All the world's a stage

[Syart]

Ugh, I'm tearing up. I knew it would happen with Twelve since I played through the Agent line and Lokin's conversations. Still *bawling*.

 

Anyway, I really am enjoying the way Lokin has changed. How hugging is good cover. And as to that last line...

 

...RIP Cipher 12.

 

Oh and I never knew he was an actual character in SWTOR that Lokin knew, its very cool how you drew it altogether. I do love a proper bit of FanFiction!

Thank you both

 

I was tearing up when I wrote this section I knew it had to happen from the start, but I kind of forget how attached one gets to one's characters However, I have a cunning plan ...

[Syart]

His holocom buzzed. Lokin woke up instantly and silenced it. He glanced at Cirean but she was still deeply asleep, curled up next to him.

 

He slid out of bed, careful not to disturb her, and went into the living room, where he answered the call. It was voice only, no visual.

 

"Dr Eckard Lokin? This is Minder Forty-nine, Cipher Twelve's brother. You may have been expecting me to call."

 

"Possibly." Lokin was uncertain, and unwilling to commit to anything.

 

"You're suspicious. Good, Twelve said you would be. I would be too, in your position." There was cool amusement in the voice.

 

"How can I be certain that you are really Twelve's brother?"

 

"I need to see you. I'll prove my credentials when we meet. You won't be in any doubt then, I assure you."

 

"Very well", said Lokin. "You have my address, I assume?"

 

"I do. But do you still have Agent Geardail with you?"

 

He didn't bother to ask how the Minder knew. It was their job to know things, and they hadn't exactly concealed anything. "Indeed, but she's suffering badly from exhaustion and stress, she's sleeping at the moment and I don't want to wake her. If you want to talk to her too, it will have to be later."

 

There was a tinge of regret in the voice. "No, more the opposite. I'd rather see you on your own, at least this time. I've never met her before, and it will cause her distress, though I don't mean too."

 

"It would be best if we met somewhere else, then. I suggest the Nexus Room."

 

"Central, convenient, and very public." Amusement again. “Paranoia always pays off, if only in an increased life expectancy.”

 

Lokin jumped. Twelve had used exactly those words to him once, and he'd taken them almost as a mantra, constantly reminding himself never to slip into complacent acceptance of appearances.

 

Although he'd tried to suppress it, the Minder had heard his faint gasp. "Yes, he used to say that to me too. I thought you would recognise it. Perhaps it goes some way to convincing you that I am who I claim to be. At the Nexus Room then, one hour." The call ended.

[Beniboybling]

Dun. Dun. Dun! Twelve has a brother! A twin brother...? Maybe he's a Sith spy! Or a covert SIS agent!

[Ventessel]

Nah, he really built a cybernetic body and uploaded his personality into it after he died. Sort of like what happened in Beerfest, when that sidekick character died and his identical brother took his place...

[Syart]

Have to admit, the cyborg idea didn't cross my mind But I set the brother thing up a while back

Twelve's conversation with Lokin at the Star Cluster Casino

[Syart]

An hour later, Lokin walked into the Nexus Room and looked around. A man in a Minder's uniform who had been sitting in one of the corner alcoves got up and came towards him.

 

"Dr Lokin, good of you to join me. Minder Forty-nine." The man smiled politely.

 

Lokin gaped at the man in shock for a moment, but then he realised that it wasn't Cipher Twelve, miraculously back from the dead. This man was a decade or so younger and without the slight facial scarring, but otherwise he was the image of his brother.

 

He found his voice again. "I see what you mean about inadvertently distressing Cirean. And it would be virtually impossible to deny that you are who you say you are. You even sound like him."

 

"A lot of our relatives say we would have been taken for twins, if it wasn't for the difference in our ages. However, I suggest you take a genetic sample for comparison, just to confirm it. I have a few other identifiers too, but deal with the sample first.

 

He held out his hand, and Lokin used a sampler needle to scratch off a few skin cells. He inserted the needle into his bioanalyser, which beeped a few times and then came up with an 82% match for Twelve. That was far too high to be anything but a consanguineous relationship. He returned the analyser to his belt and nodded to the Minder. "Your close relationship is confirmed."

 

Forty-nine nodded. "Come and sit down then, we have things to discuss."

[Syart]

Lokin followed Minder Forty-nine across to the alcove, but then stopped short. The former Keeper was sitting at the table, in casual clothing but still looking much as he had done the day he'd downgraded Lokin to Fixer and sent him to the ISB. Forty-nine sat down and gestured to another chair. "Sit, we need to talk."

 

Lokin sat, rather stiffly and feeling embarrassed.

 

"Good to see you again, Fixer", said Keeper, with a broad welcoming smile. "I understand you rather wanted my guts for garters for a while. Maybe still do." He chuckled.

 

"I ... suppose I owe you an apology", said Lokin, reluctantly.

 

Keeper waved his hand. "Oh no, not at all. I don't blame you, in fact it's quite flattering, pulling the wool over the eyes of a trained and experienced agent. You reacted exactly as intended. Well, mostly." He chuckled again. "I had to get Twelve to push you a bit before you started properly snooping through records and whatnot. But there would have been a risk of you overacting if you'd known what was going on, and your very real fury convinced the higher ups."

 

"Yes, Twelve explained." Lokin's look of chagrin was unforced. "I have to say, much as I hate to admit it, that I was entirely fooled by your act. As everyone else has been, if what Twelve said was true."

 

"Oh, it's true enough, though Twelve probably exaggerated it. I'd intended him to take over the protection of Intelligence, once I finally came to the end. That was the real reason for his intention to retire from active service. We decided to leave it long enough that it didn't look connected." He looked regretful. "I'm sorry he's gone, not just because of that. He was one of the best. A true old-school Empire loyalist. The galaxy's a sadder place without him."

 

All three men sat in silence for a few minutes.

