The Republic has fallen.
In the final days of the Clone Wars, Chancellor Palpatine died under mysterious circumstances. With the Senate struggling to retain a sense of unity, it was the perfect time for the Separatists to strike. And strike they did...
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By the time Lux finally flopped down at his desk and called up the backups of his favorite datapad, nearly a week had passed since his return to Kyzeron, and over two since Lady Noronessa had offered him that tip about Dakharen's loyalties – plus its associated price tag. Between his stint at the villa and the latest trip to Alderaan, he'd simply had too many contacts chafing at his delay passing along information he'd promised them to spend his free time on other things.
Well, except Alynna. Alynna didn't count, because life without her in it had quickly become an impossibility. She was threaded into his every waking moment, whether that was with a fleeting kiss or a wordless touch or a debate about some obscure bit of legislation. Even when he was off running errands for his father or sitting through lessons in etiquette and trade, the sweet, lazy nights he'd spent curled up beside her on the couch followed him like spare shadows.
He was sorely tempted to go to her now and ask that they reschedule combat training for tomorrow; he was dead tired, and he never fell asleep faster than when she had her arms around him. Lux sighed, shaking his head at himself. Alynna had stressed over and over again how important it was to stay in shape to maintain what she taught him, and they hadn't sparred since leaving the villa. If he took more hits than he landed, well, that was just fine. So long as he got the exercise in, it would be worth it.
Lux straightened in his seat at the computer terminal and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to forget his exhaustion. Sometimes late-night screen time made him jumpy instead of getting him even more tired than he already was. He could only hope the first would happen now, and not the second.
At a glance, the list of automated backups that winked to life on the small screen set into his desk appeared untampered with – though Lux would admit he'd never had a particular need to review them. He tapped a button to activate the holoproj and flicked the display up into the air, expanding it with one hand to read it better. He wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting to find.
Each backup was labeled with the date it had taken place. The numbers were in perfect order, each entry neatly a week apart from its predecessor and successor – everything as it should be. Perhaps Lady Noronessa had been lying to him, and would only come forward with some additional piece of information she'd neglected to mention at the gala if he stooped to question her about it. In a word, politics.
"Or perhaps I'm not looking closely enough," he murmured, shaking himself back to alertness.
On a hunch, he programmed the terminal to reorder the list by date instead of by name – even if, for all rights and purposes, the two were the same thing. His brows shot up when the entry from five weeks before suddenly jumped up a space. Closer inspection revealed that particular backup had been performed manually a full week and a half after its label suggested.
The automatic backup that should've taken place that week was gone, wiped from the system. A system that's protected by three separate passcodes, Lux thought darkly. Only one of which Dakharen is supposed to know.
