Enforced Harmony II

"I would like to see anyone, prophet, king or God, convince a thousand cats to do the same thing at the same time."

- Neil Gaiman

The holding cells, the detention block, Eyat Command Base, five klicks outside of Eyat city, Gaftikar, Outer Rim, 21 BBY (24 days after the first bombing & 17 months after the Battle of Geonosis)

As far as holding cells went, the one at the Eyat Command Base was top-notch. It had a narrow, rather uncomfortable looking cot shoved in one corner and a small, retractable 'fresher in the other. In the middle was a narrow durasteel table with two straight-backed chairs on opposite sides, bolted to the floor like the rest of the furniture. And like the rest of the base, it was all an unimaginative, uniform grey. But in this case, Ro decided not to let the sad lack of taste from the base's interior decorator bother her. It was a holding cell after all and holding cells were not made to be comfortable or inviting. And grey certainly did not encourage either.

Ro, seated at one end of the table with her back to the orange-red laser shield that sealed off the cell, had her elbows up on the tabletop and her chin resting on her twined fingers. Her teal eyes watched in avid fascination as Avnen Kezner stalked up and down the small confines of the cell, arms still cuffed behind his back and raving indignantly.

On the other side of the shield stood Wren and Gaff, both troopers in equal states of annoyance for once. It appeared that neither man appreciated being called a "tank bred, tubespawn of a dupe, licking the heels of a conglomerate, credit-grubbing Republic decadency." And that was the mildest of the things the GFH leader had spouted so far. Personally, Ro had thought her own moniker, - "under grown, glowstick jabbing, Force-babbling mystic relic" – rather entertaining, but then, you couldn't really argue entertainment. One girl's fun was another man's insult.

There was the creak of plastoid as one of the troopers - Gaff, to her surprise – shifted with impatience. It seemed that Wren was familiar with the necessity of letting a prisoner stew for a while, although he did not seem to relish the practice. Not a very patient man, that Wren. But he was intriguing.

Ro was beginning to wonder where he had learned all of his very interesting skills. He knew how to gather Intel and when to hold onto it or make it public; he knew how to ingratiate himself with the locals; he had shown an impressive analytical mind when they had been sifting through the evidence of the bomb sites and he certainly knew how to handle himself in close combat. He had intimidated Kezner's people, rather than beating them into submission. True, he'd broken a few bones, but nothing that a quick application of bacta wouldn't fix. But it didn't seem to her that Gaff or the other troopers she had met so far knew how to do these things. And that was odd. From what she had been told about clones, they had been trained to do the same things. Alright, so like all armies they must have specialists, Shiv had taught her that much. But if she had pegged these men right, then they were regular infantry troops, what Shiv called dirt-grunts. And Wren was supposed to be one of them; so why did he seem to know so much about investigator stuff?

Maybe he doesn't, she thought. Maybe it's not investigator stuff he knows about, but hunting stuff. That made sense; Eda and Shiv often described themselves as hunters, rather than as an investigator like Ro was, but many of the skills were the same. But if he's a hunter – a specialist – then why is he with the regular troops? And why am I here, if they already have someone who could hunt this rat down? Or don't they know that Wren has these skills? She frowned a that last thought, puzzled. Now that didn't make any sense. Why would someone want to keep such valuable skills a secret, particularly now?

"Are you even listening to me?" The outraged question came from very close to her.

Ro, with her head still resting on her hands, turned to the side so she could look into the angry eyes of Avnen Kezner. "Not in particular," she replied nonchalantly. "But then, I don't have to. The recorder is on and until you come off of your high equus, there's nothing you say that I really want to listen to."

Kezner drew himself up, which, given his height of 5'7 wasn't particularly impressive when you had spent two days surrounded by armored soldiers, all of whom were a strapping six feet. Face it buddy, Ro thought with some amusement, yobshrimps like us don't do well with the towering.

"Do you have any idea who I am? I demand to speak with my lawyer," Kezner raged. "You have no right to hold me here, you and your officious artificial cro…"

"Quiet." Ro's pose of indolence did not change, but her voice was hard now, intense, so that although she had not raised it, the effect was the same as if she had shouted into Kezner's face. It was a trick she had learned from Shiv, who had faced down more than his fair share of bumptious brass and underlings during his time in Republic Intelligence.

Kezner's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. There was simply no denying the command in Ro's voice. "Sit," Ro told him, her tone unchanged. Kezner sat in the chair opposite hers, his movements as stiff as those of a droid in desperate need of an oil bath, but he did comply. And all without the Force, Ro thought with some satisfaction. Amazing what you can order people to do when you simply expect them to do it.

