The RDS flies first-class. Drinks and spa included. Alnam doesn't drink much but indulges in taking mud baths.
Destination: Skados VI. ETA: four days after leaving Coruscant.
"How does Dibasi expect us to be done with the case in two weeks if the trip alone takes so long?" Alnam asks Mtoro the evening before they exit the hyperspace.
"The senator can expect anything he'd like," the Ithorian says. She hasn't been drinking at all — one of the reasons for Alnam's own abstinence. "Our goal is not to produce a beautiful and timely report, Vad. We are here on a mission to save the Republic."
It's hard registering sarcasm when you hear two voices at once, but Alnam manages. "Not crazy about the whole shebang, Agent Apani?"
"I can't say I am. There's no telling how long we're going to spend on Skados. I'm going to miss a lot of important events back in the capital. The Coruscant Opera will be playing The Brief Reign recast this fall, and I can't wait to see Treblanc's rendition of The Horror in the Orphanage..."
Alnam almost tells her about the exhibits his wife organizes. Cuts himself off. He doesn't have a wife anymore.
"Also not seeing my family for who knows how long..." Mtoro continues.
"Also having to train a rookie..."
"That too. But at least, it's going to be nice to get off the urban nightmare for a while."
"And go to an industrial one? Sorry to disappoint, but we aren't going to see much of Skados VI's beautiful nature. We're investigating workers, not wild animals."
Mtoro sighs. "What is there to investigate about the workers? They're angry because they're underpaid. It's hardly a political stance."
Alnam stretches his legs on the deckchair. "Demanding higher wages isn't. But they want to secede from the Republic. Don't you think that is a political stance?"
The Ithorian looks at him attentively, and Alnam thinks she is going to bring his father up.
She doesn't.
"They might be goaded into taking it," she says. "Sometimes, a single person is all it takes to rouse the masses."
"Isn't this what we are investigating?" Alnam asks. He doesn't really care one way or another, but keeps asking. Needs to build his image. Mtoro probably isn't the best partner to do it with, but she still talks to the others. Let her talk. Let her tell what a hardliner asshole Vad Alnam is. If you're committed to the RDS, commit fully.
"I suppose. But this is something a diplomatic mission should be tasked with, not us. We need to find out the reason why these people are unhappy with the Republic, not to treat the symptoms of it. I mean, if we arrest this Rapol fellow, what is it going to change? Will it make the workers happier with us? I think not. And then what? Do we arrest all of them? All, you know, seventy million? Even if it was possible, who'd work instead of them?"
Alnam chuckles. He gets that she's right. He doesn't even disagree with her. So much for hardlining.
"You've read the files, right?" she asks. The tone is all business-like now — never mind they're on the recreation deck.
"Of course. So far, Isk Povo Rapol has made eighteen transmissions. He talks about the flaws of the Republic in all of them. Quotes the numbers: that they make almost twenty-nine percent of all the GAR ammunition on Skados VI yet central governmental funding of medicine and education was cut in two consecutive years for the planet. He didn't really make any appeals until eight weeks ago when he first voiced his doubts as to Skados remaining a part of the Republic. The next transmission is going to happen in three days. Since he's an idol there or something, people are willing to listen. The local authorities have determined the transmissions are being aired from the planet capital. What else..."
"Yeah, local authorities. We can't rely on them. They don't like the RDS and won't cooperate if they can find any loophole."
"You think the location is a bogus?"
"Why not? It's not like they have an actual location — just an estimate. Nothing easier for them than to blame it on equipment deficiency when we find nothing."
Would she like it to go like that? After a moment of deliberation, Alnam guesses not. Mtoro may have unorthodox sympathies, but she is an agent first.
"From what I've read, Agent Apani," he likes calling her that — it makes the Ithorian roll her eyes up slightly, "it almost seems like the authorities on Skados VI didn't want to let this information out."
"You can bet they didn't. It all comes down to Senator Ktii, and she has bet on the support from Coruscant rather than her home planet. I'm not sure if there's a less popular senator in the Galaxy right now than her."
