodded again and hurried back to his duties.

Wendell went back to his paperwork. "Poor sod," he muttered under his breath wondering where the man's uniform had gone.

A dark haired officer with pale eyes escorted a scientist and a skiff loaded with a kolto tank to the spaceport.

"I have authorization to escort this man and his cargo off-world to a testing facility." The officer said carefully. He handed a datapad to the intake officer.

The bored ensign gave the datapad a cursory glance, everything seemed in order. "Doctor Godera, cargo, and Captain Malavai Quinn, you're clear to board the transport, sir."

"Thank you, Ensign." The officer gestured and the doctor guided the skiff to the waiting transport.

"Slave, what are you doing just standing there?" The ensign yelled as the transport departed. The Twi'lek slave-girl had been staring after the two men and their cargo. She had been nothing but mouthy trouble since Darth Baras sent her to work for the transport authority, even after several corrective shocks. He brandished her collar's control and she went back to sweeping.

Vette kept her expression neutral but her mind raced. She had no idea who the doctor or the red-haired woman in the kolto tank was, but one thing she did know. That was not Malavai Quinn.

Affide crystals are poisonous

Shen passed the security checkpoints one at a time, signing for Kaliyo at every step, munching his smelly snack from the vendor in the alien tram station. He ignored the rotten looks. He couldn’t smoke here. The one obnoxious habit he could get away with was eating odoriferous alien food. Hutta was bad, but it was a bad he could navigate. Dromund Kaas...Dromund Kaas had a different kind of dark heart. He did not like it. He preferred to stay away. Keeper usually obliged him.

Shen tossed the greasy stick into a trash bin and continued further into Imperial Intelligence headquarters. Arriving at the center of the web with Kaliyo in tow, he caught the tail end of Keeper's speech to another new fish, "It isn't glamorous work, despite what you see on the holonet,” he noted Shen’s appearance and wrapped up with the new agent, “See the requisitions desk for the items you require, then speak to a watcher for your orders." The fresh-faced operative scurried off, her shiny blue ponytail swaying with her movement. She ignored Shen's wink as she passed. Keeper's attention turned to Shen, "You're late," he said.

"Yeah? Well I had to take the alien-only taxi and come in through the service entrance," Shen complained. It was also a lie and Keeper knew it. Intelligence didn't have a service entrance. "Not my fault."

"I see you brought Kaliyo with you," he remarked.

"I'm here. I want some specifics--" she began.

"Watcher Three will handle your debrief, Kaliyo," Keeper said.

"What about--" she started.

"I said, speak to Watcher Three. Cleaner, I will see you in my office," Keeper said. She left with the watcher, giving Shen one irritated look over her shoulder before disappearing around a corner.

Shen followed Keeper up the familiar stairs hidden behind the main display. Keeper took his seat at his desk. As usual, there were no other chairs in the room. Nothing like forcing everyone else to stand in his presence. Shen sat on the edge of the desk.

Keeper ignored him and brought up several reports. “Quite the bloodbath on Hutta, Shen,” Keeper looked up, “after you left.” Shen shrugged. He recovered the op. Collateral damage was a bonus.

“Could you have prevented it?” Keeper asked.

“What do you think?” Shen asked. He patted his pocket for a cigarette but of course he didn’t have any.

Keeper leaned back in his chair, “I suspected as much. Nem’ro has signed a contract with the Empire. As in the original mission brief.”

“That’s what you wanted, right?” Shen said.

“I could have done without the carnage,” Keeper steepled his fingers, “Though I’ve grown accustomed to your lack of restraint. Given Nem’ro’s actions, I presume it had something to do with the data you recovered from Fa’athra?”

“You wanted Nem’ro to have that data. That was the point,” Shen said. He and Kaliyo laid waste to Fa’athra’s compound. Great gig. Nem’ro’s grand purge in the streets afterward made their exploits look like a gardening show.

Keeper sighed, “I wonder what kind of operative you might have made if you preferred to minimize casualties instead of maximize them.”

Shen turned to glare at Keeper, “One not operating with a keyword,” he said.

Keeper went back to his reports. The room stayed silent except for the vague mumble of activity in the main Intelligence room below. “I am a bit surprised to see Kaliyo with you,” he said after a minute.

“Thought you wanted her breathing,” Shen said. In truth, he wasn’t quite sure what Keeper had in mind for Kaliyo. His fingers twitched. He had nothing to hold or fiddle with. Felt strange. “I got her away from Nem’ro. She can’t do any more damage there. You want her gone now, say so.”

“No, no,” Keeper said, “I planned for either contingency. Alive, she has her uses.”

“Great,” Shen slipped off the desk, “I’m out.”

“No, you’re not,” Keeper said, “I’m assigning her to you permanently.”

“Ha. That’s a good one,” Shen said, “Developing a sense of humor?”

“No,” Keeper said, his eyes alone looking up, “You seem to be able to handle her. Shocking as that sounds.”

“I work alone,” Shen objected, “Thought that was clear.”

“You’ll work with her.”

“Already have,” Shen said. Kaliyo was effective, with an appetite for violence that rivaled his own. She was also bad news, trouble waiting to happen.