"I do have the right to detain you, Mr. Kezner, for as long as I want and without a lawyer if need be. The Enhanced Security and Enforcement Act, passed by the Galactic Senate earlier this year, gives me that right as an enforcer of the law. And I do know very well who you are," Ro said, taking the edge of command out of her words. She had gotten the man's attention, now it was time for a softer approach. "You are Avnen Abagus Kezner, thirty-eight years of age, originally from Eriadu. You immigrated to Gaftikar five standard years ago. You are married to Maraneel Kezner, also from Eriadu and you have a son, Owen Kezner, age nine. You were the former head of the United Miners Labor Division, before the Marit siege made leaving the city, even for mining, too dangerous."

"That's right," Kezner spat. "I had a job, a good job, and I was respected for it. Then that filthy band of luggage on legs got uppity ideas and made life for us little folks impossible. Do you have any idea how many of us lost our jobs when we could no longer leave the city perimeter? How many people lost their farms, because they were being attacked by that lizard scum, or simply lost their lives because they refused to give into fear?"

"So instead of working in the kelerium and norax mines, you formed a militia." It wasn't a question, but Kezner answered it anyway. Ro figured that he had been waiting quite a while to vent his spleen like this and wouldn't need much encouraging either way.

"You bet your glowstick, I did. No way was I gonna let some scaly-headed reptile ruin the life I'd built for myself and my family."

"Didn't the Marits technically build this life for you?" Ro put in. "I mean, they're the ones that built all of the cities and outlying farms. Every single building, park and landing pad was designed and built by them."

Kezner's mouth twisted into a thin line. "They were hired to do a job. That doesn't entitle them to anything but their agreed upon pay. And they were paid," he added emphatically.

"I know," Ro answered easily. "But no where in that contract did it say that they had to leave again afterwards."

Kezner flushed in anger, not a very appealing sight on a man with a pockmarked skin, hook nose and a receding hairline. "It didn't say they could stay either. They were the hired help; that they leave after the job was done is implied. You don't ask your salky-walker to sleep in your house either, after the mutt is done doing its business."

Ro decided to leave off arguing semantics. She had accomplished what she had wanted: getting Kezner to open up and talk. It was an angry, frustrated opening, but she didn't think she could ever reach any kind of level of intimacy or trust with this man. His prejudices were absolutely foul. But at least he was dropping his shields, radiating his emotions freely and without restraint. That was good, because it meant that she would not have to sift through false feelings. If she handled this right, then the idea of lying to her wouldn't even occur to him.

"And now?" she inquired, encouraging him to expound on the subject he was most comfortable with. "There's no more siege. The mines are open again, so you could go back to work. But instead, you have decided to create another organization, the Gaftikar for Humans group. Another banner under which all Marit opposition can meet." Ro leaned her cheek against the palm of one hand. "You do like to bash on the Marits, don't you?"

"Well it's their fault!" Kezner exploded with such force that Wren and Gaff stirred uneasily behind the laser shield. Ro could feel their tension like a palpable thing, hard and skittish. It was clear that both men were a sneeze away from storming into the cell and taking Kezner down. Or shoot him, in Wren's case.

But no matter how little she might like him, Ro would not allow Kezner to be harmed right now, when he was in her custody. Besides, aside from the fact that he would hardly have a chance of overpowering her in the best of circumstances, the man was still restrained with her binders. So Ro sent a tendril of soothing energy towards the two men, trying to ease their tension, get them to relax again. It seemed to work with Gaff. As before in Cebz's office, he seemed more than willing to embrace peace. Wren was…different. Once more, her efforts no more than touched his surface emotions. Beneath that was still an impenetrable shield of intense, barely controlled anger that surrounded his core essence and which in Ro's perception crackled like lightning. You are a complicated one, aren't you, Cookie? Complicated and intriguing.

Ro forced her mind back to the matter at hand. She could puzzle over the mysterious sergeant later. Right now, she had a suspect to interrogate. "Could you explain that to me," Ro asked, her tone curious. "I'm not quite sure how the Marits fit into the fact that you refuse to go back to the work you came to this planet to perform."

Kezner blew out a breath and sunk a little further in the chair, trying to shift his body into a more comfortable position. His arms and shoulders, no doubt, were beginning to ache from the unnatural position they had been forced into.