"Seems like a stupid move. She isn't elected on Coruscant."
Mtoro guffaws. "Are you sure about that?"
In the past few days, Alnam's been wondering why Ven made him Mtoro's partner specifically. Was it a deliberate move? To put two liberals together? To make Alnam spew out his own agenda? To make him spy on Mtoro? Some other reason?
"So the only one on Skados who wants to help us is the senator and her men," he says.
"Senator Ktii only wants to help herself keep her position. "I'm not sure there's anyone loyal to her at this point."
"Our odds are getting better."
"Officially, we can enlist the local lawkeepers' help for operations that involve the use of force."
"Do you think it may come to that?"
"I sure hope not. Even if it does, we should be careful: there's a threshold of what orders the Cattesians will take from us. It's not particularly high."
Alnam's in two minds about the case. He agrees with Mtoro that it's complete nonsense and will lead to no positive outcome — both for Skados VI and for the Republic. On the other hand, he is excited. So excited as he hasn't been since his first year in the CorSec. He feels strong again. He feels young again. He feels fresh out of the academy again.
"But what about our contact?" he asks.
"Yes, Hvenda Obar. I wouldn't count on him too much. He's not an operative. He's not even officially with the RDS."
"A concerned citizen-type?"
"You can say that. A paid concerned citizen, of course."
"Well, maybe he knows some people who can also help us for a price."
"The reports mention that Obar has gone native, whatever that means. So maybe he does."
"But we don't really want to find out."
"We really don't."
The liner enters the orbit, giving the passengers a chance to take holopictures of Skados VI. Skados VI looks good from space. It's got some green. It's got some blue. Doesn't glow too much. Easy on the eyes. The other seven Skadoses can be seen lined up behind their only inhabitable sister.
Their shuttle is half-empty: the liner will proceed to better places to disembark in a standard hour or so.
"Are you lagging, Vad?" Mtoro asks him.
Alnam is. After four days in the hyperspace, the very concept of days and nights sounds outlandish.
It's late morning where they land. Skados City Spaceport does not really lie within the city limits. The notion is weird to Alnam: on Coruscant, everything is within the city.
The RDS has priority during the identity check. It takes Mtoro and Alnam ten standard minutes to exit the main terminal. Alnam excuses himself. Walks to the public holo-relay.
He looks at his watch while waiting for the connection. It should be around 5 PM back home.
Yalgi's hologram appears. Alnam is grateful it's him who picked up the call.
"You've landed, Dad? You're already there?"
"Yeah, I just did."
"Well, how's the planet? Have you seen—"
"I just landed. I haven't really seen anything. How're you doing?"
"Okay."
"Just okay?"
"I suppose."
"Alright. I'm okay too. The flight was great, actually. Really fancy ship — can you imagine that?"
"Wow! Did you have, like, a fridge with booze in your room?"
Alnam smiles. "A minibar, yeah. And it's called a cabin, I think. If it's on a ship, you know. We also had a pool and all that. Some job I got, right?"
He can't tell if he's testing what Yalgi thinks about his transfer. It sounds like it, but why does he need a ten-year-old's opinion on that, even if it's his son?
Is he really trying to get Ormi's opinion?
"Yeah. Maybe I could go with you one day."
"Study well, get a good job, and we'll see about that." Seeing his son smile, Alnam smiles himself. Then he asks, "How's your mom?"
"She's okay. She's coming home late today. Gotta get that exhibition ready for the weekend. You know what she is like when there's an exhibition."
Alnam does. Ormi's talks about exhibits used to excite him once. He never knew a thing about art — but she did, and it made him care.
"Yeah. Wait a minute, who's going to feed you? Mrs. Ehhentau?"
"No. I ate at school."
They chat for a while before Alnam says, "Alright, I really gotta go."
"Will you call me later?"
"I have work to do, so I probably won't be able to today. When I'm done, it's going to be night on Coruscant."
"Right! What time is it on Skados now?"
