Alnam doesn't know what species over-captain Clobur is - never seen anything like that - but he can tell Clobur is damn fat.
The over-captain's tentacles shamble across the desk. His eyes are solid black, but dim orange lights flash in them now and again.
Alnam clears his throat. "I come to pay obeisance to the planetary police of Telos. It's your waters, so to speak, so I figured I'd drop by to say my howdies, sir."
The over-captain starts shaking. His laughter balances somewhere on the edge of ultrasound. Four rows of medals on his upper body ring softly.
The tentacles caress the sensor screen on the desk.
Words come out of a holoprojector: "That's a good one."
The over-captain keeps writing. Alnam wonders how the communication works in the field.
The answer must be simple: in the field, the over-captain works not.
"You are not wrong, Agent Alnam," comes the next phrase, each letter glimmering in the darkness of Clobur's office. "These are my waters indeed. But I'm an agreeable old kraken - you'll see. At least, as long as nobody tries to muddy the waters."
Alnam waits another silent laughing fit out.
"We will be happy to help in your investigation," the over-captain continues. "We will do everything in our power. Everything that is agreed upon between your Republic and our Telos."
Meaning: not much.
Alnam bows his head. "I daren't take any more of your time, sir."
He enters a turbolift when a Vorzydiak policeman catches up with him. Slides through the closing door.
"There's more the over-captain wants to tell me?" Alnam asks him.
"No, sir. My personal initiative."
"Is that so? Well, this elevator will be on the fourteenth floor in about forty seconds. That's how much time you have."
"I know what the cap told you. We can't do fuckall for you."
"The good over-captain put it in a prettier wrapper... but the message was exactly that. No need to tell me twice."
"Staff sergeant Difasg is here to tell you another thing, sir."
"And just what would that be, staff sergeant Difasg?"
"You can count on me, Agent. Let the big shots argue all they want. But I will help you with anything you need."
The elevator doors open to the police station's lobby. Alnam doesn't rush outside, though.
"And what would it cost me?" he asks.
"Just mention me to the newspeople when you start giving interviews. Say how the investigation wouldn't work without me - something like that."
"A humble man, aren't you, Sergeant?"
Staff sergeant Difasg smiles. "I just like being useful, sir."
.
.
.
Mtoro's hologram is so grainy Alnam can barely tell it's her - though he doesn't know any other Ithorians.
"... sixth time I'm calling," she says. "Do you copy, Agent Alnam?"
"Sixth time's the charm, Agent Apani."
"What's up with the communications there on Telos?"
"It's the Outer Rim, what do you want. Communications are the least of the concerns here. I don't know how long we have, so tell me how the Fozatta case is going, and be quick about it."
"In good news, Giles has confirmed pretty much everything your mother has said about Fozatta."
"Prompted or unprompted?"
"Well, I asked him some leading questions, but he pointed at Gizmo and Palooia all on his own."
Gizmo and Palooia: clubs where Fozatta's big starts tend to perform after hitting it big.
"We still don't have search warrants," Mtoro says. "I don't think Fozatta is hiding there, but it won't hurt to do a search to make the owners more willing to talk."
"Right. What does Ven say?"
"He smiles and says the matter will be solved by the Fete Week. How's your observation going?"
"Good. Look, I'd really like to chat more, but it's getting late here and I need to go watch the RI tomorrow morning - if you don't have more to say."
Alnam's observation may be going good, but his investigation isn't. The only lead leads him to the planet - and he's already here.
He's tried to get some details from those Shadowfeed discussions. That didn't fly so good: whoever starts the topic doesn't respond to any posts. Alnam's seen interview queries, insults, praise, everything, but never a response from whoever knows a little too much about the Grand Army of the R for Onoile Ven to sleep well at night.
He's contacted a few of the active posters. They confirm: the rumor-starters never reply. They can be lying - they are journalists, after all - but Alnam tends to believe them.
He's tried to contact the leakers, as their supporters call them, or the Separatists-paid bots, which is how they're known to their haters, several times from various points of entry. Nothing.
Every new topic is created from a different account. Their names: random strings of numbers. No amount of searching leads Alnam anywhere. He'd be surprised if they were coordinates or something like that.
Devin isn't helping. Looking at him, Alnam can imagine what jobs he did for the Republic before, and it's not intelligence. The poor bastard probably expected to crack heads like usual, not to do the thinking.
Devin is a weird one. Alnam knows he should think about other things, but he keeps comparing the two times he's spoken to Krev Devin.
The first time: Devin was either high or couldn't wait to get up there. Couldn't keep the conversation if his life depended on it.
The second time: Devin was sober and professional. Would've made a good impression - had it not been for the first one.
What's up with this discrepancy?
Was Devin trying to make up for being wasted the first time? If so, why? He's been paid already. Does he fear he'll have to return the money? Doesn't seem like a returning type. Running away and lying low for a while type - sure. Wants to get more? That's more like it. But he has to understand he ain't getting any credits for doing nothing.
Well, maybe there's nothing he can do.
