Ask The Stakeout

[Merian Sere]

Botajef, shipyard district
157 ABY

This was a job for Intelligence.

With ISB clearance, Merian could have waltzed into the complex with a forged identity and valid credentials, vanished in the crowd, found her way up to the shipyards unnoticed. She would have had blueprints of the place, a carefully-crafted plan, maybe even a handler whispering in her ear if anything went awry. Agent Sere would have had all that. Knight Sere didn’t. Knight Sere was expected to reach the same outcome on her own, like she could beat down the door and everyone behind it with her new lightsaber and fancy red armor.

Fat chance, she thought, giving it another look. To her alone, the industrial building might as well have been a fortress.

Merian lowered her macrobinoculars and moved away from the window. Her armor was piled in a corner, the only hint of color in the abandoned room she’d chosen as her hideout. The temptation to don it and walk down the main entrance to the complex with weapon in hand was growing stronger with every passing day. For almost a week she’d been staking out the place, noting comings and goings, looking for her way in. But her progress had stalled, and she was running out of time. Any moment now her brothers and sisters would be landing on Dathomir, just the shortest hyperspace jump away, and she wouldn’t be in position to cover them when all hell broke loose.

The worst part was that her target was far from impenetrable. Merian could see its weaknesses clear as day. The old Jefi guard posted in the lobby liked to stretch his breaks several minutes every afternoon, likely not paid enough to care. Two turbolifts leading to the upper levels were found in the far wing, and though they were protected by an access code, they were left unsupervised, leaving ample time for slicing. At the change of shift in the morning, the fresh guard sat straight at his post without ever reading the report from the night before. The inability to act on it was like to drive Merian mad. If only she had backup. If only she knew where the cameras were. If only she could get past the main gate. If only.

Wait. Movement.

In the distance, Merian saw figures approaching the main gate. She pressed the macrobinoculars back to her eyes. Five men, all Twi’leks, had stopped just before the energized barrier. One of them was talking to the old Jefi guard. The rest surrounded a hovercart strewn with a tarp, gently gliding a foot above the ground. Merian frowned. She’d only ever seen deliveries in the morning.

After a brief exchange, the barrier shut down and the old Jefi waved the men through. The cart followed behind them like any docile beast might have. Then the gate was back up. The men passed a wide hangar door with their cargo and disappeared inside. Merian stepped back from the window again.

Twi’leks. Seeing even one of them was a rarity on this planet. Five at once? That was a lead. The best she had, thin as it was. And Merian didn’t have time to wait for better. She’d have to hurry.

The Knight made for the door before she stopped herself. She considered her red armor piled up in the corner, decided against it, and slipped out of the room.

 

[Merian Sere]

Closer.

Merian inched towards the compound on foot as the speeder traffic whooshed overhead. She had to make it on time. The gang wouldn’t stay long, and Merian had no idea where they’d exit from. Being unable to follow them into the building complicated her task significantly. But she had more than one way to get what she wanted.

The pink head stuck out like a sore thumb—a sore lekku, as it were. The Twi’lek stared into the industrial complex with purpose, much like Merian had just a few minutes ago. Only he was spying from behind an adjacent building, barely a few meters away, and he made no attempt whatsoever at acting natural. He didn’t hear the Knight creeping up behind him until her dormant lightsaber was pressed firmly against his back.

“Quiet,” Merian whispered. “Who are they?”

“Who?”

“Your crew. The ones who left you behind to watch over them and run back if the deal went sour.”

“I, uh...” The answer seemed to drain the color from his face. “They’re- who are you?”

“Merian Sere, Imperial Knight. Answer the question.”

“Well, you see, I-”

Merian smacked the back of his head with her lightsaber hilt. “A name!”

“Raask! It was Raask’s idea! He gathered the others and-”

“When?”

“Last night!”

Too short notice, she thought. Had to have a contact on the inside. “There were papers.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Papers,” she repeated. “For the cargo. The hovercart.”

“Well-”

“I don’t care if they’re fake. He had to have something.” The cargo would be what it would, but even the most incompetent gateman wouldn’t have let the craft in without a manifest. Unless they were bribed. More options Merian had no means to enact.

“I don’t know about the stupid papers!” the Twi’lek blurted. “Ask Raask! I’m just a runner!”

“You can lead me to the hideout. I’ll see for myself.”

“But- why? The papers are fake. I-”

“You don’t understand,” Merian replied. “I’m not looking for papers. I’m looking for a way in.”

 

[Merian Sere]

“Hey, so uh, I was thinking, is this planet actually under Imperial jurisdiction? You know, just askin’.”

“Keep walking.”

Merian followed the Twi’lek through the streets of the shipyard district, weapon stowed but its latent threat still coloring their every interaction. Her eyes darted left to right every other second. She had no reason to trust him, and about a dozen reasons to fear some kind of trap.

