The first thing Krev does when he gets home is shoot some glitterstim into his veins. He feels like it's well-deserved — it may kill him, but it's well-deserved.
It doesn't help. The sense that something's missing still lingers. Krev tells himself he's done everything for today. That it's time to let go of his worries. He'll think about how he's going to rip Alnam off some other day.
But it's not Alnam. It's something else.
I got rid of the clone, Krev thinks. They got nothing on me now. Well, apart from me breaking into the embassy — but who cares about that? They'll chalk it up to Separatists. Nothing Alnam can do about that.
But it's not Alnam. It's the clone.
The drug doesn't usually make Krev sentimental. It's chemistry, not magic: it won't bring out something you don't have.
Today's different, though.
Krev tries to bargain with the feeling. He tells it he's sorry he shot the test-tube bastard. Test-tuber or not, that wasn't cool. Not the bastard's fault he was from a tube. But what happened, happened — nothing to be done about that.
The feeling doesn't subside.
Krev tries to shake it off. Logs in to play some Sabacc. The feeling tells him it's no good. The feeling tells him he's playing against the clone deserter.
Brate. That was the bastard's name.
"Why did you even desert?" Krev asks aloud. "Didn't have a family to run back to. Why then?"
He opens the archive. It's as if he's making it up to the clone.
"It's not for shooting you," he mumbles. "It's for your eyes."
He starts reading the file — My life, that's where he expects Brate to have put his thoughts on desertion — from about the five-sixths mark. It helps Krev keep the pretense he's doing it just out of obligation.
He's read some of it already — well, glanced over it, more like — when he was deciding which file to feed to Alnam. Now he puts an effort into it: he's killed the clone and now he owes him some space in his head. Some space to continue his existence.
"It was when we were leaving Geonosis. We were all a little scared, maybe. Of what was to come. Geonosis was terrible. Everything about it was. The weather, the bugs... the war. I'm not saying it wasn't. We were happy it was over. But we also were scared to go."
Krev finds himself smiling. Seems the test-tuber bastard had looked inside his head well before Krev allowed him to.
It was like that during his last days on Atnakis. He had no idea where he'd go after the truce was signed. Knew he had some money to get him through the first few months, but it was scary to think about going back. Going back to the actual life.
Actual life. Not something Brate would have known. But Krev understands him — and feels like Brate would've understood him, too.
"All we knew was that they were transferring us to Skor II. We were ready to fight. I thought I was. But...
"I remember the first day after the battle. There was no fighting. None. Before that, even if we weren't engaging the Geos, there was always fighting going somewhere else. We would hear it. See the flashes. When we held the same position for a couple of days, we could tell who was fighting by those flashes. Other companies could tell when we were fighting, too. Sometimes, it was a signal for us to help our comrades out. Sometimes, we couldn't. If... if we were ordered to keep our position. We'd just sit and wait for the artillery or air forces to come rescue the other boys. Sometimes they did.
"But that day, there was nothing. No flashes. No sounds of bombing. Nothing.
"There was music, though. It was... it was the first time I heard the songs we were listening to. I mean, really heard. I don't know. I don't have much to compare them to. But I think it was the best music in the Galaxy.
"At first, we were a bit on the edge. We knew that the factory had been destroyed, but... there was this feeling like it wasn't. Maybe it's because we were ready to fight. We were expecting something to go off. But nothing did.
"And then, I think we just started to feel the peacefulness of the moment. We didn't talk about it, but I think we all felt it. I remember I looked at Captain Twice-Over. We always kind of were a little apprehensive of him. He was a tough guy. Strict. A very good soldier, great captain. Deserved his rank one hundred percent. But strict. And now I was looking at him, and I saw his smile. I'd never seen him smiling before.
"We decided to heat some of our rations up. They taste better hot. At least, that's what we believed. We never really ate them hot. You're supposed to just open them and eat them. That's what the regulations say. Some boys said they'd tasted them hot when they worked at the kitchen. Beebee said he did. He said it was the best the rations can taste.
"So we wanted to try them out. I was worried the captain would forbid it. So we tried to keep it hush-hush.
