Private Playing with Fire

[Sion Lorray]

DANTOOINE
Cordé Sabo

Occupied under Imperial rule, the Empire keeps a tight lock on all its systems. Not all are pleased with this and not all want to contribute to the Imperial war machine. Sympathizers still exist throughout the nation. One family on Dantooine discovered their child had command of the Force. Still young and innocent. They did not wish for this child to be taken by Imperial Knights, brainwashed and forced to do the Empire's bidding.

Through old pathways and communication the missive came to the Jedi of the Galactic Alliance. An escort mission, to take the child off of Dantooine, and into their care. Better to be a Jedi Knight than to be an Imperial Knight.

It was a shock to Sion when the assignment was given to him.

Osarla handed it to him personally. Disbelief first, but then understanding. It wasn't that Sion was uniquely competent. No, there was a much simpler reason. Sion was still new to the Jedi Order and had kept a very small profile. COMPNOR would have had less time to identify him as an Alliance agent. He was also still a Padawan. This made it easier for him to hide his potential in the Force. In theory the Imperial Knights would have a harder time spotting him. Harder than a powerful master such as Osarla or a more experienced Knight at least.

This was something Sion could buy into.

And if the child panics, you can calm it down, Sion. It's not just because you are new and a Padawan. You have talents that matter too.

Sion appreciated those words from his Master.

He could read between the lines - but it is mostly the fact you are a Padawan, yes - without feeling insulted. He didn't have his own ship. Apparently that's only something you are given when you become a Jedi Knight. Fair enough. Instead he had to use the public cargo haulers. He hitched a ride on one that originated from Ryloth. Bringing in valuable gem stones in return for the crops exported by Dantooine.

Hopefully without an Alliance port of origin it would attract less attention.

As Sion stepped out and onto the tiles of the Dantooine Starport he couldn't help but smile. His first mission alone. He ought to have been nervous. Behind enemy lines with Imperials that hated the Jedi and the Sith looking for any partisan activity.

But all Sion could think of was that this would be an opportunity to prove himself. What Sion didn't consider - as he walked past freighters and people haggling about travel prices - was that while COMPNOR might not have a beat on him? The same couldn't be said about domestic Alliance intelligence. Nor the fact they might have an operation going on here. The moment he passed through the gateways that led to the wider city his face was already clocked by an Alliance plant.

It wouldn't be long before his face and false identity credentials would land on the desk of a certain Null operative currently running a beat here.

Oh joy of joys.

 

[Cordé Sabo]

Dantooine, even under Imperial impression, somehow managed to maintain a dreamlike landscape. Rivers, grasslands, lakes, nature stretched unchecked for miles and miles and miles and miles. From all she knew about the Jedi, or thought she knew, it was an idyllic planet to nurture their connection to the supernatural.

Now, the enclaves were abandoned.

A droid, in a rush, accidentally bumped into Cordé’s leg. It beeped agitatedly at her, a rapidfire succession of notes and trills a human could never accurately mimic. With a final zip back and forth to punctuate its upset, it rolled away and was absorbed by the crowd.

Every speaker in facility was hijacked by an automated announcement: JOIN THE EMPIRE, EXPLORE NEW WORLDS. BRING ORDER AND UNITY TO THE GALAXY.

“Those new units are a pain, eh?” The traffic controller asked, offering an extension of camaraderie while they clicked through a screen. “Manufacturers traded a fuel cell for the attitude upgrades taking up all the room.”

Cordé laughed politely and waved away the assumed offence. Bruises might show on her calf later, but it didn’t hurt now.

The credentials the traffic controller was running were not her own — on Dantooine, Cordé Sabo didn’t exist. Here, she was Hela Medar.

Hela Medar had done a good job feeling out potential allies to democracy. It made sense that sympathisers still lived here. Jedi sympathisers and Tav’s. That’s what they called themselves, the Tavlar sympathisers. The Imperator of their homeworld, the founder of the New Imperial Order — they believed, by Cordé’s observation and report, that this Empire was a mutated version of the original vision. She’d appealed to them, in bars, in spaceports, some even invited her into their homes.