“You said your safehouse was somewhere in the Forgotten Blocks. Are we close?”

“Getting there.”

“You’re much less talkative,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, you know, having someone threaten you with death will do that.”

“That didn’t stop your blabber until two minutes ago.”

“Blabber? I-”

“I know you’re armed,” the Knight cut him short. “I can’t hold it against you, with what you were doing. But I hope you’re not leading me into an ambush.”

“I would never-”

“I might, if I were you. Know it would not end well. You and your clique aren’t my target.”

Around them, the streets seemed to have grown a shade darker. The same durasteel high-rises were found as anywhere else on the planet, but large sections of lights were blacked out entirely, in need of maintenance. Notably fewer speeders passed overhead. Shoddy businesses advertised in the dark, unwilling or unable to acquire the same luminous signs utilized by the more respectable shopkeepers. In the distance, one of the massive buildings had collapsed almost entirely. These were the Forgotten Blocks, where the neighboring shipyard district’s neediest workers bunked down at night.

“We’re getting close,” the Twi’lek said. “See that building over there?”

“That collapsed thing?”

“Yeah, that’s the Lance. Raask keeps his stuff there.”

“And you’d so easily sell him out?”

He shrugged. “When someone gets a lightsaber on you, you do what they ask.”

There was nothing about him that Merian trusted. But his words made sense enough, he kept walking, and Merian followed.

 

[Merian Sere]

The whole building was unsettling. Lights were out, of course, though Merian couldn’t be sure whether that had come before the collapse or since. She held out a glowrod in her left hand, revealing scattered puddles of muddy rainwater across the floor. Its sickly glow was too weak to reach the walls and high ceiling.

The pink Twi’lek walked beside her now, quiet since they’d reached their destination. It made Merian uneasy. Her right hand hovered near her right hip, ready to draw her blaster at a moment’s notice. The thing was unsanctioned, a non-regulation DC-17 concealed opposite the lightsaber at her left, but they’d taken her standard issue DA-34 when she became a Knight and she couldn’t help clinging to her old ways. That was one transgression Merian didn’t feel bad about. If it came to life or death, she wouldn’t apologize for defending herself with her favored weapon.

“Now what?” she asked, her brow furrowed. “You can’t tell me people still live in the upper levels?”

“Oh, well if I can’t...”

“Don’t play smart. The turbolift can’t be operational. Stairwell?”

“You got it.”

“Lead the way.”

Cautiously, she followed. There was an odd feeling about this place, like it was just waiting for her to head deeper to collapse the rest of the way and kill everyone inside. The foul smells didn’t help, and neither did the vibrations and muffled sounds coming from the upper levels. Music?

The Twi’lek led her up what seemed like a half a dozen flights of stairs before he stopped. “Now, was that three stories or four?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Nah, kidding. We’re here.”

He pushed open a metal door that looked like it didn’t quite close all the way and stepped into a hallway. The walls were sprayed with graffiti, but surprisingly there were lights. The music was louder now, Merian could make out tuneless electronic beats that made her skin crawl. In the distance, she heard laughing.

Merian set out towards it, but the Twi’lek didn’t move. She turned to him, her eyes questioning. He put his hands up in defense.

“Now, listen. I led you here, I swear it’s not a trap. But I’d rather not walk in with you and tell everyone I brought an Imperial to our place. You can understand that, right?”

She did, she supposed. And yet...

“I won’t make it to Raask’s office without you. They won’t let a stranger walk around freely.”

“Then lie!”

“I don’t have to be an Imperial Knight,” she offered. “I’m not even armored. I can be a friend you picked up off the street.”

At that, he audibly guffawed. “Right, right. My frowny, stiff, lightsaber-carrying friend I picked up off the street.”

“I’m not stiff.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“If you have another way for me to access the shipyards, I’m all ears. I don’t want to threaten you again.”

He sighed. “No, I don’t suppose I do. Alright. Come on.”

 

[Merian Sere]

As they walked past the bouncer and inside the heart of the party, Merian knew she’d been right. The Twi’lek beside her was a usual, maybe Raask’s inner circle; they hadn’t asked him questions, and as long as she was on his arm, they wouldn’t ask her any, either.

Merian scanned the room in less than a second. Packed with bodies almost wall to wall, booming with pulsing electronic music like to shatter everyone’s eardrums or equivalent, it obscured a blast door on the far wall that could only lead to her objective.

“Nice work,” she whispered for the Twi’lek who’d led her here—or shouted quietly enough that here it counted for a whisper—and slipped away from him. His hand grabbed her wrist, bringing her violently back to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Reflexively, Merian’s other hand found her blaster. But the Twi’lek was all smile. “What, without dancing?” he grinned.

