Chapter 52. Imperial Agent
from Part 9. Falling Stars
Galaxy Without End
*
There in a pungent Hutta afternoon, Wynston took the ship’s ramp at a fast walk. He found Temple and Vector in the holo room playing pazaak at a little table set up right next to the medbay.
“Kaliyo won’t be returning,” Wynston announced evenly. “SCORPIO?”
“Gone,” Temple said, touching a fresh bruise on her forehead. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“She doesn’t fight fair.” That made two women out of his hair, and it felt terrible. “Take us to Vaiken Spacedock, it’s time to get back to work. If Kaliyo shows her face, don’t let her get close. She’ll be out for blood. I’ll be in my quarters, I have some matters to arrange.”
Then he retreated. It was time to…to sort something out. He was off balance and he didn’t like it.
He considered calling Vector in to talk. Then again, talking to someone that close might be unwise; Wynston needed time to sort out what to say and what to hide, both in the facts, which he might end up being honest about, and the feelings, which he certainly wasn’t ready to lay out before his own crew.
Still, he wanted to talk to someone. The mere superficial fact of exchanging words might calm him somewhat.
He briefly considered going out to pay for someone to look after him for a change. But no, he wasn’t in the mood. Anger didn’t do it for him, and he was, in spite of his efforts to keep a fence around the feeling, furious with himself. As for just finding someone to talk to, his address book was extensive, but when it came to contacts that could both offer good company and understand when to stop asking questions the list was short.
Ruth was an obvious candidate. It wasn’t often a woman stayed on speaking terms with him after marrying someone else, but Ruth was still warm. Friendly, genuine, trustworthy. Unavailable, but that didn’t matter so much. She still brought out the best in him. She was everything Kaliyo wasn’t. And maybe a hands-off kind of girl would do him some good.
He called and she answered quickly, coming up in an imposing set of black armor. That was a switch.
“Wynston,” she said. She didn’t smile.
“Ruth,” he said cordially. “I’ve finally had time to come up for air. I thought I’d call in, see how things are going with you.”
“Busy,” she said.
“Busy where, exactly?” he asked. Something felt off.
“Corellia.” There was a defiant sound to it. “You can tell your masters if you like.”
That would be a reference to the chunk of Imperial Intelligence that had been handed to her former master Darth Baras. Surprising that she thought he would accept Baras’s leadership. Very surprising that she thought he would inform on her. “I wasn’t planning on it. You know, I was on Corellia not long ago.” He tried a smile. “It seems we just missed each other.”
“Yes. Great timing, you calling now. What do you want?”
Giving the usual glib line about simply wanting to see her would be either well received or…disastrously not, given the brittle sound of her. He had never seen her like this. He liked to follow a woman’s moods, map out what she wanted, provide what he could, at least until the job called him elsewhere. It was fun, even with the crazy ones. It was rewarding. It was…hard, when someone gave him a turnaround like this. He decided to give her the truth. “I’d like to catch up. I’m between jobs. Things have been eventful, things I can talk about for once.”
“Oh?” she said warily.
“Crew shakeups, mostly. You may be glad to know that Kaliyo’s gone.”
Somewhere in there, Ruth flinched. “Crew shakeups,” she repeated quietly. “Um, Kaliyo. I’m sorry. I know you were fond of her.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry too much. We all knew it was coming sometime.” He pushed away the thoughts of every kind of trouble she could wreak due to his having been unprepared when the time did come.
“Yes,” said Ruth. “Yes, at least you saw it coming.” For a second her mouth just hung open; then her jaw clenched convulsively and, after a quick breath, she moved on. “I’m afraid there’s not much I can do about it.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to. But I would like to see you, if you have the time.”
“I don’t,” she said coldly. “Sorry.”
Upset wasn’t a good look for her. “Ruth…what’s happening? What did happen?”
“I told you, I’m busy. For once it’s me who can’t give you details, I’m sure you understand.”
“No, I don’t. Is there anything I can do?”
“No.” Her lip curled in a decidedly unnatural way. “It’s nice that you’re newly single and so very anxious to help with such amazing timing. You can just keep fighting the good fight wherever you are.”