Didn't something change about Devin's behavior between the comlink call and his arrival at the bar? He seemed fine on the comlink, didn't he? Damn it - should've recorded the call. Did he do some glitter before going to Kiffa? Why? Couldn't wait a couple hours?
He didn't know how long it would take, though.
Alnam tries to think about the case instead. He knows the case is a no-hoper. This knowledge is like a wall of fire for a wild animal: he doesn't want to go there. So his mind escapes to thinking about Devin's oddities.
Alnam does push-ups. His muscles complain, but not too much - he's been taking a better care of his fitness after the Skados equilibristics.
The push-ups clear his mind of junkies. The wall of fire is still there, but now he's willing to face it.
He's got no theories - not enough data to form any. No data at all, pretty much.
But: if you don't have data for a good version, scrape up some for a bad one. A bad version is better than no version.
Bad versions lead you to better ones - sometimes.
The embassy was attacked on 14:8:18. The DS caught the Telos transmission on the twenty-second - but the first Shadowfeed discussion was started on 14:8:17.
Telos IV: a big planet. Almost a billion citizens - that's the official numbers. What are the odds the two events are connected?
Not great, Alnam admits. Still - they happened a day apart from each other. Within the same standard day if you go by Coruscant time. What if we assume - for the time being, as we have no better suggestions - that they are related?
Version: the attack was an act of retaliation for the GAR rumors. What follows from it: the rumors came from the embassy. The speeder ram was meant to throw a scare into those spreading the rumors... except it didn't work: new discussions appeared on the Shadowfeed on the nineteenth, twentieth, and so on. Can we factor this one out? Maybe, maybe not. Could be that the rumor guys retaliated too - and there was no one to retaliate again after that. A brief look at the local news shows no signs of recent turf wars: no bodies found - well, no more than usual. Missing person reports didn't go out the roof. Could be that serious people were involved. Like real serious: the Republic top-brass on Telos. That's doubtful, though. You'd need your top-brass' okay to keep something big like that under the rug - even if you're top-brass yourself. Ven would probably have suspicions if the rumors came from inside - and it would be very uncharacteristic of Ven not to voice said suspicions.
Version: the attack was carried out in retaliation - not for the rumors, but for what the Republic is - allegedly - doing to the clones. Alnam struggles to imagine who would do that. Well, there are insane people. However: it would still have to be one hell of a coincidence. Such a guy turning up on the same planet the rumors are spread from? Doesn't sound right.
If the attack and the rumors are actually related, then the rumors were being spread from the embassy - no reason to attack it otherwise.
No, wait. The attackers could've thought that's where the rumors were coming from. Still: they needed to know it was somewhere on Telos.
Version: both the attack and the rumors were done by the same people - not by two different sides of the same conflict. First the rumors, then the half-assed demolition attempt. Separatists? Ven is right: too clean a job for them. Just property damage. And the rumors... sure, they sound bad - but it's nothing the Republic can't recover from.
Whoever the terrorists were, they wanted to limit the collateral damage. Attacked at night. Let the guards escape and seal off the fucked-up place. Didn't throw any bombs around. It really looks like a message that someone in the know will know is aimed at him.
Alnam really wants to talk to the guards. Lawrie's interrogation reports are lackluster: the guards just tell their Devaronian story and that's it. Why the fuck did Lawrie send them away? They aren't under arrest or anything - he simply issued a compliance order for them to return to Coruscant and remain there until further notice. The bad thing is, Alnam can't ask anyone on Coruscant to question them - he is the one tasked with observing, and to get anyone else would require months of paperwork.
Version: the RI are onto the rumors. Lawrie knows the guards are involved, so he made sure Alnam can't question them. Fed him the Human supremacy banthashit to throw him off the trail.
Something contributes to this theory: the ambassador and his aides left Telos last month as well. Alnam makes an inquiry. Turns out that had been in the works long ago. A case of misbehavior, apparently - the official documents won't disclose anything else.
Shit. The more Alnam looks into it, the more it looks like inter-department warfare.
He doesn't like it one bit.
The whole shebang could be the last ambassador's way of getting back at those who've wronged him. He has to hold someone guilty for being called off to the capital. They always do. Could he start leaking some top-secret shit over it? Sure, seems like an overreaction, but how can you be certain?
By talking to the man, probably - but the man is off-planet.
Everybody who could shed any light on the situation is, it would seem.
Well, Alnam thinks, except for one man.
.
.
.
Next day, Alnam calls Lawrie and tells him about the Most Elevated Order of Purity and the Zhell Brotherhood. That's about the extent he's willing to go to with Lawrie.
"I've never heard about them," Lawrie says. "There was a group called the Zhellday Front, but they disbanded about five years ago. And they sure as hell weren't sponsored by the Republic."
"Well, I'm selling you what I was sold. I'm not an expert on supremacist groups - you are."