“Excuse me?”

“See? Stiff.”

“I’m not here to dance,” she protested. “Especially not with these people.”

“Yes, not suspicious at all heading straight for the boss’s office as soon as you come in. Also, rude. I’ll have you know these are my people.”

“Let me worry about not getting caught. This isn’t music to dance to.”

He shrugged. “They seem to disagree.”

Merian looked behind her, but her mind was thoroughly unchanged. All these people were high as a space station, for one, and what they did looked less like dancing than having an elaborate seizure. They were close by each other, yet none of them talked, all lost in their own little world.

“Just follow me,” the Twi’lek said, dragging her by the wrist into the crowd.

They were surrounded on all sides by trancing, sweating aliens, yet Merian noticed the mass seemed to shift ever so slightly around them, like aware enough to allow them a modicum of personal space. The pink Twi’lek turned to face her, and after a few awkward seconds, slowly broke into his own moves. His were more classic, not quite fitting with the aggravating beats, likely for her sake.

“You’re enjoying this.” Merian’s tone was an accusation.

“Where I can.” All his nervousness had melted away; in fact, he acted like the balance of power had shifted in his favor, knowing himself safe in the middle of his crowd.

Merian gave up, herself moving into some semblance of a dance. Maybe she really was stiff.

“What’s your name?” she found herself asking.

“Duf’rin.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’re learning.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“There’s nothing crooked about you,” he said. “You know why I brought you here?” At that, he paused a moment, shifting to the sound of the music, hands on Merian’s hips. “Because you’re telling the truth. You’ll find the papers you’re looking for, then you’ll leave for the complex and I’ll never hear from you again. No trouble.”

As if to illustrate his point, he sent Merian out for a spin.

She didn’t come back.

The Twi’lek laughed, now alone despite the dancers all around him. He knew he’d never see her again. She’d vanished in the crowd.

 

[Merian Sere]

Merian made it to the blast door like a wraith, unseen in a room that didn’t know to look for her. Its controls were rudimentary, but on closer inspection, it didn’t even matter. Someone had already gone through.

She heard the rasp and knew whoever it was hadn’t left. With Raask gone and his crew with him, she’d expected to be alone, in and out in a minute, but she’d make do. Merian again picked her blaster over her lightsaber, this time drawing it fully. She held a breath, counted two seconds, and went in weapon first.

The sight of Maros Lasan in his armor hit her like a gut punch, like regret and hope. Instantly her blaster dropped to her side. Her mouth opened half an inch before she regained control of it. Then she noticed the details. His still-wet hair, his haggard look, his unkempt beard, his Sith eyes glowing more intense than she’d ever known in the ISB. The stench of him, like the Sump.

See the hole you dug for yourself, she sadly thought. Even then she felt the urge to reach a hand and pull him out of it. She didn’t. It wasn’t the first time she tried to have him see beyond the fabrications of Sith philosophy. He’d only push back and drag her down with him. Destroy himself before admitting to being anything less than perfectly right. Even now.

“Maros.” An observation; factual, dry, neutral. First name only. Last names were for comrades, for brothers and sisters in arms, they meant respect. He’d chosen away from that courtesy.

 

[Merian Sere]

Merian approached the man like she would a dog, a familiar old dog who’d unexpectedly returned after a year in the wild and she didn’t know just how rabid he’d gotten. Her right hand went up, ever so slowly, and the blast door closed behind her. Then she brought her hand back down and just as slowly stowed her blaster. The weapon disappeared by the curve of her hip. If they had to fight the lightsaber would be a better bet than seeing her bolt batted back between her eyes, but either way Merian didn’t like her chances. Maros didn’t bridle his rage. The broken mess he’d made of the information she’d come seeking was further proof of that.

But they wouldn’t fight, Merian believed it with certainty. Maros was shocked, not raging, though his humor could change in seconds. He’d even taken a step back. She knew him enough to match a careful step forward. Together in the ISB, they’d taken on much worse than a crummy complex on Botajef. They’d relied on each other. Put their life in each other’s hands. Despite her better sense, Merian found herself hoping.

An alert eyebrow went up. “Same as always,” she answered. “Who sent you?”

 

[Merian Sere]

Oh, but you are a slave, she thought. To your passions and all your base instincts you should know better than to obey. There it was again, that contempt, but she couldn’t help being right. He hadn’t always been like this.

But as she stared down Maros and his lightsaber, Merian realized maybe she hadn’t been as right as she thought. Maybe he never would come to his senses, wake up one day and realize what he’d lost. Maybe he would kill her right there and then. He certainly could. Maybe this was her death. A cruel lesson to leave the past alone.