“I don’t want her having a fatal accident. Is that perfectly clear?” Keeper asked. “She is an asset now, and you will treat her as a valued member of Imperial Intelligence.”

Shen ground his teeth. Phrasing it that way gave Keeper’s words the aegis of command. One step removed from enforcing orders with his damn keyword, “But it’s not permanent, got it? One more op and that’s enough.”

“I’ve put up with you for considerably longer, Shen,” Keeper said, “I think you can manage her for a little while.” Keeper made an entry on his datapad, “Are you sleeping with her yet?”

“None of your karking business,” Shen snapped.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Keeper said, his head still bent over his datapad, “Do be sure to get up-to-date on your inoculations before you leave. Your nanobot colony only works for poisons. It does nothing for disease.”

“I know what it does, Keeper,” Shen said.

Keeper’s nose wrinkled, “Yes, I can tell you’re still testing its capacity.”

Shen reached again for cigarettes that weren’t there, “Well, if you don’t use something it gets all out of shape. Dried up and wrinkly.”

Keeper’s eyes narrowed but he chose not to rise to the bait. Instead he selected a dataslide from a color-coordinated rack, “I want you and Kaliyo off-planet immediately. Your next assignment is Tattooine.” He pushed the slide across the desk, “Czerka pulled out years ago, but now they’re back. I want to know why. The details are on the slide.”

Shen picked up the slide. He glanced from it to Keeper, “This almost sounds like a real op, Keeper. What’s going on?”

Keeper steepled his fingers again, “Czerka invoked emergency protocols when they abandoned their facility. Their recovery operation hasn’t gone critical yet, but knowing Czerka it’s only a matter of time. If whatever’s there can serve the Empire, make sure it does, otherwise liquidate it.”

Shen grinned. This was the kind of op he liked. “What about Czerka people?”

“Expendable.”

Shen’s smile grew wider. Even better. Tattooine was the *ss-end of nowhere, but the mission was right up his alley. He’d send off a holo before leaving. He knew a guy in Czerka, they shared a hobby. “And the natives?”

“Likewise.”

“Guess I’ll be going,” Shen said.

The sound of rapid footsteps on the stair alerted both of them to a new presence. A brown-haired human female ran into the room. Keeper’s brow furrowed, “I gave strict orders not to be interrupted, Watcher Two.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, “I realize that. I apologize, sir, but he’s returned.”

Shen looked between them, "Who's returned?" he asked.

Keeper stood, "Leave. Now," he barked at Watcher Two. She lit off down the stairs. Keeper was beside Shen in a heartbeat, "Keyword: morigeratus.”

Shen’s violet eyes glazed over. He heard himself say, “Recognized.” Fifteen seconds. Frozen for fifteen seconds. Accepting whatever orders Keeper gave him like an organic droid.

“You will remain in this office unless I order you to leave. You will be quiet. You will not make noise or attempt in any way to alert others of your presence here. You will not touch or otherwise tamper with the computers," Keeper whispered in Shen's ear, “And you will do no damage to anything in this room.”

2...1. “Directive accepted. Valid phase three hours,” Shen whirled on Keeper, fury darkening his features, "Skrek ta, Keeper, you bastard son of a Kath hound. What the kark is going on?" he hissed. Keeper's command already held his voice down to no more than a soft conversational level.

“Stay here,” Keeper reiterated. He headed for the stairs.

Shen followed on his heels, “E-chu-ta what’s going on?” he cursed. Then stopped. He could not pass the threshold. His body politely refused, leaving him standing in the doorway like a jilted lover. Keeper continued down into the central Intelligence hub without looking back.

Keeper didn't like him. Everyone in Intelligence knew it. But Keeper never invoked the keyword lightly. Locking him away in the closet for the duration of a surprise inspection or whatever was...petty. Shen wasn’t a complete idiot. He knew when keep his mouth shut. He slowly turned back to Keeper’s spartan office. Three hours to kill and nothing to do. With the prohibition against touching the computers he couldn't even call up the holonet. Keeper was very good at getting all his conditions in within the fifteen second limit. He’d had plenty of practice.

Shen crossed the room to stand behind the big screens. He could see through the displays from this side. They were opaque from the other side, so the watchers and fixers and agents never knew if Keeper was watching them. This time it was Shen. Shen watching. Watcher Shen.

Keeper waited just below him beside the holotable, Watcher Two and a scattering of other watchers nearby. Parade rest, all of them. A tall figure entered from the main hall. Draped in ash grey robes, a smooth silver mask hiding his features, the figure advanced on Keeper. Minders and unfortunate lower-ranked operatives scattered before him.

Sith.

Shen had no love for the Sith. Still, he knew better than to mouth off to them. Especially them. As the Sith approached the tableau below Shen felt a cold chill in his spine and a sensation of...crawling. As though his skin were infested with parasites. A phantom scent memory. Dirt and sweat and raw Andris spice and stars knew what else. Scorched flesh and pain. His breath caught in his throat and he knew who this Sith must be. His walk was the same. He couldn't hear their voices, but he knew what the Sith’s sounded like. Smooth, even. Snakes. Swimming in frost. He remembered. He could never forget.

