Even tucked away within the infrastructure of one of the lower levels many

abandoned facilities, the upper levels of Coruscant thrummed with an almost

deafening cacophony. Trying to focus ones senses on a single disturbance, let alone
follow it, had been nearly impossible. Every sound bled into another, every trace of
evidence was lost to the chaos. It had taken a grueling six months of tracking to
lead me to this planet, but I knew as I stared through the grate of a ventilation shaft
and down onto the ruined docks that I was close to reaching my target. Noise and
population density were useful tools when avoiding capture, but they were beneath
his skill. To move the chase here after so long was to show his desperation.
It would be here, in approximately five minutes, that that desperation would
become his downfall. He had never failed to hide every implication, every mere
suggestion of his presence, taking obsessive measures to avoid detection. This was,
of course, to be expected of any agent, yet even his reputation failed to illustrate
the true extent of his thoroughness, or as others knew it better, his paranoia. As the
noose tightened around his neck, however, Ive watched as his precautions have
become lax, his notorious standards have fallen. The most dangerous risk an agent
can take is to rely on anothers resources, and yet the ironic, terrifying reality is that
no living thing can truly be independent. That was what made Imperial Intelligence
so brutally effective. It weeded out all the humanity in a person except for their very
instinct to survive, their fear of discovery, and the disaster that inevitably follows,
being the only thing holding together a web so vast and fragile that a single loose
thread could be the determining factor between ones execution at the hands of the
Republicor even worse, the Empire. Its why they say that no one can leave
Imperial Intelligence, and he hasnt. Not truly. Not like I have.
The completion of a single transaction was all I needed to find him after
months of silence. A small cache of munitions and adrenals, of little worth to
anything more than crude survival, held on layaway for Imperial Intelligence during
the invasion of Coruscant long before it disbanded almost a year ago. The agents
who chose to continue to serve the Empire after that time were reassigned to
military positions, obtaining access to a plethora of resources far greater in value
and relevance to their efforts than this cache could ever be. Those foolish enough to
attempt to leave Imperial service were hunted down and executed. Only two former
agents remained who had successfully eluded the Empires grasp for this long and
could know of the existence of this cache, no matter how trivial. It was because of
our unusual alliance that he and I remain alive to retrieve it, both tucked away
within one of the planets many dark corners. It was simply matter of time now
before a protocol droid would arrive at the delivery point to fulfill its singular,
predestined purpose and reveal him to me.
As if summoned by my thoughts, a pristinealbeit slightly outdatedODX-
series protocol droid with a durasteel crate secured in its arms arrived at the scene.
It was almost comical in its incongruous presence, a sore thumb amidst the squalor
of the docks, long laid waste to and abandoned by gangsters and vagrants since
they were of any use to the Sith Empire. The droid walked to the center of the docks
as if blind to the destruction around it, and it pivoted once to face the gaping
hangar doors before stopping abruptly, its yellow eyes gleaming ominously in the
hazy darkness.
Its metallic voice rang out suddenly, making my heart skip a beat.
Activation key required. Standing by.
Tension hung in the air, and I slowly unfasted my sniper rifle from its holster,
keeping my finger off the trigger and looking through the scope to clearly observe
the droid and its surroundings. Even through my rifles scope, the haze made it
difficult to comprehend what I was seeing. Only the droids glowing yellow eyes
shone clearly through the smog, dimly illuminating the crate and the space around
it. Not even the rifles thermal sensors displayed anything that wasnt visible to my
naked eye. The docks were truly abandoned, no living thing was present to provide
a code and retrieve the cargo. I expected deceptiona decoy, perhaps, but this was
strange. Something wasnt right.
Hello, Cipher.
I heard his blaster fire before I had the chance to turn around. It caught me in
the shoulder as I leapt forward, breaking through the grate, and crashing to the
docks below with a painful clatter. I was back on my feet and running in an instant,
sprinting past the protocol droid and its pointless crate and in through the hangar
doors, my heart pounding and the pain in my shoulder only just catching up with
me. How did he catch me off guard? How did he catch me? My mind flashed through
all the precautions I took, all the careful planning that lead to this meeting. The
months of silence, tracking clues that could barely be credited as anything more
than minor coincidences, weaving them together one by one until they created a
map for me to follow. All this time I had been tightening my grip, pushing him into a
corner as I homed in on his location, yet he caught me.