Alnam tells him what time it is. And then adds, "I love you, Son."
"I love you too, Dad."
He feels worn out after the conversation's over. Can't really put his finger on the whys. It wasn't a bad conversation — as far as their once-in-a-while conversations go.
Well, ain't that all the whys you need? Every time you talk to your son is going to be special. In ten years, you're gonna be remembering each time you've talked to him. And it's not gonna be hard to recall all of them.
He's done nothing to prevent it. Wanted to go to Ide Smates maybe even a year ago, but never actually went. Never made himself to. Always hoped all the shit in his life would resolve itself.
Ormi... Ormi has been pretty dormant about the divorce lately. Alnam doesn't think she's talked to him about it since his promotion.
And just like that, he allowed said fact to lull him.
But Ormi can be a rapid woman. It's easy to forget that when you look at her: she looks classy. She looks very sober. She looks indecisive sometimes. She's all that, he knows. But when she needs to be one, she turns into a Dathomiri viper ready to strike.
When she needs to equals when she feels anything can threaten her son. Even if that anything is his father.
No, he really needs to see Smates when he comes back. It's not like he's going for full custody, damn it! Just equal parts. Isn't that fair? He's a good father, she's a good mother. Why should there be any preferential treatment? His job? What about it? He'll find a way to make it work. He can take care of Yalgi when he's on Coruscant. Can even come home earlier. Can wrestle that little right from Ven. Look: Ormi's not even home yet, and her job doesn't involve travelling to the Mid Rim!
When he takes his seat in a cab, Mtoro looks at him for a long time. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you."
The cab soars up to the thin, crest-like spires of Skados City, and Alnam realizes he didn't lie to her.
He's got a plan he's decided on, and so he is fine.
.
.
.
Hvenda Obar's apartment sits on the fourth floor of yet another building that looks more like a tree than a building. Alnam has had enough of that back at the hotel: all the gaps through which falls and certain death gaze at him make him dizzy.
"Why do they have to build everything like it's a nest?" he asks. "We Humans used to live in caves, and now we tend to... well, look at Coruscant."
"Some of it does look like a cave, if you haven't noticed," says Mtoro. "Actually, I prefer this to Coruscant. It's more natural here."
"Sure, whatever."
The only way up to Obar's door is by narrow winding stairs — one of the many outside the oversized tree-house. Alnam is in a good shape, relatively speaking, but his breath grows heavy by the time he reaches the door.
It takes him a while to figure the doorbell out: it's a tiny sensor at the top of the doorframe. You have to wave your hand in front of it to make the little bastard do its thing. It's glitchy to boot and doesn't register Alnam for the first time.
Finally, Obar opens up. He's a Nautolan — a very thin and short one. He wears a bandana half-hiding his tendrils. He wears enhanced reality goggles. He looks fucking stupid.
"Mister Obar," Alnam says, "we're RDS. My name is Vad Alnam, and this here is Agent Mtoro Apani. May we come in?"
"Of course!" Obar moves away from the door to let them in. "And please, Agents, call me Hvenda. I really am not used to all that mister crap." He claps his hands and laughs. Funny guy.
His apartment is made of sharp lines and weird design choices. There are no inner walls, but the walls that limit it bend like it's nobody's business. Alnam doesn't know the name for the shape Obar's apartment has.
"You have been notified of our arrival?" Mtoro asks. "Good. Don't you worry, Hvenda, we will not be staying here at your place."
Obar laughs again. Alnam manages a smile. His head's starting to hurt. Is it the weather? It's summer in Skados City. Humidity is out the ass. He can feel the fucking sweat spots spreading out from under his underarms like schematic Confederate forces on an educational holovid.
Obar makes them some cafstim. It helps — a little.
"I should make myself clear, Agents: I'm just an informer. I just live here, watch out for weird shit, and, you know, call the HQ if it does happen. I'm, so to speak, not really in the know."
Listening to his voice makes Alnam wonder how much Obar smokes.
