There's a dent in the side of the empty Bio-Bacta tank lying on the dashboard. A safety compromise. If anyone sees it, you're gonna be fined.

Alnam listens to Devin's voice and feels as if he was inside the tank. The sounds are muffled. Easy to lose track of. Easy to listen to the other ones - the ones that come from inside his head. He has to make a continuous effort to keep hearing Devin.

"... but your father didn't care about anything," Devin is saying. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you. It's just how it is. I mean, there's shit there - in the documents - it's vile. It's awful. They have contingency orders, you know. The clone army. Mass executions of civilians to draw out high-profile targets. Killing the chancellor pretty much on a suspicion. Killing off the Jedi generals - same thing. And he didn't care about any of that. He's only interested in companies. ConCare... It's a convoluted scheme. They evade taxes by outsourcing to the Outer Rim. And he's involved in everything. Again, I'm sorry, but he is. He told me himself. Pretty much. When I confronted him about it. He said I had no idea what his situation was. Didn't refute anything. Didn't even try. I guess he didn't need to - you saw why back at my apartment."

Clones, his father, mobsters, Krev Devin all flash in Alnam's brain. His index finger twitches at every flash.

"You're telling me," he tries to say but doesn't hear himself - only the buzz of the air filtering system. "You're telling me my father sent those goons?"

"It was the first thing I've heard from him. A threat to give the cops here an okay to sell me. I mean... I mean, I can only guess what it feels like for you. I never knew my father. But I feel like I owe you honesty, okay? And I'll be honest with you: I'll tell you everything. Except for the names of the people who worked with me on the leaks. That's my only condition. Everything else I'll tell."

Alnam could tell him he knows those names - but why would he? There's little point in doing anything. It's all entropy.

"He didn't care," Devin proceeds, "about Brate. The clone. Just a little hitch in his plans, that's all his death was to him. About the orders... I mean, this is how it is."

The funny thing - or the sad thing, maybe - is that Alnam is surprised at all. Did he really believe Father was twiddling his thumbs in exile? He wouldn't have - if he'd given it a thought. Perhaps, fear stopped him from thinking about it. The fear that the status quo - the shameful, humiliating, oppressive status quo - would fall apart if he did.

But his surprise is dull - like everything is now. He doesn't feel anything but tiredness when he thinks Father almost got him killed. Funny: he used to boil whenever he remembered the Manifesto. Boiled over how Vygo Alnam had broken everything for all the rest of the Alnams. And now? Nothing.

"What is his plan?" he asks Devin.

"If you listen to what he told me... he wants to come out on top in the war. To get everybody convicted. The chancellor and the Seps. To become the new chancellor... maybe. He didn't tell me that explicitly - for the record."

"By doing what? Spreading rumors on the Holonet?"

Devin takes another cigarette out of the pack. "We spread them on the Shadowfeed - the Holonet threads were started by other people. I mean, non-affiliated people. Just regular people who didn't know about the scheme. Just repeating the leaks they heard."

"And then what?"

"I suppose, the populace of the Republic - well, of the Galaxy in general - would rise up and demand accountability. That's what your father envisioned."

Alnam knows it's not true. Devin probably believes this - but it's not.

Unless it turns out all the clones aren't clones at all but citizens of the Republic kidnapped off the street and brainwashed into believing they are clones and sent to the war, nobody is going to care. Sure, people may start threads - hell, they may even organize a protest in the Avenue of the Core Founders.

But ultimately, no one would care.

Those are clones. They are made and shaped to die for the Republic. If there are tweaks to make them die with greater efficiency - all the better.

Father knows this. Thus: there must be more to his plan.

But Alnam won't be getting this information out of Devin. Listen to the awe in the man's voice: he can't lie to you - like a dog can't. You are his hero now. He should be yours, too - but you're too fucking cynical for it.

One man and one man only knows what is on Father's mind. That's whom you need to talk to.

Or maybe, let others do it. You can - you have all the data needed. Funds movement, the equipment you saw in the warehouse building, the factory building Devin's been talking of, Devin himself - you can do it.

It will be a thing of utter, almost impossible beauty; the beauty unblemished by the fake sweetness of victory. Vad Alnam arresting Vygo Alnam for libel, anti-government conspiracy, sabotage - maybe even high treason. Ruining Vygo Alnam's hold on the minds of the Galaxy - on the mind of Vad Alnam, most of all. You will not rejoice, you will not laugh - but you will do the right thing. The rightest thing you could have ever done. For the Republic, for yourself, for your son.

