Like Passing Ships

[Dasquian Belargic]

An hour wasn’t a lot of time to get to the foothills of the Kurual'grast Mountains and back into the centre of Drev’starn city (https://www.theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?57797-Counterfeits-and-Counterparts&p=1066730&viewfull=1#post1066730) proper, but it would have to do. It had been a while (https://www.theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?56966-Turn-and-Face-the-Strange) since Dasquian had laid eyes on the new home of Rebel Intelligence, or Alliance Intelligence as it now fashioned itself. An outwardly assuming collection of buildings, their almost quaint exteriors concealed a complex network of tunnels that stretched back into the Kurual’grast foothills. Perhaps the hand of the Bothan spynet itself had guided the choice of location. One corner of Dasquian’s mouth tugged upwards at that thought. The war was over, but the Alliance hadn’t stopped trying to hide in plain sight.

No one questioned Dasquian as he entered the complex. In his capacity as Director of Alliance Security, he had clearance to access almost all of the Intelligence directorate. He walked through quiet hallways, past open doors where analysts sat scrutinising data streams, and somehow naturally found his way into one of the training gyms. A group of field agents was running through a series of self-defense techniques, and were fortunate enough to be receiving instruction from the Director of Alliance Intelligence herself.

Dasquian stood at the back of the training room, watching for a moment as Grace Van-Derveld, unaware of his presence, talked a young Twi’lek, step by step, through where he had gone wrong in trying to slip free of a grapple.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Out of all the ways to occupy herself outside of her regular duties and spending time with Bryna, Grace had volunteered to help teach. The Director of Intelligence had to pick up the jaws that hit the floor from command, but she needed something to fill her days. This decision was productive and practical, and Force knows the agents could use some tough love.

She touched the Twi'lek's elbow and motioned for him to move behind her as she lectured to the entire group, still unaware that she had a special audience. "The key in any fight is to never lose control of your wits. Your opponent can be bigger than you, taller than you, and have who knows how many weapon imaginable on them ... but," she held out a finger for emphasis,"... if your mind isn't overrun with panic, you still have a chance to win."

It was just a simple nod for the larger, taller, Twi'Lek agent to come at her. With a grunt, his arms took Grace in a choke hold and tried to pull her down. She exhaled with a cough as she reached behind her with both hands. Nails dug into the Twi'lek's sleeve and pulled his outer arm free. The instinctive tense came next, trying to lock the arm tighter around her. Clenching her teeth, she bent her knee and brought her boot down on his shin, causing him to teeter off balance for a split second. Capitalizing on that, she stepped forward and rolled her shoulder, using the momentum to her advantage to pull the agent over her. His back slammed against the mat, lekku flopping at his sides, as Grace pivoted on her heel, twisting the arm she was now in control of.

Her new vantage made her acutely aware of a presence she purposefully avoided from her peripherals. There was no mistaken that profile and was thankful for the focus that the lesson required.

She loosened her hold and helped hoist him up. "Pair off and work on holds. Focus on breaking the weak part as you just saw me do. Then take advantage."

Grace pat the Twi'lek's shoulder and nodded in approval. "If you need a moment ..."

"I'm fine Director," he said gruffly before joining his fellow agents, leaving Grace to watch over them.

She defensively crossed her arms, debating on how to play this. Feign ignorance that Dasquian was still there? A dismissed thought since he was not stupid. He would know by her posture that she knew he was here. Wait for him to say something? Should she say something? Why did this have to be hard...

Her jaw clenched with anxiety until she remembered what she had told Bryna - "Whatever normalcy we can give him will help."

"Watching me do all the work as usual, Belargic?" she asserted before slowly bringing her chin just above her shoulder to look at him.

What was more normal then giving her old partner crap?

[Dasquian Belargic]

The hint of a smile tugged at Dasquian’s lips.

“Why break the habit of a lifetime?”

Pacing forward, he paused at the edge of the training mat, some ten feet from where Grace stood with her back to him. Without consciously meaning to, he found himself analysing her posture, looking for any signs of wounds that hadn’t been there before.

“Do you ever get out into the field anymore, or is it just permanent babysitting duty for you now?” he asked, with a glance towards the agents, valiantly trying to replicate Grace’s effortless demonstration.

[Grace Van-Derveld]

She shrugged with agreement, the side of her mouth flickering with a hint of a smile before fading fast. This moment felt like they were on a solo mission and just recently reunited, giving each other the once over and get their playful digs in. Whatever he was attempting to look for, Dasquian wouldn't be able to find it because it was so far buried under the surface since there were no new physical scars.

"Director Professional Babysitter to you." She faced him fully but arms remained crossed. "They stuck me with admin duties since they were tired of me ignoring orders. Not sure who's smart idea it was to give me more responsibility so I'd behave."

Grace made a face, debating on its success. "It's mostly worked."

Bryna played a significant part in that too, but that was an entirely different discussion.

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Someone, somewhere, remains unshakably convinced in our ability to lead. You ought to take their confidence in you as a compliment.”

This was what had carried them through the war, wasn’t it? A teasing camaraderie in the face of uncertainty. The ability to look one another in the eye, lips quirked in the threat of a smirk, and pretend like the galaxy wasn’t falling down around them. Two people who knew deep down in their bones that they would die for one another, though they would never admit to that fact aloud. Dasquian glanced down, lips pursed for a moment. He didn’t have time to dance around the truth any longer.

“I’m going on my first field mission, since… getting back. I just wanted to let you know.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

For all of the trouble Grace and Dasquian caused for the greater good, they delivered on every task given to them. Any mission that was too risky with high reward, they were the go to Rebel Operatives because of their high success rate. Some how, someway, the two of them were the perfect combination of daring and skill, complementary personalities that brought out the best in one another.