Her own saber went to her hand, bronze-hilted just like his. If she were to die, she wouldn’t go quietly as she’d lived. Tears formed in her eyes, heavy. They made her a traitor. What had she expected?

“No. No, it isn’t. It’s how I feared it would be.” Her blade activated in response, orange like a compromise. “I never thought I’d see you again. How fitting is it that you’d irrupt back without warning to disrupt a mission? Not so long ago, you would have stood beside me. That’s the disappointment. Not you. Never you.”

 

[Merian Sere]

Merian answered that for him. Her lightsaber went out. Her muscles relaxed, not putting it away but lowering it into what wasn’t quite a guard, because she’d understood, or whatever she thought she’d understood was better than any alternative.

“I’m not here for you.” Her voice was louder for no real reason, clearer, like there was a rumbling river between them she was trying to be heard over. “I wasn’t sent to kill you.” Though I have to now. One of the first duties of Imperial Knights was to destroy Sith remnants wherever they found them.

“I’m here for the complex, and you’ve sabotaged that enough already,” she said with a look around the room cluttered with broken things. Her tone was haughty again, her armor she wielded as a weapon. “So stay out of this.” I need you.

 

[Merian Sere]

When his rage burned out, she breathed. He stowed his weapon and she did the same. Her muscles loosened a bit more, though she couldn’t completely ease up in his presence. At his questions, her eyes dropped from his to the floor.

“He isn’t. But I need a way in, and he has one,” she said, low, a confession. “I’m no longer ISB.” It pained her to speak the words, as much as she managed to remain reasonably dignified.

“And what about you? What does the proud Maros Lasan have to do with the meddlings of a two-bit criminal?”

 

[Merian Sere]

“You seem like you’re doing great for yourself, too. That new fragrance, Sewer on a warm day? Very provocative,” Merian snapped back. Anyone else might have meant the compliment to her, but from him she didn’t buy it. They understood each other. Maros would know her ‘lateral transfer’ for what it was, a slap in the face, and his little jab was nothing but an attempt to rub it in.

As she walked among the debris, some scattered bits of electronics giving a final crunch below her boots, she couldn’t help the bitter thought, it’s all junk now, but she had to admit her hope had been a reach at best. Unsophisticated as he was, would Raask really have left sensitive information, names of contacts or times of delivery, out and about by his office for anyone to find? No. Her hope had served a different purpose entirely, driving her to him. He’d so easily fallen back into their old habits, ‘if we could figure it out’, if we could figure it out, Merian felt that twinge again like when she’d first seen him in the vault, but she couldn’t let herself feel regret for a choice he alone had made. Whispers flooded her ears, traitor traitor traitor, but she shut them up. If he was her key to the complex, so be it. Her duty demanded she spared him. Her brothers and sisters landing on Dathomir even now, hundreds of Imperial troops and fellow Imperial Knights, their safety was worth more than the life of one lone, misfortuned Sith.

“Unless the whole complex is in on it, I suspected there’d be something,” she advanced. “With just a handful of contacts on the inside, they’d want supporting documentation to placate the rest, justify why the main gate was opened at this or that time, avoid deeper scrutiny at all costs. If you tell me that’s wrong, I believe you. As for what he’s doing...”

“I saw him walk inside just earlier. Him and four others, with a hovercart full of cargo, and at least one runner watching over them,” she said with a thought for the Twi’lek she’d threatened into bringing her here. “Maybe more. Obviously nothing legitimate, but... Spice? Weapons? Counterfeit ingots, knockoff junk for reselling? Your guess is as good as mine.”

 

[Merian Sere]

Merian paused, bringing her stalking to a quiet halt. Was that right? Had she spent the better part of a week paralyzed when she could have walked up to the gate, made up some phony excuse and been let in? That didn’t feel right, but she had to admit it wouldn’t be the first time she overcomplicated things. But even if she’d made it inside—what then? Reaching the shipyards unnoticed would be a different game entirely.

“Then I suppose there’s no time to waste. Subterfuge or assault, your pick. But first…”

Merian turned to face him, boring into his yellow eyes with hers like to scrutinize his thoughts.

“I need to know your stake. You aren’t helping me out of the goodness of your heart, and you weren’t here for the complex like I was. For the party either, visibly. So why come? Business with Raask? Some score to settle? Or is this one of the times you really just feel like hearing him beg before you cut him in two for some slight?”

 

[Merian Sere]

Merian lagged behind him a second, half amused, half indignant, but the latter subsided as quickly as it had emerged. He had answered her question, in his own sneering way. Merian hadn’t always been an Imperial Knight. She knew full well the meaning of a Sith’s goodbyes. Despite everything, she found herself smiling, an ominous thing, before she went after him in the crowd.

“Follow me. I have a place.”

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