He remembers his Father's face. Always so distant - even when they both lived on Coruscant. A face more suited to be seen as a hologram. Remembers the last time he saw it: on Yalgi's birthday. For a different breed of man, being ostracized, falling from power and grace would be a turning point. Vygo Alnam has not changed one bit. He still acts as though nothing happened... no, he acknowledges what happened - acknowledges fully, but he doesn't allow it to change anything about himself. He faces the circumstances and tests his mettle against them. And he does something his own son never could - he wins.

"You okay?" Devin asks him. Shit: the concern is real in his voice.

"Mr. Devin," Alnam says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, "I believe it would be in your best interests if you disappeared for a while."

"What... what should I make of it?" Devin asks. His blaster is still stuck between his knees - not the easiest thing to holster it while sitting in an aircar. Alnam wants to advise him to adjust the seatback like he did when treating his wound, but the dullness stops him.

"Are there security cameras in your apartment building?"

"Are you kidding? Nobody here is going to waste money on CCTV."

"And in the garage?"

"No. None in the garage, either."

Alnam nods. "Very good. It would also be in your best interests if the... if your enemies that have survived were not here when the investigators arrive." Seeing Devin's confusion, he explains, "I have to report what happened to the HQ. They will send someone to investigate the crime scene. If they locate the three mobsters who still breathe, they will learn we escaped together. Do we want it, Mr. Devin?"

"Krev," Devin says firmly.

"Krev," Alnam repeats.

They sit in silence. The air inside the speeder still smells of tobacco, even though Devin still fidgets with his unlit cigarette.

"That cop," Devin says at last, "the one who betrayed you."

"What about him? He wasn't there."

"The Ixtlaris may have told him what happened."

"I have not forgotten about that possibility."

"You'll pay him a visit?"

"I will."

"You need company for that?"

"No."

Devin exhales loudly. "What is going to happen now, man? I mean, generally speaking?"

"You got money?"

"I've got some embezzled from your father."

"Start a new life, then."

"As much as I do not appreciate your father's methods and goals," Devin says licking his lips, "I've got a lot of info while working for him. The inner workings of the Republic. Some business, some government. It can be used. Maybe we can do something with it. Do something good. Something right. With my knowledge and your resources-"

Alnam smiles at him. "Start a new life, man."

.

.

.

"I lost my blaster, sir, and my datapad... and comlink... the latter two are destroyed, I'm pretty sure."

Onoile Ven starts cracking his fingers. "Are you safe, Vad?"

"Like I said, sir, I believe I am. Nobody is going to attack me in the embassy."

"Diplomatic immunity did not help that place once."

"True, but I don't think I'm in danger. Neither should you."

"Do you think the shootout was connected to either of your cases on Telos?"

"Can I give you my honest assessment?"

"Of course."

"I think it was connected to Krev Devin - but not in the same way my investigation was. You see, sir, Mr. Devin is a drug addict."

"He told you so?"

"I've seen needle marks on his arms."

That's true - he saw them today. Before, Devin wore long-sleeved jackets to their meetings. That he was right about that makes Alnam tiredly satisfied.

"Please continue," Ven says.

"I firmly believe that the attack on his apartment was an attempt of a local gang to collect their money from him. They mentioned something about his debts."

"A local gang? What kind of a gang uses such heavy-duty guns?"

"That is for the investigation team to find out."

"You aren't wrong, Vad. It should be already boarding a liner right as we speak."

"It'll take them what, eleven days to get here?"

"If everything goes well. You'll have to stay on Telos until they arrive and you make your statement."

"I understand. Am I to pursue my former goals, sir?"

"No. You are to recuperate now. There'll be more of that once you return."

"Should I at least search for Devin?"

"We've put him on the wanted list."

"That won't reach the Telosi authorities. Not before Devin can skip planet."

"You're correct, it won't. But I'd rather not waste one of my men in a senseless pursuit."

"Sir-"

Ven throws his hands up. "The Telosi libel is a trivial matter, Vad. We both know it won't undermine the foundations of our Republic. You have the location. Once the investigators arrive, you'll point them to that operation, and that'll be the end of it."

"Devin can take the equipment somewhere else in the meanwhile."

"Not if he's on the run. Look, Vad: I really, really don't want to lose you. I hate losing people - especially highly proficient agents like you. That's one thing. The other one is that the Supreme Chancellor has expressed his expectations to meet you during the Fete party at the headquarters. We cannot afford to lose you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Try not to leave the embassy without a good reason."

