Jon-ah sat on the cold ground, dejected, in the field-tent that was his impromptu prison. He wasn’t quite sure how they had found him, but the squad of Republic Commandos had been quite insistent that he accompany them back to the city. So insistent, in fact, that they had placed a pair of restraints on his wrists.
It had to have been a set up. A representative of a local mercenary group had contacted him, claiming to have information on the scientist he’d been following. He had been suspicious of the contact, something about him didn’t seem right, but the offer was too good to pass up.
It didn’t make sense. When he arrived at the designated co-ordinates, he was met not by his contact, or any mercenaries for that matter, but rather a small squad of Republic troops. Not that he wasn’t flattered by the size of his escort, but he couldn’t figure out why they had taken this approach.
The Republic could not have known about the case he was working, so they would not have known to make the bait so tempting in this way. Unless, of course, they had been keeping tabs on him, but if that were the case, they would have hauled him in a long time ago. He was wanted badly enough that as soon as they learned anything at all about his whereabouts, they would have moved on him quickly.
They also would not have set him up like this. It would have been fast and direct.
Jon-ah wanted to smack his forehead. Had he completely forgotten all his training? His contact was an Imperial Agent, he had to be. He was too sterile with his neatly styled silver hair, his short and crisp gestures, and his tightly controlled speech. Everything about the man screamed Imperial Academy to someone trained to recognize it, even the style of his ocular implants. How could he have been so blind?
But why turn him over to Republic forces?