The pain in my shoulder was nearly debilitating now, causing stabbing pain
with each movement that made it difficult to breathe. It had been years since the
hangar had been disturbed, I kicked up dust with each step, creating a broken trail
for him to follow right to me. I turned sharply on my foot and leapt behind a derelict
shuttle before removing a vial of local anesthetic from my holster. I waited for a
moment in the dark while I administered it, feeling its sting travel under my skin
before being followed by a feeling of numb relief. My heart still pounding, I forced
myself to slow my breathing and be silent while I listened for any sign of his
location.
Slowly I pushed myself upwards off the ground, silently moving around the
corner of the shuttle and taking in the expanse of the hangar. Dust still clung to the
air, a ghost of the confrontation that had just occurred, but otherwise all was still. I
could no longer use the hangar doors, it would be the most obvious escape route
and the fastest way to die. I quickly scanned the walls for an alternative, but all that
remained was to move deeper into the hangar, likely connecting to an old spaceport
nearby. Again, to reach it would leave me exposed, and he could use the dark,
hollow architecture to his advantage. The circumstances seemed to leave me no
other choice than to expose myself and return to the docks where at least the dim
glow of the city wouldnt leave me completely blind.
Suddenly, with a ghoulish whine that only years of rust and neglect could
produce, the doors of the hangar slid shut. He had me trapped.
Theres a strange sense of relief that comes with having ones options
narrowed down to one. The odds become much clearer, the task ahead far simpler.
My rifle had been lost during the fall, no doubt it was now lying discarded
somewhere on the docks waiting to be stolen by some street rat, so I had only once
choice. Silently I moved to unclip the small blaster pistol strapped to my leg, a
simple alternative for when my rifle became inefficient for the circumstances. These
were not exactly efficient circumstances, but it would have to do.
Watcher Xs footsteps echoed throughout the hangar as he approached.
Through gritted teeth I pushed myself off the ground. Pain was throbbing in my
head and fingers before diffusing into the strange ring of numbness that surrounded
the injury in my shoulder. He was getting close.
You surprise me, He said, his voice low and menacing. To venture so deep
into Republic space to find me I thought the risk was too much for even you to
take. Youve grown more daring, his footsteps stopped, or perhaps only stupider.
Youre hurt, Cipher. Come out.
My mind raced through the events that led me here, our first meeting on Nar
Shaddaa, the interview at his apartment within the prison walls of Shadow Town. I
freed him from there out of bitter, reckless compulsion; the offer of a glimpse at
some of the Empires most clandestine secrets tempting enough to risk being
incriminated and executed for such a crime. Compassion had nothing to do with it,
and even so he repaid that debt tenfold. He became a source of intelligence, as per
our agreement, and then he made himself into more than that. He became my
savior, the voice guiding me through the web of deception that I had become
tangled in. It had been over a year since I last saw him via our strange connection,
as the accidental ghost within my programming.
This was not what I had expected upon arriving on this planet. Perhaps I was
becoming stupider after all. Slowly, I moved my thumb to my pistol and switched its
gears from stun to kill, and stepped out from my cover to meet him.
His face was pale and gaunt, a haunting parody of the man I had
remembered.
So obedient. Youve learned nothing.
His blaster fire lit up the hangar, leaving an afterglow and a smell like ozone
that left a strong impression on my senses. Whether due to luck or skill I was able to
avoid contact this time, rolling out of the way before firing a series of shots at his
head, and a strange white-blue ripple appeared in front of his face before vanishing.
He was being guarded by a shield, and an advanced one by the look of it. My sniper
rifle could pierce it easily, but my pistol was nearly useless against it. I tried to scan
for the power source of the shield, but Watcher X was becoming aggressive, he
knew I was compromised. It was all I could do to sprint out of his line of fire, and I
could feel the heat of his shots flying past me, each one only narrowly missing its
mark. The pain in my shoulder was returning to me, too intense for even the
anesthetic to ward off. This confrontation could not last much longer, he and I both
knew it.
I suddenly stopped, turning sharply on my heel and leaping forward into a roll
in front of him. Without a second to spare I aimed upwards, firing a single shot at his
blaster, and it exploded in a shower of spark and flame, sending Watcher X
stumbling backwards.
Very good. He said, flashing a wolfish grin and clutching his blackened
fingers.