"You're very right - I am, and I've never heard about these guys. But who the fuck can tell with these people? Maybe they're based in the Outer Rim. Look, I'm bound hand and foot here doing nothing, and neither my boys nor my superiors would appreciate it if I stop doing just that. So could you do me a favor and look into these Order and, uh, whatever it is some more? If you just confirm they exist-"
"Yeah, sure. I was going to do that anyway. But first - does that Devaronian guy live where the report says?"
.
.
.
"Mr. Uerre? My name is Agent Alnam. RDS. Can we talk inside?"
The Devaronian on the intercom screen furrow his brows. "Can I see your ID first?"
"Sure thing."
The door opens. Alnam comes in.
His sense of banthashit flutters. The Devaronian looks nothing like someone who plans on studying cybernetics. Those who do don't usually reinforce their horns with alusteel rings.
The apartment: heaps of clothes everywhere. Boots in disarray at the entrance. The smell of cheap cafstim.
"I came by earlier today," Alnam says, "but I didn't catch you."
You can tell a lot by how somebody answers to this question - if it comes from a cop or someone bigger than a cop.
The Devaronian glances at the door. "I just got home."
Aha: the none-of-your-business type. Not surprising.
Alnam takes a walk around the apartment - veeeeery slowly and deliberately. More clothes everywhere. Either no girl or they don't live together. A large screen in the bedroom shows a muted music video.
"Were out studying?" he asks turning to Uerre.
"You can say so."
"Yeah? And what else can I say?"
"Is it an interrogation?"
Alnam smiles. "Of course not. I'm here to... any ideas why?"
"No."
A fast reply - but not too fast.
"I really hope, brother, that you will work on your Republic legal system before you go to Coruscant," Alnam says in his trust-me tone. "I'm here as an observer from the RDS, and I'm here to observe how the investigation is going. As you have been questioned by the Intelligence, I had to pay you a visit. You know, to ask you if... if everything was alright at that questioning. If none of your rights were violated. Likewise - the Telosi laws."
Uerre crosses his arms. "No, nothing like that."
"So everything was good?"
"Yeah."
"Everything?"
"Yes, I just told you."
Alnam smiles. Alnam starts another lap around the flat.
"You see, Mr. Uerre, I got acquainted with the file. And I'm gonna be honest with you: it doesn't look good, how the RI treated you."
The Devaronian can't conjure up an answer for the longest time. When he does, it's nothing spectacular.
"Why?"
"Well, what do you think?" Seeing there's no reply coming, Alnam goes on. "They decided to question you out of nowhere, basically. The only reason I managed to find in the file was that you attended the embassy that day. Along with what, five hundred other people? Then the guards at the embassy claimed that there was a Devaronian on site when the attack happened."
Uerre breaks eye contact, but restores it a split second later.
"There's no evidence of that," Alnam says. "And obviously, you have left the embassy by the time the attack happened - of which fact, there is plenty of evidence. So the decision to question you looks a bit weird, don't you think?"
"I don't know. Maybe they questioned all the other applicants, too?"
"No, they didn't. Do you feel like it might be a case of profiling?"
The Devaronian looks bewildered.
It's almost as if he expected Alnam would arrest him, and now all the questions catch him off-guard.
"Mr. Uerre?"
"Look, I don't... I don't have any complaints, okay? It's all cool. They were real professional. I didn't mind being questioned."
"Are you sure you aren't saying it out of fear?"
"I am. They didn't-"
"Good. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you some questions as well."
"Is this supposed to be profiling?"
Alnam laughs. "No. It's just since you are already involved with this case, I need to clarify some things."
The kitchen: holoposters with sleek aircars galore. The window: the entirety of the view is hogged by the building on the opposite side of the traffic lanes.
"Mr. Uerre, do you personally know any of these people: Glenn Aidas, Sadad Forr, Ickimo Spanlin, Roov Tchetchatha?"
No recognition on the Devaronian's face when he hears the guards' names.
"No," he says.
"What about not personally? Do you think any of them could have a reason to dislike you?"
"I don't know who they are."
"Did you have any run-ins with the embassy guards on the day of the attack or on any of your previous or subsequent visits?"
"There was only one visit. No, I didn't get in any conflicts."
Alnam makes a mental note: is it normal to wait for a month after an interview?
"Were there any provocations or actions you would consider as such during your visit?" he asks.
"No."
"I should emphasize that your answers will not affect the likelihood of your getting a Republic visa."
"No, sir."
"Have you ever encountered hateful or xenophobic actions or comments on Telos IV?"
Uerre shrugs: half-proud, half-humble. "Who hasn't? I been living here for twenty-nine years."
"Could you describe the nature of such comments?"
"I mean... just the usual stuff. People called me all sorts of things. Some blob had the nerves - well, maybe not literally - to call me a vertebrate cocksucker once. I don't pay it any mind. Let them say whatever they want."
"Very wise of you. So you want to study cybernetics, huh?"
"I do. Prosthetics and all that, you know."
Alnam nods - very enthusiastically. There's nothing more unsettling you can do as a lawman than try your damnedest to pass for a friend.