 

Then Minder Forty-nine brought them back to the present. "We can mourn him in our own ways and our own time. For now, we do have business." He brought out a couple of packages which he passed to Lokin.

 

One was obviously Twelve's favourite Sleheyron knife. Lokin unwrapped it almost reverently, enjoying the feel of the precisely balanced weight, running his finger round the curlicues of the intricate inlaid gold wire pattern in the perfectly shaped hilt, admiring the soft watered-silk gleam, finely honed edge and needle-sharp point of the blade. A deadly weapon, but a thing of beauty. "Thank you. He knew I always liked it."

 

"It's an antique, you know. About five hundred years old. There are a pair of them, been passed down our family for generations. I have the matching one. Another of my credentials." Forty-nine produced an identical knife and displayed it.

 

Lokin nodded. "I'm honoured that he'd pass it on to me. I'll take good care of it." He slid the knife back into its oiled nerf leather sheath and carefully wrapped it up again.

[Syart]

The other package Forty-nine had given him turned out to be a datapad.

 

"I imagine you know what's on there", said the Minder.

 

"I imagine I do, yes. That implies that you also know."

 

"We do", said Keeper. "And we need the data that Twelve has stored there. You're now the only person with access. Twelve was rather thorough in his security preparations."

 

Lokin scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Are you asking for access to the building, wherever and whatever it is, or just for the data?"

 

"It's not that we don't trust you ..." started Keeper.

 

"Although we don't, of course", added Forty-nine with a small grin.

 

That was so much like something Twelve would have said, even the tone of voice and expression, that Lokin was unable to repress a small wince of pain. It really was a good thing that Cirean wasn't part of this.

 

"May as well be honest, I suppose. Break the habit of most of my life." Keeper chuckled. "Access would be preferable. Just to be sure we have everything."

 

"It's a network of abandoned wine cellars on Alderaan", said Forty-nine. "Belonged to one of the older Houses which lapsed into obscurity and lost most of their property a couple of centuries ago. Another House took over one of the estates and demolished the palace to construct their own. But the wine cellars were some distance from the main buildings and got missed. It was an overgrown mound in unclaimed land, now officially registered to a minor noble from one of the lesser Houses, with a mostly unoccupied small house built on it to hide the entrance. Not far from the Trading Circle at King's Pass."

 

Lokin nodded. "I'll investigate, when I can. How can I contact you?"

 

"Just ask for me at HQ", said Forty-nine. "I may not be stationed on-planet, but they'll be able to get a message to me, and I can contact Keeper."

 

Lokin looked back to Keeper. "What's your part in all this, now that you've retired?"

 

"Coordination. Working on backup and contingency plans. A lot of which reside in this lad here." He clapped Forty-nine on the shoulder. "He's inheriting most of his brother's stuff, and he gets the bad along with the good."

 

Forty-nine coughed deprecatingly. "I hope you have more than one backup."

 

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." Keeper looked sharply at Lokin. "The Minder here has already spent some time as an Agent. He's back Minding at the moment, but he'll be Watcher as soon as the next vacancy comes up. He won't compromise, and he won't be soft, but he'll take care of the agents and ensure Intelligence operates for the good of the Empire as a whole. You will support him as and when you can."

 

When he was a teenager, Lokin had once been caught out in one of Dromund Kaas's extreme rainstorms when hiking in the hills around Kaas City. He remembered the brown wall of water which had swept down what had been a small peaceful hillside burn, ripping out clods of earth and stones from its banks, a muddy flood full of broken branches and tangled plants and pebbles. With Keeper's light brown eyes boring into his, exactly the colour of that water, he had a vague sensation of being irresistibly swept along in Keeper's plans, just like a piece of the debris carried helplessly in the flood. Until that moment when Keeper's full forcefulness hit him, he realised that he'd never completely believed Twelve before.

 

Forty-nine apparently read his mind and gave him a rueful sympathetic grin. "You'll get used to it."

 

Keeper continued his hard stare at Lokin. "Intelligence is the one thing that can be depended on to be not only willing but able to sort out the messes left by the Sith and the military, as and when they happen. But without our independence, we won't get the chance. For the sake of the Empire, we have to protect ourselves. I've done what I can, and I'm not without influence still, but a lot of it is now up to people like you two. Do you understand?"

 

"Yes ... sir." Despite Lokin's automatic dislike and distrust of authority, this was a man he had to respect. In honour of Twelve, he thought to himself.

[bright_ephemera]

I haven't commented in a while, but I am reading along and enjoying greatly.

 

I seem to recall Fixer Twelve having grey-blue eyes and a narrow face; is Minder Forty-nine the same?

Edited April 21, 2013 by bright_ephemera

[Syart]

I haven't commented in a while, but I am reading along and enjoying greatly.

Good

 

I seem to recall Fixer Twelve having grey-blue eyes and a narrow face; is Minder Forty-nine the same?

Yes Original description of Twelve (or Minder Seventy-two as he was then): Slimly built, medium height. A narrow face with a noticeably pointed chin. Rather supercilious expression, but neutral, giving nothing away. Dark brown hair, short, combed back and already starting to recede from his forehead … cold grey-blue eyes.

 

Minder Forty-nine is twelve years younger than his brother (five years younger than Lokin) and looks exactly like Twelve as Lokin originally encountered him, ie with the description above.

[Beniboybling]

When he was a teenager, Lokin had once been caught out in one of Dromund Kaas's extreme rainstorms when hiking in the hills around Kaas City. He remembered the brown wall of water which had swept down what had been a small peaceful hillside burn, ripping out clods of earth and stones from its banks, a muddy flood full of broken branches and tangled plants and pebbles. With Keeper's light brown eyes boring into his, exactly the colour of that water, he had a vague sensation of being irresistibly swept along in Keeper's plans, just like a piece of the debris carried helplessly in the flood. Until that moment when Keeper's full forcefulness hit him, he realised that he'd never completely believed Twelve before.