“Something’s obviously gone wrong where you are. I’d like to do whatever I can, just tell me plainly what the matter is.”
“Plainly?” She lifted her chin in that way she had when she was reminding herself to be commanding. And she was commanding, regal in a chilling way. A familiar way, but familiar from others, never from the pretty idealist of Dromund Kaas. “I don’t want you anywhere near me, agent.”
The Sith Lord cut the signal.
Of all possible reactions to his call, Wynston hadn’t even imagined that one. Even if he couldn’t get her alone for a tête-a-tête, he had hoped for some work or some favor-working to take his mind off things just then, something constructive, something good. But evidently his favorite partner for these things, his only regular one outside his own crew, was busy.
Why?
One answer had the right leverage: Quinn. Wynston’s suspicion, which he had voluntarily shelved after Ruth got upset at the allegation, had been right. And Ruth had survived the discovery.
As if Wynston were in a position to criticize people for their taste in lovers.
Not allowed to drink, sacrificed by the military, tortured by the Star Cabal, psychoanalyzed by Hunter, betrayed by Kaliyo, abandoned by Ruth…he needed something constructive to think about.
He brought up the console. He did have a disguise generator to figure out. It took less than an hour to sort out the tool that would let him select a face. Human, he thought. He’d never been Human before. It would change everything about Imperial space.
A soft beep indicated a holo coming in. Wynston answered and was relieved to see the person he still thought of as Watcher Two. Just what he needed: something to take his mind off actual women.
He remembered the correct title when he spoke. “Keeper, I could kiss you right now.”
“You really couldn’t, Cipher,” she said with her familiar refrigerated disdain.
At least someone was reacting as expected today. “Well then, what can I do for you?”
“Something’s come up and I think we should have that talk about what you can do for Imperial Intelligence in your new capacity sooner rather than later.”
“Certainly. By the way, you should cut Kaliyo Djannis’s accounts as soon as possible.”
“What?” She started forward, then shook her head and consciously relaxed. “Finally. She beat all projections we set on her in terms of useful life. I suppose we had you to thank for that, if ‘thank’ is the word.” Her brows knit together. “I don’t suppose you can remove her once and for all?”
“She got away.”
“Understood. That’s quite unfortunate...and, something of a surprise.”
“You don’t have to finish that analysis.” By raw capability, Keeper was right; Wynston would never have lost. It was the motivation that had failed. The last thing he needed now was his former boss lecturing him on the weakness he had cultivated.
She did her superior eyebrow raise. “The analysis from your new information is already done. But it seems a little late to berate you over it.”
“That’s very kind of you. As for a meeting, just give me a time and place and I’ll be there.”
“Will you be ready to work?”
“Absolutely. And just think, this time you’ll have my full attention.”
Her voice was exasperated but her half-smile was tolerant. “You’ll never change, will you, Cipher?”
“Not if I can help it.” So long as he had one or two familiar stars left, however distant, he could steer things back to course. He hadn’t been alone in quite some time, but he was pretty sure he remembered how it worked.
*
When Wynston entered the conference room on the vessel Tenebrous, the Minister of Intelligence was already there, pacing with his hands behind his back, examining the walls as if determined to find a security problem in this ship he hadn’t personally designed. Watcher Two—no, Keeper—was at the table console; she looked up and smiled when Wynston came in.
It was the Minister who spoke first, turning to face Wynston in a rigid pose. “Agent,” he said coolly with the barest of nods. This was the distant mentor Wynston knew. Knew, and admired for his determination and skill.
“Please, call me Cipher. For old times’ sake.” Admiration notwithstanding, Wynston had stopped the formalities with his commander long ago; flippancy was just so tempting.
“Hm,” said the Minister.
“We’re glad you came,” said Keeper. “There is a great deal to do, and the two of us have considerable demands on our time from the Sith and the military as they attempt to reconstitute some kind of Intelligence puppet.”
“I’m sorry.” He meant it, too. Keeper could deal with anything, but it was still a bad situation, and the Minister had worked too hard for too long to be reduced to this kind of squabbling. They deserved better.
