Chapter Text
Ardun Kothe left the room first, closing the door behind him to keep out prying eyes. It was a small mercy, Cipher Nine thought, mind racing and hands not shaking only due to years of sniper training, but one nonetheless. He could have spent the next few hours, the next lifetime, really, tearing every single Imperial secret out of his head, but instead he gave vague instructions to meet the team and report to Taris.
Nine needed out. That one word had destroyed his career and likely doomed him, unless he could find a cure. Even if Kothe was wrong and he could tell Watcher Two, no, she was Keeper now, Imperial Intelligence had no room for a liability his size. He knew so much, and if ordered would even tell them the right questions, if they were smart enough to ask what they were. Just by staying alive he was giving them time to realize their mistake. He had never thought that self preservation could run so close to treason.
He stood and made his way to the door. Through it he could hear the low murmur of conversation. Nine opened the door and stepped forward, and all eyes turned to him. He scanned the room. At the right edge was Chance, who wouldn’t look at him straight on, instead sneaking glances once Nine had looked to the next people. Then Wheel, the droid among their number, who nodded at him then looked back down to its game of sabacc. He had thought it strange to have a droid as a member of an intelligence agency due to slicing risks, but Kothe clearly relied heavily on control, and it was unlikely the team knew much of their plans at any one moment. Saber was next, her mouth a stern line but eyes sparking. Her species was very familiar with slavery under the Empire, funny that she would support its close cousin now. Funny, too, that he had avoided slavery for so long in Imperial space only to end up with his brain collared by the Republic.
Then there was Hunter, looking as smug as ever. He was sitting at a small table with Kalyio, leaning forward and resting his weight on his arms. She was leaning back, arms hooked over the back of the chair and legs taking up as much space as possible. Looked amused but not too engaged. Good. She wouldn’t have gotten attached but it was for the best that no one was taken in by Hunter’s oozing charm.
“Hey agent, took you long enough.” Her voice was smooth as ever, grounding. Except…
“What time is it?” Nine demanded, flicking back through his memory. He had heard something about half an hour, but if it had been much longer they might have already gotten whatever information they needed out of him.
She stood, pushing her shoulders back as she stretched. “It’s 5:48, which means we better get going if you want to get a table at that place I was telling you about. Best burgers on Nar Shaddaa.”
“I can’t digest bread, Kaliyo.” The response came easily, laced with amusement Nine wasn’t really feeling, but once their eyes were off him he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep it together. He couldn’t break down in front of Kaliyo, not when her loyalty depended on him being competent and bold. “You go ahead. Meet back at the ship in two hours.”
She shrugged, turning to leave. “Your loss,” she called as she left, and the door snapped shut behind her.
Hunter also stood, and Nine immediately turned to look for the refresher. He couldn’t risk falling apart in front of Kaliyo, but he wanted nothing less than to be alone with these people. He should have brought Vector instead, the man and his ‘auras’ would see how wrong Nine was, how wrong this whole place was. Vector would see how tense he was, know something had gone wrong, and offer an escape. Kaliyo would call him a pansy. And honestly he deserved it, the way he was running from his targets.
It was Saber, surprisingly, who stopped his retreat. “Hey,” she called out, and her voice was considerate. It was enough for him to stop, turn, see that Hunter was still standing by that table, and no one else had moved. “We’re not going to hurt you. Not if you’re for real.”
Nine blinked, took a breath in, and let it out. “Forgive me if my trust is a bit fragile right now.” He still had to work with them, had to get them to trust him if he ever wanted them to take the foot off his throat.
She nodded, and his eyes flicked to the other members. Hunter was still smirking, teeth visible and head held high. Wheel was paying no attention. Chance was pale, and still wouldn’t look at him. A coward, even when he held all the power. Nine had met plenty of people like that, though few in Intelligence. No wonder the SIS was scrabbling to stay relevant.
He finished his flight to the refresher and closed the door behind him, keeping it from slamming. He looked at the sink faucet, clutching the counter, and felt his soul drop from his body.