He suddenly moved to unsheathe a small vibroknife strapped to his thigh. It
hummed to life at his touch, and he lunged forward at me, knocking me back. My
head struck the concrete floor as we fell and my arms threatened to buckle under
his weight as I held him back by only his wrists. The pain in my shoulder was now
unbearable. The blade hung inches from my face, its gentle hum now a deafening
siren. I could not hold him, each second he was dropping closer and closer until I
could practically feel the vibrations in my skin.
I released one hand from him and the blade shot forward, I could only barely
divert its course as it ripped through my suits collar, creating a deep gash in my
neck. He did not have time to withdraw the blade before my free hand had found
my blaster and fired a series of shots at pointblank range into his abdomen,
overloading his shield instantly. I heard his breath escape him as he clenched his
teeth in pain, the smell of ozone now mingled with blood and burnt flesh. We hung
there suspended for a moment, both gravely injured, before Watcher X released his
grip on the blade and slumped over.
He gasped as he attempted to drag himself away from where I still lie on the
floor, one hand covering the wound from my blaster, and made it only a few feet
before collapsing entirely. He lifted a trembling finger to a device in his ear and
slowly the hangar doors began to crawl open again, its metallic screeching agony to
my heightened senses. A small, remote controlled shuttle landed on the hangar
platform outside, presumably his planned escape route should things go wrong. He
was not expecting to fail.
Pain thrummed throughout my entire body and my ears were still ringing
from the sound of the vibroblade. My arms shook as I pushed myself from the
ground. The blood flowing from my neck had stained my clothes a dark black that
glistened. Outside of the hangar doors I could still see the two glowing yellow eyes
of the protocol droid, completely undisturbed by the events that had just transpired.
Droid. My voice shook at a near whisper. The droid was unresponsive.
Droid! I called through gritted teeth.
Activation key requi
 00B926. Come to me, now. I could not hold myself up to look at the droid,
and the entire world seemed to roll over with me as I laid my head back down to the
floor. There was a feeling like static in my fingertips, my head, even my teeth
seemed to buzz. The many sounds of life on Coruscant were washing over me,
fading in and out like the tide of an ocean. The hangar was getting darker, all I could
see now was the white, skeletal face of Watcher X, lying on the floor a few feet
away from me, but even he seemed to be fading.
I snapped back to reality with a jolt as the droid dropped its cargo mere
inches from my face.
Awaiting further instruction. The droid said, its metallic voice echoed in the
hangar, making the pain I was feeling somehow worse.
Perform a memory wipe. I whispered as I fumbled the caches clasps with
bloodied, shaking fingers. The crate unfolded, and inside was exactly what I
expected. Ammunition, adrenals, and bacta patches.
Acknowledged. The droid chimed, and there was a pause. The light in its
eyes flickered out for a moment before glowing back to life.
Greetings, I am ODX I fired a single shot from my blaster, and the droids
head exploded into a shower of sparks. With a deafening clatter the droid crashed
to the floor.
I dropped my blaster and tore a bacta patch out of its wrapping, pressing it against
my neck. The sensation was bizarre, my skin seemed to both numb and burn at its
touch as it adhered to the patch.
The blood that I lost was significant. I had never faced Watcher X in combat
before now. All agents receive combat training, though the skill level of any
individual agent is usually a matter of speculation due to the secretive nature of
Intelligence. Not until youve shared an assignment and killed together will you truly
see the fruits of another agents career.
The vibroknife had been particularly surprising. They were easy to conceal
but otherwise inefficient, requiring far too much skill to use at only dangerously
close quarters. The injuries they inflicted were also far more gruesome than that of
a blaster, and almost always fatal, making them unfavorable in delicate situations.
Not only that, but Watcher Xs handling of the blade had been reckless and overly
aggressive, hardly displaying the skill required to justify using one. I was now
beginning to see the signs of instability that resulted in his forced retirement in
Shadow Town. I suppose I should be thankful for that.
I turned my head to look at him, and to my surprise he was already gazing
back, his blue eyes coldly reflecting the light pouring in from the hangars entrance.
They looked like those of a starved predator locked behind bars: powerful and
enraged, yet knowingly at my mercy. It seemed that the shield generator had left
him partially paralyzed after it overloaded, I could still see the surges of energy
pulsing as it attempted to regenerate. His only movements now were the short,
shallow breaths that cut through the silence of the hangar and the trembling of his
burnt hands.
