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“Are you here to break me out?”
The words are low, teasing—something approximating an old joke between them, a bit of humor that she once thought of as a weakness.
Sly Moore, assistant to Chancellor Palpatine and devoted Acolyte to Darth Sidious, merely purses her lips, allowing the slightest hint of disdain to seep into her expression.
CC-1010 only bares his teeth. It’s not quite a smile, but it’s close enough.
“My Lord’s identity has been uncovered by the Jedi,” she says, refusing to rise to the bait. “It is only a matter of time before he falls.”
The clone raises an eyebrow, expression mocking. “Falls? I thought Lord Sidious was untouchable.”
So had she, once.
“The Jedi are foolish, but not irresponsible,” Sly says, and it tastes like bile in her throat. But still, she powers through—she is stronger than this. Stronger than this… minor setback. “Lord Sidious is not ready. It seems your disappearance stirred up more than he thought it would.”
“‘Course it did,” CC-1010 says, and he seems proud, of all things. “That’s my Guard for you. We get the job done.”
She can’t deny it, so she remains silent instead.
“What will happen to you now?”
It’s not quite concern in his voice—if it were, she would mock him endlessly—but it’s something close.
They have known each other for too long. Not actually very long, in the span of both their lives, but still. Three years of this back and forth, from the day CC-1010 first set boots on Coruscant’s shining steel.
The Jedi warn against attachments. Sly is beginning to have an inkling as to why.
“They will know what I am, once Lord Sidious has been captured.” Or killed. But she’s trying not to think about that.
“What, the boss won’t cover for you?” CC-1010 says sardonically.
Sly sniffs. “There is no loyalty among Sith.”
Why else would she be here?
She loves Darth Sidious, as much as she can love anything, but that does not mean she trusts him. CC-1010 is something entirely different. He has never spoken anything but the truth, even when it would have benefited him to do otherwise.
It’s… admirable, in a strange way. Not smart, certainly, but he’s lasted this long. There must be some method to the madness.
CC-1010 has come this far, even after all the attempts Lord Sidious made to crush him underfoot.
Sly wants to see this through to the end.
“Then why come here?” CC-1010 says, raising a brow. His face is drawn and gray from the tortures put uopn him, but he still manages to look entirely relaxed, leaning back against the wall of his cell with his arms crossed over his chest. “The Jedi haven’t figured you out just yet. And if they’re busy taking down the Chancellor, this will be the best chance to escape.”
But if she leaves now, there will be no one to point the Jedi in the right direction. CC-1010 will die here, just like all the other prisoners that wasted away in the caverns underneath the Senate.
Sly’s presence will act as a beacon. The longer she remains, the more likely the Jedi are to catch up.
“Escape is not my primary goal at the moment,” Sly says, rather than try to explain the strange and unknown emotions swirling around in her chest. “There is more at stake than you realize.”
“Right,” the clone snorts. It’s an uncouth sound, but one that she has gotten used to—entirely against her will, of course. “I’m your hostage, then?”
Sly can feel the faint resignation drifting from behind his impressive shields, but it’s overpowered by his grim amusement.
For all his cavalier attitude, from the very first day that CC-1010 was dragged down here, to a hell of Lord Sidious’ design, he never expected to leave it.
“Ah, even if I go down here, who cares,” the clone says, viscously satisfied. “I did my part. So long as that bastard dies, I’ll happily throw myself onto the pyre.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Sly informs him primly, and just as an explosion rained dust and gravel down upon them, the ceiling shaking as the blast doors, the only entrance to this part of the undercity, are blown clear.
There’s the sound of marching feet in the distance, troopers—no doubt led by the Jedi—beginning to fan out and search the many darkened halls among Lord Sidious’ main base. It was only a matter of time before this location was reached.
“What the hell is happening?” CC-1010 says, jolting upwards, his hands twitching towards a weapon he does not have.
“Oh, calm down,” Sly dimisses. She strides over to the shield projector, and with only a moment’s effort, disables it. Master Sidious had not given her the code to unlock these cells, but as with many things in life, she had learned regardless.
CC-1010 remains crouched, staring at her. He does not move any closer.
Somehow, Sly is reminded of something.
Years ago, on Umbara, she had come across an infant skeeris. It was an ugly thing, blind and mewling, its sharp spines leaving scratches all along her arms as it tried to move closer into her embrace, digging into her body for warmth. She had cared for it for months, while its short red fur grew in and it began to move on its own, no longer quite so clumsy or dependent.
Sly had… cared for the beast. And then.
(She met a man. He did not like her skeeris. Thought it ugly, useless. He—)
And then Lord Sidious had come, and Sly Moore did not have time for such frivolous things anymore.
That’s what CC-1010’s expression reminds her of right now. Something small, and fragile, and easy to break.
And yet…
Her lips twitch. It’s entirely against her will, but she cannot help herself. This man has touched something inside of her, something she had long thought dead. She cannot bring herself to regret it.
The troopers are getting closer. They’ll be here any minute.
“It seems you will survive this war after all, Fox.”
He startles, just a little, before breaking out into a laugh, long and joyous. “Seems so, my friend.”