Chapter 1: EmploymentRepublic Navy Headquarters
Coruscant“So, what can you tell me about this job?” Zakalwe asked as both he and Graff walked towards the Navy Headquarters building. It had been one of the few skyscrapers to survive the sacking of Coruscant, and had quickly become the new headquarters for the Navy brass. The tenants who had lived in this ex-apartment block hadn’t minded much, as they had all been killed.
Graff didn’t reply immediately as typed something into his datapad. They had left the case behind in his personal transport. All that had been in it was a new security badge for Zakalwe, along with some other effects that one might need when entering one of the most guarded places on the planet. Well, above ground, anyway.
“Like I told you earlier, can’t really talk about it here,” he said eventually.
Zakalwe didn’t know whether or not to be put off by that. On the one hand, anything that can’t be said in public couldn’t be good for one’s health, but on the other hand, that category included most things in this post ‘TC’ (
Note: Slang for Treaty of Coruscant) galaxy. Even his local Grocer was a Sith agent, apparently.
Still, he would see what Graff had to say, for old time’s sake.
Approaching the front doors, the two men showed their badges to the guards, and promptly entered the building. Graff took them straight to the elevator, bypassing the front desk.
“Don’t I need to sign in?” Zakalwe asked as the doors shut.
Graff smiled again, Zakalwe had forgotten how much it annoyed him. “Due to the nature of the meeting we’re about to have, it’s probably best that there be no record of you coming here. Even the guards will have their minds wiped.”
“That’s a bit harsh isn’t it?”
The other man shrugged. “Those are the time’s Zak, it won’t hurt, and they’re only going to ‘blur’ your face in the memory, like you would with security footage.”
“Besides,” He said as the elevator arrived on the 10th floor, their destination. “If you accept, you won’t be able to sign out again anyway.”
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“Welcome Commander Cheriden, please come in and take a seat.”
Zakalwe paused at the door as he surveyed the scene before him. It was one of those typical looking conference rooms, with a big holoscreen at the back, and a long thing meeting table taking up most of the space. At the top end of the table was an aged man in the uniform of a Republic Navy Admiral. Sitting to his left was a rather attractive human female, who looked angered by his mere presence, and to the right was a bothan in official diplomatic attire.
Graff had already sat down at the table next to a male Twi’lek who was green skinned, and across from them was a Zabrak.
Plus one for cultural diversity, he thought to himself as he sat down. To make sure everyone was clear that he was only here to listen to the proposal, he sat at the opposite end of the table from the Admiral. Everyone, apart from the woman, was in some kind of uniform. He felt underdressed.
“Can we get you anything Commander Cheriden?” The Admiral asked.
“It’s Mr. Cheriden, I’m retired remember? And yes, you can tell me what the hell happened to my ships.”
“Of course, Mr. Cheriden,” The Admiral nodded as he sipped his own beverage.
“Firstly, on behalf of the Republic Navy, I’d just like to apologise for the loss of your ships. The intelligence we received this morning indicates that they were destroyed about two days ago, mainly with high yield energy weapons, although there was some explosive ordinance involved too.”
Zakalwe rolled his eyes and shot Graff an evil glare.
“Thank you Admiral,” He said, “but I could have told you that myself yesterday.”
The Admiral nodded again, “Well there is more of course, but that’s nothing you need to concern yourself about.”
“Oh I beg to differ,” Zakalwe retorted, with what he hoped was a respectable degree of Iciness.
The Admiral smiled for the first time, it was nearly as annoying as Graff’s.
“Which brings us to why you’re here.”
Zakalwe bit back another retort, instead adopting his earlier tactic of letting the conversation play. They were the ones who wanted him here; let them do all the talking. The Admiral took his silence as a queue to continue, and motioned to Graff to start the briefing.
“Well Zak, as I’m sure you’ll know all too well, the ‘state of affairs’ post TC is somewhat tense. The Senate is of course angry at the unfavourable terms forced upon them by the treaty, and are wary of what the Sith will try next. The main crux of the problem however is that the Sith haven’t tried anything, at least nothing Direct, and that’s making everyone nervous.”
Zakalwe nodded. There was uncertainty everywhere, and uncertainty was not a good climate for business, as his analysts kept telling him.
“Our Intelligence division hasn’t had much luck in finding out what’s going on within the Sith borders. They’ve got the place wound up tight, border patrols everywhere, Mind-readers at every checkpoint, that sort of thing,” Graff paused to bring up a map of the Galaxy on the main holo screen.
“However, we do know that the Sith have been operating heavily in the ‘neutral’ zones, and because they’re operating outside of their borders, things are a little bit easier.”
Several planets were highlighted on the map, presumably showing areas where Sith operatives had been found, but they lacked identifiers. Graff shut the map off and turned round to face Zakalwe.
“We’ve managed to get a pretty good idea of what the Sith are up to, luckily without tipping them off that we know too. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you until you accept the offer.”
Before Zakalwe could reply, the Admiral spoke up again.
“Mr. Zakalwe, in the current tense climate, the Republic can’t afford to sit by and let the Sith do whatever it is they are doing. However, any act of aggression will bring the Empire down on us like an anvil, and we’re simply not ready for that. So, we need a middle ground, and for that we need men like you to help us.”
Zakalwe waited a few moments before replying. Everyone was looking at him, except for the woman, who was looking at the wall.
“What can you tell me about this... middle ground?” He said at last.
Graff gave him a sad smile, “Not much I’m afraid. We’re asking you to take a leap of faith. It’ll be just like the old days though... well, the good ones anyway...”
