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 proper, but it would have to do. It had been a while 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.
Bookmarks