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Fox inspected the same security panel three times.
The panel works.
It worked for the first time too.
He stands beside it in the Senate’s northern committee corridor; helmet tucked beneath one arm and a diagnostic scanner held against the wall. The scanner displays a perfectly stable connection to the Guard network, the local alarm system, and every surveillance camera within the sector.
There is no reason for him to remain here.
Senator Chuchi’s committee session ends in six minutes.
That has nothing to do with it.
The panel produced a three-second delay during a routine system test yesterday. Fox is the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard. Security delays fall beneath his command, even ones already corrected by a technician 14 hours ago.
He runs the diagnostic again.
Still stable.
Annoying.
An aide passes him on the way toward the turbolifts and gives the armor a wide berth. Fox’s armor is mostly red rather than white, an inversion of standard Guard paint intended to make him immediately recognizable.
Senators behave better when they recognize him.
Not well. Ka'ra knows what would happen if the Senate spontaneously gained respect for clones.
But better.
Fox lowers the scanner and looks toward the committee doors.
Five minutes.
He should leave.
There are reports waiting in his office, including three new complaints involving the last remaining CorSec officers, an appropriations denial Scalper threatened to shove into someone’s lungs, and a 12-page request from Representative Binks asking the Guard to locate a ceremonial hat he lost during a luncheon.
Fox has wars to prevent and crimes to investigate.
He does not have time to stand in a corridor waiting for one senator.
The committee doors open.
Fox looks back at the panel immediately.
Voices pour into the corridor as senators and aides begin filing out. Fox pretends to study the diagnostic screen while tracking footsteps through the reflection in the polished wall.
Senator Chuchi appears between two senior representatives.
She’s wearing dark blue robes embroidered with gold thread, her lilac hair braided away from her face in a style Fox has learned is traditional for formal Pantoran committee sessions. A datapad is held against her chest, and her expression is composed in the careful way it becomes whenever older senators speak over her.
Fox dislikes that expression.
He dislikes the people responsible for it more.
Riyo glances down the corridor.
She sees him.
Her face brightens.
The change is small, just a softening around her eyes and the beginning of a smile. Fox still feels it strike somewhere beneath his ribs.
He checks the scanner again.
Perhaps it is malfunctioning after all.
The two representatives say something to Riyo before leaving. She nods politely, waits until they disappear into the turbolift, then walks toward Fox with a little more speed than Senate dignity technically allows.
“Marshal Commander.”
“Senator Chuchi.”
Fox inclines his head.
Riyo looks toward the open security panel. “Is something wrong?”
“There was a network delay.”
Her brows draw together. “Is it dangerous?”
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
Fox looks at the diagnostic scanner.
The answer should be simple.
The panel falls under Guard jurisdiction. He was nearby. The technician requested command verification.
Only one of those statements is true, and it is true solely because Fox deliberately walked here from the opposite side of the Senate Dome.
“Final inspection,” he says.
Riyo nods as though this makes sense.
Fox experiences a flicker of relief followed immediately by disappointment.
He doesn’t know what he expected her to say.
“How was the committee?” he asks.
The question slips out before he can evaluate whether it is professionally necessary.
Riyo looks surprised.
Fox nearly puts his helmet on to avoid the conversation he started.
“It was productive,” she says.
“That means it wasn’t.”
Her lips part.
Fox realizes he deviated from protocol again.
Then Riyo laughs.
It’s soft enough that several passing aides don’t hear it, but Fox does. He feels the sound in his chest, which is an absurd location for hearing.
“You’ve been spending too much time around senators,” she says.
“I spend too much time around senators regardless.”
“That sounds more accurate.”
Riyo shifts the datapad in her arms. There’s a small crease between her brows now, the one she gets when she wants to ask something but worries the question will be inconvenient.
Fox has noticed it before.
He has no reason to know her expressions well enough to recognize it.
He does anyway.
“You have a question,” he says.
“I have several.”
“Ask.”
She glances around the corridor. “Are you busy?”
“Yes.”
Her face falls.
Fox feels an immediate and unreasonable need to repair the damage.
“Not currently.”
The reports in his office would disagree.
The reports can shove it.
Riyo’s smile returns. “I was reviewing the Guard casualty reports you sent to the support committee.”
“You read them?”
“Of course.”
Most senators don’t.
Fox sends the reports because regulations require it, not because he expects anyone to reach the appendices where the actual numbers are buried beneath politically acceptable summaries.
Riyo opens her datapad and steps closer so he can see the screen.
Fox looks at the report.
He also notices the faint frost-spice scent of her hair.
He forces his attention back toward the casualty table.
“These figures don’t match the official Senate summary,” she says.
“The Senate summary excludes injuries that don’t result in permanent duty removal.”
“That’s most of them.”
“Yes.”
“They also removed assaults committed by senatorial staff.”
“They reclassified them as workplace incidents.”
Riyo looks up at him.
She’s closer than he expected.
Fox can see the gold flecks in her eyes and the tiny line where her clan markings curve down her cheek. Biologically, they’re nearly the same age. She is 22. Fox is 22.
She seems older when she speaks in committee.
She seems younger when she looks at him like this.
He has no idea which version is more dangerous.
“That’s dishonest,” she says.
“Yes.”
“You say that very calmly.”
“I’ve had practice.”