I loved this part. Nicely done.

Yes Original description of Twelve (or Minder Seventy-two as he was then): Slimly built, medium height. A narrow face with a noticeably pointed chin. Rather supercilious expression, but neutral, giving nothing away. Dark brown hair, short, combed back and already starting to recede from his forehead … cold grey-blue eyes.

I am so very envious of how Lokin's character allows you to give such a detailed characer description without it seeming overkill to the reader, so jealous.

[Syart]

Cirean woke up not long after Lokin had left the apartment to keep his appointment at the Nexus Room. Her head was pounding and her mouth felt like a womp rat had nested in it, but that was the first night's proper sleep she'd had since learning of Twelve's death, and she was grateful to Lokin for that, at least.

 

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, waiting while her inner ears caught up and the room stopped its dizzy whirling around her. "Grr, too much whiskey, woman, you should have known better", she muttered at herself, not really meaning it. Her bladder was demanding urgent attention. She stood up carefully and went into the adjoining bathroom where she dealt with the immediate need and then had a quick shower, first warm then a cold burst to finish, which woke her up but left her gasping. A new toothbrush and clean towel had been left by the side of the sink for her, an unexpectedly practical and considerate gesture. The towel was large and luxuriously fluffy with a pleasant clean woody scent which she'd noticed about Lokin before, presumably whatever brand of laundry supplies he used.

 

Coffee and breakfast were now feeling important. She went back into the bedroom and looked around, noticing that, in another unexpected kindness, Lokin had left her a clean bathrobe neatly folded on the chair beside the bed. She pulled it on, surprised by its quality. It looked like a plain white ordinary bathrobe, not an expensive luxury item. Where does he get the money for lashaa silk? she wondered.

 

Intrigued now, she temporarily forgot about coffee and started to look more closely at the room. It was very plain, almost ascetic in appearance. Calm pale grey walls, white ceiling, dark grey carpet; no pictures or ornaments, not even a holosvis; plain very dark, almost black, wooden furniture, all square angles, no decorative carving or curves; white sheets, curtains, and lightshades; a thick bedspread of a grey midway between the walls and carpet, apparently unpatterned until the light hit it at the right angle and then you could see a geometric design woven into it. The dressing table had a plain square mirror and no clutter.

 

But the sheets were killik silk linens and the bed cover was zeyd cloth handwoven with brocart fibers to create the patterning. The wood was not painted or stained but genuine kriin wood from Alderaan and the furniture was solidly crafted, not flimsy mass-produced stuff. The brush and comb laid with precision in the exact centre of the dressing table had real krayt dragon ivory handles with the distinctive V-pattern in the bone.

 

Feeling daring, she tried one of the drawers, but it was locked, as was the wardrobe. Fair enough, she thought with a small inward grin. He would know she would be curious, and it was reasonable to protect his privacy, something she knew was important to him.

 

She wandered out of the bedroom and through the living room to the kitchen. The apartment was very quiet, only the omnipresent faint whirring of the ventilation system which her ears automatically ignored, being the sort of sound you only noticed when it stopped.

 

As she entered the kitchen, a factotum droid stepped forward from its niche. "Good morning, Agent. I am CJ-50. I have a message for you from my master."

 

"Uhh ... hi CJ." She felt awkward. And how in the galaxy is he paying for all this expensive stuff? Advanced AI droids aren't cheap by any stretch of the imagination. "I guess you'd better go ahead and play the message then. And could you get me some coffee, please? And a large glass of water."

 

The droid made no reply but filled a large glass with chilled water from a dispenser in the refrigerator and started to make coffee in a (top-of-the-range) filter machine. The small holocom unit inset in the kitchen wall displayed a miniature Lokin on the worktop, brisk and businesslike. She sat down at the table and listened while drinking the water.

 

"Morning Cirean, I had to go out to a meeting and you were deeply asleep when I left. As a thorough sleep was what I'd intended for you, I left you until you woke up by yourself. [A faint self-satisfied smirk.] CJ will look after you, just tell him what you want. He's not programmed for constant interaction, I deactivated all his social protocols, so he'll answer direct questions and clarify requests if necessary but otherwise he'll keep quiet. If you want him to talk to you, just tell him to reactivate the protocols.

 

You have free run of the apartment, eat anything you can find in the kitchen and use what you want in the bathroom. However, don't try and open anything that's locked, there are a few security measures in place. Also, the holovis is fine, but don't touch the holonet terminals. I'll programme them for your access later, but at the moment there are a lot of security fail safes all over them, some of them quite lethal.

 

I should be back by lunchtime. If not, I've left a second message with CJ for you, but I doubt it will be needed."

[Syart]

I loved this part. Nicely done.

I am so very envious of how Lokin's character allows you to give such a detailed characer description without it seeming overkill to the reader, so jealous.

 

Hey, thank you That was a quick post!

 

Regarding Keeper and his schemes, by the way, I owe you my thanks as it's all down to a train of thought you started. You asked me whether this Keeper was the same as the one in game, and I confirmed that it wasn't, but then I also gave you my description of him and he suddenly became all real and demanded a back story. Originally Twelve was going to be the one in charge of the secret Intelligence within Intelligence thing, but it actually works much better with Keeper to keep it going

[Syart]

CJ had placed a pot of coffee, a cup (hand-crafted comet stone, another luxury item), sugar, milk, spoon and napkin on the table for her and retired to his niche. She poured the coffee, inhaling the familiar fragrance with a stab of pain - it was the same that Lokin and Twelve had always kept on the ship when they worked together, never compromising on coffee quality. She drank two cups of it black, and wandered around the apartment while she drank them, extremely careful not to spill so much as a drop.