After Neshtab, she’d seen a therapist — she was no Allyson Locke or Kalie Avarez, but the SIA’s requirement for those that worked undercover to go through psychiatric evaluation on their return from a mission. No matter how low risk it was. She’d been cleared to do it again, and, any opportunity to leave her problems behind, she leapt at. Living a life of lies was easy for the secret daughter of a dictator; she had a monopoly on falsehood. Might as well monetize it.

“If you really wanna leave…Looks like we have an outbound shuttle along the Braxant run. Final stop in Ordo. Anything after that you’re best bet be…hmm..” he squinted at the screen, and looked inconclusive. “Might change by the end of the ride, honestly. Just keep your ticket close — you want this one?” He rotated the screen to face her, and she looked at it.
Hela was ready to retire. Cordé was ready to go home.

“Farming life ain’t for you? Golden fields, lazy days with family…it’s peaceful here. How long you been around?”

The Braxant run was the quickest way to get out of Empire territory without going to the unknown regions — “I’ll take the ticket.”

PILOTS ARE TO ENSURE TRACKING DEVICES ARE PROPERLY INSTALLED PRIOR TO DEPARTURE. OFFICIALS ARE TO INSPECT ALL OUTBOUND FLIGHTS. FAILURE TO COMPLY WITH OFFICERS WILL RESULT IN DETAINMENT.

Her datapad buzzed violently — once for the ticket transfer to Hela Medar, the other with an encrypted alert that only opened to her fingerprint. Alliance Personnel had arrived on Dantooine. This was..unscheduled.

Cordé was about to step onto the transport out of the spaceport, but offered her seat to someone else instead and back to the platform to find a private place and see who it was that had arrived. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and the encrypted reports she’d sent back to intelligence hardly warranted secondary investigators.

ATTENTION COURTESY STAFF, CODE B40.

She paled when she saw the scarred face and name on her screen.

For a while, during her placement on Neshtab, she’d thought she’d seen him. Especially when her identity was still fresh. And she had to blink once-twice to ensure this wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Why would her imagination do that to her? Weren’t they on the same side?

ALL TRANSPORT PILOTS ON DURY ARE REQUIRED TO CHECK IN WITH THE LICENSE BUREAU.

What was he doing here? What could Sion Lorray possibly be doing on Dantooine?

She scrolled the message, but it only contained the location and travel information. No intent. No attached mission. And worse, no companions.

ATTENTION SECURITY PERSONNEL. CODE K10.

Mortified and tremendously curious, she checked the timestamp and gripped the device so tightly her fingertips whitened. What was he doing here? If Jedi clumsiness ruined her operation here…

ATTENTION SECURITY PERSONNEL. CODE K10. PLEASE PROCEED TO TRAIN TERMINAL 22.

The crowds around the platform shuffled, agitated, and as a giant swarm all started to merge to one side of the platform. Without intending it be, Cordé found herself moved with the motion and looked up for any signage or indicators for what might be — oh. This was terminal 22.

 

[Sion Lorray]

Cordé Sabo

Sion, for his part, thought he was doing pretty okay.

He had walked past several patrols. Kept his head down. Didn't put a wrong foot forward. Nobody seemed to be paying him any attention! Well, this was going great, wasn't it? Truthfully Sion was starting to wonder what he had been worried about. Clearly he was a natural at this. Usually he wasn't the one to have an inflated ego, but compared to his earlier anxiety?

Oh, yeah, he needed a little pick-me-up.

At the train station (yes, Terminal 22) Sion was sitting on a bench. Waiting for his train to come up. It would take him to the more isolated town in the northern quadrant.

Elori City. Not close to any Jedi Outpost and so spared some of the Imperial scrutiny. Moderately sized. Possess a small garrison and a reasonably-sized fishery hub. Economically insignificant, but with clear commerce ties to its regional capital. So people come and go. You won't stand out too much as long as you keep your saber out of sight.

So far so good.