"We didn't come up with anything smarter than digging a pit and putting some of our ammo clips there. Ammo clips and some combs we'd gathered in the hives. Sap then detonated them, and then we started blowing the fire. And I was looking all the time to see if the captain was coming our way.
"The fire was rising. It was somehow so very good to see it in those canyons. We were heating our rations up on it, but I was just looking at the fire. We all were. We burned everything we had, pretty much. It was impossible to eat, but we still ate it. I guess it was really as good as the boys said.
"But that day, that day, I guess we still anticipated a fight. That day was quiet, but we knew the next one wouldn't be. But when it came, it was just like the last one. No explosions. No bug sounds. No scrambling the fighters. It was another quiet day.
"I didn't believe it. I couldn't. None of the boys could. Before, it was day after day after day of fighting or waiting for a fight. Now? We didn't even have any assignments aside from guard duties and an occasional tech check. It was like we were living in a different world now. Like the war had ended.
"We spent maybe a week like that. And then they took us to Skor II. I thought I was ready. I kept telling myself this peace was a temporary thing. But in the end, I was unprepared.
"I remember how it felt in our LAAT and then on Virile. Everybody was putting their brave faces on. I was, too. But I knew. Even then I knew. That... I knew there was a taint in me now.
"I've seen the other way. How things could be.
"I was trying to keep the past in the past. To return to my memories to boost my morale, not to dwell on them. I was afraid to think it will come again. That blissful quiet. It was unbearable to think about. Like thinking about something I knew I couldn't protect.
"And so I started thinking about the future instead. How the war will end. Really end. And I started thinking how I could end it. I didn't believe I had it in me at first. No, I didn't... I didn't seriously think about it at all. It was just a dream. My dream. But I kept dreaming it and dreaming it, and in the end, it became so vivid that it turned into a plan.
"We were stationed on Christophsis immediately after the battle. There was some trouble bringing us to Skor II. The Seps controlled the Llanic then. So the command couldn't move us straight to another fight. But there, it was different. On Christophsis. We were heading to battle now.
"So they couldn't deliver us straight to Skor. There were talks of them taking us to Denon. To replenish the troops. And then to take the Hydian Way to Skor. I don't know why they didn't do it at once. It seems like an obvious option. It's much safer that way.
"But there was a delay while we stayed on Christophsis. I don't know why. But I was thinking the entire time. Dreaming. And planning.
"I decided: if they take us to Denon, I'll run. If not, I'll stay. That's how I decided. It didn't seem too likely they'd bring us to the Inner Rim. But it didn't seem too likely they'd send us straight to Skor, either.
"Now I see it. I mean, I can confess now. I would've run either way. I couldn't stay. Not after that week on Geonosis. But then, I was making excuses for myself. Not to look as bad. I know what I did was bad. Knew back then, too.
"Sometimes, I wish I didn't have that week. It would've been more right that way. But I had it. I had it.
"I planned to steal a shuttle at first. A dumb plan. A missing shuttle is going to be noticed at once. You physically cannot fly it out of the hangar without anyone noticing, that's just... impossible.
"Then I got this idea... There were going to be reinforcements on Denon. So the boys were saying. So they'd need to land the dreadnaughts. When you have several battalions to load, you don't use dropships.
"And if they land them, I thought, they'd run some diagnostics on the ships themselves. Some light repair was due. And in spaceports, they have those scaffolds to work with large ships. So I thought I'd get away by one of those.
"It's maybe our third day on Christophsis, and Iggy comes to the barracks. 'Guess what,' he says, 'we're going Inner after all!' And just... just everybody starts laughing and cheering. Even I cheered with everybody else. I forgot about my plan then. Forgot I was supposed to run for real now. I was happy we'll have some more quiet.
"We didn't. Not on Denon. It was all drills. Some official was there. Mighty worried we'd do poorly on Skor. He had us square-bashing all the time. It was worse than fighting. When you're fighting, you don't think about it. You don't fear the next fight. You're relieved to be fighting now rather than tomorrow.
"Then I realized I won't be able to run. Not with a regimen like that. I don't know. It was a relief, I guess. I don't really remember how I felt then. It's weird, but I don't remember that at all.