"The Marits started it all," Kezner began. "The Human government hired them to build the cities, because they had a reputation for being brilliant and efficient engineers and mathematicians. We could have done just as well," he added bitterly, "but the Marits were cheaper. So they were brought to the planet along with the rest of us colonists. They built the cities while we lived in these makeshift camps. When the cities were done, we moved into them."

"And the Marits?" Ro asked.

Kezner snorted. "On the day of the inauguration the Marits sent these envoys to every city. They expected to be sworn into the government, like they were citizens." Another derisive snort. "They kept babbling about proportional representation and how it was a waste for them to return to their homeworld when there were nice houses for them to live in right here, which they had built." Kezner pulled a face, his long mouth twitching downwards. "That's the one thing they never understood. That they were hired to do a job, not being invited to share the planet. So we drove them out."

"To show them the error of their ways," Ro guessed.

Kezner shrugged his shoulders, rounded from years of working in the cramped space of the mines. "When a guest overstays his welcome, you sometimes have to give him the boot, literally. But the Marits just wouldn't face reality and so they went running to the Republic." He glared at Ro and the two waiting clones, standing sentry outside of the confines of his cell. "The big, honorable Republic," he mocked. "All about democracy and fairness. Yeah, democracy my filth-encrusted boot. All the Republic ever cared about was what we could give it. The Republic doesn't care which one of us holds the planet, just as long as we pay our taxes and it gets the rock-lions share of anything we can get out of the earth, so that those brain rotted senators can keep their nice, lofty apartments at 500 Republica. It's all about creds," he added resentfully. "And the Marits promised the Senate just that; higher production in the mines meant a bigger share of the profit for the Republic in taxes and trade agreements. And the Senate believed them."

"So the Senate backed the Marits' rights, because the Marits' reputation as workers made their claim believable. Could they have upped the production rate?" Ro wondered out loud.

"It doesn't matter," Kezner exclaimed so loudly, that Ro knew it was true. The man was just too obstinate to admit it. "What matters is that they had no right to approach the Senate in the first place and the Senate had no right to back them. But after that we had no choice. So we fortified our cities and we fought for our rights, Senate be damned. And when Dooku and the CIS emerged and offered us an alternative to the corruption of the Republic and a return of our rights, then we took it. How were we to know the CIS never intended to fight for us like they had promised?" There was a world of bitterness and disappointment in those words and Ro couldn't help but feel just a touch of sympathy.

Kezner wasn't all that wrong. The Republic was largely financially self-interested, a trait that had been causing more and more trouble over the years. Part of the reason why the Trade Federation had blockaded Naboo eleven years ago, was as a means of protesting the taxation of trade routes. An excuse to hide behind, as it had turned out, but a legitimate excuse nonetheless.

"And as if getting the Republic involved wasn't enough," Kezner went on. "With all the fuss the Martis made in the Galactic Senate, Shenio Mining got wind of our kelerium and norax deposits." He glared at Wren and Gaff. "You might think you're here to protect us," he spat, "but all you're really here for is to keep us in line while Shenio guts this planet for everything its worth. Heroes of the Republic, my milking backside," and he actually spat on the cell floor. "You're nothing but corporate tools, who take by force what the company can't get legally." He turned his angry green eyes back on Ro. "You know, it was Shenio that seconded the Marits' petition for Republic intervention in the Senate. And now they've set up shop and they sure as all milking hell are making sure that none of us locals are getting a chance to mine the shafts we dug. That's why I'm not working. Because the darling of the Republic is shutting me out and because the lizards that are running the show now caused this whole milking mess."

He was leaning forward now, almost sprawled across the durasteel table in his fervor, eyes blazing and face crimson with agitation.

"So you decided to set off some bombs to pay everyone back." Ro threw the accusation out there coolly, careful to keep anything but idle curiosity out of her voice and making sure her body projected none of her feelings. But her Force-senses were wide open and all fixed on the man seated across from her.

So she saw and felt how her words threw him for a loop, disturbing his building anger. There was a near pile-up of emotions: confusion, bewilderment, then dawning realization, as Kezner finally understood why he was here. This understanding was quickly followed by outrage, anger, but also hints of fear and a general sense of rejection of the entire concept. Even before he opened his mouth, Ro knew he wasn't their bomber.

"That's absurd!" Kezner yelled, trying to rise from his seat, but was unbalanced by his hands cuffed behind his back. "You think I'm the bomber? What kind of Gungan-brained, idiotic, spice-addled…" he spluttered, then managed to regain some measure of composure. "What evidence do you have?"

