It was dark as Quo entered into Sang’s accommodation. Nobody saw him enter the area, and nobody would see him leave, his form merging into the background. Without sound he made his way through the living area towards the sleeping quarters. Listening intently at the thin door he tried to make out any sound issuing forth from the room behind the plasteel divider. There was no sign of movement from inside, no discernible echoes of habitation. Placing his prosthetic hand against it he used the precision engineering piece as an amplifier, feeling for slightest vibration. There was none. Easing the door sideways he entered the bedroom of the human Jedi.
Looking around he could see little in the way of ornamentation, save from a stack of data pads, and old fashioned books lining the back wall, surrounding a small desk and computer terminal. The bed didn’t look as though it had been slept in for several days, the bedding crisply laid on the bed looked undisturbed. Scanning the area for any sign of intrusion Quo could see no such evidence. The doors to the wardrobe slid open at his touch. Looking along the neatly arranged clothes nothing seemed out of the ordinary. His eyes took in the garments that were hung up, the all appeared to be pressed and clean, although something nagged at the back of his mind. What was it?
His hands opened up the built in drawers one by one, everything laid out in order, and everything apparently in its place. Opening each one told a story about the Jedi beneath his every day face to the Clan. He liked everything to be in its rightful place, organised, regimented. Maybe it was the way the academics brain functioned. Even the footwear at the bottom was arranged into pairs, with the fastenings tucked inside. There must be something more, his instincts were screaming that to him. As the last drawer opened at his touch there was a noise from the back that did not seem normal to him, not part of the operation of the unit. Pulling it forwards to its full extent Quo used one of his throwing knives to slide along the side, dislodging it from the runners that supported it. A click signified that it was now free of its shackles. Pulling sharply on the drawer it came free. The Zabrak placed it on the floor in front of the wardrobe.
Reaching into the dark space his fingers searched for the source of the noise. After a few seconds he felt it. A minuscule difference in height between the floor of the space and the object. Whatever it was was extremely thin, no more than a couple of microns thick at the most. Gently stroking it forwards it finally made its way out of the darkness, into the semi gloom of the room. It was a micro thin piece of acetate, clear and shiny, and in this light it was difficult to assess what was on it. Taking it gently in his hand he placed it into the same pouch as his interface unit, at least it should be protected within its plasteel shell. He replaced the drawer as it had been before, making sure that it appeared exactly the same as it had done before his disassembly of the unit.
Turning to the desk he scanned it, looking for the minutiae of ever day workings. No sign of anything being slid across its surface, nor any clues as to what Sang had been doing before he left. Quo moved over to it, lifting up the lid of the portable terminal. A hair detached itself from the lid of the unit, drifting on the currents of air until it landed on the work surface. Quo lifted it gently, rolling it in his fingertips, trying to ascertain from whom it had come by sight alone, failing utterly.
It struck him. The clothes. There were none of Sang’s combat fatigues hanging up. The ones in the wardrobe were either social or ceremonial wear, none of it had any use except for showing off in. Looking around he searched, it was here, he knew it was. Placing his face as close as possible to the wall surfaces he used the available light to highlight any abnormalities not usually detected. As he approached the third wall, the one to which the head of the bed was aligned it hit him. There was another hair, but this one was protruding from the wall itself. Moving closer to it, now standing on the bed itself, Quo’s fingers drummed as he scanned, gently, barely grazing the surface, but giving enough feedback for his ear to pick up as he pressed it to the wall. Approximately three feet above the head board the sound changed. It became more metallic, with a distinct echo.
Pressing gently in the middle of the area of the new sound he felt the click rather than heard it. Sliding out from the wall was a secret cubby hole. Extending itself away from the wall’s surface Quo could make out a data chip held within a suspensor field. Reaching out he took it, retrieving the hair at the same time. These would have to be analyzed. Pressing again on the front of the panel it retracted leaving no trace of its existence. Remaking the bed, and replacing everything as he had found it Quo egressed the quarters. He had to get somewhere where he could work on these parts of the puzzle.
His cloak of invisibility was his greatest ally, he remained fully concentrated on the image as he made his way back to his own quarters. Checking his own door for signs of tampering and satisfying himself that there were none he entered. His room remained in darkness as he made his way to his own litter, setting the windows to fully opaque, and setting the internal sensors to scan for any incursion into the immediate area. He switched his own desk light onto its lowest setting he arranged his interface, along with the data chip and both hairs onto his simple work bench.
Inserting the chip his pad lit up. DNA access required. Who’s though? Taking one of the hairs he set the sensors on the pad to read it. He watched as the small computer ran its scans, data scrolling across the screen, it shouldn’t take long for the owner of this particular hair was known to him. He would process the second as soon as this one was complete.
His mind reached out, searching the surrounding corridors for any signs of life. There were a couple, but they passed by, seemingly uninterested in the Zabraks ministrations. Still there was no harm in being extra cautious in the current series of events.
A beep signified a result. Glancing down he read, one eyebrow lifting slightly. It wasn’t Sang’s, and the owner was well known to the Sith. Tasha’Vel Versea, his Master. Quo saved the profile and placed the second hair onto the sensor area, again the pages of data scrolled across the view screen. Quo waited, he was good at waiting, championship material in fact.
Several minutes passed before the familiar tone signified the completion of the task. The results were in, his data pad displayed the results on the viewer, no surprise there, it was Sang’s. Quo was about to try that one first as the machine suddenly emitted a squeal, the screen went haywire, and then black. The Sith’s finger hovered over the access keys, the screaming interrupting his button press. The machine flashed back on, a holo-projection of his master appearing in the centre of his room.
“Well done my apprentice. I had no doubt you would figure out the clues and activate this message. You always were a clever little Sith,” a smile crossed the image’s face, “I am taking Sanguinius away for a while, although I shall return as soon as possible. We have to protect him from the mad ravings of the Grand Master, so I have taken your ship and have left to a place of safety. I’m taking him to Degobah, that should be far enough away from this madness. Cover our tracks my friend, I have complete confidence in your ability to do this, and shall return as soon as I possibly can. We can’t have two ranking officers disappear at the same time can we? Thank you for this my apprentice, I know that I have put you in a terrible position, but I shall explain all on my return. Thank you my friend.”
The interface closed down, before rebooting to it’s default setting. Quo scanned the database for the recent activity, the DNA files, and the message. All were gone. His Master had done a good job with the programming on the chip, which now displayed as empty. Taking the chip from his pad he held it in mid air, hovering, seemingly flying on its own, before igniting his lightsaber, incinerating it completely within the burning crimson energy beam. Nothing remained, not even dust. The hairs were treated to the same inconspicuous end, a brief smell of singing entering his nostrils as they were vaporised.
Cloaking himself in the Force again he made his way back over his tracks. Time to cover the trail. He knew that his Master would have done everything to cover the course of her actions, however, he knew that there would be no harm in double checking. This Grand Master was thorough if nothing else.