"The thing is, the boys who were supposed to reinforce us hadn't arrived at Denon yet. Not even five or six days after we had got there. Some hiccup on the way. That official, he couldn't wait for them anymore. We knew he was leaving in four days for Coruscant.
"So I spent those four days guessing if our reinforcements were going to come before the official left. If they did, the chances were we'd get all shipped to Skor II ASAP to entertain the governor or whatever he was. Two days passed, then three days. Our boys were still not there. That's when I realized I still had my chance to escape. They had scaffolding there, so I had all the routes planned: how to get to them from the ship, how to leave the spaceport. Everything.
"But when that guy left, our command became much more lenient. We started getting one-day leaves. It was like a lottery when a computer picks your name. I knew I wasn't going to get one before the deployment, so I decided I'd go with my plan. There simply wasn't a chance I'd get a leave in the space of those, I don't know, couple of days or a week it would take the fresh kids to get on Denon. Not with my luck. I mean, I wasn't called Runt just because there was one guy less lucky than me back in the labs.
"But I got the leave the second day. The second day. I remember sitting at breakfast. I had an hour before my leave started. I knew I was going to do it. Was going to run. I knew and I sat there smiling because I knew. The boys didn't even ask me why. I was going on a leave. It was obvious.
"I just walked out. I wasn't scared. I was excited. I knew I was doing something irreversible. Something that could end with me being court-martialled. And I was excited. I knew I was abandoning my comrades. Now I feel shame. But not back then.
"There were twenty of us going out. Boys who got a leave that day. But it was that lottery thing. We barely knew each other. Different companies.
"I just sort of wandered away. At the train station. There weren't many people there. It was pretty early in the morning, I guess. And I just stayed behind a while. The other boys got on a train. I did, too. Just a different car. I was ready to run if they noticed I wasn't there. Wasn't with them. But they didn't, and I got off on the next station.
"It was some bad district. Close to the spaceport and all. But I walked through it for several hours. Didn't have anywhere to go. Just walked in circles before I noticed I'd been there before. Then I started going along the railway.
"People were looking at me. I remember that very well. I mean, no wonder. I was still dressed in armor and everything. Had my weapons on me. It was actually an order. That we carry our guns when on a leave. The command feared that we could be attacked. I don't know who'd attack us.
"I had some money. They gave us like a hundred credits. To those who were going to the city. And I wasted them the first night. Rented a room. A fancy hotel. Good that they had dinners included, because I didn't have any credits left.
"I can't say I was thinking ahead. All my plans ended on me escaping.
"But the next day, I was standing in the street. No money. Pretty sure they'd started searching for me then.
"The only thing I knew that moment was that I wasn't going back. I remembered the boys. The captain. It was painful. But I wasn't going back.
"So I figured I'd sell my armor. Had no idea how much it's worth. So I went back to that seedy district near the spaceport. Told myself they wouldn't be looking for me there. That they would think I was trying to run as far as possible. No idea if I was right, but I didn't meet any patrols.
"I started going from shop to shop, just offering them to buy my armor. Some owners thought I was a provocateur. Just straight up told me to get out. One offered to pay me five thousand for my rifle. Maybe I should've agreed. I didn't. I betrayed my companions, but I couldn't betray my rifle. Strange.
"Well, in the end, I managed to get two thousands and some change for my helmet. Some young guy in the street. I don't know what he needed the helmet for. Said he didn't need the rest of the armor. It was evening by then. I was desperate.
"I didn't want to burn through my money in twenty days, so I didn't go back to the hotel. Maybe they were waiting for me there already. I bought some civilian clothes. Had to discard the armor. Just left it in a corner. Bought a bag for my guns.
"I lived in a drain for a couple of days. There were people there. They didn't care I was a clone. They didn't care about anything as long as I didn't come too close. Drug addicts, probably.
"I would watch the sky every day. Hoped to see the ships leaving. Told myself they wouldn't put a hold on the operation just to catch me. They've got MP for that. I... I really didn't want to look the boys in the eyes. If they caught me... I mean, I'd prefer them not to learn I was a traitor. Maybe they'd think I got assaulted.
"That was a tough time for me. That's when I realized I was a traitor. Realized it for real. I sat there in the sewers for days and could think about nothing else. Just about how I betrayed the boys. The Republic.