Then, of course, as it often does the situation started sliding backwards. An older woman had tripped and spilled her grocery bags. This wasn't a problem in and of itself, except she did it right in front of a batch of Imperial troopers passing by. They grabbed her by the collar of her tunic and were already dragging her down to the ground.

Something about the orange juice karking up their armor-weave.

Sion frowned and began to rise up.

 

[Cordé Sabo]

Normally, security let spills slide. Clumsiness was disorderly, but often not harmful. Today, however, or more specifically, this moment, they were gruffed from someone trying to skirt around paying for a ticket. The youth had evaded them, and now they were taking it out on the opposite end of the spectrum. And before that, they'd been stuck out in the farmside and wilderness doing boring routine patrols.

They needed this granny to make a mistake. Just to get their frustration out.

It felt good to be the bigger person, and be in control of a situation. On top of the grocery discordance, they were pressing for her papers. Making sure she was an official citizen, and had a right to be purchasing produce.

ALL PILOTS ARE TO REPORT TO THE LICENSING BUREAU.

A few passers by kicked the rolling cabbages that had tumbled from her bags, others stooped to help before they were shooed away by the one officer still standing, threatened with detainment.

The woman remained stoically silent and obedient, insisting where they could find her credentials when they didn’t let her reach for herself.

Cordé had been swept up with the crowd that was quickly backing away, distancing themselves from the conflict. That’s all they people were doing now, getting away.

Well, most people. Save for one.

Of course.

It felt like a spike of bile flashing in her throat. Seeing him again in real life was worse than his picture. And he — oh no. She squirmed from being cramped between two broad-shouldered farmers and slipped around them, closer to the bench, keeping herself behind him to slow any possible reaction that would draw attention to either of them. She reached out, grabbing at his limb to stay his typical Jedi-hero advance.

“Don’t,” Cordé insisted in a low voice and flexed her grip on his arm. “It’ll settle itself.”

Whatever he was doing here would certainly be discovered if he stuck his nose where he shouldn’t. And worse, it could undo everything she’d worked to set up here.

Station security arrived in time to see the scene. K10 was a jurisdictional contention. Troopers triumphed most regions, able to do what they wanted with their military process, but the transport police still advanced on them regardless, interrogating the purpose of the kerfuffle.

PASSENGER TRANSPORT ARRIVING TO TERMINAL 22.

 

[Sion Lorray]

Cordé Sabo

The touch on his wrist froze him up.

Not because he was worried. No, he immediately felt her presence. His mouth went dry, his back straightened out like an iron bar forced itself through his spine. He did not say anything. He did not look over his shoulder. He did nothing except try to breathe. Because Sion was afraid if he looked over his shoulder it would prove to be a momentary hallucination.

"You sound like you have experience with that." Sion murmured softly as he calmly (or so it looked) watched the troopers hassle the poor woman. It was unfair how they were allowed to have their kicks here.

The tone of the announcer shook him out of his revelry.

It was time to go.

Even if Sion hated himself for realizing this. Finally then the Jedi looked over his shoulder. For a brief moment Sion was confused, because she didn't look like Cordé at all. Except. Except for the eyes. They met each other and that was that. "Didn't think I'd see you again." He added quietly before gently taking his hand back.

Not rude about it, but resolutely.

"I have a train to catch, so if that is all..." And he began to make his way through the crowd.

In the meantime his heart was doing summersaults and he could still hear the troopers interrogate the woman.

This was not ideal.

 

[Cordé Sabo]

Whether or not he meant to chide her advice for inaction was unclear, but it didn’t matter. He heeded it. That was all she needed.

Sion didn’t get involved in the situation that was slowly, bit by bit, starting to unfurl. The troopers and the security officers were raising their voices at one another, and in the midst of it, the elderly woman was getting to her knees. It took a while without any help.

"Didn't think I'd see you again."

Honestly, neither did she.

He freed himself from her hold, and she let her hand fall back to herself and pressed her lips together. A chill roamed from her cheeks through her throat and down her shoulders, tightening in her chest. It was like a sort of numbness clenched behind her ribcage, hardened from months of avoidance and focusing on her career above anything else. It was easier to do.