"I see," he says. "Mr. Uerre, there's this delicate question I must ask you. Where were you at the time of the attack - that is, on the eighteenth of the last month at about ten PM?"
"Am I under-"
"No. It's just a formality." Alnam shows him the screen of his datapad: you can catch a glimpse of a phrase or two, but not more before he flicks it back. "I have to ask you this question - the rules are the rules."
There aren't such rules - rules for whom would they be, in any case? For people who aren't even witnesses?
But for some reason that his gut knows and he doesn't, Alnam really wants to hear Uerre's answer.
"I was at home," Uerre says.
"Here?"
"Don't have any other one."
"Anyone who can confirm it?"
Uerre gulps.
Alnam watches him.
Uerre licks his lips. His gaze dashes to the window and back to Alnam's face, then drops down, then goes up again.
"A girlfriend, maybe?" Alnam suggests.
"Just a pal," Uerre says slowly. He looks somewhere at Alnam's right cheek. "Yeah, my pal," he meets Alnam's eyes. "Agvar Pudkis. We were drinking... and maybe not only drinking, if I may be honest with you, Agent. I mean... something heavier."
"Mr. Uerre, I'm with the RDS, not the DCD. That doesn't concern me."
That's what Alnam says. But in his head, he shouts and he sings.
Nice fucking try, Mr. Uerre! Nice fucking try! Good acting - and a good story. Taking drugs with a friend - no wonder you didn't want to talk about it. How very noble.
But there's a small problem. There's something Alnam can see as clearly as a supernova: Sorval Uerre, Devaronian, 29 SY, Telosi citizenship, is not an addict.
There are guys you can tell at once that they trip and flip. Then there are those like Krev Devin, with whom it's difficult to say.
And then there are those you know don't do anything harder than food supplements.
Uerre falls into the last category.
Alnam tries not to show his excitement: it can be nothing.
But there's also no reason for Uerre to see it.
"Okay," he says. "Moving on: have you ever met or talked to RI agent Rengart Lawrie outside of this investigation?"
"I have not."
"Any of his subordinates?"
"Not that I know of."
Alnam's comlink starts ringing. Lawrie. Alnam can't help but smile.
"I'll call you back later," he says.
He looks at Uerre. The Devaronian is hiding something - no doubt. Can be small and irrelevant, like being secret lovers with that Pudkis.
But can be big and very, very significant.
"What do you think about the clone army?" Alnam asks.
"I don't think about it at all. Why?"
Uerre's pose changed - a little bit, but Alnam noticed.
"And with the latest rumors?"
"What rumors?"
"That we lobotomize them. So that they fight more effectively, you know."
Uerre shakes his head. "I don't really get it. How is it related to the embassy thing?"
Very natural.
But Alnam knows what an actor is in front of him.
"We're working on a theory," he says. "We suspect that somebody could read one conspiracy theory too many on the Holonet and charge the embassy building because of that. You know, a sort of a protest against the evil Republic."
Yes. Yes, the Devaronian's shoulders get less uptight.
The son of a bitch is all comfy and relaxed now.
That was worth a shitty theory.
"What would you say is the general outlook on this?" Alnam asks him. "Do people here agree with such methods? Do they hate the Republic?"
"You know, I wouldn't say so. It's just whoever flew his car into the embassy. He was insane, probably. Would've done it with or without rumors. If it's even connected."
Alnam smiles and nods.
Then he gives Uerre the protocol to approve and leaves.
.
.
.
Shit - he completely forgot to call Lawrie, and now Lawrie is calling him again.
The RI agent doesn't sound irritated, though.
"I ran a check on those groups of yours," he says. "I don't think we're on the right track, Alnam. Looks like they are more of a boogeyman than a real thing."
Fancy that you would talk about boogeymen, Alnam thinks. He doesn't care if Devin's groups are real or not, but somehow feels offended by Lawrie's attitude.
"What did you expect?" he says. "I'm not a local. I don't know what's what on this planet."
"Okay, okay, take it easy. I'm not blaming you. I sent you what I found out - it's not much, but maybe it will help you a little."
Alnam wants to tell him not to bother, but Lawrie keeps going.
"You visited the Devaronian?"
"Flying from his place now."
"Any thoughts?"
"Breathe easy, Lawrie: you'll remain a free man for now."
"That ain't happening - not if my wife's got a say."
"Yeah, later," Alnam says and disconnects.
The Devaronian's reactions don't leave his thoughts for a moment as he's flying back to Maroon Dawn. Uerre knows something - oh yeah.
What's more: he knows something not just about the embassy. He knows something about the Holonet discussions.
Hard to keep calm when everything is juuuuuuust lining up. Alnam tries.
Version: Uerre partook in said discussions. Was worried it would get him in trouble.
Counterargument: that's not a crime.
Version: he did that on the Shadowfeed.
Counterargument: it's technically prohibited in the Republic, but not on Telos. And even back home, not a single sentient got in trouble for going on the Feed. It's prohibited, but neither monitored nor punished.