"You're track record, for one," Ro said. She might be convinced now that Kezner was not the bomber - his feelings were too genuine to be a lie - but she still wanted to let him stew just a bit more. He wasn't who she was looking for, but that did not mean he might not have some valuable information for her.

For effect, Ro glanced down at a datapad lying before her, rattling off the Intel displayed there, though she knew most of it by heart. "Three cases of armed and aggravated assault, twelve cases of vandalism, caught twice in acts of minor arson. Oh," she looked up at him, batting her eyelashes a little, "and let's not forget the countless charges, accusations and suspected cases of blackmail, intimidation and that little bit about inciting a riot." She waited a beat, then added, "And I don't think I have to mention all of the rather unsavoury details of your time in the militia."

"We were at war," he growled.

"You're not at war now."

"That's what you think. As long as those Marit interlopers, along with their Republic lackeys and the Shenio dupes are here, the Humans of Gaftikar will remain at war." He narrowed his eyes at her. "And that includes you, Jedi."

Ro was about to reply, when another voice, male, beat her to it.

"What in the great galaxy's blue blazes is going on here?!"

Everyone – the troopers, Ro and Kezner – turned towards the new voice.

Standing in the detention block's corridor was a man dressed in a red police officer's uniform, a small paunch of a belly beginning to spill over his black belt. His face was almost as red as his uniform and the large handles of his moustache were quivering with fury.

Ro was the first to speak. Both pale blond eyebrows raised, Ro stood to face the man. "Commissioner, I believe what you are seeing here is an interrogation," Ro said, her voice as sweet and smooth as Alderaani honey. Wren threw her a quick look, but with his helmet on, Ro couldn't see his expression and she was too focused on the commissioner to probe his emotions. She had a role to play and she'd better get on with it, though she wished the man could have had the common decency to wait until after her interrogation. Interrupting an interrogation was the height of rudeness among law enforcers.

"Of course," she continued in the same vein, "I can understand your confusion. Judging by your precinct's arrest record, you've had fairly little practice in this aspect of police work."

A hit. A palpable hit, she thought, watching as the commissioner's face went from red to a very impressive shade of purple. The ends of his moustache twitched like a Twi'lek's lekku, further indication of his fury.

"How dare you?" he breathed out, almost exhaling fire in the process. "You little…"

"I'm just going to stop you right there," Ro said, holding up a hand. "Before you say anything that might make me cross later. Commander. Sergeant." She gestured at the laser shield. "If you would, please?"

Wren didn't move a muscle, but he was still watching her with an intensity she could feel even through the dark, reflective glass of the visor. Gaff sprang to deactivate the shield for her.

"Finally." Kezner jumped to his feet, eyes fixed on the commissioner. "Gor'Dan, it's about time. I've been stuck here for…"

"You can sit right back down, Mr. Kezner," Ro informed the man. "We're not done here."

"Yes, you are." Commissioner Gor'Dan interjected. "I don't care who you are, but you have no right to just barge in here and usurp my jurisdiction."

Ro fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Goodness, but people thought well of themselves around here. She hadn't even stepped out of the holding cell yet and she was already being lectured on propriety. Kind of reminds me of my time with Master Adriav, she thought ruefully. Her first Master, back at the Temple, Jedi Knight Sarika Adriav, had always been fond of the proper way of doing things. One of the many, many reasons why her apprenticeship with the Zeltron Jedi had not worked out.

Pushing the past out of her mind and ignoring Commissioner Gor'Dan, Ro stepped out of the cell and pointedly reactivated the laser shield. Kezner protested loudly as the orange-red glow once more suffused the cell, but no one was paying him any attention. Ro walked past the two troopers to stand nearly toe to toe with Gaftikar's police commissioner.

For a moment, the two did nothing but size each other up; Kezner, Gaff and Wren watching from behind, their interest and fascination with the silent confrontation an almost physical thing to Ro.

Ro knew she had to play this very carefully. One of the first things her adoptive parents had taught her, was to never antagonize the local law enforcement. Getting anything done without their help was practically impossible, even for the best investigator. But Shiv and Eda had also taught her not to be a stooge. When push came to shove, you had to make it clear who was in charge. It was time that the good commissioner manned up and realized what was at stake. And if Ro had to slam his face into the facts, then she would do so.

Without breaking eye contact, Ro reached behind her to the small of her back and unclipped a small leather wallet from her belt. With a move made fluid through repetition, she flipped the wallet open and displayed to the commissioner the golden shield inside. "This," she said firmly, "does give me the right."