"We are aware of your role, Hvenda," Mtoro says. "We require your knowledge of the place in general. Some customs, uh, things that we should hear about before we make a blunder."
"Of course. That's why I'm here! Well... just ask me," the Nautolan laughs again. He's kind of genuine about it, though — on a better day, Alnam thinks, he could've liked him.
"This Isk Povo Rapol... Do you think he's really a part of it?"
Obar turns to Alnam: "Well, that's hard to say. The thing is, he's really somebody who has benefitted from this world being a Republic world. There's this program called, uh, The Authentic Cultural Development that is funded from the Republic budget. It's not only a Skados thing — they have it on Glee Anselm, too... On Darlon, as well, I think... Anyway, if I were Isk Povo Rapol, I wouldn't have turned on the Republic."
"But?" says Alnam.
"But if somebody was using my likeness and my voice to, you know, to shit on the Republic, I would've issued a statement. I'd have said I had nothing to do with it. I can appreciate the hand that feeds me."
"And Rapol?"
"Povo Rapol did no such thing. Let's see..." Obar turns his holo-terminal on. "Let's just look up for the latest news on him. Aha: you see, it's nothing but concerts and an occasional promotion of some brand."
"I'd say his propaganda gig deserves a mention, too."
"Oh, Agent Alnam, they don't put that in the news on Skados. Yet everybody knows — naturally."
Alnam checks the images of Povo Rapol at the terminal.
"He looks bland," he notices. "We just arrived this morning, and I must have seen at least a dozen more colorful guys in the streets. How come a singer looks so uninspired?"
"Ah, it's a cultural thing. They evolved from birds, the Cattesians. Songs are still an important part of their mating rituals, so a famous singer always risks angering some people. So they have this tradition that if you make it as a singer, you have to look as, well, brown and dull and you can. They dye their feathers to basically proclaim they're in it for the art, not for the chicks.
"But don't get me wrong. Povo Rapol is as far from art as I am from Glee Anselm. The only difference is that I could go to Glee Anselm if I wanted to and Povo Rapol couldn't do anything remotely resembling art in a lifetime."
Mtoro's constant inner growling — Alnam has got used to it during the trip — grows higher. "The Cattesians don't seem to agree with you."
"Art, Agent Apani, cannot appeal to the masses. Anything that does isn't art — by definition. I have studied their language a bit," Obar laughs as if that is the best joke in the Galaxy, "so I know what I'm talking about. Take Beseshi Omil, for instance." The Nautolan brings an image to the holoscreen. This Cattesian is far brighter of feather than Rapol. "You can bet he's got not a credit from the ACD program. That's because the Republic selects what they think is authentic for a world they have no idea about. Yeah, they're not going to develop this guy."
"Does he sing too?" Mtoro asks.
"He does, and how! Learning the tongue was worth it just to understand his songs. And all the cultural references... The rhymes... Ah, just the names of the songs are enough to give you the idea. I'm Xim the Despot's Genocidal Warrior? You bet Povo Rapol wouldn't sing that one!"
"I wonder why." Alnam scratches his eye. "But let's get back to Rapol."
"Has he expressed any political views in the past?" asks Mtoro.
Obar thinks. "He supported Ktii during her first-term elections, but that was six years ago. Rode around with her during the canvassing, you know. But after that, I don't think so."
"And in his songs?" Mtoro is doing a good job. Alnam feels useless. It's the headache, but he still does.
"His songs... bah, they're all drivel. He had no heart, but she managed to break it all the same — that kind of crap. Hm... maybe a year ago... there was one called Strike! That's how I'd translate it, and I think it's a good enough variant."
Alnam tries to do his duty. "Was it about strikes?"
"More like a call to one. Strikes were big then, with all the talks of replacing workers with droids. Even Ktii herself had to make a cautiously pro-Skados statement then, and that's saying something."
"Any contacts he might have made then?"
Obar turns to Mtoro. "Maybe, but back then, everybody was on the same side. Or so it seemed."