"But then I... then my pride got the better of me. I say pride, but I don't mean it in a bad way. I'm identical to a Human. Why shouldn't I have pride? I started thinking if what I had done was really so bad. I'd seen so much bad stuff. The whole project they got going on Geonosis... Was I really wrong to betray all that?
"I knew it was wrong to betray my brothers. But what if... what if, I asked myself, they were in the wrong? Misguided? We were fighting for the people who'd made us just to fight for them. So that they didn't have to. Was that right?
"The more I thought about it, the more it appeared that I was almost right to desert. How could I keep fighting for the Republic after what I'd seen it doing? How could anyone?
"But atrocities... even what I saw... that's not enough to justify betraying your brothers. Wasn't enough for me, anyway. Not enough unless I did something for them. To... unless I made a difference.
"So I decided I would make it. Whatever it took me. I admit it wasn't my purpose when I ran. But I decided I would make it my purpose. I would make my life right.
"You know the rest. I suppose Theodane told you. How I found him and all that. Well, that concludes it."
That concludes it indeed.
Or does it? Wasn't it three blaster bolts that concluded everything for the clone?
It wasn't Krev's fault. Bad planning, and not on his part.
Would you go to another war now?
In all honesty, no. He wouldn't. Not after Atnakis.
The clone was right to desert.
And right to want to change something. To make the difference.
It's not my war, Krev thinks. Mine ended a long time ago.
You made it yours. You killed a combatant of it. Then rented your brain out to his ghost. You claimed it as it did you. You break it, you buy it.
Will life on Kessel get better if this war ends?
No. But Krev's will: it's his war now, after all.
Krev pinches his septum. No, it's not, he lies.
Brate... that poor son of a bitch who wasn't anyone's son, he made a right choice after a right choice. He was right to run from the war — everybody should. Let the war die like fire dies without oxygen. And he was right to fight it — not the other side, but the war itself. Right to try.
He was wrong once, though.
When he trusted Alnam.
Alnam fights a good fight, too. What's better than to protect your interests? What's better than to return a victor to the trembling masses that have exiled you?
Alnam will fix things. He'll fix them alright. He'll fix everything that's bad in the Galaxy — for Vygo Alnam.
He wasn't fighting when he was the Supreme Chancellor's best pal, was he?
Sure, but he stopped being the current one's best pal exactly the moment he started fighting. Exactly the moment he spoke up. He didn't have to, but he spoke up: for the rights of the systems. Isn't that what you always supported? So what's your problem with Alnam now?
That he's more successful that you could ever hope to be? In this and everything else?
No, it's not that. Krev's old enough to know redistributing wealth just changes who the rich people are, it doesn't make more of them. He's fine with rich people. All the better if they're artsy to boot — like the ones he used to smoke with in the toilets of artsy nightclubs on Coruscant. Couldn't have gotten along better.
There's something else. Doesn't take a herder to smell banthashit.
Not when the pile's this large.
Vygo Alnam, the champion of the seceding worlds. The only voice of reason in the Republic. How the liberal press hailed him before the war!
But wasn't he his own champion even back then? Why wouldn't he be?
For someone doing business on that scale, the secession of systems is nothing if not a business opportunity. Companies closer affiliated with the state won't do deals with these systems. Won't sell them stuff. Won't open branches there. Won't hire ex-citizens. Alnam wasn't so restricted: perks of being a self-made man.
But when the Senate reacts with sanctions to any talks of secession... That's one way to lose all your hard-earned potential profits.
Now Krev feels stupid. Plenty of people pointed that out back then. Many have retracted their words, true, when Alnam did not retract his once the war started. Thought he was for real.
But it wasn't that. It was that the Chancellor wouldn't take Alnam back at that point.
There was no going back. Why? Only one answer comes to mind.
Because Alnam had supported the other side. Openly enough for the people in power to know.
And now? Now Alnam wants everyone gone: Palpatine, Dooku, the Muuns, everyone. They are holding him back. While they're fighting their war, Alnam can't make money — and won't be able to as long as they remain in power. There'll be no truces with them on the point. No lifting of the sanctions. No free-trade zones. So Alnam fights his war to stop this one.