The commissioner glanced dismissively at the badge, then did a quick double take. The badge was round, engraved with the Galactic Republic's Bendu and the Order's winged star. Along the edges of the badge were engraved the words: To serve the Force. To protect the People. This was the official badge of the Jedi investigators, given to very few among the Order, but every law enforcement branch in the explored galaxy knew it. The badge carried with it certain privileges, but also meant the Jedi who displayed it was willing to shoulder certain responsibilities. Like taking the blame when the poodoo hit the fan.

"Maybe," Ro suggested quietly, "we can discuss this some place more comfortable." And she inclined her head down the corridor, towards Gaff's office. "Unless you want the entire base to hear what I have to say to you?" Ro kept her tone polite, but there was no mistaking the durasteel behind the words. She would like to do this as civilly as possible, but if she had to, she'd do it the hard way, too.

The commissioner had gone pale at the sight of the badge, but at Ro's words he managed to regain a measure of control and official dignity. "Of course," he ground out, even achieving the barest level of civility.

"Gor'Dan!" Kezner protested. "You can't actually mean to…"

"Shut it, Avnen," Gor'Dan hissed. "You don't know what you're dealing with here."

And that pretty much sums up this entire mess, beginning to end, Ro thought, but kept it to herself.

She turned towards Gaff and Wren, indicating the two troopers should accompany her and the commissioner. She wanted the two troopers present when she had her showdown with Gor'Dan. She didn't want to add to the man's upcoming humiliation, but they'd worked hard and after seeing how Gor'Dan had lain into Gaff the day before, Ro thought it only right that the commander get to see the commissioner taken down a notch or two. And Ro thought it was time that Gaff learned a different way to deal with uppity officials. He was a good commander, with a good head on his shoulders; she'd seen that today. He didn't deserve to be treated like a whipping boy and being present while she tried to talk some sense into Gor'Dan would reinforce his authority with the man.

She invited Wren along just for the sheer hell of it. The man was a wildcard and Ro had learned that those were always useful to have about, no matter what the situation. Besides, he had the uncanny ability of throwing people off of their game and that could be useful.

Gor'Dan seemed about to protest the inclusion of the clones, but decided at the last minute to remain silent instead. His moustache quivered though and Ro wondered how he could ever question a potential perp with so obvious a tell for his emotional state.

She took the lead, remembering how to get back to Gaff's office from here. Once everyone was inside, Ro palmed the door closed and turned back towards the assemblage of men before her. For a moment, she could not suppress the twitch of her lips that came at the sight that greeted her. It seemed there was a minor snafu over rank going on between Gaff and Gor'Dan. The commissioner had obviously tried to sit in Gaff's chair, something the commander had apparently taken offence at. Now they were facing each other, both with a hand on the back of the chair, glaring daggers. Though, of course, in Gaff's case, that was a pure guess on Ro's part. He was still wearing his helmet.

Wren, she noted, had taken a strategic position by the wall, protected on two sides and his back by the corner, but capable of overseeing the entire office. Arms crossed loosely over his chest, she noticed that his right hand was very close to the sidearm holstered at his hip. Clearly, despite his relaxed demeanour, Wren was as tense as everyone else in the office and ready to take a more….proactive stance on matters.

Ro had had just about enough. She was no stranger to testosterone and on occasion, an overdose of the stuff could be amusing. But she wasn't about to have blood spilt because of some male pride issue. It was time the people of Gaftikar learned to pull on the same string. Putting two fingers to her lips, Ro let out an ear-shattering whistle.

All three men practically levitated in surprise at the sound; clearly the clones hadn't had their baffles turned up in their helmets. Everyone turned to stare at her.

"It seems," Ro said cheerfully, "that every time I enter an office on this planet, there are people who are willing to get at each others throats in it. Now," she pointed firmly at the two chairs at the commander's desk. "Sit and I don't care where, just park those buttinskis and let's get on with it."

Gaff indicated the chair that was normally his. "Commander," he said respectfully, "you should be seated first."

Gor'Dan looked from Gaff to her suspiciously. "Commander?" He repeated. "I thought you were an investigator?"

Ro slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Are we back to this again?" She asked in exasperation. "You," and she pointed at Gaff, "sit." And the finger moved to his chair. Without a word of protest, he sat. "You," and now she turned her finger on the commissioner, "sit in that one." And she pointed to the opposite chair. Like Gaff, Gor'Dan sat without a word of protest. Ro moved to the side of the desk, facing all three men. She wanted to be able to keep an eye on them.