Seeing him again, unplanned, threatened to uncoil all that she’d neatly bundled up and tucked away.

CUSTODIAN DROIDS REPORT TO SOUTH STATION TERMINAL 4.

Cordé wanted to press him on what he was doing here — she hadn’t received any information, or updates, or requests for escort or anything. But he was taking steps to leave her in her silence before she could ask.

She probably deserved that, and she would have let him disappear if she weren’t concerned about him being around here without any awareness of the delicacies of Imperial listening operations. He’d already looked as though he were going to compulsively behave as he would have in Alliance space.

“It’s not.” She insisted, and felt her feet following him at a pace that would put her next to him. Just someone walking. The crowd was still unsettled, but they were slowly starting to move toward the train again and try to return to normalcy.

TERMINAL 22 PASSENGER TRANSPORT DEPARTS IN FOUR MINUTES.

In their finite amount of time, she asked the question that’d help her best figure out what was going on. She could look up the train’s destination later and deduce the objective, but Sion wasn’t GADF, and he wasn’t SIA. She could only assume The Jedi were doing something stupid and annoying on an ancient homeworld, and it could threaten her operation: “Who sent you here?”

The droid that had knocked into her legs earlier whirred past, and ka-chunked onto the train. One of the security persons whipped his head around and peeled from the kerfuffle around the old lady, stomping toward the droid instead and proclaiming that this was for sentients only — droids needed to travel in the cargo car.

“You’re lucky we’ve got a job to do.” The modulated voice of the armoured trooper rose above the nagging noises, settling down some of his squadmates. White and shiny, one after the other, they started to stiffen and align with one another. “Keep your station clear of debris like this, and you’ll have less problems.” Debris, being an old lady. "Do your job."

No salute came from the station police. They only grumbled amidst one another and watched the troopers start to board the train.

 

[Sion Lorray]

Cordé Sabo

He had hoped-

What?

That she would let him leave? That she would follow? What did Sion want? He had no idea. Even just looking at her reminded him of the way her lips felt against his. This was really not what he needed right now. For a moment Sion had felt so confident and in control. Then the insertion of Cordé out of nowhere shattered it all.

"Who do you think?" He muttered quietly as his eyes calmly took in the crowd. They slipped into the train and Sion took a seat, taking the side of the window, so it would be possible to enjoy the view.

Dantooine was a beautiful world. Even under occupation. It somehow felt like homecoming... which was probably odd.

Since Sion didn't have a home.

"They send me here on a mission." Finally once the train was starting to roll out. Even now Sion could feel the troopers settling into the surrounding cubicles. This was not ideal. He hadn't expected Imperial military to be here as well. They had no reason to suspect him, them, but it didn't mean he felt any better about it.

"What are you doing here?" It came out more bluntly than he expected, but.

Right now Sion was having to deal with a lot of emotions at once.

 

[Cordé Sabo]

At least it wasn’t her own people undermining her operation, and it was, as suspected, just the Jedi inserting themselves willy-nilly with no concern or respect for the proper chains of command. She frowned. “Hm.”

She didn’t expect him to keep talking, or even give her any more than the answer to the question she’d asked. Who. Not why. Now she had two of the five W’s answered. The where, she’d find out when she looked up the train information, and it was best not for her to know the what. When was still interesting, but only in terms of when he’d be leaving.

Caught up in the mystery and emotional rush of seeing Sion again, she hadn’t noticed the train starting to move. She was about to figure out the where much sooner, and much more qualitatively than she’d intended to. And she didn’t have a ticket. Which would complicate both of their missions.

Unike Sion Lorray , she didn’t like sharing any of her W’s. Especially with troopers so near — and if they had their audio enhancement on? The face she wore contorted its expression to indicate the proximity of peril.