 

Like Lokin's bedroom, most of the apartment continued the same cold and ascetic colour scheme, or rather lack of colour. Greys, blacks, whites predominated, no holos, ornaments, or other decorative elements with the sole exception of a light sculpture in a display niche in the living room. And even that was in plain white light, a series of interlocking bars in an intricate spiralling pattern which reminded her of something, though she couldn't figure out what.

 

The one room which was completely different was the other bedroom, twice the size of Lokin's and laid out as a bed-sitting room, with a comfortable-looking sofa, holovis, a small work desk with a holonet access terminal (she didn't touch it). A shelving unit with books, films and music discs interspersed with a series of matching ceramic vases in graceful shapes with delicately painted leaf patterns made a division between the sitting area and the bedroom area.

 

Her eye was drawn to a painting on the wall - not a holo, actual paint with brushstrokes in it, of sunlight falling through green leaves onto a woodland path. She found it both enchanting and surprising. Lokin apparently had some very hidden depths. Another bathroom opened off the bedroom, and both were decorated in her favourite colours of warm greens and russet browns, toning perfectly with the painting. Again, everything was of high quality, with no skimping on workmanship.

 

She sat down on the sofa, which was as comfortable as it looked, while she finished the second cup of coffee, starting to feel the beginnings of peace in the quiet room. The awful empty ache of Twelve's absence was still there, but she felt now that there would be a way through it. A long, hard, difficult way, undoubtedly, but still a way.

 

The room was warm and the sofa was very comfortable. She put her cup down on the conveniently placed small table next to it, and leaned back, shifting a cushion to rest her head on it. In a few minutes she had drifted off to sleep again.

[Feorn]

Its been a while since I was on here, and now I'm inspired to actually write the fanfic I planned months ago. Great story, interesting characters and above all, cleverly worked in with one another, they fit nicely. Great read.

[Syart]

Its been a while since I was on here, and now I'm inspired to actually write the fanfic I planned months ago. Great story, interesting characters and above all, cleverly worked in with one another, they fit nicely. Great read.

Thank you! I shall look forward to reading your fanfic

[Syart]

Lokin returned an hour or so later. Finding her gone from his bedroom, he quietly went into the guest room and stood for a minute looking down at Cirean as she slept. The dark smudges under her eyes had faded, and there was a natural colour in her face again, not the pallor of exhaustion or the hectic flush of alcohol. He nodded with satisfaction, and went to the kitchen to get some lunch.

 

It was mid-afternoon before she woke up again, bladder bursting as before. Lokin greeted her as she came out into the living room after visiting the bathroom.

 

"Slept well?" he asked, with smug humour.

 

She yawned and nodded. "Very thoroughly. Is it time for lunch? I'm starving."

 

"That was about three hours ago. I'm pondering what to make for dinner now."

 

"You didn't wake me up for lunch!?" she exclaimed accusingly. "No wonder I'm so ravenous! All I had all day was two cups of coffee!"

 

"And a glass of water."

 

"Like that makes a difference!" She eyed him suspiciously. "Wait, did you put something in the water?"

 

"I?" He put on a wide-eyed innocent look. "I wasn't here. But no, the water was just water. I did, however, leave instructions with CJ to add a mild sedative to your coffee if you woke up before lunch."

 

"You drugged me." She narrowed her eyes at him and he held up his hands both pacifically and defensively.

 

"It was just enough to make you want to find somewhere comfortable and sit down for long enough to doze off again. Your own natural need for sleep took over after that."

 

She sighed. "Ok. I did need sleep, can't deny that. Thanks, I guess." She smiled. "I love the room by the way, and that sofa is really comfortable. And the painting is beautiful, I could sit and look at it for hours."

 

"I'm glad you like it all. I called a firm of interior designers and told them to sort it out when I knew you were coming. I don't have much imagination when it comes to decoration, as you can see." He smiled ruefully and waved his hand around the black, grey and white living room.

 

"You decorated that whole room just for me? Did the designers find the painting too?"

 

"Well, it needed decorating, it's never been used since I moved in. You should have seen the size of the spiders in the corners, I swear some of them were on the verge of developing language skills. And no." He looked away from her for a moment then looked back and smiled. "I found it a while ago and knew you would like it. I had to get a smuggler to bring it in from Alderaan, it's an antique from one of the Organa palaces. It's not stolen, I promise you, but I had to buy it slightly illegally and anonymously via several different proxies. The arrangements were quite complex, a nice little challenge. I didn't see it again for more than two years after I first laid eyes on it and it's probably been half way round the galaxy and back on its way here. Fortunately it arrived a few months ago, so I gave it to the designers and told them to match the colours to it. They had free rein as far as everything else was concerned."

 

He was explaining too much, and the light, chatty tone was suspicious. Cirean went over to where he was sitting and looked down at him. "What aren't you telling me, Eckard?"

 

He grimaced slightly. "Am I that obvious? I must be slipping."

 

"I've seen you doing your obfuscation and misdirection thing often enough." She gave him a tiny grin.

 

He nodded. "Yes, I suppose that accounts for it." He sighed. "I didn't want to tell you. I bought it for you and Twelve, as a house warming present for when you finally settled down together and had a home to put it in."

 

She couldn't help herself. The tears welled up again and she turned away. He got up and gave her his handkerchief, pulling her into a comforting hug again and waiting until she regained her composure.

[Syart]

Eventually she stopped her helpless sobbing and blew her nose fiercely into the sodden handkerchief. "Sorry", she muttered at his shoulder.

 

"Don't be. As your friend I'm here as a shoulder to cry on, literally in this case, and as a medic I approve of you having space and time to let your grief out freely and safely."

 

"Always so horribly practical." She gave him a watery but grateful smile.

 

"On another practical note, you probably want to go and freshen up now, and get some clothes on. You look quite fetching in my spare dressing gown, but it'll do you good to get up properly, even if it's only for a few hours."