“No noise, no noise,” he whispered, lowering himself to the floor. It was flat, and cold, and the only thing Nine could keep himself aware of. His hands moved to clutch his head, fingers catching on horns and hair. His breathing was too fast, too irregular, but it was all he could do to keep himself from throwing up.
Minutes passed, his hysteria falls, and he stands. He began washing his hands, mind racing through his contacts, searching for anyone who had a chance with helping. The only people he knew who had experience with mind control were Jedi, and there was no way he was getting into a friendly conversation with one of those. Unless, if he had no other options…
He turned off the faucet and stared into the mirror. His skin was orange, the same shade that deciduous leaves turned before they fell off, and his tattoos were dark and angular, symbols of a culture he couldn’t remember, but enough to make him inherently suspicious in Republic space. His lank hair was a strange color between purple and red, and though his eyes were green, his iris was encircled by red. But she had been different, a Human color, and Force-sensitive to boot. No doubt she had tattoos of her own by now, soft, round things that make him think of fish sooner than power.
If she was still alive, if he hadn’t made her up when he was longing for a past, she would be a Jedi by now. If he revealed their connection, she might be sentimental enough to help, to use her powers to sift through his mind and- but no. Nine shuddered, shaking his hands dry and stepping back from the counter. Even if he was willing to let a person into his head, his entire life was classified, filled with Imperial secrets he could never let a Jedi see. There was a reason the academy trained them to shield their mind, after all, and the only difference between being forced give information to the SIS and willingly showing it to the Jedi was who the Republic gave the credit to in the end. And even if they weren’t close to the professional system that was Imperial Intelligence, he respected the SIS far more than he ever would a Force-user.
A knock at the door made him start, and he opened it only to be greeted with Hunter’s smiling face. “Everything alright in there?” he asked, tone polite but eyes mocking.
“I was about to leave,” Nine responded, voice returned to a practiced neutrality. He hesitated, then decided he might as well have the information, even if he didn’t plan on using it. “But there is one thing I would like to ask, first.”
“Oh?” Hunter said, glee, showing itself on his face in twitches.
Nine ignored him and his sadism, an easy task after years working for the Sith, and pressed on. “I would like to identify a particular Jedi.”
Hunter sank backwards, pulling his arms behind his back and putting his weight on his heels. “And how do we know you won’t use any information we give you to hurt them?”
“You can always tell me not to,” Nine ground out, restrained hatred leaking out with every word.
“Oh, cut the man some slack, Hunter,” Saber cut in, looking up from her game again. She reached behind herself and pulled out a datapad, handing it over to the droid. “Tell Wheel who you’re looking for and he’ll tell you what he can about them.”
Nine looked at the droid but Hunter still hadn’t moved, keeping him from getting out of the doorway. The man knew it, too, and Nine felt frustration boil in his core. “She’s a Zabrak, born in 3666 or 3667. That’s all I know.”
Wheel tapped on a datapad before holding it out. “Here is a list of all the Jedi matching the description you gave. It’s not very long. If you have any more information it should be enough to identify your person.”
He stepped forward, pushing past Hunter to look at the datapad. The man caught his shoulder as he passed, and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I want to ask why you’re looking for her, but I’ll save that for another time.”
Nine’s desire to shiver was easy ignore, and it was easier still to let his body get away from Hunter. If Chance let out a sad little breath as Nine went past him, that was nothing but the kid’s problem He took the datapad and looked over it eagerly, seeing a sparse three names on the list.
Shusenwi. That was her. He hadn’t remembered, but reading her name was enough to spark something in him. Her hand, reaching down to grab his little arm and pull him after her. Eyes touched by nothing but green. Horns that were small, but still bigger than his own. The perfect size to grab when she put her head close enough.
He gave the datapad back, then turned to leave.
“Oh Legate,” Hunter called, stopping Nine in his tracks. “Just in case. Keyword Onomatophobia. Head to Taris, no unnecessary stops along the way.”
Once he could, Nine continued out the door, not deigning any of them with a response. There was no way he was going to deal with a Jedi in person, sister or not, but she could be useful regardless.