Though if he read about the lobotomies on the Shadowfeed and then started a discussion on the Holonet... that might be a different thing. Spreading libeling rumors... But then it would make little sense for him to breathe out when Alnam told him he suspects the terrorists were avenging the poor clones. Maybe Uerre joined the discussion club later than the attack? Then what was he doing on the night thereof that Alnam's question got his panties in a knot? And something did alright. He hid it well, but Alnam saw it.
If you believe the man himself, he was drinking - and doing heavier stuff - with his "just pal" Agvar Pudkis. No questioning that one - he's not involved with the case in any capacity.
A little informal chat isn't out of question, though. Will Pudkis shit himself if an RDS agent shows up on his doorstep? Maybe, maybe not.
How about some police help? Difasg's number is in Alnam's comlink. He's unsure if he should use it. Getting the police into this can be a disaster - especially if the cooperation is shady.
Alnam gets to his suite. Takes his overcoat off and throws it onto the bed. Then remembers Uerre's place, picks the coat up, and hangs it up in the wardrobe.
He sits down at his terminal. Checks his incoming messages: two from Yalgi and one from Lawrie. Alnam groans. What made him agree to help that over-perfumed buffoon in the first place? Human supremacists! Human supremacists, my ass.
He starts writing a reply to Yalgi, but knowing Lawrie's message is sitting right there, waiting for him, doesn't let him concentrate.
"I should just fucking delete it," he mutters.
But deleting information isn't something they teach you in the Coruscant Police Academy. Let alone in the RDS.
He sets Yalgi's message aside. For now - he'll have an easier time talking to his son with no greasy fucks around.
A treacherous thought crawls into his head as he opens Lawrie's message.
Is this how you want to talk to your son from now on?
Fuck off, Alnam tells himself. Fuck off. I made a promise.
To whom? When did you become a believer?
Fuck off, he repeats. His eyes glide over the text.
He almost jumps when he sees it.
Thoughts, treacherous and not, evacuate his head until only one is left - more of an instinct than a thought at that. A Corellian hound doesn't think when it smells its prey.
But he is a man, not a hound. He takes five deep breaths. Then he rereads the message.
"I found no mentions of the Zhell Brotherhood," writes Lawrie. "As for the Most Elevated Order, the only mention of it in the Telosi police files dates back to 11:9:19 when one Agvar Pudkis, Besalisk, DOB 28:10:7 BrS, POB Malastare, defaced a window in his mother-in-law apartment building with a graffiti saying, quote, 'Death to all unHumans / Most Elevated Order of Purity / Bow to the Human.' I don't see much use in it, but maybe try to find this guy and ask him if he made the Order up or not."
Alnam believes in coincidences - but no way is this one.
So this Pudkis guy drinks - and does heavier stuff - with Sorval Uerre, who knows more about the Holonet discussions than he lets on. This Pudkis guy also is the only apparent member of the Human supremacist Purity Order - despite not being a Human.
Does Devin's information come from him? Or did Devin just feed you a known bogus story? How's that for an in-joke?
There's but one way to find out.
Alnam's thumb almost presses the call button on his comlink. Almost. Something holds it back - maybe this something is the teeth of Alnam's instinct.
He runs a check on Pudkis first - just to make sure it's a real person, not a Telosi trickster spirit blamed for every mishap. No, Pudkis is as real as it gets: four misdemeanors in the past five years. That's something.
What got Devin so worked up in Kiffa? Alnam didn't mention the discussion threads back at the bar. Devin had to know Alnam was there for the embassy attack - that talk couldn't put him on edge. Was it the mention of the supremacist groups? No, he'd been nervous before that.
But he walked in all normal-like, didn't he?
It's a painful feeling - like having a name on the tip of your tongue or a splinter under your skin. Alnam knows he's missing something. But what?
No. No. Devin held up okay when he walked in. It was after he heard Alnam's name that he got flustered. Why is that?
The answer seems obvious.
He expected a different agent.
Somebody up high had promised there won't be any investigation - any real investigation - of either the attack or the GAR libel or both. Had promised to send an RDS agent to see to that. Maybe also to divert the RI's attention. Named a name - and that name wasn't Alnam's.
And by the time of their second meeting, Devin had got a grip on himself. Didn't stop him from talking some absurd shit about Human purists.
That's because even though he got a grip, he's scared to shit. He didn't expect Alnam's arrival. Probably has talked to whomever it is back home who made promises to him. Made sure Alnam's not here just because Agent So-and-so got a cold the day before his departure.
Ven told you about this, didn't he? About how you can keep a secret even from a fellow RDS agent. No wonder it's a good thing if there's a rat.
No, not a rat. It's a different faction. Who knows - maybe the terrorist attack and the rumors are both parts of an intra-RDS war.
Hell, come to think of it, Alnam is the perfect man for this kind of job for one reason.
He doesn't have any friends.
Even Mtoro - they got along well enough, but Alnam is not inviting her over for the Fete Night. Neither is she inviting him.
For some reason, it stings.