"First off," she began, turning her attention to Gaff. "I've already told you, I'm not a commander. I don't just say that for fun, either. I'm a civilian specialist, remember? An independent agent. So from now on it's Ro and only Ro. And could you please take off the helmet," she added. "I would much rather actually look at the person I'm talking to."

"Of course…Ro," Gaff said and hastily drew off the helmet. Ro glanced at Wren, but his helmet was already clipped to his belt, his brown eyes sharp as they watched her. He was…waiting for something.

Ro decided to focus on the commissioner next. That was what needed addressing the most, because she wasn't here to figure out enigmatic troopers. She was here to catch a bomber.

"I am a Jedi investigator," Ro said to Gor'Dan. "The badge is real. You know the penalty for carrying a fake, and I've worked too hard to get where I am to spend the rest of my life in a penal colony on Timbra Ott. So we'll just take my id as valid, shall we?" She asked the question pleasantly enough, but did not give Gor'Dan the time to reply.

"Do you understand what this means?"

For a moment, Ro thought Gor'Dan might start shouting again. The handles of his grey-blond moustache were certainly quivering like freshly plucked quetarra strings. But the commissioner took a deep breath, crossed his arms over his beefy chest and nodded slowly.

"It means," he intoned slowly, like a schoolboy reciting an unwelcome lesson, "that you are the highest ranked law enforcement official on the planet. It means that you are," he paused and took another bracing breath, "my superior for the duration of your stay on Gaftikar."

Gaff threw her a startled and surprised look; clearly, he had not known the extent of her authority in her capacity as a Jedi investigator. That wasn't surprising; few did. Jedi investigators often worked deep undercover, gathering Intel on criminal syndicates; that made it essential that people outside of the Order knew as little about them as possible, to minimize the risk of detection.

She felt nothing from Wren after this revelation. The other trooper had clammed up emotionally like a nyork. But from the subtle shifting of his body and the brief flicker of his eyes, Ro could tell that he had not known about a Jedi investigator's rank either. And he didn't seem to be happy about it.

But Gor'Dan was most definitely not happy about it. Ro didn't need the Force to tell her that the older Human was upset and put-out about this development. She could understand that. It couldn't be easy having to defer to a nineteen-year-old under the best of circumstances. Looking at her, he saw a kid with a badge, working for the enemy. Ro needed him to see her as an ally.

Ro brushed back her bangs, nodding absently. "That's right. And from now on, I require your full cooperation, Commissioner. I've heard about some of the," she cocked her head slightly to the side, searching for the right word, "misunderstandings, between the police and the troopers. That stops right here and now. From now on, when you receive a request from Commander Gaff," and she inclined her head respectfully to the man, "you can consider it a direct order from me. No more territorial squabbling, no more missed communiqués and no more understaffing of patrols. And Commissioner," she crossed her arms over her own chest, propping one hip against the desk and leaning slightly towards the seated man, "no more holding back or losing information. I want all the files you have on the bomber case transferred via secured comm channel to the base and I do mean all of the files."

Commissioner Gor'Dan's eyes flicked to her briefly and Ro could hear a sharp, angry intake of breath from Gaff. Clearly the commander had not suspected Gor'Dan of such erstwhile sabotage.

Stiffly, Gaftikar's commissioner nodded again. Ro could feel the resentment and anger roiling off of the man like sluggish, oily waves. It was a most unpleasant feeling, mostly because Ro was by nature a very friendly person. She didn't like browbeating someone into submission. It was time to change mag-lev tracks.

Covertly, she began emanating soothing empathic signals, trying to smooth out the wrinkles his anger was creating in the Force.

Putting one hand on the commissioner's red-clad shoulder, Ro waited until his eyes met hers. "Commissioner, I understand that you think the Republic and I are the enemy here. No, let me finish." And she held up her other hand, cutting the man off just as he was getting ready to protest. "I want you to really listen to me. I understand." She gave his shoulder a slight squeeze, trying to get him to pay attention as much to her words as to the sentiment behind them. "The Republic came here, fighting for the Marits who had been threatening and killing your people for months. You are a man of the law and a keeper of the peace and yet, you could do nothing against the people threatening those laws, because they were being backed by the very same government who'd passed those laws. And when the Republic sent its troops, it just got worse. I mean, the Republic is supposed to stand for law and order, just like you do, but instead, they brought more chaos and death." Her voice had gone low and quiet by now, her words meant for Gor'Dan alone, but Gaff and Wren had no problem hearing her. The office had suddenly gone very, very quiet.