“Right now I’m on a train I don’t want to be on.” Cordé mumbled unhappily, and took a temporary seat next to Sion. She kept her tone even, non-conspiratol, as if she were just having a basic conversation with a naturally quiet voice. “I need to get a ticket.” At least, until someone else came and claimed it. “Can I see yours?” Then she could at least get some orientation and figure out what the first stop was she could get off at. "I'll give it back. I just need a foundation for forgery."

 

[Sion Lorray]

Cordé Sabo

Usually the way she avoided his questions was cute.

Right now?

It annoyed him.

"Maybe if you tell me what you are doing here." Still stubborn. Even then, the Sion she knew was still there and was already drawing out his ticket for her to look at, but rather than just hand it over? Sion waited to hear her answer. Maybe this would underline just how patient Sion had always been with her in the past.

The sheer contrast.

"Since we are in a Q&A and I already answered your question."

As vocally as Sion could with the Troopers right there. He didn't expect her to give him the side-by-side notes of her entire mission protocol. But just... what was this?

A coincidence?

It could be, but Sion was all over the place right now.

 

[Cordé Sabo]

From her experience, the automated prompt for proof-of-payment tended to happen ten minutes before the first stop. Since Cordé didn’t know when, or where, the first stop was, this put a bit more urgency on her need to see the ticket Sion was withholding.

Maybe the stop was far enough away for her to find some other poor sod and lift the information from them. That was basically what she’d been doing here for weeks on end anyway. Cordé settled into her seat and looked down the aisle, away from Sion to a bunch of travellers. As if she might be able to pick one out and identify them as the sucker she needed.

About seven elbows down, there was someone dressed in navy blue. They looked like a traveller — a merchant, even.

A trooper coughed, and she heard the durasteel of his armour shift and she swore the tilt of his helmet’s chin was looking right at her.

She glanced away, back at the ticket Sion Lorray half-concealed. This was closer than the navy-blue, smartly-dressed traveller. It was just an answer and further negotiation away.

Her chest felt hollowed, egg-shell thin. The only thing keeping her so stiff was pure indignation and equal measures of stubbornness.

The same trooper stretched out their legs, pressed their shoulders into the seat, and then rose to stand. Cordé had been so careful, for so long — and one half-instant of ignorance had put her in the trickiest position she’d been in weeks.

Thankfully, they were only checking the overhead compartment. One of their companions said something.

Urgency pulsed against her temples and she rest her elbow on the armrest between herself and the window seat, stretching her hand over her mouth to dull her voice and conceal any movement of her lips.

“Sympathisers.” Was all she could think to offer. If that didn’t work, she’d have to move. Maybe go to the cargo hold or something, at least until she felt the train roll to a stop.

 

[Sion Lorray]

Cordé Sabo

Sympathisers.

Well, that was just one word and not a whole lot to it, but it gave Sion what he wanted.

First of all. An actual answer, instead of a glib remark, joke or other misdirection that Cordé was so fond of.

Second of all. It did actually tell him quite a bit. She was SIA. Which meant that she was more than likely setting up sympathizers cells or trying to work together with existing rebel structures on the world. That was... a lot. He immediately became worried for Cordé. Part of him had hoped she was just here on a... vacation or something.

But that was too much to hope, clearly.

"I... see." And then his hand covered hers. Squeezing her hand gently... and leaving the ticket inside of it at the same time. "Glad you are not dead." Quietly there as Sion went back to look through the viewport.

He had tried to contact her so many times after that kiss.

No response.

Not even a 'kark off'.

Just comms silence.

 

[Cordé Sabo]

Sion Lorray squeezed her hand and Cordé released the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

It was easy to avoid his eyes after that, because he was looking out the window and because she was busy trying to subtly conceal the overlay of her datapad. Sleek as it was, it would still look weird for someone to see her scanning a ticket. It took almost a full minute for the program to download the data, run it against the inventory of available tickets, and then another fifty-eight seconds create a faux replica with Hela’s face and name on it.

Her hand lost the warmth of his touch about thirty seconds into the process, but the sombreness of his words lingered through the entire thing. Guilt pitted in her stomach, and she sat silently with the heavy implications of his relief.