Fuck it. He has no friends. Not anymore. The closest one he had ever had turned back on him when his father said his thing - and then pretended that was not the case.
Fuck it. If this makes him efficient, it's fine by him. It's better than if it made him weak.
Okay. But then you got the question: who did what? And another one: what are you supposed to do with it? Which faction is in the right? Do you keep your loyalty to Ven? Do you go to the Chancellor?
Easy there. No need to rush. You don't have enough info to make decisions yet. So let the hound do its work.
He presses the call button after all - but he calls a different number.
.
.
.
He meets staff sergeant Difasg at a grocery eight blocks from the police department. The Vorzydiak is packed with packs.
"Two knee biters," Difasg explains. "You got any?"
"One. He lives with the wife."
Difasg gets the hint.
While they wait for the cashier droid to check out the policeman's greens and beer cans and milk bottles, Difasg toys with his badge, switching the holoprofile on and off.
Great. A twitchy bastard. Just what Alnam needs.
In the store's garage, the sergeant puts his bags into the trunk of his aircar.
"So what can I do for you, Agent?" he says standing up.
He's lanky and towers above Alnam.
"I need to put somebody under surveillance," Alnam says.
"That's not a problem."
"I also need the over-captain to not hear a thing."
"That's not a problem, either. Old Clobur doesn't hear a great many things. Let's ride."
It smells like frankincense inside the sergeant's aircar. There's a large sign saying TURBO across the steering wheel.
"I was younger and stupider," Difasg explains. "It's an old speeder, you see. I should really get a new one." He shrugs. "Speaking of old things that we should change, there is the over-captain. Now that one isn't going anywhere on his own."
"I'm not going to help you with that one."
"I'm just saying. He's a Gree. There are like twenty of them in the entire Galaxy. So we don't even know when he's supposed to retire. The regulations don't say anything about their retirement age. Look, I get it, you aren't here for all our political banthashit. You got too much of that on Coruscant to care. I get it. Buuuuuut... you know, if you could say a couple words to your sentient resources department about me..."
"That depends on how well you perform."
"Well, I figured as much. So whom do you need under the microscope?"
"A Besalisk. Name's Agvar Pudkis. Lives in, uh, the Eight Corners Condominium, apartment 2080. I need him tracked for a couple of days. Just tracked - no contact with him. I just wanna know where he goes and when."
Alnam wonders again if he should track Devin. Again, he decides not to - for now. Pudkis is the only one that is - however ostensibly - connected to both crimes.
And again, the decision doesn't sit right with him.
"Will do," Difasg says. "We'll start tomorrow."
"We? How many men can you spare?"
"However many I need. I basically run our station as it is. Clobur's just there to receive appraisals and look good. He's a mighty fine detective, I'll give him that. Or used to be one. But all the administrative tasks are on me - yes, sirree. That's why I want out. I've reached my ceiling on Telos IV already."
"You do good on this job, and I'll see if you can have another ceiling someplace higher."
.
.
.
The following day draaaaaaags like no other in Alnam's life - save for maybe the one after the Day of the Manifesto.
He waits for Difasg's report. He checks if it's normal to wait for a visa for a month after the application interview - turns out, even a two-month wait is perfectly normal. He looks up the Most Elevated Order of Purity everywhere he can think of: the RDS database, the Telosi news, the local police communiqués - to no avail.
He bothers himself asking if putting Pudkis under surveillance was the right call. It seems righter than not - somebody who fakes hate crimes is probably doing some other shit you can use against him, and it'd be great to learn about said shit before you question him - or rather have an informal chat with him. It doesn't seem right right, though. Alnam can't tell why, and that's the worst.
Ven calls him in the morning. Alnam momentarily wonders if he should ask him what the hell is going on in the RDS.
What Ven has to say makes him make his mind.
"I did what I could," Ven has to say, "but the little bugger came to the Supreme Court. There's going to be a hearing."
"I just stunned him, for hell's sake!"
"I know. Don't worry, Vad - the worst case scenario is you're going to publicly apologize, and I will reprimand you. But that won't affect your standing in the RDS, I give you my word."
"That's good to hear and all, but I know how such hearings go. I'll waste more time attending courts than I did catching Povo Rapol."
"You're not wrong. They aren't going to withdraw you from Telos, however. The first hearing won't happen this year - probably some time in the first month of the next one. So you do your job. Everything's good there?"
Alnam fights the desire to ask Ven - once again.
"I hope I'm onto something," he says.
.
.
.
Days grow into each other like conjoined twins - no telling where one ends and another one starts. Alnam's got nothing to do but invent excuses for Lawrie and drink cafstim. His sleep cycle is all messed up, and the Telosi eternal night doesn't help.
"You sure you don't need some other guy followed?" Difasg asks him when they meet at the grocery again. "We've been shadowing this one for three days, and he seems like a regular moron."
"I'll be the judge of that," Alnam answers.
He can always just chat with Pudkis, of course - but wasting three days sounds bad. A good reason to double-check the sarge's report.