Shen stood transfixed watching their conversation. Keeper’s back was toward him and the mask hid the Sith’s lips. Shen could only guess at what was being said. At last the Sith raised his head. His eyeless face looked straight through the screen into the hidden chamber beyond. He knew. He knew Shen was here.

He turned and left with a swirl of his cloak. As he passed from view, the sense of wrongness faded. A rotten tooth pulled leaving an aching hole, but one that would close. Eventually. Keeper glanced up at the screen, as though wondering if Shen had seen the show. Or if he had sat with his feet up on the desk, oblivious.

Shen remembered the Sith. He still didn’t know his name.

Morigeratus is Latin for “to be compliant”. According to Google translate.

The fifteen-second restriction for orders and limited duration of commands (based on phrasing) are artistic license. I assumed an early, experimental version of the Castellan Restraint serum would have restrictions not present in the final product.

The high walk between Intelligence Central Command and the Sith Sanctum was windswept and deserted as usual. Two parts of the great Imperial Citadel. Dromund Kaas citizens pointed to the Citadel as the heart of their society. Yet they never wanted to visit. Shen got to tour both sections on the same day. Lucky him.

He stopped for a moment and leaned against the rail. He looked over the edge into the chasm below. Distance hid its base from his view. Within moments a combination of vertigo and prior commands forced him back from the rail to the center of the walkway. Couldn’t even look. Ahead was the Sanctum and its Sith-only hovertaxi. He could threaten the droid attendant into giving him a ride back to the city proper, but what was the point? Keeper would just broadcast his recall and he’d come running back. Or his self-destruct. Never could figure out why Keeper disallowed suicide, yet also programmed him to kill himself on command. Damn Imperials had so messed with his brain it was a wonder he could do anything at all.

His hand went to his empty pocket again. Dammit. He wanted a karking cigarette and he wanted it right karking now. Stupid Dromund Kaas and their stupid karking laws. Wouldn’t even let him indulge a karking bad habit. Not like it mattered. Couldn’t get high. Couldn’t get drunk. Keeper’s nanobot colony saw to that.

At least he had a name for this old tormentor. Darth Jadus. Keeper said Darth Jadus demanded to speak with the agent responsible for the Hutta mission. Keeper said Darth Jadus was on the Dark Council, his power rivaling the Emperor. Keeper said he doubted Darth Jadus remembered him. Sure. He probably tortured hundreds, what's one among the multitude? An alien, a nobody, someone his old master picked at random.

Shen snorted into the wind. Keeper was wrong. Darth Jadus remembered him. Must be like losing your virginity. You always remember your first brutal interrogation. What did he have in mind now, finishing what he started?

He stared up at the Sith Sanctum’s crowning spires. He was as prepared as he was going to get. Might as well get it over with.

Jadus’ cyborg guards let him in and ushered him to the Darth’s lair. The feeling of crawling was on his skin again, as well as the phantom odors. And Jadus...Darth Jadus was waiting for him.

“Why do you think you are here?” he asked.

Shen’s blood ran cold. Fear, irrational and paralyzing, gripped him. The intervening years vanished. There was only Jadus. Jadus and his questions. “You summoned me, my lord,” he croaked.

“I did,” Jadus said. Snakes. Swimming in frost. “I can feel your fear. You remember. You are privileged. The first. Called and christened in my service long ago. You see these others?”

The cyborg-soldiers with computerized voices? He’d seen them. “Yes, my lord,” he whispered.

“They are my followers. Hollowed out. Everything extraneous removed. Only fear and loyalty remain,” Darth Jadus said, “This is how the Empire shall be. The democratization of fear. But some here in the heart of the Empire oppose my grand vision. You, you shall take your place as my agent and destroy them. Kneel.” Terror and the memory of pain washed over him in a wave. Shen’s legs buckled. He dropped to his knees before Darth Jadus. He felt the Sith’s hand hovering above his bowed head. Not touching. Proximity alone forced him down, “This is indoctrination. Inoculation. The power of the Dark Side flowing through you, my chosen. Burning away all that does not serve. The remainder, tainted. Rise now, my Agent of Chaos, and look with new eyes upon your master.”

Shen stumbled back toward Intelligence. His skin still crawled but the dull ache of enduring Jadus’ presence was fading. That really should not have worked. Dredging up all those memories--which wasn’t hard--and using them as a screen for his real thoughts? He ought to be a smoking ruin. Again.

He snorted. Darth Jadus? He was Jenks with more power. The same trick worked on him. Cry and wail and beg. Give him the show he wanted. Darth Jadus wanted him filled with fear, fine. He could do fear. Kark all that stoic poodoo. Let him see abject terror. Let him choke on it. Shen smiled a sharp-toothed grin. He’d never see anything else. Shen got to keep breathing and destroy things with the Dark Council’s blessing. He’d grovel and whine for that opportunity.

Of course, his little performance was not without consequences. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be sleeping well for a while. Not with Kaliyo around and no nice doctor with his nice sedatives. But that was better than spending a month in a kolto tank with nightmares for months anyway.

And here was something interesting. Darth Jadus didn’t have his keyword.

Time to report back to Keeper.