FORSAKEN - Target: Zero

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Piloting her Growler-556 speeder through the city's skyway, Senator Riyo Chuchi flew to the Uscru Entertainment District. Days like this made her doubt the future of the galaxy. Whether out of fear or on principle, the majority of the Senate voted to continue military operations in Lasan, under the excuse of reestablishing order in the planet, defeating Bail Organa's efforts to aid its brutalized people. Furthermore, the new office of Grand Moff darkened the shadow cast by the Empire. Bestowed with this title, Wilhuff Tarkin had been given the perfect platform to put into practice what the media had dubbed the "Tarkin Doctrine," a theory professing to maintain control of systems with overwhelming displays of military force—in other words, rule by fear.

Adding insult to injury, the promotion ceremony—a formality meant as blatant propaganda—promised the attendance of every senator, representative, and high-ranking member of the military. Avoiding it would elicit all manner of pernicious rumors that could lead to dangerous suspicions by the intelligence service; being part of it would chip away at Riyo's beleaguered soul. Rubbing elbows with sycophants and megalomaniacs, while celebrating the triumphs of a tyrannical regime did not appeal to her or her colleagues.

Riyo hoped Bail's mysterious contact could offer a sliver of hope, as much as she yearned for it to be whom she suspected it to be. If anything, Riyo was grateful the meeting took place at the Outlander Club. After the day she had, she could use a drink—or two.

A popular spot catering to Coruscant's elites, the nightclub's location at ground level in an underdeveloped part of the district lent itself to many illegal activities, making it an ideal place for surreptitious meetings. The constant flow of patrons of different walks of life made it easier to get lost in the beautiful crowd. People came to bet on podraces and grav-ball games, score illegal substances, and more importantly, be seen.

As Riyo walked in through the illuminated arches of the establishment known as the "Welcoming Arms," she wondered how anyone could see the red starbird pin she wore on her purple cloak, under the bright neon lights and the throng of club-goers. Nonetheless, she took a calming breath and made her way to the central bar. She ordered an Andoan wine, trusting she didn't have to wait long.

"Not a big drinker?" said a handsome socialite Zeltron next to her.

"Not a big talker," said Riyo.

"Silent type, huh? I like it. I've never seen you here before—and trust me, I'd have noticed." He checked her out.

"I don't come to places like this; I don't like the people. I'm just waiting for a friend."

"Yeah. I'm not big on this crowd either. But it's alright. I'll keep you company while you wait. What's your name?"

"Grimtaash," said a patron with the unmistakable appearance of someone from the wrong level of the planet. The Zeltron made himself scarce.

Riyo's heart skipped a beat when she heard the voice and turned around to meet his cybernetic prothesis with her wide, golden eyes.

"Scrimp?" she said in astonishment.

Syrran kissed her. Surprised at first, Riyo surrender to the embrace.

"There's someone following you," he said with his mind. "The young human male with brown hair, wearing grey, pretending to watch the grav-ball game. Act as if this is a date."

Syrran had come in through the side entrance in an alleyway to scout the club before approaching her, and saw the tail come in a few moments after Riyo. His state-of-the-art comlink, species, and a mental scan revealed him to be an Imperial Intelligence officer—a junir one, based on his age.

Riyo realized Bail Organa had been right, when he asked her to attend the meeting in his stead. Just as he had feared, Military Intelligence were keeping an eye on every senator who didn't toe the line drawn by the Grand Vizier. Had Bail shown up, it would have endangered one of the strongest voices of reason within the Senate.