"The song must have been recorded somewhere."
Alnam nods. There must have been a location. A location from a year ago, sure — but that beats no location other than "somewhere on Skados".
"Fozatta did the recording, his usual label. I wanted to suggest that you check Povo Rapol's producer. Giburin Fozatta."
Mtoro harrumphs. "Isn't he Coruscant-based?"
"He is, in fact. But the studio is here on Skados. I heard he bought it just to accommodate Povo Rapol."
"So this Fozatta guy," says Alnam, "was willing to take a political stance? Uncommon for a producer."
"As I said, Agent, the whole planet was pretty much uniform about that stance."
"So there was money to be made."
"Precisely."
"Is there any to be made now?"
The Nautolan smiles. His ER goggles paint his large dark eyes blue. "There always is some. But on the other hand, I don't get the feeling people are nearly as, you know, monolithic now as they were back then. Automatization was a domestic," Obar's smile grows a little wider when he says this word, "issue. The Cattesians could disagree with the Republic then, but they still remained its part. Now... now it's different. If they rise up, they will have to change their lives. Whatever the outcome is, their lives will change. It's a commitment, and commitments are never easy. So there are far more doubters today."
Alnam thinks. Mtoro lets him do that. Is she testing him?
Let her be. Alnam is prepared.
"We'll need to check Fozatta anyway," he says.
"He might not even be on Skados."
"All the better. In his absence, we'll have more room to operate at his studio."
Mtoro growls her approval. This sound is eerily pleasant, and Alnam's headache gets a bit more bearable.
"Hvenda," she asks, "whom from the planetary security can we trust?"
Obar shrugs. "I'm not an agent, Agent. I'm not really in contact with the local cops."
Alnam seriously doubts that. Something tells him said cops will learn about Mtoro and him and their questions before the sun sets.
"I wouldn't trust any of them if I were you. They're all locals. Cattesians."
"Whom are they loyal to?" asks Mtoro.
A good question. It can't be the senator.
"Each city has its own force and its own chief. They all play their cards close to chest. There isn't a single authority over them."
"But what are their sentiments?"
"Well, I don't believe you'll find any help — any real help, that is — among them. I wouldn't call them secessionists, but..."
"But they aren't really friends of the Republic, either," Alnam finishes.
"Maybe not so much that as the fact they know what the workers think about Povo Rapol and how they'd react if someone — you — arrested him. They don't want to give up one of their own to Coruscant and they don't want to face an uprising."
They're leaving when Alnam asks Obar for a headache pill. Mtoro says she's got some back at the hotel. Alnam furrows him brow — like he can't wait that long.
The Nautolan takes him to the bathroom — the only space in his apartment that is separated from the rest of it. While he's scrabbling around for a blister pack, Alnam looks back to see if Mtoro is watching: she's not, she's leaving.
"And let's say I needed something a tad stronger," he whispers fingering Obar's shoulder. "Where would I go for that?"
The Nautolan stops in his tracks. The Nautolan looks dead save for the newsfeed scrolling past his eyes. The Nautolan gulps. Alnam knows his gut feeling didn't fail him. He can tell a junkie a parsec away.
Obar's trying to think. Not something that goes well when you're stuck with an RDS agent in a small bathroom on Skados VI. Obar's trying to feel about for a path that doesn't end with him in jail — or dead.
"I might have an ampule or two, Agent," he exhales.
"Glitterstim?"
"My best friend here," the Nautolan smiles. "The nicest one I've ever had."
Alnam waits for Obar to find the stuff. Then he claps the informant on the back. "Leave it. I guess you need it more. I'll take that headache pill, though."
Always seek leverage — isn't that what his father used to say?
Mtoro asks him as they walk to their speeder cab: "Do you play any instrument, Vad?"
It makes Alnam smile. "No. Why?"
She hesitates, it seems. "I play some Ithorian double-flute."
"Really? That's cool. I'd like to hear it one day."
He can tell they both know it's not true. But there's no harm in this lie — for a change.