Had he really thought she’d died?

She’d abandoned him alone in that warehouse, and then…become someone else. Not in a metamorphosis sort of way, but in an undercover way. The kind of way that meant there’d been no way for her to access anything to do with her past self. Which had been exactly what she wanted at the time.

But it also meant the apology she’d never given him that night still remained unsaid. That, and some explanation maybe. Surely he deserved that.

Deserved it, yes, but she still couldn't do it.

“Thank you.” She said instead, and slid his ticket back under the arm rest to his lap.

“I’ve got to get back to my seat now,” she was still soft spoken, and gestured her ticket up between them. It glowed light blue, the information clearly displaying it had put her three rows behind. “It was nice to meet you, I hope you enjoy your visit and stay out of trouble.”

 

[Sion Lorray]

Cordé Sabo

He was about to nod and let her go.

It ached, but Sion felt... empty. Exhausted. Since their last meeting he had been training hard on the empathy side of things. To not be as influenced by the emotions around him. It was another reason why Osarla let him go here. He proved he could keep a handle on it. Except. Except... somehow Cordé managed to slip through his newly-found walls with little difficulty.

The discomfort, the shame, the annoyance.

Right there at the center and it became his as much as hers.

"Not a good idea." He murmured as his hand settled on her leg. It was a very... private gesture and too much. But then again, Cordé had kissed him out of nowhere and that was just as private.

"The troopers are already suspicious."

Sion leaned in there and murmured in her ear. As if kissing her neck. "They are weighing if we are romantically involved. If you suddenly leave, their attention will intensify."

 

[Cordé Sabo]

With how quickly Sion Lorray interfered with her departure, it would have looked as though she were only shifting in her seat. Cordé stiffened and opened her mouth to say something — protest, probably — but he inched closer. She sucked in objection she would have whispered.

With each syllable, she could feel the heat from his breath against the soft hollow beneath her jaw and she feared he was near enough to feel the rapid pulse fluttering in her throat.

A sudden shot of adrenaline revved her heart, sparked either by the concept of raising suspicion, or Sion’s surprisingly cool confidence. She dared not to look back at the collection of troopers, who were too close for comfort. How had he noticed that, and she hadn’t? Wasn’t she supposed to be the observational intelligence agent?

Instead of leaving, and continuing her ruse that she’d just met him, he was angling for this to be a train tryst.

In her head, she’d already resolved to treat what had happened on Life Day as something forgotten. Or entirely false. Something that never happened. Or, at least she’d never mention it. But when she shifted to say something to him, and his eyes were within the distance she’d closed that night, her self-deception failed. She was looking at the memories of his hands, soft and gentle, and his lips against hers and all the warmth that had cascaded through her when he kissed her back.

Her jaw clenched.

“How could you possibly know that?” Cordé murmured, and squirmed as if in appreciative response to his touch but used the brief second to glance at the soldiers in white. Sure enough, their posture was angled in their direction. But that didn't give any explanation for why he'd know what they were thinking, unless there was some Jedi hoodoo happening.

She moved to rest one shoulder into the seat and angle her knees to point toward Sion rather than straight forward, leaning into the ruse he sought to conjure. If she resisted, he was right, they might sense something was off.

But, on the other hand, lovers quarrels were just as effective as public displays of affection when it came to strangers wanting to keep their distance. She might use that later but for now, her mind was swimming, and the professional part of her, Hela, recognized that he’d unknowingly given her more of an excuse to find out what he was doing on Dantooine. If leaving him behind was a bad idea, he could lead her to more information on what the The New Jedi Order found important enough to send one of their students into enemy space for.

"Fine." She was tense, but it sounded like a dreamy sigh to anyone overhearing. "What's your name, then."

 

[Sion Lorray]

Cordé Sabo

How did he know that?

Right now Sion didn't wanna get too much into it. There was only so much he could obfuscate and if he just said 'I am a Jedi', they might overhear it and cause a lot of issues for them. But Cordé deserved an answer, because- well. Did she? She had abandoned him in that warehouse. Yes, she helped with the creature, which he was thankful for... and then immediately made the situation so complicated right after that.