"Yes, sir."

"Until later."

"Good day to you, sir."

The hologram - the crisp, sharp-looking hologram, a courtesy of the embassy terminal - disappears. Alnam returns to his room - a courtesy of the embassy as well.

Devin should be able to get off Telos IV - if he's not a complete moron.

Was it right to let him off the hook?

He didn't do anything. It's like Ven said: trivial. Let him go. He saved Alnam's life. Let him go.

Uerre and Pudkis remain. At least Pudkis has no reason to meet the RDS investigator team. Alnam asks himself what it is to him: Devin is a suspect in the Republic's eyes as it is. Pudkis won't make his situation worse.

But he feels like the Besalisk and the Devaronian's well-being would matter to Krev Devin. And he feels responsible for Devin now - somehow.

They're all lucky, their whole brotherhood, that Alnam only used side help. Unofficiality is a great thing. Pudkis and Uerre have left no footprints in Alnam's reports - they're lucky he's too careful to put assumptions for his superiors' consideration.

He'll tell the investigators - as he'll write in his finalized reports - that he tracked Devin - again, unofficially - based on a hunch. He acted suspiciously when Alnam started asking him about the rumors. Makes sense - when a fellow RDS agent tells you so.

Alnam sits down on the bed. His heart is empty - like he's running on the memories of feelings, not feelings themselves. To feel something - anything at all - he remembers the man he shot today. Remembers the poorly-shaven chin under the helmet. How the man stopped being and fell.

Tears come at once. Tears - and horror. He tells himself he had no other choice. A self-evident thing. It doesn't help.

Crying does. The part of Alnam that didn't wish to feel anything goes with these tears. This is the penitence and the payment - sitting here shaking, making sounds unbecoming of a grown man - the payment to remain Vad Alnam or to keep the balance of things that make him Vad Alnam at about the same level.

Inappropriately, he remembers how quickly he got over the first man he killed. Said all the right words enough times, and voila. That Nikto's face never visited him in dreams. Just once, he knew he had to deal with a hostage situation and knew the hostage was held by the Nikto. The dream ended before he entered the building. Freaked him out when he woke up - but he got over it by the morning.

He had people to help him get over it. Then, he had such people.

Alnam wipes his eyes angrily. He nearly got killed because of his Father - that's a good reason for being angry, but it's not Father he's angry at. It's foolish, after all, to be angry at someone who is right, right in everything he does - and Vygo Alnam has always been right. Supremely, transcendently right - right only as a man who has tested his convictions against all things in the world, himself being the first and foremost of them, and kept them can be. He knows he is right, and it makes him right. What else can?

No, Alnam is angry at himself. He didn't foresee his Father's plans. He became a loose cog in the mechanism.

It's absurd - he barely lived through today, and now he's worried his Dad might be disappointed with him. But that's how it is, and he is worried.

Father will have plenty of people to be disappointed with, though. The Ixtlari mobsters, for instance. And Krev Devin himself.

Alnam can already see how it will be going.

"No," he says, and his words have weight as if Vygo Alnam could hear them over thousands of parsecs. "That won't happen."

And he knows it's true. That's what makes him right.

.

.

.

"Pa-huh," coughs the staff sergeant when the vibroknuckles hit the back of his head. He makes two wild, random steps. His paper bag hits the floor and bursts open. A pack of diapers slides all the way to the end of the corridor and under the radiator. A can of beer spins its way to an apartment door, kicked in Difasg's frantic dance.

Alnam grabs Difasg by the shirt. Turns him around. The vibroknuckles smash into the sergeant's cheekbone. Alnam can think just of one or two sounds more satisfying that the one of the collision.

The left half of Difasg's face caves in. A flap of yellow skin hangs over the jawbone, baring the sickening sight underneath.

Alnam gets worried Difasg won't be able to talk as he pushes him inside a utility room. The vibroknuckles exude a rhythmic hum - not too fast, not too slow.

Difasg manages to keep his footing. Holds on to a washing machine. There are six of them inside the room - all silent. No one will be coming to collect their laundry any time soon.

Sure, someone may come to deposit his - but Alnam doubts it. The fallen paper bag outside should give anyone a good enough indication to find another thing to do.

"Agent," Difasg says, "agent, please..."

Po'eeeeees - that's what it sounds like.

Ochre bubbles blow up on his lips - and pop soundlessly. A sound does come out of the staff sergeant's mouth, though: a crunching, scraping sound.