Her expression changes, concern replacing frustration. Fox immediately regrets the answer.
He doesn’t want her pity.
Riyo has never looked at him with pity, though. That may be part of the problem.
She looks angry for him instead.
“I want to challenge the summary during the next session,” she says. “I’ll need the unedited data.”
“You already have it.”
“I need authorization to cite it publicly.”
Fox studies her.
Senator Chuchi has limited political protection. Pantora’s Assembly still controls most of her voting instructions, and the senators responsible for altering the report sit on committees that can make her work almost impossible.
“You’ll create enemies.”
“I already have enemies.”
“More dangerous ones.”
Riyo raises her chin slightly. “Then I’ll need better security.”
Fox’s mind begins calculating before he can stop it.
Additional patrol routes near her office. A direct Guard alarm connected to her apartment. Background reviews for her aides and staff. An escort assigned during late committee sessions.
He could put Thorn on it personally.
Riyo’s mouth curves.
Fox realizes she is teasing him.
“You’re doing that thing again,” she says.
“What thing?”
“Planning an entire security operation because I said one sentence.”
“That isn’t a thing.”
“You did it after the protest last month.”
“The protest became violent.”
“After I’d already gone home.”
“It could’ve become violent earlier.”
Riyo smiles wider.
Fox looks toward the panel because the panel is simpler.
It has wires. Wires don’t smile at him and make his thoughts reorganize themselves.
“I can authorize the data,” he says.
“Thank you.”
“You should coordinate with Senator Amidala before presenting it.”
“I was planning to.”
“And Organa.”
“I was planning to ask him too.”
“Mothma may support a procedural challenge.”
Riyo’s smile becomes almost smug. “I have a meeting with all three tomorrow.”
Fox looks back at her.
“You planned this before asking me.”
“I hoped you’d say yes.”
“You assumed.”
“I was optimistic.”
Fox should be irritated.
Instead, pride warms somewhere beneath his armor.
Riyo Chuchi had arrived in Coruscant barely able to speak without checking whether the Assembly permitted it. Now she is preparing to accuse a Senate committee of manipulating military casualty figures.
She changed quickly.
Fox suspects she had always possessed this part of herself and only needed someone to stop pressing it beneath prepared speeches.
“You’ll do well,” he says.
The words come out quieter than intended.
Riyo goes very still.
A violet blush spreads across her cheeks.
Fox watches it with growing concern.
“Are you unwell?”
“No.”
“You’re changing color.”
“I’m Pantoran.”
“I’m aware.”
“That happens sometimes.”
“Why?”
Riyo looks down at her datapad. “Temperature.”
The Senate maintains every corridor at the same climate-controlled setting.
Fox knows this because he reviewed the building specifications.
“Would you like to walk with me?” Riyo asks suddenly.
Fox blinks.
“To where?”
“The committee archives.”
“Why?”
“I need the original appropriations records.”
That is a reasonable explanation.
The archives are also in the opposite direction from Fox’s office, and Riyo’s aide could retrieve the documents without her.
Fox doesn’t mention either fact.
“I’ll escort you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Riyo looks up at him.
For several seconds, neither moves.
Fox becomes acutely aware that he used her own words from the day she brought him caf.
She appears to remember too.
Her blush deepens.
Fox puts his helmet beneath his other arm because his grip has become unexpectedly awkward.
They begin walking through the corridor together.
Riyo keeps pace beside him, which requires Fox to shorten his stride. He does it automatically.
“How long will you be on Coruscant?” she asks.
“I’m always on Coruscant.”
“I meant today.”
Fox looks toward her.
Riyo looks embarrassed. “I’ve seen you in this building three times this week.”
“I command Senate security.”
“Yes, but you usually send Commander Thorn.”
Fox considers his answer.
Thorn handles Senate escorts and patrol. Fox usually appears only for command reviews, serious threats, or senators who need to be reminded that Guardsmen report abuse regardless of how useful that actually is.
He found eight reasons to visit the northern committee halls this month… Only three were real.
“The security panels have been unreliable,” he says.
Riyo glances back toward the perfectly functional panel.
“Of course.”
There is a note in her voice that Fox can’t identify.
She’s smiling again.
They reach a junction where they should turn toward the archives.
Riyo continues straight.
Fox follows for several steps before noticing.
“The archives are east.”
Riyo stops.
She looks toward the western corridor, then back at him.
“I knew that.”
“You were going west.”
“I was distracted.”
Fox’s pulse does something irritating.
“By what?”
Riyo stares at him.
Fox stares back.
Neither of them speaks.
A cleaning droid bumps against the wall behind them, reverses, and attempts the same route again.
Riyo clears her throat. “The casualty reports.”
“Right.”
She turns east.
Fox walks beside her.
He knows he likes Senator Chuchi.
He likes her courage, her questions, her caf, and the way she speaks to his brothers and sisters as though their answers matter. He likes that she argues with him without treating disagreement as insubordination.
He accepted this as a professional concern.
Riyo is a senator worth protecting.
That is all.
The fact that she keeps inventing reasons to speak with him means she is committed to Guard reform.
The fact that she knows his patrol schedule is politically useful.
The fact that she just walked in the wrong direction while looking at him means absolutely nothing.
Fox glances at her.
Riyo is already looking at him.
They both turn away at the same time.
The archives can’t possibly be far enough.