I thought you were dead.

Could things really just go back to that earlier dynamic?

Sion wasn't sure.

"I got my ways." He murmured softly as he tapped her knee gently and then let go. "We all got our skills, don't we?" Which basically confirmed it was one of the Jedi things.

Without actually using that word out loud.

Then Cordé asked him something that made him blink. Very confused too at that. A name? Was she trying to confuse him? Or was this another one of those headgames. "Uh. You know my name?" Sion tried to smile, as if they were just teasing each other. "Sion, remember? Or did you hit your head during one of your trips?"

Now a little bit bemused. And very confused still.

 

[Cordé Sabo]

Once again, the mystique of The Force eluded her. She shivered visibly. Maybe it was something like a jedi mind trick, or when he'd spoken into her head without invitation.

The befuddlement of that which she'd never understand was swiftly replaced with something more solvable. She looked at Sion Lorray dumbly.

"Are you serious?"

Belatedly she realised that this was actually the first time he'd introduced himself to her. It prompted a genuine smile, which fit with the act they were now forced to play.

Her voice dropped, and she rest her elbow on their shared armrest, cupping her hand to conceal her mouth and whispering as though it were a harmless, joking secret into the shell of his ear —

"The first thing anyone will ask you for is your name. It's what connects you to any information anywhere. Good or bad."

Her eyebrows sloped down, concerned for how underprepared he suddenly seemed to be in enemy territory. What mission was he on where he could just be Sion?

"So I meant your" she shrugged her shoulders inward, as if the private lover whispers were getting juicier "name..

And if that's news to you, you should also probably think about what you're doing here and why you're going wherever."

 

[Sion Lorray]

Cordé Sabo

He blinked blinked there.

What Cordé said made sense. Osarla hadn't spoken about this, but maybe that was because it had been so obvious to him? Whereas Sion was oblivious to this sort of spycraft. He wasn't important enough to the extent where 'Sion' would hit any databases... except apparently the SIA database, because he was starting to realize his encounter with Cordé wasn't a coincidence.

At all.

"Hmm, I see." Murmured there as he leaned against her, almost as if they were a loving couple, seeking warmth from one another. "What about... Nios?" Plucking a name out of the ether.

If 'ether' meant just rearranging a few letters of his name into a new order.

For some reason there was a stick up one of the troopers' ass.

Maybe he had recently gone through a break-up (yup) and the sight of a loving couple (depending on your perspective) was causing him to steam and be aggressively annoyed. His fellow soldiers felt his mood even keener than Sion. For once they tried to calm him down a bit. While they never minded an opportunity to hassle someone, this was a bit much.

Especially after the previous situation with the old woman.

"Got an issue. One of the Troopers got it out for us." He muttered in Cordé's ear. "Ideas?"

 

[Cordé Sabo]

She was about to explain further that it was more than just the information in the present. If you left a trail of places you’d been, especially as a Jedi in enemy territory, it could endanger those who he left behind. But his coming up with the worst alias possible absconded the continuum of the lesson.

That and he was close again. It was fine when she initiated it, she felt in control, and there was a predictability to her motions; she knew what not to do. She was completely sober this time, and her sense of reason had more strength than unsupervised feelings.

“As long as it’s easy enough for you to remember as your first answer when asked.”

Is this what it would have been like if she hadn’t left him that night? If she’d stayed, would they have found a way to make it work? Would his hand over hers, or resting on her leg, or breath on her neck be normal? Or was he truly playing a part — even if that part was just something to spite her —Had that been Sion, or was that Nios? And could it be Sion? Should it? Could they be like this without pretences or that horrible, inconclusive sentence hanging between them?

"Glad you are not dead."

Even if she tried to think about it, distractedly, for half-a-second, she knew the answer still had to be no. Nothing about her role within the SIA had changed, and he hadn’t become any less of a Jedi. If anything, they were both deeper than before with their respective responsibilities.