So the game is over. He said. His voice was a whisper, nearly inaudible.
The corner of his mouth had twisted into something almost resembling a smile, but
his eyes stayed the same.
His words left me feeling cold. I could feel my heart fluttering in my chest, a
pitiful kind of adrenaline that seemed to be running on nothing but the air I was
breathing.
This is a game to you? I asked, just as quietly.
What else do you call it when the mouse baits the cat just to see how far it
can reach? His eyes did not waver for a second, I felt locked in his stare.
Bait. You knew I was the one tracking you.
He smiled, fully this time. Thats not a question.
I felt the hot tendrils of rage rising in my chest. I tore away from his stare and
pushed myself up off the ground suddenly even as my body screamed in protest, as
the world spun around me and threatened to drop me. I would not be at his mercy.
He was at mine.
Dont toy with me, I snapped, Tell me how. Why did you run?
Youre not nearly as clever as you think, he spoke slowly, his voice betrayed
little emotion. I know what you did. The Star Cabal, the Black Codex, all of it. Did
you really think I would just disappear after I freed your mind from Intelligence? His
words came as a shock, simply because I was so unused to hearing something so
secret spoken so bluntly.
You erased every record of your existence, he continued, killed anyone
whose memory left you compromised, and now... now I am all that remains between
you and complete invisibility. Of course I knew it was you. In those last words he
suddenly revealed a cold, cruel rage that made my skin crawl.
I am not here to kill you! I shouted through gritted teeth, and an immediate
wave of regret washed over me as silence engulfed the hangar. I felt foolish saying
it, like a petulant child that could not contain their anger but did not know how to
resolve it either. In truth, his actions were totally justified. No agentaside from the
particularly short-lived kindwould assume sentimental loyalty from anyone, not
even a fellow agent. Our alliance was merely a part of my mission, a matter of
necessity and personal interest until he made it into something else. He found me
lost, a slave to the Empires programming and brainwashing, and he voluntarily
safeguarded my greatest weakness from both Intelligence and SIS.
He risked everything to free me, not only from the Empire, but from himself
too. He ignored every opportunity for personal gain and repaid me tenfold for what
transpired in Shadow Town. I cant fathom why he did this for me, but to not assume
my loyalty in exchange for his actions is prudent. Its what Intelligence would expect
of us. I have given him nothing to make him think otherwise.
Watcher X stared at me in silence. Then you want something. He said,
coldly.
Exhaustion had suddenly sunk its claws deep into me, and I saw no further
point in talking. I kneeled next to him, ignoring his eyes as they followed me, and
grabbed his wrist. The device generating his shield had been implanted into his
armor here, and burnt plastic and metal adhered to his skin. The device pulsed with
electricity, continuously attempting to regenerate the shield, sputtering sparks as it
did so. Watcher Xs fingers seemed to flex slightly with each emission, but it did not
seem to be causing him pain.
Do you feel this? I asked him. He hesitated, his face apprehensive as he
looked at me.
No.
Good.
I peeled back the cuff of his bracer and punctured his sleeve, wedging my
thumb between it and the bare skin underneath so that I had a secure grip on the
material. He watched me closely, he knew what I going to do but he did not flinch or
look away as I began to tear the generatorand all of the burnt material and flesh
adhered to itaway from his arm. It resisted at first; a cruel, slow process as muscle
and sinew began to reveal themselves underneath the remains of the device, before
it suddenly ripped away entirely, leaving it to sputter on the floor uselessly. Blood
flowed down his arm generously and quickly began to pool between us.
I ripped another bacta patch open with my teeth and pressed it to his wrist,
the flow of blood stopping almost instantly as it bonded to the exposed flesh. The
flexing of his fingers had stopped, but it would take hours for the paralysis to
subside and for pain to slowly seep into its place. I opened another patch, this time
pressing it to the blaster wound in his abdomen.
What do you hope to gain from this? His voice was hoarse and monotone. I
refused to look at him this time.
Your help.
Ive already done more for you than most.
Youve done more for me than anyone. Thats why youre the only one I can
trust. I furled my brows, again feeling foolish and nave. Trust was a word that
rarely escaped my lips.
I could feel his eyes staring into me even as I avoided his gaze, focusing on
the bacta patch on his abdomen as if there was anything else to be done.