Because ironically, this one is bad for business. Alnam's business.
It just makes sense, right? Expose the Chancellor and the Count for what they really are. End the war. Become the savior of the Galaxy. Ban the clones — should go without saying after what the public is going to learn about lobotomized soldiers. Ban the Trade Federation battle droids for good measure — won't be hard nowadays, either.
Enter Alnam RoboTech's battle droids.
Enter business opportunities galore.
Nice scheme you got there, Devin. Too bad there's no proof of anything.
But there are proofs, Krev thinks. Remember Ordulann. A joint venture of the Republic and the CIS firms.
Of which there is no proof, either.
I'll get you your proof. You just wait.
He goes through every firm listed in the Ordulann heading. Looks each one up: any connection to Alnam counts.
Not a thing.
He tries another approach. Looks for any matches on Alnam RoboTech's list of subsidiaries.
Subsidiaries: thousands. Matches: none.
He orders extracts from the Republic Tax Register for all the dozen Republic companies that now make up Ordulann. The costs round up to almost a thousand credits.
Krev groans. It's all useless. Nothing says Alnam has anything to do with Ordulann. He's not the only one smart enough to see that doing business with the secessionists is more lucrative than not.
He waits for the extracts. The register promises to deliver them in five workdays.
His Shadowfeed soldiers soldier on. Sorval reports to him daily. The ConCare boys are the hottest topic on the Shadowfeed now, he claims. The discussion has been slipping into the Holonet too. We should expect some huge thing to go off, Alnam warns him, just to draw the discussion away from the boys.
Krev nods to the old man. He expects that and much more.
They have a beer with Sorval every evening. The demonman is all reformed: not a bad word from him. He's Krev's best buddy. Not much of a demonman now. Krev preferred the old Sorval.
The Coruscanti Citizen runs a piece on the many secret paramours of Count Dooku the next week. Sorval reports: the response is lukewarm. Nobody cares. Nobody cares unless there's some lobotomy involved.
Don't get too happy, Sorval says. It's not a mainstream thing. A regular law-abiding citizen of the mighty Republic hasn't heard anything about ConCare — save for rumors he'll be sure to dismiss as banthashit.
Let him, says Krev. Baby steps, baby.
The extracts come one day late. The disappointment doesn't stop there: no clues connecting any of the companies to Alnam RoboTech. Barely anything at all: just really brief information about the founders.
Krev starts to think about checking all the subsidiaries one by one. The list goes on for sixty-eight pages, so he retreats. He's not strong enough. Not yet.
Sumar calls him a day after.
"Interested in some work, Devin," the Ubb asks, "or do you roll with the Dugs now?"
"I thought that was your prerogative. Haven't been carved up yet, I see?"
"Just visited Gzulla a couple days back. He says you've been frequenting his place lately."
"Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. What's up?"
Krev doesn't need more work — but he'd rather listen to it anyway.
"You heard about the terrorist attack?"
"Sure."
No explanation required: on Telos IV in the past week, the terrorist attack is the one and only breaking into the embassy.
"Well, the Reps are not gonna leave it like that. There'll be somebody coming to the planet in two weeks."
"Someone as in?"
"An investigator. Ah, Devin, you're just the best and the brightest. A real hope of the Human race. Okay. So I signed you up to be, you know, the local guide."
"Wait," Krev says in a bout of inspiration, "it's that woman again? She's hiring me? No thanks. The last time was one time too fucking many."
"Do you even watch news? She's gone, the whole fucking embassy is."
"I though there weren't any victims."
"There weren't. They're gone because of some political shit. Maybe they staged the fucking crash to make the big shots reconsider. Well, it didn't work, if so. Anyway, there'll be somebody coming, and you're gonna provide the invaluable local knowledge to them."
"What kind of money are we talking about?"
"Ten G, two of which go to me for organizing the whole thing."
Krev whistles. Not enough to buy him a livelihood on Coruscant, but much more than your standard fare.
"Yeah," Sumar says, "it's some serious shit. Easy money, too — unless you fuck everything up."