But as soon as he's done reading it - one and a half flimsiplast pages in Difasg's cramped hand - he sees something's up.
Points of interest: the unemployment center - one visit, his mother-in-law's home - one visit, a traditional Besalisk medicine store - two visits, a local mall - one visit (brought his wife along for this one), a warehouse twenty blocks away from Coruscant City - four visits, a specialized Garqi caf store - one visit.
All located quite close to each other and to the Eight Corners, except for the in-law's apartment - that's on the other side of the planet, Pudkis had to go through an orbital station to get there and back again - and for the warehouse.
Now that's some lifestyle: an unemployed Telos IV citizen visits a Garqi caf bean store and leaves with two large bags.
Something very, very interesting happens in that warehouse - Alnam can tell it. Something that provides for such a lifestyle.
Underground gambling ring? Maybe - but not necessarily. Maybe it's something much more ambitious.
Alnam checks the warehouse entry in the planetary inventory. Feel the smell yet? Oh yeah.
The warehouse last changed hands just a week before the first Shadowfeed thread. Current owner: unknown. What a bummer!
Well, not really: it mentions the previous one.
.
.
.
They go into the office together, Alnam and Difasg. A small queue dissolves when they see a cop - and somebody in civvies accompanying him.
Gronor T'Lum of T'Lum Real Estate, an anomalously tall Caarite, doesn't seem so surprised by the visit. He ushers the Bothan couple he was talking to out and seals the door behind them with a code.
"What can I do you for, gentlemen?" he asks.
"We want to ask you a question or two about a certain property you sold last month."
"Happy to help! What exact property would that be?"
Difasg sends the address to T'Lum's datapad.
"We need to know whom you sold it to."
"You see, a most peculiar thing happened," says Alnam. "Somehow this information didn't end up in the inventory. Must've been a glitch in the system."
T'Lum's cheerfulness dies out a little. "Well, officer... officers? You know how it works. I mean, I pay all the, you know, taxes-"
"Not to me you don't," Difasg says.
"My reputation is at stake. Nobody is going to come to me if the word spreads I give my clients away."
"Who's the captain around here? Ybbes, isn't it? Old Clobur's been wanting to eat her for a long time now. Your taxes were all in vain, mister."
"You have no choice," says Alnam.
"Listen to him. He's from Coruscant. RDS. Whomever you pay is irrelevant at this point."
"You tell us whom you sold that warehouse to, and we might forget what kind of business you're running here."
"Give us a bigger fish to fry."
T'Lum's gaze shifts back and forth from Alnam to Difasg.
"Shit," the Caarite says. "I didn't... you see, I didn't ask for the ID. I never do in these situations."
"Don't tell me you didn't know nothing about whom you were doing business with," Difasg says. "You're a smarter boy than that. Who referred them to you?"
T'Lum rubs his face. Rubs and rubs it. "My friend," he finally says.
"Your friend got a name?"
"Otla. Sumar Otla. He introduced us, I don't know, two years ago. And that guy, he goes by the name of Devin."
Alnam feels as if gravity vanished and he's about to start levitating. About to start seeing the whole battlefield from above - not a detail missing.
"Devin?" he asks. "Devin what?"
"I didn't ask for his ID," T'Lum says in an annoyed voice. Then he adds apologetically, "But I think it's Krev Devin. Yeah."
Difasg's badge information flickers in front of them as they leave the office building. On and off, on and off.
"You know him?" he asks.
"Matter of fact, I do. You?"
"I heard about him. He's got on some big people's bad side, I heard."
"So he's lying low on Telos?"
"I don't know. So what is this warehouse business about? Are you going to arrest Devin for it?"
Alnam smiles. "As I said, I know him. He's my informer. So I'll just talk to him."
.
.
.
He doesn't talk to Devin, however. Too late for convos now.
He lifts the surveillance on Pudkis. Difasg looks disappointed, but Alnam assures him his services will come in handy later.
He monitors the warehouse on his own for a day. That day doesn't feel wasted - even though Alnam has to piss in an empty bottle while sitting in a rented aircar.
In the morning - that's very funny on Telos IV - two speeders come within about twenty minutes from each other. There's a vehicle entrance, so Alnam doesn't see who gets out of these speeders. One of them is Pudkis's, though. In the evening, they leave - with a ten-minute interval. The lights in the only two windows go out just before the second speeder flies out of the warehouse.
Alnam flies his aircar to the warehouse rooftop. He puts his breathing mask on and opens the door. He hovers about three meters above the roof - Skados memories come back.
He's not going to jump anywhere today, though.
It gets some minor adjustment to get closer to an air filter duct. From there, he drops two nano-droid capsules down, then closes the door, pilots the speeder back to the vantage point and takes his datapad out.
He drives the nanos through the air system. Smart little bastards find the way mostly on their own - Alnam just corrects them when they try to explore some side ducts.
The warehouse proper: lots of empty space in the cargo area. Nothing to see other than some boxes. But Alnam remembers what windows glowed during the workday and guides the droids there - to a room just above the cargo dock.