Even now? He said, making a minute, almost imperceptible gesture with his
chin that pointed to the wound in my neck.
 I reluctantly moved my gaze to meet his now, pondering the question for a
moment.
You and I are very similar, Watcher.
He said nothing, and his expression did not change. I looked at the landing
pad to where his shuttle was standing by. Mine was docked only a few blocks away,
concealed by a cloaking device and set to alert me immediately should any
disturbances occur. Remote summoning was usually too conspicuous for my taste,
but considering the circumstances it seemed to matter little. I typed a sequence
into the device on my wrist, and in a matter of seconds I could hear the distinct
whistle of wind underneath my shuttles wings as it made its way to the landing
pad. It was an extension of my ship, modern, sleek, and utterly unique. It was
designed for stealth and took up far less space than Watcher Xs shuttle, landing
effortlessly in front of it and extending its entry ramp toward the hangar doors in
welcome.
I suppose I have no choice. Watcher X said, staring absently towards the
shuttle.
Not in this, I said. I administered another local anesthetic to the area
between the wounds in my neck and shoulder, and slowly, with numb, clumsy
fingers pulled his body towards mine and upwards off the ground. The pain was
bearable, but I felt only half in control of my body, my head felt light and airy and I
stumbled forwards as I attempted to pull him off the ground. A distant pain
thrummed in my left side, straining against the weight of Watcher Xs body as I
moved my arm to support his weight, but it felt hazy, like a memory belonging to
someone else.
Try to walk. I said, my body was trembling as I tried to support him, and the
edges of my vision were darkening. It was only just now occurring to me how
strange it was to see him in person, to be supporting the weight of his body with my
own. Shadow Town had been years ago, every movement of his was monitored,
recorded, distant. Security had been paramount. Do not rely on his sense of duty,
they told me. He is unpredictable, dangerous.
He was somehow taller than I realized. No one looks imposing behind the
bars of a cell, or while bleeding on the floor, and yet even slumped over, unable to
support his full weight, his superior height was evident, his chin only barely lining up
with my eyes. I could feel the movement of his shoulder blades against my arm,
each rib protruding noticeably as we stumbled towards the shuttle door. He had
changed since I saw him; his body, perhaps his mind as well, degraded by hardships
since his escape on Nar Shaddaa. I wondered how much I had contributed to those
hardships, chasing him until I had him cornered in the heart of Republic space.
The door of the shuttle slid closed behind us almost silently, and dim blue
lights flicked on as we entered. The shuttles designated medical droid rotated its
head towards us, its eyes lighting up in programmed recognition. The trembling in
my body had become too much, and my knees buckled underneath me as Watcher
X and I both fell to the floor. He caught himself with his elbows and I heard him
exhale sharply as his body shook violently under his weight. The paralysis was
beginning to subside, and I could see the pain that carved deep lines into his face.
Beginning analysis. The droid was as modern as the shuttle, its voice deep,
but far smoother than the ODX droid that had been deployed on the landing pad.
Only a slight metallic husk betrayed its less than human nature.
Restrain him first, I rasped. Watcher Xs cold gaze moved over to meet
mine, but he said nothing. It seemed to be taking all of his strength just to keep
himself from collapsing on the floor.
My protocol dictates that I ensure the survival of my master before
accepting further instruction.
He is a threat to my survival, I hissed through gritted teeth, follow your
protocol and restrain him. Now. Ive always hated droids.
The droid hesitated momentarily, you could practically see the cognition
beneath its glowing eyes as it considered what I said.
Very well. Securing the prisoner.
Prisoner Watcher X repeated slowly, still not taking his eyes from me. The
droid pulled him from the ground mercilessly, I heard him grunt with pain as he was
dragged to the back of shuttle and thrown onto the medical table. The table had
been used for far more interrogations than operations, and the droid had become
accustomed to such. Watcher Xs hands and feet were locked in place without any
ceremony, and the second it was finished the droid turned its head to me and began
a medical scan.
Keep him alive, I said, and I leaned my head back against the cool plating
of the shuttle door. I immediately I felt myself slipping, my body and mind drifting
somewhere else entirely, somewhere I desperately needed to be.
My protocol dictates. . . I heard it only distantly, I felt now as if I was
underwater, struggling pointlessly to swim out of an engulfing sea of darkness as I
drifted out of consciousness completely.
Keep him alive.