Zakalwe snorted at Graff’s attempt at ease the painful memories. Something about all this didn’t sit right. The fact that they wouldn’t talk about it meant secret, so it probably meant again working for Naval Intelligence... or “Data Analysis” or whatever... and going by what Graff said, he would be expected to fight.
Exactly how he was supposed to do that when it would mean getting steam-rollered by the Sith if they were caught, he didn’t want to think about. It probably wasn’t going to be fun.
“Sorry gentlemen, but five years in business has taught me to never to take leaps of faith, they always end badly.”
He stood up to leave. The Admiral looked disappointed; however the Woman somehow looked smug, and gave a derivative snort. It was like she expected this off him, which did grate a bit, he had to admit.
Graff hurriedly got out of his seat and walked over to Zakalwe.
“I’ll show you out, we can talk on the way,” he gave the Admiral a quick look before escorting Zakalwe out of the door.
“Well,” the Twi’lek said after they left. “That went well.”
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“Zak, hear us out. We really need your help.”
Zakalwe and Graff were standing in front of the elevator, waiting for it to come take the former down to reception.
“I have heard you out Hyrum, as much as you’re willing to tell me, and now I’m telling you I won’t agree to anything with so little information.”
“Is this...” Graff said tentatively. “Is this because of Melissa? Because I told you-”
Zakalwe cut him off with a glare. It was still too soon to talk about her.
“We said what we needed to say about that five years ago Graff,” he said. “Let’s just leave it at that.”
The elevator arrived with a ‘ping’ sound, and Zakalwe promptly entered, leaving Graff behind in the lobby as the doors shut.
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Apartment District Alpha-9B
Flat 1-12A
Zakalwe’s HomeZakalwe shrugged his coat off and placed it on the hook before entering his apartment. Despite being a somewhat ‘wealthy’ business owner (although that term was pretty relative in the current situation), he still maintained a modest home in the Merchant’s Sector. He didn’t spend much time here anyway, so it didn’t really matter what his home was like.
It has been over six hours since his meeting with Graff, the Admiral, whom he realised he didn't know his name, and the other people, whose names he also didn't know. In the mean time, he had received an official report from Naval Logistics regarding their own investigation into his missing ships, and another one of their ‘heartfelt’ apologies. He had tossed it into the bin.
The problem was, Zakalwe couldn’t shake the curiosity, the urge to know. After the meeting, he had gone straight back to his offices and shut himself in whilst he did a search on all the happenings in the neutral zone. Ord Mantell was on the verge of civil war, the Garosians and the Sundari had started their old conflict again... troubles on Roche, the Mandalorians... he had seen the patterns, the coincidences... he could see glimpses of what Graff must surely know, and it troubled him, excited him,
intrigued him... all at a once.
That’s not me anymore, he thought to himself as he went into his front room.
Heading straight to the kitchen, he poured himself some scotch whilst he checked he listened to the holonet for any new updates. As a habit, he would also check the latest stock prices, and so he was too engrossed to notice the hooded figure crouching behind the sofa with a vibroknife.
He did however recognise the faint hiss and the low level buzz that usually came when a Vibro weapon was activated.
Diving for the ground, he kicked the sofa into the assassin as he was standing up, causing him to slam against the wall. The figure retaliated by flicking the knife at Zakalwe, who dodged out of the way, although not in time to prevent his drawn-out blaster from being impaled by the knife and knocked out of his hand.
The assassin jumped over the sofa and charged at Zakalwe, who in turn picked up his datapad and threw it side on at the oncoming attacker. The distraction gave him an opening to launch a vicious kick into the man’s sternum, but whoever he was, he was good, as he managed to diffuse the kick and push Zakalwe’s leg out of the way, leaving him opening for the assassin to tackle him.
Back and forth the two men grappled, trying to use their knees and elbows to knock the other off guard. Zakalwe was beginning to regret not keeping up with his training, as it was taking all he had just to keep the assassin off balance.
Zakalwe found himself falling to the floor as the attacker managed to hook his leg behind Zakalwe’s, making them both tumble to the floor. He tried his best to remain on top, but attacker was too strong. He felt his nose break as the assassin’s elbow struck him hard, leaving him dazed.
This is it, he though wearily.
The assassin leaned up, and revealed another knife sticking out from his sleeve. Zakalwe prepared himself for the fatal blow when the man was blown off him by several blaster bolts to the chest.
Looking over towards the door, Zakalwe could see Graff standing there with a rifle, a grim expression on his face. Battered and bruised, Zakalwe slowly got off the floor, and stumbled groggily over to Graff and the door.
“Took your time,” he said as he went to grab his coat.
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“Well Mr. Cheriden, I didn’t think we’d be meeting again so soon.”
Zakalwe was once more in then meeting room where he had had the meeting earlier in the day, and once more the Admiral, the Woman, and everyone else who had been there earlier were sitting in the room. In the exact same places too, which Zakalwe found a bit creepy.
“I trust your trip over was a little more uneventful?” The Bothan asked.
Zakalwe was holding and ice back to his recently repaired nose, so Graff answered instead.
“We were followed by an unmarked skiff after we left his complex, however I had two police rollers with me at the time, and I guess they didn’t want to start a scene.”
“And who’s ‘they’ exactly?” Zakalwe asked.
Graff took a moment to look over at the Admiral, who gave a small nod. Graff turned round to look Zakalwe full in the face.
“I think you'd better come with us,” he said.