 

"It's beautiful", she said, smoothing the sleeve. "The highest quality lashaa silk, and very expensive, I should think. Like everything else you have here."

 

There was not quite a questioning inflexion in her voice, but nevertheless, the question hung there, unspoken.

 

He sighed mournfully. "So suspicious. You think I'm involved in some great criminal enterprise, I can tell. CJ has unpacked your clothes into the wardrobe in your room. Go and get dressed, I'll make you an omelette to tide you over until dinner and then I'll explain. I have some other news for you as well, a job for us." He gave her a gentle push in the direction of her room.

 

After a quick shower, she pulled on a casual shirt and trousers, combed her hair, and was in the kitchen ten minutes later. Her stomach gurgled with hunger as she smelt the cooking omelette and Lokin chuckled.

 

"Just another minute or two. I've put cheese, bacon and mushrooms in it, is that all right?"

 

"Oh yes, anything! I'm so hungry I'd eat a live gundark right now."

 

"Hmm... well, it might take a while, but I can go out to retrieve one, if you'd rather?"

 

She chuckled and sat down at the table. "No, the omelette is fine, really."

 

He deftly slid the omelette from the pan onto a waiting plate and brought it across to her. "There you go, enjoy."

 

"Oh, I will." She tucked in with gusto, and he cut a couple of slices of crusty bread which he added to the plate, then sat down and watched her eat.

[Syart]

“So, explanation time?” she asked when she was half way through the plateful.

 

Lokin scratched his beard, pondering. “I did say that, didn't I.”

 

She nodded, mouth full again.

 

“All right, I'll confess my evil ways.” He grinned. “Go back a few years, my first successful gene splicing experiments in animals. I combined a mouse horranth with an akk dog. Ugly little beasts, but my lab assistants considered them 'cute'. My deputy on the SLV project at the time suggested that I could sell them to high class ladies as protective lap dogs. Long story short, I investigated the pet market, and found it surprisingly lucrative. I've been using Project Harvest's facilities to produce miniaturised versions of quite a number of animals, with the ISB's full knowledge and approval. I sold it to them as a cheap and rapid way of tracking post-splicing genetic drift and monitoring generational stability of phenotypic changes, as well as a money-making scheme. They take a large cut of everything I make.” He coughed. “Everything they know about, that is.”

 

She was using the second slice of bread to wipe the remains of the omelette off the plate, but stopped to raise her eyebrows at him. “Everything they know about …. so what don't they know about?”

 

“Well, it's run as a franchise business. I supply breeding groups, usually one male, three females, though it depends on the species. The franchisees breed their animals, and sell or retain the offspring for more breeding stock, as they choose. They're all registered in a network and can swap breeders around as they choose. However, the franchise agreement requires them to send all breeding records and genetic samples to the ISB for every kitten, cub, puppy, lizardlet, whatever, for all generations in perpetuity, and in addition, a percentage of whatever they sell the pets for. The ISB covers all the Harvest production costs from that, takes most of the rest as profit and pays me a small additional stipend.”

 

“Very clever.” She nodded admiringly.

 

“Indeed, and the breeding records and genetic tracking have advanced my work tremendously fast. And the ISB's.” He scratched his beard again. “I'm not completely sure yet what they're using it all for, but I know there are some odd things going on in the eugenics programmes. I need to dig further and deeper. Or higher, depends on your point of view. They have some files which they call red-coded ...”

 

“I'm not getting distracted.” Cirean broke in. “That's what the ISB knows about, what about the rest?”

 

“Well, they know about everything in Imperial space. Via proxies, I'm operating the same scheme, including the data gathering, in Republic space. I take a bigger percentage, and the ISB aren't getting anything.”

 

“I see …. very clever. Ok, so you're only tax dodging, not running massive holonet scams or raiding banks.”

 

He pretended to look shocked. “How could you imagine such things?”

 

“Because I've known you a long time and you're a sly and sneaky bastard with no respect for the law?”

 

“You have a point”, he admitted.

 

“You're not a bad cook though. Thanks.” She smiled gratefully. “And for everything else, too.”

 

Lokin shook his head. “No need to thank me. You can stay as long as you want. I'll even get you a free pet, if you want one.”

 

She looked a bit wistful. “When I was about nine or ten, I tried to trap a vine cat cub. I thought I would be able to raise it to be a pet. Probably just as well that I didn't succeed.” She smiled wryly.

 

“Vaulting ambition which oe'rleaps itself”, Lokin nodded.

 

“Whatever. But once I got to Intelligence I've never been in one place long enough to have a pet.”

 

“These things can be worked around, and I like a challenge. I'll see what I can do. Something small, catlike, suitable for a permanent inside life.”

 

“Eckard, why are you going to all this trouble for me?”

 

There was a brief flicker of evasion, so brief she wasn't even sure she'd really seen it.

 

“Twelve told me to look after you. I mean to do that. I owe it to both of you.”

 

She swallowed hard. “Well, still thanks.”

 

He nodded. “Subject change time. I mentioned a job.”

[TerrekCorso]

Hey, have been following this for a while now but just recently caught up.

 

Have been wanting to comment almost every time I read, but figured I should catch up and write it all up in one big comment. Of course, as all writers know, if you don't write it down you'll forget (as I have).

 

In any case I wanted to say I've been enjoying the story. Lokin is an awesome companion in game and you've given him an awesome story here. Also, have liked that you've managed to keep, what is essentially 'downtime' for Lokin, interesting and compelling

 

Initially was hooked in by the title and gave me an idea I'm working out atm (though I should really try to finish my current works first) Christopher Marlowe secret service conspiracy theory rewritten to an Imperial Agent's story... prepare for "Massacre in Taris".

 

Sorry digressing, Lokin rocks, love how Cerean knows him too well for his usual antics and makes him just blurt out "Subject change time."