So it couldn’t be Cordé on the train with him, trying to convince onlookers that they were romantically involved. It could only be Hela. And even then, Hela and Nios would not last. As soon as she stepped off this train, their aliases would be strangers. And Sion and Cordé would be…

Well at least he knew she wasn’t dead.

Shuffling, and stern-sounding murmurs made her eyes wander just as Sion whispered in her ear.

An agitated trooper looking to cause trouble was not attention she wanted. And now both her and Sion’s objectives, despite being separate, had accidentally become entangled and were equally threatened with the wrong move.

If she were working alone, she would have gone to the lavatory or left the scene with some other equally mundane excuse. But doing so would leave Sion alone in his seat and subject to being bullied solo.

Their attempts at public displays of affection had the opposite effect than intended, and appeared to be drawing the wrong attention. She could only assume that the opposite might be worth a try.

She snapped away from his whisper, a scowl readily replaced the small smile she’d been wearing.

“Seriously?” Intentionally she shoved herself to the far end of her seat, as far away from him as possible and folded her arms tightly across her chest. “It’s not a joke, I told you never to mention that shutta’s name ever again. And like this? Now?”

APPROACHING FINAL STOP: ELORI CITY. PLEASE PRESENT YOUR TICKETS WHEN PROMPTED. FAILURE TO PRESENT PROOF OF PAYMENT WILL RESULT IN DETAINMENT.

That meant they still had at least another ten minutes in this strange limbo of being watched in such limited proximity.

“Not soon enough.” She huffed tightly and gripped either side of her arm rests to hoist herself up from her seat and storm further down the end of the train — putting distance between herself and the troopers. She could figure out a better solution with the time that came with space.

 

[Sion Lorray]

Cordé Sabo

It was so obvious Sion was baffled he hadn't come up with it himself.

How do you treat someone jealous of your fictionally perfect relationship?

Have it shatter in front of them. Sion blinked once, twice, and it truly looked like he was absolutely shocked. Which. Was exactly what he was, because he hadn't expected it. "Baby, come on. I didn't mean it!" It's a good thing Sion was an avid watcher of HoloDramas. They provided him with emotions and angst without mentally affecting him.

They were basically perfect.

He rubbed his forehead as Cordé stomped off before launching up to his feet. "Let's talk about it!" He shouted after her, to the amusement of the soldiers, as he chased after her.

Until the sliding doors closed behind them and Sion breathed out.

"Wow, that was exciting." Perhaps surprising Cordé that he had followed after her. Maybe she had been planning on leaving him behind, but she had forgotten just how stubborn and surprising Sion could really be. Whenever a plan was setup, he somehow managed to do the exact opposite, and usually came out alright too.

Usually.

"What's next?" Cheerful.

 

[Cordé Sabo]

"Baby?" Cordé frowned when she turned around to see Sion Lorray . The question could have come from herself or Hela — neither liked the moniker. If anyone was still listening, she perpetuated the miffed girlfriend act. "Nuh uh." She whirled on her heels with an accusing finger pointed stiffly at him. "You don't get to call me baby."

The door compressed shut, and no footsteps seemed to follow. For the next few precious seconds, they were alone. The rest of the train's cabin they were in now had mostly gotten off at other stops along the way.

He called it exciting and she felt a flicker of emotion. Positive or negative, she couldn’t discern.
“Yeah.” She had to agree, considering it could have gone so so so wrong. He hasn’t even considered a false identity and that brief exchange had been one of the most scrutinised events from her weeks on this planet. And for what?

"A droid is going to come through the train looking for tickets. We show them our proof of payment to avoid more suspicion and stay out of sight from the troopers until we get to the.."

Her sentence trailed off, inconclusive. What was the next stop? She'd been so focused on her gamble that she'd missed the details of the automated announcement.

"Next station.."

Even looking out the window didn't help. The outside wasn't such a blur of countryside anymore, they were clearly slowing down, but no landmarks stood out yet.

"And one of us gets off."

Not only had she missed the destination, she'd also managed to not hear that it was the last stop on the line.