"And in the wake of that chaos, you didn't just lose people you were sworn to protect, you lost some of your own as well." It wasn't a question, but Gor'Dan nodded nevertheless. There was a shine to his eyes that spoke of unshed tears and Ro could feel his grief and regret, as well as a general sense helplessness and undirected anger.

"Like the officer who died during the recon of Eyat."

"Yes." The word came out strangled by almost as much grief as anger. This had been a wound that had been festering for quite some time. "Yes, we lost Officer Dail in a routine follow up on some suspicious activity. He died because he got in the way of Republic Commandos casing the city, seeing where our weak spots are. And I lost even more of my officers during the attack, shot down by clone troopers when they were trying to keep the citizens from panicking."

"Those commandos didn't kill Officer Dail, Commissioner, and I think you know that." Ro said it gently, but there was no way to blunt this truth. "They used his stun baton on him. They tried to stun him, not kill him. He died because of an unreported heart problem; something he might not have even known about. His death was an accident. As to the others," Ro heaved a sigh. "They were following orders. Just like the soldiers back then and the soldiers here now are following orders. Both sides were just trying to do what needed to be done. Commissioner," she tilted her head, trying to recapture the man's gaze. "I'm sorry."

There was a pause that felt like an eternity. Ro could feel the attention of the two troopers on her. She wondered how this laying out of the facts must sound to them, but did not divert her eyes from the man sitting before her. "I know it's late in coming and I know it means fairly little, in the greater scheme of things, but I am sorry. I'm sorry that your officers died and I'm sorry it had to come to this in the first place."

Ro removed her hand from the commissioner's shoulder, sitting back against Gaff's desk to give the man room to process her words. Ro knew – she felt – that despite all the trouble he'd been making, Commissioner Gor'Dan was essentially a good person. He was, like everyone else in this city, simply overwhelmed by the situation; too personally involved to go on with everyday life, like nothing had happened.

After a few moments of silence, Ro continued. "I know you feel guilty over the lives that were lost, but Commissioner, lives are being lost right now. Eight people died during the explosion at the residential housing and there are more still in intensive care that might not make it. Humans and Marits alike. There's someone out there who is willing to kill others indiscriminately and I want to find him and stop him and I know you want that too. All I ask," she swallowed, suddenly aware of how dry her throat felt. "All I ask is that you help me do so. Help me protect the people you swore an oath to. I'm not asking you to like me, or the soldiers or the Marits, but I am asking you to do your duty and not let your feelings cloud your judgement."

Gor'Dan looked down at the polished tips of his shoes, studying them with intensity, as if hoping they might reveal the secrets of the galaxy to him. "What do you need from me?" he asked at last, his voice gruff.

Ro breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. "Like I said, the files of all your findings. But I would also like to see past case files concerning acts of arson and information you might have of people who have been involved with radical groups before."

Gor'Dan twirled one end of his moustache, nodding thoughtfully. "We can do that. Gaftikar hasn't been settled for long, so our crime rate has been fairly low, so far. And the screening process for applicant immigrants was fairly strict." He shot her a questing look. "You want the dead records as well?"

Ro nodded. The dead records were what cops around the galaxy called those files that contained information on cases that had been…well, swept under the rug, more or less. Nothing ever went undocumented, but a cop could make sure that those documents disappeared into a discreet little box, never to be looked at again. The reasons for doing so were as diverse as the sentient species found throughout the Republic. It could be that the perp was a minor, who had committed a stupid mistake that might ruin the rest of his life. Could be that the cop and the family involved were friends, and the investigator in charge wanted to protect their feelings. Could be bribes were involved. Either way, the result was the same. The file ended up in an out of the way corner and a settlement was reached outside of court or any other official channels. But Ro wanted a look at those dead records. They often held secrets unobtainable to an outsider, particularly in such a small community as Eyat.

"We still need to determine if the rat is a local or someone who's recently arrived," Ro explained.

The commissioner grimaced. "Time was, I would have sworn on my mother's apron strings that no local could do this, but…" He cast a jaundiced eye at the two clones, who had remained silent throughout the interview. He shrugged, foregoing whatever he might have said. "As to newcomers, not many of those. Gaftikar wasn't exactly on the tourist holos even before the Wars. Only newcomers so far are the GAR and Shenio."

"Do you have files on the Shenio employees?" Ro wanted to know. "Background checks and such?"