 

looking forward to the next post

[Syart]

Hey, have been following this for a while now but just recently caught up.

 

Have been wanting to comment almost every time I read, but figured I should catch up and write it all up in one big comment. Of course, as all writers know, if you don't write it down you'll forget (as I have).

 

In any case I wanted to say I've been enjoying the story. Lokin is an awesome companion in game and you've given him an awesome story here. Also, have liked that you've managed to keep, what is essentially 'downtime' for Lokin, interesting and compelling

 

Initially was hooked in by the title and gave me an idea I'm working out atm (though I should really try to finish my current works first) Christopher Marlowe secret service conspiracy theory rewritten to an Imperial Agent's story... prepare for "Massacre in Taris".

 

Sorry digressing, Lokin rocks, love how Cerean knows him too well for his usual antics and makes him just blurt out "Subject change time."

 

looking forward to the next post

 

Thanks I've been enjoying writing it, and it's nice to know when people appreciate it.

 

Your Christopher Marlowe idea sounds fascinating, I hope you manage to start writing it soon, I'll be interested to see how it works out

[Syart]

She pushed the now empty plate away, pulling herself back into professional mode. “Yes, what job?”

 

“It's complicated.”

 

“Did that ever stop us before?”

 

“Of course not. But this is unusual, to say the least. You probably know more than I do about the background. The old Keeper, his plans to protect Intelligence from Sith interference, etc etc.”

 

“I … yes, Twelve told me most of what was going on. I guess.” She kept her feelings under control with an effort.

 

“I met with old Keeper this morning. He and … well, he put this to me and I agreed to put it to you, see how you felt about it. It involves Twelve's final recruit.” He stopped and looked at her.

 

She looked stricken for a moment but recovered herself. “Go on.”

 

Lokin nodded. “The recruit is a young Force-sensitive Hapani, an elite commando trainee who's been hiding his Force abilities because he wanted to be a simple soldier and follow his father. He's due to arrive on Nar Shaddaa, being neutral territory, in a week or so. Keeper One will shortly on his way to pick the boy up. The plan is that he'll be sent for Sith training – well, he has to be, of course – but before he goes, he'll secretly get Intelligence infiltration, hacking and covert communication training. It's a long term undercover job. He'll be in a position to find out about the Sith from the inside for us.”

 

“That's …. yeah, complicated. And a tough one. The recruit agreed to this, he knows what's planned?”

 

“Yes, that was what Twelve recruited him for, with full disclosure.”

 

“And the idea is we give him the training, right? You and me?”

 

Lokin nodded. “Pretty much right, though mostly you, and old Keeper will also be involved. You can be kept off the Minder lists for a few months; the recruit's existence can be concealed for the same time. Once he's got his basic training from us, he'll be handed over to the Sith as a new arrival.”

 

She frowned. “How's that going to work?”

 

Lokin looked reluctant. She eyed him. “I need to know.”

 

He sighed. “Yes, I know. This is where it gets complicated again. Twelve's brother will handle it. Minder Forty-nine. He was the one who called me to the meeting this morning. But all contact can be done via myself, there's no need for you to meet or talk to him. I should warn you ….” He stopped.

 

She tilted her head. “Warn me … that he looks and sounds just like Twelve, it really freaked you out and you're worried it'll do the same to me and I'll totally lose it?”

 

He blinked. “You can still surprise me sometimes.”

 

“Twelve told me often enough that his brother was just like him. That all his family reckoned they were twins, just accidentally born twelve years apart. I wish I'd met him before.” She looked away, staring unseeingly at the wall.

 

“Cirean, it's up to you. He was reluctant to meet you for the same reason. You can turn the job down if you want to, they'll understand. But if you want to do it, I'll … protect you, I suppose, is the nearest ….”

 

She shook her head. “No, I'll take the job. Twelve would have wanted that, it'll be carrying on his work protecting Intelligence, something that was very important to him. And I'll have to face his brother, sooner or later. But maybe not just yet. I need a few days, a week, something.”

 

 

Many thanks to Ventessel for the Sith infiltration idea However, this is Lokin's story, so the infiltrator's story will be told separately.

 

Edited July 18, 2013 by Syart

[Syart]

A few days passed in peace. Lokin set up the holonet terminals for her, involving fingerprint, voice and retina scans as well as several standard and some definitely non-standard security algorithms. He went off to work each morning as normal. She turned CJ's social protocols back on after the first couple of days, just to hear another voice sometimes, but disabled them when Lokin came home from work again. Meantime, she ate, slept, exercised, watched old holovis shows, and avoided thinking as much as possible.

 

Finally, she decided that she could put it off no longer. She made a holocom call to HQ.

 

A professionally smiling receptionist answered. "Good morning, this is Imperial Intelligence Headquarters, Agents' Section, how may I help you?"

 

"Oh... hi ... this is Agent Cirean Geardail, I need to speak to Minder Forty-nine please." She managed to keep the tremor out of her voice, but knew the stress would be showing clearly in the voice pattern recognition.

 

"One moment, Agent."

 

There were a few clicks and buzzes. "Voice pattern confirmed, Agent, and secure communication line is established. I don't think the Minder is at HQ today but I'll check for you."

 

A few more clicks and buzzes, and the randomly generated holopatterns of being on hold. Cirean waited, chewing her lip nervously.

 

The pattern dissolved and the receptionist reappeared. "He's not here today, Agent, but he did leave a message that you might call and supplied an alternate holofrequency."

 

"Oh.. that's great, thank you. Please can you transmit it?"

 

"Of course, Agent, or I can connect you directly if it would be easier?"

 

Cirean hesitated for a moment. If she got the receptionist to do the transfer, there was a high chance that HQ would retain a link in and bug the conversation. She was pretty sure that Lokin's holocommunicator would tell her if that happened, but it would be better to avoid the possibility.