"Please..."

"You decided that was a good idea. A nice plan. To get me killed."

Difasg doesn't attempt to protect himself when Alnam hits him in the stomach - just tenses up.

The sergeant falls to his knees, but can't stay in this position. His fall continues until he is half-lying, leaning on one elbow.

"That was a good idea? Huh? You like it now?"

"Please... please, agent, I have kids..."

"How does it feel to be a fucking whore? For mobsters?"

Difasg's writhing on the floor's tiles has no goal: he's not attempting to stand up or get away from Alnam. He's just moving to move.

Alnam helps him back to his knees. Notices the police badge on the shirt: "Sergeant! You're a cocksucker, not a sergeant!"

Alnam takes the badge off. Difasg banks when Alnam lets go of him. Alnam throws the badge on the floor and tries to kick it under one of the machines. It bounces off the machine's leg and then refuses to go inside the slit. Alnam keeps kicking it, even though he realizes how dumb he looks.

"You piece of shit," he finally turns to Difasg. "How much did they pay you?"

The sergeant's eyes - the left one surrounded by a growing black hematoma - lose some of the hopelessness they just had. Plenty of fear is still in them - but now Difasg knows he won't die in this room.

Alnam recovers his breath. "How much did they fucking pay you?"

"Just two thousand credits," Difasg says - as if the sum exonerates him. "A month..."

"A month? How's that?"

"About... maybe three months ago... I was contacted... look, she was from the embassy! With the Republic!"

Consider this: Devin thinks Father's had him under surveillance almost since the day he arrived at Telos. Alnam is inclined to believe Difasg more on this one. Devin only became useful to Father after the clone had deserted and found him.

"Who's she?"

"Ms. Rell. Fadrina Rell. From the embassy."

"Go on. She contacted you. Then what?"

"She, she said Ixtlar was after Devin. She paid me to keep silence. I didn't even know! She told me!"

"Well, you didn't fucking keep silence, did you? That's why we're having this conversation."

"I did! Until... look, she told me - back then! - she told me that if the money stopped coming, I'd need to talk. To Mr. Scvebuda. The Ixtlari. Tell him that Devin is here."

"And you just fucking did as you were told."

Difasg tries to suck a long, thick rivulet of his dark blood hanging from his lips back in. "I work my ass off... paid shit... two kids..."

"Okay," Alnam interrupts him. "When did she stop paying you? When I arrived? Or later?"

"No... before..."

"When?"

"Early this month... I waited... but then she wrote to me... no more payments... Those guys... they arrived, I don't... ten days ago! On the twenty-second. Two days later, you told me Devin was your informant. Remember?" Difasg seeks to look in Alnam's eyes like a groveling dog. "At the real estate guy?"

"What were they waiting for for eight days? If they were here on the twenty-second? Jerking their dicks off?"

"Kinda," a smile appears on Difasg's broken face. "Resting after the trip. I mean, for two days. Then I told them to back off. Since you were involved."

"But then you told them to come back to business, huh?"

"No! They... I mean... they lost patience. Threatened me... my family... I just told them about my kids... first time I met them... they told me about theirs... and then they just started..." The sergeant moans and holds his hand to his swollen cheek. He spends a minute like this before continuing. "They went off-rails."

"But you told them I was going to arrest Devin. Don't lie to me, I know it. Otherwise, the moment would've been too fucking lucky for them."

Difasg casts two fearful glances up at Alnam. "I... I did. But I told you! I tried to warn you! Not to go!"

"They called you since the shootout? The Ixtlaris?"

"Yes..."

"You didn't talk about that to anyone, did you?"

"Of course not!"

"And you won't, right? You're smarter than that, aren't you?"

"Of course!"

"About the job you did for me either, right?"

"Yes!"

"Even if someone starts cutting your legs off, or cutting your balls off, or burning your eyes out?"

"I won't tell anyone! Anything!"

"It's a shame Devin escaped, right? Lucky bastard. Everybody was after him, but he got away with everything."

Difasg nods. The movement makes him squeal and touch his face again.

"Now to the last thing of our conversation that never happened. Are the Ixtlaris still around?"

.

.

.

He flies his speeder forty-something blocks away from Difasg's place. Parks it at a municipal lot and takes a cab from there. Tells the driver to just fly slowly. Stops him at a generic-looking café.

He calls the number Devin gave him from a paid comlink service.

"Wanna know where your guys are staying?" he asks.