Gor'Dan shook his head. "No. Shenio insisted they were outside of Gaftikar's authority and didn't need to go through proper channels. Most of their employees are droids anyway." And he grimaced. "That hit the local economy hard, I can tell you."

"So I've heard," she murmured quietly. The day was finally catching up with Ro and she was beginning to feel her exhaustion. All of the mental activity, not to mention the stress of running through a burning building and apprehending a suspect had put a strain on her. She felt bruised. And she'd been using the Force all day, first at the bombing sites, then to get into the burning residential complex and finally during her interrogation of Kezner and during this interview. A clenching in her stomach reminded her that she also hadn't eaten since that morning's breakfast either. But she needed to end this first, hopefully on a positive note.

"Can I count on your cooperation, Commissioner?" She asked. "Can I rely on you and your officers to work with me and the garrison?"

Gor'Dan heaved a heavy sigh, looked down at his shoes again, then back at Ro. "Yes," he told her. "You can count on me and my men. I've been…" he trailed off, struggling with himself for a moment. "I've been selfish, losing sight of the bigger issue. It's time to move on, whether I like it or not." He met Ro's eyes and she was relieved to see a determination in them that was quite different from the obstinacy of the previous day. "Crime doesn't wait for you to get your house back in order. I'll see that you get those files tonight." He stood, then turned towards Gaff.

"I…" he cleared his throat, obviously feeling uncomfortable. "I owe you an apology, Commander. I have been acting most unprofessionally and…well, I shouldn't have taken my feelings out on you. I'll send you a schedule for patrols, so that we can coordinate our efforts in the future."

Gaff was clearly startled by this unexpected change in attitude, but he stood promptly form his chair, nodding his head in gratitude and reaching out one hand for the commissioner to take. Ro fairly beamed in pleasure at the gesture. This was a good man, no doubt about it.

"Thank you, Commissioner," Gaff said. "I'll be looking forward to working with you." There was not a trace of sarcasm in his words, nor a hint of ill will in his tone at the abuse he'd had to suffer at the hands of Gaftikar's officials. It confirmed everything Ro had come to suspect about the clone commander. This was a man who desired nothing more than peace and order. It was an oddly endearing trait.

The commissioner was clearly startled at the offer of friendship, but he only hesitated a moment before he grasped Gaff's hand and shook it. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," Commissioner Gor'Dan said. The poor man looked like he couldn't quite grasp the change in his own attitude. Ro just hoped she hadn't overdone it with the Force, but she'd woken nothing that hadn't already been there. Still, even a tired surgeon could end up wielding a laser scalpel like a sledgehammer and there was no doubt that she was tired.

There was a near silent swish and Ro turned just in time to see Wren stalking out of the office, helmet once more jammed over his face. He was trailing a roiling miasma of disgust and irritation, as well as the seemingly ever-present anger. Quite the change from the almost happy mood he'd been in when they went out together to arrest Kezner.

Now there's a man who doesn't know how to handle peace, Ro thought and felt a pang go through her. She wondered what kind of a life he must have had, to only find contentment during moments of chaos and violence.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a light touch on her arm and the soft calling of her name.

"Yes?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes, which felt crusty and heavy. Gaff was standing next to her now and Ro realized that they were the only ones left in the office. Commissioner Gor'Dan had left without her noticing. Force, she was exhausted.

"I asked if you were alright?" Gaff repeated. "Are your lungs still bothering you? I can call Wess."

Ro smiled at the concern in his brown eyes. He was sweet. It made her want to hug him, but she controlled the impulse. "I'm fine, but thank you. I just need some sleep." She stretched. "I think I'll hit the rack. We're going to have to continue with the investigation tomorrow."

He stepped back a little, once more establishing proper boundaries between them. Clasping his hands behind his back, he nodded formally to her. "Of course. I will see to it that you are kept informed, should something come up."

"Thanks, Gaff," she said and gave him another, heartfelt smile. She left the office, heading through the corridors, back towards the landing pad and the Mockingbird.

Artee was there to greet her. Fully recovered from his ordeal of coming face to face with a clone trooper, her little astromech tootled at her in concern, but did not interrupt his work of upgrading the ship's security measures. Artee was determined that no clone would ever slice through their locks again.

She patted him on his domed head as she passed him, her feet practically dragging across the floor. It was difficult to muster up enough energy to lift them properly.

Once back in her cabin she fell onto her bunk, barely bothering to undress. She was asleep almost instantly.