 

"No, just send me the frequency, thanks." She did her best to smile cheerfully.

 

"Very well Agent, that's done for you." (There was a soft bell-like tone as the incoming message was received.) "Your voice pattern suggests that you're a bit stressed, can anyone else help you with anything?"

 

"I...err .. no, it's nothing. I'm just back from a long job, tired and wound up, you know how it is. I'll be fine after a few weeks of sleep."

 

The receptionist laughed. "Fine then, I'll let you get on. Have a nice day, Agent. A nice restful day."

 

They both chuckled and Cirean disconnected. Damn, she thought. I got myself all psyched up and now I have to do it all again.

 

She called up the new holofrequency and looked at it. The call ready button blinked green at her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to suppress the squirming in her stomach and the tenseness in her back muscles.

 

I have to do this. She stabbed at the call button and waited.

 

Minder Forty-nine answered almost immediately, but with visual suppressed. "Agent, I was hoping you would call. This is a secure line, you can speak freely. Lokin informed me that he'd put our proposition to you."

 

He sounded almost exactly like Twelve, identical accent and speech rhythm. Cirean was unable to speak through the knot in her throat for a full minute. He waited patiently, not pushing her. That was like Twelve too, always patient. He'd reckoned you got far better results if you waited for people to speak in their own time.

 

She swallowed hard a few times and found her voice again. "Yes, he did. I want to follow it through, do the training for him."

 

"Excellent. Twelve would be pleased to know that we, and particularly you, are carrying on his work. If we can pull it off, this may be one of the best things he ever did for Intelligence."

 

"Yes, I can see that ... please, would you put your visual on?"

 

"Are you sure?" There was genuine-sounding concern in his voice.

 

"I'm sure, I have to face it.. I mean you, sooner or later."

 

"As you wish, then." There was a brief pause, then the holoimage flickered into life.

 

She stared at him, speechless again. Lokin had warned her, but she still hadn't quite been prepared. Forty-nine looked exactly as Twelve had done the day they'd first met, when she was sixteen years old and he'd watched her climbing Lord Ergast's monument.

 

Again he waited patiently, but studying her with similar intensity.

 

Finally she found her voice. "Eckard did warn me." She tried a smile. "I'm sorry, I'm being stupid. I wish we'd met before, this would be easier."

 

He nodded. "I'm sorry too, but don't apologise, it's understandable. I don't want to upset you or make things more difficult. There's no need for us to meet or even talk again, we can handle everything in writing or via Eckard and Keeper One."

 

"No, it's ok, I just need a while to get used to it. You, I mean." She tried to smile again. "Keeper One, you mean the old Keeper?"

 

"Yes, I've started to call him that to differentiate him from the current Keeper. You'll mostly be working with him to train the recruit, actually. He's going into long-term very deep cover, and Keeper One is the expert in that."

 

"Some of his tales about his time on Coruscant are amazing."

 

Forty-nine grinned. "I bet he didn't tell you the juicier ones. Ask him about the Senator's girlfriend and the Nautolan dancer some time."

 

"Oh, I heard that one, though he might have toned it down a bit, it was quite tame really. The one when he was working as a senate driver and his speeder got pulled over by the police for having an out of date registration? And then the dancer tried to bribe the policeman with ... err ... services?"

 

"Yes, that's the one, though I suspect he didn't tell you what happened the next day."

 

"No, he didn't, you mean there's more?!"

 

"Oh yes, but I'll let him tell you, it's not fair to steal his thunder."

 

She laughed, surprising herself. She wasn't exactly relaxed or happy, but the painful knot of tension in her stomach had dissolved and Forty-nine was friendly and nearly as easy to chat with as Twelve. I'll cope with this, she thought.

 

"Talking of which," Forty-nine continued, "I'll send you his holofrequency. He's off planet at the moment, gone to escort our new young friend back from Hapani space, but I'll let him know to get in touch as soon as they're back. Three or four days, probably."

 

"Thanks", she said, meaning it.

 

"Any time." He smiled. "I mean that. If you want to talk about Twelve, or ask questions, or anything, you've got my holofrequency." He hesitated. "Actually, I would like a chance to talk about him now and again too. It's hard to realise that he's gone. I'm not used to being without a big brother yet."

 

Of course, he's grieving too, Cirean thought. I'm being selfish and self-centred, I'm not the only one torn up by this. Out loud she said, "I appreciate that. And I will call. Maybe we could meet some time too, for a drink and just to talk?"

 

He looked uncertain. "Only if you're sure."

 

"I am." She nodded firmly. "Besides, I need to get outside again, it's nearly a week and I'm sure Eckard's house droid will start dusting me like the other fixtures and fittings soon."

 

Forty-nine smiled. "I suppose I can't let that happen to you. Today's no good for me, how about lunch tomorrow? There's a new restaurant opened on the edge of the expansion area. Just called Caly's, the owner's name, presumably. Traditional cuisine, whatever that means."

 

"Traditional ... well, as long as it's not Sith mince or barbecue*." They both grinned. "Worth a look, anyway. If it's horrible we can go someplace else."

 

"Noon tomorrow then. I need to go for now."

 

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, thanks again." She pushed the end call button, surprised again to find she was looking forward to the lunch.

 

* Kaas City slang: Sith mince - the result of a mad (either furious or insane) warrior; Sith barbecue - the equivalent from an inquisitor.

[Syart]

(Another six months on)

 

Part of an extremely private conversation in an ISB director's office, somewhere in Kaas City.

 

Voice 1: "That's decided then, thank you all for your input. Now, I have one last security matter to bring up. Eckard Lokin. He was transferred in from Imperial Intelligence around five years ago, some sort of disciplinary action according to his file. Attached to Cicerone officially, but doing more useful work in Harvest. He is beginning to worry me. His work is good, even brilliant in places, but he snoops too much."

 

Voice 2: "Always a problem with Imperial Intelligence types."