Think. The investigation isn't going to find shit — the aircar is probably taken apart by the scavengers already. But if you partake in said investigation... can be a good opportunity to shake Alnam down for some credits.
Are you still going with that plan? I thought you were going to expose the old fuck.
We'll see, Krev tells himself.
He tells Sumar, "Shit, sign me up, daddy-o."
"Already did. What would you do without me, Krevvie boy?"
At first, Krev gets angry: now he's in doubts if he should go against Alnam. He rereads the diary again, but the impact is sort of lost.
Are you really going to run with the money?
He can't answer. To keep all the doors open — or to keep the illusion he's doing that — he goes back to his research. He can swear nobody, not a single damned taxman has ever spent as much time digging up old documents and articles.
He focuses on Forakk for two days. Jackshit.
Then he focuses on Ulmis.
Nothing comes up in relation to Alnam. He orders a register extract on Ulmis, too.
He keeps digging. He starts going through the subsidiaries. Searches for each combined with Ulmis, Ordulann, and every part thereof.
It's stupid, he tells himself.
No it's not, he replies. Alnam really didn't want me prying in the Forakk affairs. There is something to it.
Ulmis and Ordulann fund Forakk. Forakk is somehow connected to Dangor Industries. Dangor Industries is run by the sister of the guy with the majority stake at BioTech. BioTech owns ConCare. ConCare makes lobotomized clones.
Alnam really wants ConCare ousted, but doesn't want you to go looking into Forakk.
But the Dangors might as well own Forakk, right? Why is Alnam so protective of it, then?
Let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Or maybe let's: let's be crazy about it and say both Alnam and the Dangors are neck-deep in this. Machinations, lobotomies, tax evasion. You name it, they got it.
Maybe Forakk used to be a joint thing. Maybe Ordulann was Alnam's and Ulmis belonged to the Dangors. Maybe they were doing some insane outsourced military research for the Republic.
Case in point: ConCare. Case in point: the Geon. project.
But then something went tits-up between the lovebirds. Probably originated in the corridors of the Senate. Alnam was Valorum's buddy. Ars Dangor is Palpatine's buddy.
Interests so vested make Krev's head hurt.
Maybe the Dangor siblings took over Forakk, and now Alnam doesn't want you to find out he's guilty as sin of whatever they've been doing? The ConCare page mentioned lobotomies — in terms as vague as you can conjure up not to weird the public out when talking about lobotomies — well before the war. New Heights Reached, right?
Meaning there had been older heights.
Forakk sounds like a small fish for someone like Alnam, but Krev's sure there are more things going on. Who says it's the only business the Dangors took over? Or maybe the old man doesn't let even something small like this slip.
The extract comes the day it's supposed to. No new data.
Krev looks up Supreme Chancellor Valorum together with Ulmis, Ordulann, Forakk. Nothing. The Supreme Chancellor must have been smarter than this — or he wasn't on it.
Krev doesn't give up. He's on a trail now — all the rest be damned.
If Alnam really was involved with Forakk or Ulmis or Ordulann, there must be some traces of it.
Krev spends a day digging up the names of Alnam's assistants. Looks each up against the companies.
No matches.
Okay. Let's try another approach.
It looks like Krev's running out of approaches. It doesn't dishearten him: the spice doesn't let his spirits drop.
What if there are more literal traces?
Ulmis is based on Artesia.
Krev has a list of names to feed to the search tool, then.
He doesn't need it. The second result is a holopicture titled "alnam_artesia_meeting_21111".
On the picture: Vygo Alnam stands next to two Muuns and two other Humans. Above them: a gigantic holographic logo of Ulmis Systems.
The Artesian Times article itself is lost to time, but the picture remains. Thanks to some scavenging Holonet algorithms, it's still there, staring at Krev Devin twelve years later.
"Is anything amiss, Mr. Devin?" Alnam asks him the next time they meet.
"No. Why?"
Alnam peers into his eyes. Then he blinks and says, "No reason. Let us go back to business."
Let's, Krev thinks.
And he also thinks: I've got you, you son of a bitch. I'll make sure you end up in the same place you want to put all your pals and enemies and take your money if I can help it.
For Brate.
For the ConCare boys.
For the fucking Galaxy.