“It is what it is,” the Minister said sharply. “The fact is, the Dark Council is rapidly destabilizing and it is making an effort to bring Intelligence and half the military with it. The loose ends left by the Star Cabal are almost too many to name and we must seize as many as we can before they go to waste or are detected and taken by the Republic or the cartels. We have transferred what resources we can to these efforts without drawing the attention of our masters, but we can’t do everything at once.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” It was good to be needed somewhere.
The Minister nodded. “I expect much of your time in the immediate future may be occupied by administrative work here, but your attention should also be on Corellia. Much of the Dark Council has made the planet its battlefield; Darth Thanaton has declared a bloodbath with a minor Lord and the new Emperor’s Wrath just killed Darth Baras, leaving what it pains me to call the relatively moderate Darth Vowrawn. The Wrath’s attention could be tremendously useful.”
“Yes, it could be.”
“This is no time to play coy, agent,” snapped the Minister. “She is your friend. I want her talking to Vowrawn if you think she can influence his views, and I want her on our side while we work to stabilize the rest of the situation.”
“I have reason to believe that may be complicated, but I’ll do what I can.”
“This is no time to start hiding behind ‘complications.’”
A long time ago Wynston would have been intimidated by the Minister’s impatience, shamed by the mere fact of it. Now he was old and self-supporting enough to simply answer. “I spoke with her just recently on a personal matter. The situation may be complicated. Nevertheless, I’ll try to calm her down. I’m certain she’s closing on the Vowrawn issue, if nothing else.” And as soon as he found a way to help, he would.
“The longer game is just as important. Having the Emperor’s Wrath in any capacity will be as great a boon as any Star Cabal position we’ve been able to identify.”
“Agreed. I believe she’ll come around.” The accusations she hadn’t quite thrown at him indicated problems with her friends, not with her overall pro-Empire goals. He hoped. He dearly hoped.
“Good,” said the Minister.
Keeper spoke up. “While we’re busy on Dromund Kaas, we’d like you to take command of the Tenebrous. Keep her out of sight while you build up the resources you’ll need for operations.”
“Certainly,” said Wynston. “I’ve put some thought into it.” They had laid out their requirements; time to lay out his. “I’ll receive full records on any staff you send my way. There are a handful of specific agents I know I can use if you can spare them; keep me informed. I and I alone have discretion over the use of the Black Codex. You will keep me apprised of the research and development surrounding the Old Man’s disguise technology as well as anything we scrounged from Belsavis and anywhere else for that matter. I’ll do what I can to render the operation self-sufficient; the last thing I want is to hamper your work. Give me this much and a little time and I’ll build you the finest intelligence apparatus this galaxy has ever seen.” He set his hands wide on the table and leaned forward. “We’ll see that the Empire stays where she needs to be, in spite of every effort her leadership throws at her.”
Funny galaxy he lived in, where Keeper’s smile was the warmest reward the workplace had to offer. “I knew we could count on you,” she said.
The Minister of Intelligence cleared his throat. “Thank you, Keeper, you’re dismissed.” He looked at the floor in a direction that let him track her from the corner of his eye until she left. Then he turned to Wynston. “There remains the matter of Kaliyo Djannis; Keeper reports that you and she had a falling-out and she has since fled Nal Hutta. Furthermore I am given to understand that you will not be disposing of her.” He scowled. “Rest assured, the matter will be handled.”
Something unfamiliar tightened in Wynston’s insides. Then again, someone had to do it. “Acknowledged and understood,” he said quietly.
“The experience is never comfortable,” said the Minister. “But it is necessary.”
The experience of sitting still while somebody else handled the job he hadn’t had the nerve for? Or the experience of losing a lover who had managed to mean something by the end? “I know.” It led to an interesting thought, anyway. “Minister?”
“Yes?”
“As I stand here contemplating the fact that you’re going out of your way to tell me about a kill that we both already knew you’ve arranged, it occurs to me that I may sometimes be more motivated after some discomfort, not to say pain. More focused. Perhaps more effective, it’s difficult for me to tell.”
“You are. Your record amply demonstrates that, if you know what to look for.”
Wynston reminded himself who he was talking to. He thought along the useful lines, not the sentimental ones. “You could’ve chosen a less rampantly destructive irritant than Kaliyo.”