 

Voice 1: "True, I sometimes wonder whether we should be quite so cooperative in letting them drop people on us."

 

Voice 3: "It's rather hard to say no when half our projects and a very large chunk of our budget depend on being cooperative."

 

Voice 1: "Also true. Can we isolate his internal net account?"

 

Voice 3: "Tried that several times. He runs rings round our system administrators. I believe he's some sort of technical specialist agent as well as a medic."

 

Voice 4: "Yes, code name Fixer Fifteen. I understand the Fixers are the scientific and technical wizards in Intelligence. In fact, I was going to bring him up as well, I've been worried for a while. I could understand him looking into Harvest and Cicerone research archives, to some extent, and he's always done that, but he's been going far wider, even been trying to get into the red-coded Protean files. He's getting too close to some of the more, shall we say, sensitive areas."

 

Voice 2: "Such as the intended ultimate purpose of his SLV-15 research, presumably."

 

Voice 4: "Indeed, amongst others. The security on that is all the way up to Dark Council level, but he's working through it."

 

Voice 1: "In short then, we need to get rid of him."

 

Voice 2 (drily): "I wouldn't care to send an assassin after him, I should feel sorry for the assassin."

 

Voice 1: "Tempting as the thought is, I didn't actually mean it that way. Intelligence can make that decision if they wish. For now, transfer him off planet, move him into a completely disconnected project, I don't care. But get him away from Protean."

 

Voice 4: "Agreed. It's not just the SLV matter, we've been using his Harvest work to advance in some of the genetic programming in Eugenics. If he finds that, he'll know exactly what we're doing, which could potentially be disastrous for us. Particularly with some of the, ah, 'exclusive' projects."

 

Voice 1: “Indeed, that could prove very risky.”

 

Voice 3: "We could just ask Intelligence to take him back."

 

Voice 2: "That would be the best all round, in my opinion, but what excuse could we come up with?"

 

Voice 3: "Hmm. Can't say he's finished his current projects, or come to the end of his usefulness. Intelligence will also want him out, of course, they have reason enough to want to keep Protean's activities confidential. But we'll need an overt excuse to give Lokin himself. He annoys a lot of people, can we use a disciplinary complaint issue? It fits with his previous file."

 

Voice 1: "He's not stupid, he'll know he's being got rid of. I agree, transfer back to Intelligence should be the long term goal, but it will take time and we need to get him moved now, essentially. A disciplinary approach for a transfer may be feasible, however.”

 

Voice 3: “It's just occurred to me, a request came in two days ago from the galactic harmonisation committee people, looking for a virology specialist on secondment for six months. He isn't, strictly speaking, but he must have a reasonable amount of knowledge from his SLV work, and in cytogenetics he's light years ahead of most. Viruses aren't much more than their genetic material. We can certainly make the case that he's a suitable candidate and put him forward for that. Completely disconnected from us then.”

 

Voice 1: “An excellent idea. Yes, do that. Intelligence can pull a few strings, make sure he gets accepted. That will take the pressure off and then it's just a case of never letting him back in.”

 

Voice 3: “I'll do it straight away, have him out in a couple of weeks.”

 

Voice 4: “I'll sort out someone to take over his Harvest work. He has a couple of promising assistants. No point in letting it drop now.”

 

Voice 1: “Indeed, we must carry on with that.”

 

Voice 2: “Is there anything else urgent we need to discuss? If not, I suggest we adjourn for now, we all have a number of matters to deal with.”

 

Voice 1: “I believe that was all. We'll reconvene tomorrow.”

[Syart]

There was general agreement between the voices, accompanied by the sounds of rustling papers, the clicking off of datapads, moving chairs, and the door opening and closing.

 

Lokin removed his headphones and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. So they'd caught up with him at last. “I'm astonished it took so long”, he announced with mild surprise to the empty air of his Kaas City apartment.

 

The small part nekarr kitten he'd bred for Cirean, which had been sprawled out fast asleep on the floor in a rare patch of sunshine, woke up and stretched. Lokin looked at it. “All good things come to an end, eh?”

 

He got up and went to the kitchen, the kitten following him hopefully. He made himself a bowl of mixed salad, then decanted about a quarter of it into a separate bowl for the kitten. “That should keep you going for a while.”

 

The baby nekarr, which was actually mostly a small vegetarian reptile on the inside, snuffled happily into its bowl of leaves before extracting a cherry tomato which it proceeded to chase around the floor for a few minutes before eating it.

 

Lokin contemplated the cat. It had been a fascinating challenge, not only the miniaturisation but changing the animal's entire physiology for an almost exclusively vegetarian diet whilst still retaining the feline appearance and hunting instinct. He was rather pleased with the result. Unfortunately, although technically female, it was sterile and permanently sexually immature; reproduction was still a problem when combining disparate species. If he got a chance he would work on that for the next iteration, it was definitely something that had potential in his expanding pet market, but it looked as though his access to Project Harvest's support and technology was about to finish abruptly.

 

He grated a generous amount of bormu cheese over his share of the salad and returned to his desk. Eating the salad with one hand, with the other he established a connection to the securely hacked line he'd set up into the ISB's datanet. He hadn't cracked all the encryption layers yet, but obviously it would be worth doing so. He already knew a lot, but there was clearly more to be found.

 

He added a series of spikes to his console, and initiated a full data dump of everything accessible, setting it to piggy-back onto the normal nightly server backup procedure. Then he switched the screen off and went to finish his salad in front of the holovis. There was a series on the development of the Perlemian trade route which had mentioned the spread of the seasonal viral infections from Castell and he was curious to see if they would say anything further about the virus.

 

Edit note: changed vine cat to nekarr, after realising that vine cats don't have fur

Edited May 19, 2013 by Syart
Changed vine cat to nekarr, after realising that vine cats have no fur :o