Chapter Text
Late in the workday, Syril’s personal datapad buzzed with a message.
Meet me at Ooda’s on level 1313. 19:00.
What in the world could that be about? His new assignment would be given to him tomorrow, but other than that, he wasn’t sure what she meant. Date night? It didn’t fit her usual preference of staying in and cooking together.
Still, there was a slight quirk of the lips on his face for the last hour of work. He supposed he would find out tonight.
He left work as quickly as he could at 18:00 and opted to take the hovertrain, deciding that a taxi would not be discreet enough for a meeting on the lower levels. Descending to level 1313 left him feeling as if there was a grimy film settling upon his skin, the uneasiness of the underworld setting in as usual. When he ended up down here for work, he tended to keep to himself as much as possible, the place filling him with a disgust which he would have to allay with at least two showers later.
As he entered the bar, he tried not to make eye contact with the decrepit figures positioned at the nearby platform, asking any passerby for credits, probably to use to buy spice. He walked as quickly as possible to the counter, where Dedra was waiting, wearing her casual clothes. For a moment, he panicked; he was still in uniform, but he supposed it didn’t matter. It was probably best for their protection that one of them looked like law enforcement in such an establishment.
Her jaw was set, but her eyes were soft as she stared at him in greeting. Usually, he’d found recently, this indicated work-related stress.
“What’s going on? We never come down here,” he started.
“Can’t trust the apartment. I think they may have listening devices planted.”
“Are you serious?” He stared back at her incredulously.
In response, she simply tilted her head and gave him that uncharacteristically tender look she had when she knew something wasn't going his way at work or with Eedy.
“Who?” He asked, bewildered by the odd snippet of information.
She sighed deeply. “The ISB.”
His brow creased quickly at her words, the other conversation they were having with their eyes shifting into the territory of concern. She sighed again, as if the words physically pained her to speak, but Dedra never was one to falter, so she forced herself to say what she meant.
“Do you remember how I was… ‘gifted’ a project by Partagaz last year?”
“Yes… where is this going, Dedra?” he asked tentatively.
“They want to send you in as my spy on Ghorman. They want to infiltrate the resistance, as you know. I told them I’d comply. But the long-term implications of their plan…”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything, because I am bound by security protocol. I am merely implying that the risk level would be… unnecessary.”
His eyes darted back to hers, silently calculating the weight of her words.
“So Ghorman…”
“Stripped for natural resources, in a year’s time. The collateral will be indescribable.”
“Why?” He asked, the deep crease returning to his brows.
“Not safe to say. Maybe in time.”
“What are you going to do?” Curiosity pushed its way past the confusion in his eyes.
“I’m not sure yet. I wanted to consult you with the facts first. We know of a few ISB agents who have left, correct?”
“Yes, but—“
“It’s not impossible. It would just have to be extremely discreet. We would need aliases for the time being. And we’d have to cut all contact with Coruscant immediately afterwards.”
“Dedra, this is crazy. How would we even pull that off?”
“Lonni.”
“What about him?”
“I’ve suspected he’s a mole for months. If I can corner him and pry the correct information from him, I can find out who his point person is and we can calculate our moves from there. But I needed to… ensure your loyalty.” She gave him a steely look, her eyes burning.
“If we do this, we’re going to be hunted down as traitors for the rest of our lives.”
“If we don’t, one or both of us is as good as dead.” It came out sharper than she intended, and he drew back a bit, his gaze revealing a mixture of astonishment and fear.
“Then I think that pretty much settles it.”
Her eyes flicked down, a spark of sadness showing despite her best efforts.
“Hey,” he started, reaching for her hand.
“I will be fine, Syril.”
“It’s been your entire career.”
“I know.”
“When do we begin?” he asked.