“Could we have?” The Minister cocked an eyebrow. “Would you have tolerated any other irritant for so long? She appealed to your vice enough for you to stay with her and your virtue enough for you to keep trying to make up for her. She was a calculated risk; it turned out to be one of the more productive partnerships I’ve ever arranged.”
For all that he had spent his whole association with Kaliyo thinking of ways to use her, this particular application and the fact that he hadn’t been informed of it galled. “She’s still out there. Did you calculate that?”
The older man’s mouth thinned further for a second. “It wasn’t the eventuality we would have chosen,” he said. “But all may not be lost. She hasn’t started trying to sell what she knows yet.”
“I’ll make a note to take comfort in that.”
“All things considered, she was worth what we paid for her.”
“The money, I can agree.” This was the job. “But if you were orchestrating matters to that degree you must have had some say over the information she gleaned for her side jobs, selling secrets to her terrorist friends. You could have controlled what she found to sell. She was worth the money. Was she worth the blood?”
“You tell me. Just look at the workmanlike but frankly ordinary career you led before she was assigned to you. Compare it with everything you accomplished once you had her alternately supporting and driving you. Finding and taking down the Star Cabal? I would pay a few dozen lives on Brentaal for that.”
“Next time you want me to work miracles, try just asking nicely.”
“If I thought that would work, I would have done it.”
“You know, the organization I build here may try the least twisted approach first on some matters, just for novelty’s sake. Minister, I have the utmost respect for you, but I am glad I won’t be working for you anymore.”
“Not coincidentally, Cipher, I’m glad I am no longer formally responsible for your behavior.” His frown cleared a little, and something like a sad acknowledgment gathered in his grey eyes. “You’re about to take the weight of the Empire on your shoulders. I no longer have to pressure you.”
They watched each other for a long moment.
“So. The mission?” prompted the Minister.
The part that mattered, in the end. “Ordinarily I would insist on kissing and making up before work continues, but I’ll let it slide this once.” Wynston grinned at the Minister’s expression. “The mission goes on. I’ll see what I can do about the Wrath. And I’ll get you your start here.”
“Good.”
So certain. “Out of curiosity, what if I couldn’t handle all this? Or if I had lost to Kaliyo much earlier. I would die young and you would just look for someone more durable, is that right?”
“That’s correct.”
“Your theory of management is undeniably effective, but I’m coming to appreciate why you don’t print it in the recruitment pamphlets.”
After a flicker of irritation the…not kindness, not quite sympathy, but the clear knowledge…came back to the Minister’s eyes. “This isn’t glamorous work. I told you that.”
“I remember.” Wynston considered, then nodded. “Thank you. You’ve been a great help, and I intend to make sure the new organization lives up the vision you once held. Just one more question. You’ve referred to your wife once or twice, always in situations where you might just have been making banal conversation as cover noise. Did you ever actually have one?”
The human expression in the Minister of Intelligence’s aspect vanished. He walked away without answering.
Wynston lingered alone in the dark conference room. Soon he would build this place up into every good thing Intelligence had been – he hoped – and everything it should be. He would take his place as an equal to the professionals who had brought him this far, and he would get back to helping people, even the ones who would never see him, even the ones who would never know his name. He would get out to the field when he could, because he did prefer to do some rescuing in person. A moment’s gratitude was easier and safer than anything else he could hope to earn from others. Might as well earn as many of them as possible.
This was something that would never stop needing him. This was opportunity. And, whatever else was happening, whatever else was going to happen, that felt good.
*
“Lady and gentleman, I have some heavy planning to do to coordinate with the new Imperial Intelligence.” Or rather, the Sith-controlled shell of it that the Minister had been unable to free. Wynston addressed Temple and Vector. “I’m going to go ahead and give you a few days off, I’ll be in touch when I know more.” Wynston took a deep breath. “Thank you both for your dedication in this effort. The Cabal’s madness had to be stopped, and the work, the pain it cost us, it’s all worth it to end that threat. Take a break. You’ve earned it.” With that he walked past them and down the hallway into his quarters.
He couldn’t write down his plans. He was still trying to wrap his brain around them. No one should know. No one could know.
Yes, he would rebuild Imperial Intelligence. But he would be a ghost for it. A ghost, indefinitely.