Now the powers that be kept them separated in different departments to utilize their talents to the fullest. How she longed for the days that made sense - before her partner was captured on her watch.

"Yeah?" Dasquian saw the subtle broadening of Grace's gaze that betrayed how slighted she felt at not being part of that discussion. No one else would have picked up on it but him or potentially Bryna.

"You going solo?" she asked but there was an pressing, unspoken, question if he was going with a new partner. If so, was that person just for the mission or permanent.

[Dasquian Belargic]

“It’s a joint operation with Hapan Intelligence. Never thought I’d be working with the Consortium again, but…” Dasquian parted his hands, palms upturned, “Here we are.”

It had never been a widely known fact, within the ranks of Rebel Intelligence, that Director Belargic had been born on Hapes, or that he had served in the Hapan Royal Army before joining the Rebellion. It wasn’t that Dasquian had hidden his heritage, more that it had been irrelevant. When Dasquian had enlisted in the fight against the Empire, the Hapes Consortium had barely registered on the Rebellion’s radar. The Hapan monarch of the time, Ishara Alastor, had actively suppressed news of the galactic conflict, ensuring that the Hapan people were as indifferent to the Rebellion as it was to them.

In a short time, so much had changed. The Consortium had a new queen, one whose advisors seemed to favour a closer relationship with the Alliance. The Consortium even had two representatives in the Senate, one of whom was the Hapan Princess herself. Suddenly, an agent who was fluent in Hapan was an asset with significant value and Dasquian found himself first choice when it came to strengthening links between the various security and intelligence bodies Hapes operated.

“The Hapan agent they’ve assigned to me seems… competent enough, and the operation is about as close to a blue milk run as you can get.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

This was a turn of events that surprised Grace. She never thought Dasquian would come within a light year of the Consortium ever again so this was a serious shift. The higher ups would want this joint operation to go smoothly and with Dasquian's heritage and skill, he was a logical choice. She really hoped that his introduction back into active duty really was as easy as he was making it sound like.

"I can always personally vet her if you'd like," she offered with a coy smile.

He knew exactly what she meant. Not that Dasquian wasn't capable of digging up all of whoever this agent's dirt was himself, but Grace doing it would keep his hands clean. And she was going to do it anyway.

"Make sure she's as competent as she appears to be before you ship out."

[Dasquian Belargic]

“There’s nothing in her file about her skill with a frying pan, but I’m confident enough in what I’ve read. At least given the scope of the mission.”

Had there been more at stake, and more time, Dasquian might have taken Grace up on her offer. Though Hapan Intelligence had been forthcoming with a profile on Agent Di Scarra, Dasquian had seen dossiers like hers before - had compiled them himself, even. The information they omitted was often as telling as what they included.

“You wouldn’t have time to vet her, anyway. We’re shipping out this afternoon. Right after I leave here, in fact.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

There it was - a flicker of a smile that only Dasquian could coax out - thought Bryna was a close second these days. The former partners would never forget the mission where cookware had become vital for survival. Dasquian would always give her playful grief about it.

Though the smile that had been slowly widening immediately stopped and retracted in surprise.

"What?!"

Grace's incredulous tone was a tad louder than she intended. The agents practicing paused to look up and were warded off on eavesdropping with a firm finger pointing towards them and then the mat. She heard feet shuffling along it and the sounds of exertion while she collected herself.

She cleared her throat and lifted her arms, hands folding out towards him with apology. "Guess I wasn't expecting this to be a quick chat. Usually we'd cook something before shipping out. That option's obviously out ..."

It was just in case the rations were depleted or the food was rubbish planetside - and it was something she had wanted to do before seeing him off. This was the most they had talked since he came back and now that time was limited.

[Dasquian Belargic]

Dasquian smiled. A smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, a smile that said: I know.

“We’re travelling with a Senator. From the way he conducts himself, I assume he’ll have a team of personal chefs on board,” he said, with a huff of laughter.

Looking over Grace’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall.

“Look, I’m… sorry this has to be so brief. When I’m back, we should...”

Dasquian pursed his lips, glancing down for a moment. When he looked up, he’d smoothed his expression back into a small smile and the levity had returned to his voice.

“I don’t know. Maybe I ought to come take one of these classes with you. See if I’m still up to standard.”

[Grace Van-Derveld]

She let out an unladylike snort that oozed with contempt. Par for the course with Grace when hearing about pompous senators. "Well if that's the case, at least you'll be well fed if he shares."

Their dour humor was covering up everything that needed to be said between them. She should have talked to him sooner, but she was too afraid and too focused on Dasquian's recovery to take that chance. Grace refused to make it about her.

"An interesting proposition that I'll take it into consideration." She feigned a smile for his benefit. "We can talk about it more when you come back. Though I'm sure you'll still be able to teach these new grunts a thing or two."

Grace had to stop stalling the inevitable and let him go.

"Just ... be careful out there, Belargic."

This time the smile that appeared broke through the control she had been maintaining.

"And watch out for space slugs. Won't be there to save your ass if you get swallowed up by one."

Granted they had been swallowed up by one, on purpose to avoid capture, but those were semantics.

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Careful? I’m always careful.”

His smile grew. Anyone observing and listening to the pair might have thought they were talking nonsense, but as wild and unbelievable as they might seem to others, the years that Dasquian and Grace had spent working together had been exactly as the pair described them. It was almost strange to look back on them now, from the relative safety and stability of the Galactic truce.

“Alright, I’d better go,” he said at last, looking away at last from a moment of lingering eye-contact. “I’ll see you when I’m back, Van-Derveld”

With a parting smile over his shoulder, Dasquian headed back out into the city (https://www.theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?57797-Counterfeits-and-Counterparts&p=1067004&viewfull=1#post1067004).