Four computers there. Those look promising, but-
Forget about them. There's a cable going from each of them to the real guest of honor.
An HB-890 transmitter.
It looks grotesque - like an enlarged copy of a normal Holonet transmitter. Alnam feels nano. He looks at the markings on the thing. Yep, it's an HB-890.
And an HB-890 lets you use the relay you're closest to as a sort of trampoline - your data jumps from it to another relay without leaving a trace: your relay doesn't actually process your signal, so it doesn't register it, and as far as the other relay is concerned, the signal comes out of nowhere, so it marks it as coming from the closest planet bfore sending it farther on. That's why the transmitter is so humongous: it needs to calculate the coordinates of other relays to actually hit them, and those coordinates come in at least three different flavors. One, if Alnam remembers correctly, shows where the relay is located in relation to a planet, another one - to an infofield hyperspace entrance... he can't recall what the third one is, but all three must be accounted for when sending a long-distance signal, and all three parameters shift constantly.
"Motherfucker," he can only say.
.
.
.
He doesn't sleep that night. Too excited - but also has to make a call.
So it looks like Devin and Pudkis are working for a faction in the RDS that's responsible for the GAR rumors. They expected somebody from that faction to come and help them fix their snafu - that's why Devin was so perturbed to learn Alnam's name.
How is Uerre involved? He seems to know something about the rumors. He seems to be involved in the embassy attack. He definitely knows Pudkis.
And what is Pudkis about? Can he be working with Lawrie - on the account of them both being crazy about Humanocentrists? Can Lawrie be in cahoots with one or more factions inside the RDS?
Apprehend them all - that would be a good way to answer all of these questions. Well, apart from Lawrie - you can't arrest an RI agent outside of the Republic, and even within it, that would require one hell of an exploit.
But there's the problem: you need warrants to arrest people. And the more warrants you request from the HQ, the longer it takes to get them done. They don't treat them separately - that's what Mtoro told him back on Skados. No, those bureaucratic cocksuckers are going to withhold all your warrants that are ready until all the rest are ready - and only then give them to you. You can ask for them in a bundle or one by one - changes nothing. They just keep placing them to your account.
So he's gotta choose: which one he needs the most? Who will be the most useful to arrest? Requesting a warrant for whom will raise the fewest questions in the HQ?
Pudkis seems like a small fish. Defacing property? Making hate groups up? Doesn't sound like much. Not a leader material.
Uerre - there's very little on Uerre, just Alnam's gut feeling. Not gonna convince the paper-pushers. With Pudkis, at least Alnam saw his aircar coming to the crime scene.
And so Krev Devin looks the most promising. The warehouse belongs to him - although Mr. T'Lum will have to testify in court on that account, despite what Alnam and Difasg promised him. Not a big deal - they have leverage on him. The situation can always turn sourer for the poor Caarite, so he will talk to keep it just sort of sour.
He calls Ven for the warrant: with all the supposed factionalism in the RDS, he can't risk placing an order with anyone but him. It won't speed the matters up - but at least, it won't slow them down.
Ven is surprised to hear Devin's the prime suspect. Alnam doesn't tell him his thoughts on the DS - they can discuss it later and in private.
When Alnam knows more about the cliques - and how he can benefit from them.
.
.
.
He calls Difasg when he's leaving the hotel.
"I changed my mind," he says. "We'll be arresting Mr. Devin."
Silence.
"What?" Difasg manages to say. "Are you serious?"
"As I've ever been. You have an hour to assemble a squad at Tubiri, 88-31, parking floor."
"Sir-"
"I just got a warrant - so this time, it's official. And your top priority, I might add. I'll meet you there."
He called Devin twenty minutes ago. Arranged a meeting in an hour and forty minutes just a block away from Tubiri, 88-31 - where Devin lives.
This way, Devin won't go anywhere until it's time to go to the meeting - too little time. He's most likely home now - sounded sleepy over the comlink.
Of course, he could be staying at a lady's place - or in a gutter. Then it would be an embarrassing raid in an hour - but Alnam knows where Devin will be forty minutes after that.
When he arrives at Tubiri, the cops aren't there yet. Alnam swears as he looks at his watch: to be fair, they still got eight minutes.
He's about to call Difasg when the sergeant calls him.
"Agent Alnam, we're on the way. The traffic's real bad today's morning."
"The apartment is 50-11. I'll be there."
"Sir, you have to wait for us!"
"Are you giving me orders now, staff sergeant?"
"Devin is a cutthroat. Please, wait for our arrival. We'll go in full force."
"50-11," Alnam says and disconnects.
He catches himself tapping his foot in the elevator. Tells himself to stop - but his body won't listen. Hell, the situation's giving him a semi.
The turbolift doors open. He storms out.
Number 50-11 is down the corridor. Half the lamps are fucked.
Alnam stands in front of Devin's door, his guts in a tight ball, his gut feeling going off like a space-bombing alarm.
He takes his blaster out. Checks that it's in the stun mode.
And he presses his hand to the doorbell panel.