He walked to Vector’s quarters first. Vector appeared in the doorway, looking at him.
Looking at him. With gray Human eyes.
“Vector?”
“Wynston. I can explain. Please, come in.”
Wynston complied. Vector’s quarters were clean but always slightly rumpled, as if the Killik mind preferred uneven surfaces and small crannies. Wynston made a vanishingly small mental note and reserved his attention for the Joiner. “Are you all right?”
“I have…suppressed…the Killik link. It was always a theoretical possibility. I have learned how to sustain it. For limited times. Enough for a private conversation.”
Wynston flailed, looking into eyes that were even less like his than usual. “What bloody conversation could be that important?”
“Whatever you are planning, that you think you have to do alone?”
“Don’t make this about me. Your senses, your fingerlings. Isn't this place dark and, I don’t know, unscented without them?”
“I stand in near darkness. But it was all I knew, once. I am not losing, only returning.”
Vector was capable of anything. The demonstration still came with a faint tang of...“Tell me I never made you feel obligated.”
“You never told me to do this. You have never treated me as anything other than a man with a man's loyalties. I am simply illustrating my abilities for your reference.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“Good. Pain is no way to start off a new venture. Vector, I came here to tell you you should take another post with the Killiks.”
“I surmised as much. Do you think you have to handle the Tenebrous alone?”
“It’s not that. It’s what I’m planning behind the Tenebrous. For me, not Intelligence. Are you interested?”
“I am intrigued.”
“I’m leaving Imperial Intelligence, Vector. I’m building them a shadow organization to get work done clear of the Sith. But I’m making myself a new face and I’m preparing my own operation, hidden within theirs. I can’t leave our fate in Sith hands. I’ll serve the worlds of the Empire to my dying breath but I won’t take the interpretation of the Empire’s good that those maniacs offer. I want safety for our people. I want the hope of peace. Perhaps someday I can even tackle the vision the Cabal had in its earlier incarnations, the vision of a galaxy where we aren’t slaves to the accidents of Force power. I respect the rule of strength but it has to be tempered with—with something more than the Sith will ever offer. So I’m leaving the bounds of Intelligence. And you and the others can’t follow me.”
“I want to help.”
Wynston said, “We're going to steal a ship. And then we're going to protect people with it. These are capital crimes in the Empire. Are you in?”
“Of course,” Vector said.
“You're a good man, you shouldn't be slumming it with me.” He smiled crookedly. “Fine, then. I have two.”
“Temple makes three, but you know that.”
“I always feel like we want slightly different things, Temple and me.”
“Give her the chance.” Vector’s eyes squeezed shut. “Ah. I believe my time is up.”
“Will you remember this?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Will they?”
“No.”
Stars. He’d done all that, for…what? For Wynston? He should always have his songs. “I…thank you. For trying.”
“I can do it again, if need be.”
“I’ll leave it to your discretion. A second in command should have the freedom of arranging these things. And…so should a friend, you poor sod.”
*
On the bridge, Raina Temple looked away from the console and slipped a hand to the holster at her hip.
Wynston, secure in his red-haired Human disguise, smirked. “Well, that tells me all I need to know.”
Raina blinked. “It's so lifelike, sir. Even when you talk. I only know it's you by process of elimination.”
“And the accent, surely.”
“Yes. You only change that when you absolutely have to.”
“If I look like this, indefinitely, is this a face you could follow?”
“First I need to know the brain behind it, sir.”
“Don't you by now?”
“You said yourself you've always been busy. I don't quite know how to separate you from the Empire’s crises. But if you're rescuing a part of Imperial Intelligence from the Sith, I'll back you up, one hundred percent.”
“I need a larger team.” He thought out loud: “Or a much smaller one.”
“Larger, sir.”
“Ensign, I... don't deserve enthusiasm. But I'll take your advice.” She smiled winsomely, and he went on. “I need your military credentials. Because we aren't just building a shadow Intelligence. We’re building a shadow’s shadow. One to present for the Minister of Intelligence. And one to do the real work.”
Raina cracked a smile. “When do we start?”
“Well, I’ve already deleted Cipher Nine. We’ll talk about next steps.”
*
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