The whiskey is messing with his head.
"Well, listen to me. I do sound like a complete shithead," he says.
Devin watches him — with fucking concern in his eyes. The strings of Alnam's soul are long since loose and broken — but this fucker manages to pull a wail out of them.
"But that's really what I'm gonna do," Alnam says. "I'll try to fix this mess and I don't care how pretentious or idealistic that sounds. You'll have to deal with that."
"Not sure how you envision that."
"You wait and see."
Should you tell him? Gonna be great if you get caught disclosing state secrets.
But it's Devin. Somebody with convictions to rival Father's.
Besides, you really need him and his documents.
"Do you know," Alnam says, "that literally no one in the Republic knows where the GAR originates from?"
"I always thought it was some planet in the Outers."
"Kamino, yes. That's where they are made. But somebody had to order them made. Somebody had to pay."
Devin jerks his head up. "And no one knows who that was?"
"No one in the Republic. What do the documents say?"
Alnam praises himself for how steady his voice is.
"I don't think they say anything on that account. I mean, we'll double-check, but..."
"Yeah. Understandable. Why would a clone know that?"
"Yeah. But I think there might be a key to it somewhere in there."
See? He's not a total tool.
"That's what I'm thinking."
"Does the name ConCare tell anything to you?"
"That's your previous source of inspiration, right?"
"Uh-huh. And apart from that?"
"The first time I heard it was when I was assigned your case."
"Your dad was very interested in what they do in ConCare."
"They lobotomize clones."
"Exactly. Make perfect soldiers, if you will."
Perfect soldiers indeed.
"That's what we saw yesterday."
"No, my friend," Devin says. "Yesterday, we saw normal clones. ConCare boys are incapable of speech or any such."
"You gotta be shitting me. You want to say there are more objectionless troops?"
"Unless they have improved on them, yeah. But I'm willing to bet those weren't ConCare boys."
It just keeps on giving, doesn't it?
"If even regular clones are capable of this, what sets the ConCare boys apart?"
"They never break. Don't care what's happening — to their comrades or to themselves. I've been to war. This is a huge deal."
"I can imagine."
"No."
Alnam decides not to argue.
"Well, this is why I've got to stop this," he says after a short pause. "We've got to. I don't know how you feel about the Republic — I mean, aside from your literary exercises..."
"I guess that's not far from it. I'm from Kessel, you see."
"M-hm."
"Yeah."
Alnam changes his approach. I mean, he already said you can look at the diary — but you can't be too careful.
"This number 37," he says, "that's some fucked up shit — love or hate the Republic."
"Not gonna argue."
"The war in general. I didn't know you fought."
"Atnakis."
Alnam pretends he knows what that means.
"The Republic is neck-deep in shit," he says. "And regular fuckers suffer the most. Senators aren't gonna be rounded up for an execution."
"There are orders for that, too."
"But let's be realistic. Best case scenario, it's the Senate calling the shots. At least we know who they are — and whom to come after if they start rounding people up. Worst case? We don't even know who's gonna give the orders."
Devin looks at him — fucking peers into his soul.
"What are you gonna do to the clones?" he asks.
Alnam snorts. "I'm just a cop with a failing marriage."
"You're a government agent."
"Alright. I'm a government agent. Still, it's not up to me to decide anything of that magnitude."
"What would you do?"
Important question. Don't fuck up.
"Not gonna lie, I'm scared shitless of the clones. Of the concept, you know, of this army. I put all my effort into not thinking my son lives in the same universe this thing exists in." Good, you called the army a "thing", not the troopers. "But we're talking about hundreds of billions of living creatures who for all intents and purposes are just like us. Conditioned to obey these insane orders — but living creatures nonetheless."
Devin keeps looking.
Alnam feels as if he was about to disappoint his father.
"The only thing I want — the only thing I know for sure — is that they can't be our army. I don't know what we can do with them if they stopped being our army, but it's not up to me to decide anyway. We have courts for that. Commissions. Whatever. I'm too dumb to decide it even if somebody allowed me to. But I'm headstrong enough to go and try uncover the truth. And then put in on the desks of people who might be smart enough to deal with it."
"So no clones in the military?"
"No clones and no contingency orders."
Devin nods. "I can live with that."
.
.
.
Alnam spends a week wrestling with the diary of the deserter — before ever seeing it.
One minute, he's sure he'll get to the bottom of it. Devin couldn't — but book smarts ain't Devin's strong suit. Then the next minute, the sense of doubt — no, of despair — grows inside him. How can he do it? Devin may not be smart, but the deserter wouldn't be either. No way he enciphered something in his writings. And if he did, how are you going to break the code? You ain't no cryptologist — no sirree.
Okay. Let's imagine you did it. You broke the code. You now know who's behind the GAR's creation.
Now what?
The Joint Commission sounds like the best option. Sounds like — that is, unless you've been to one of their meetings.
Nonsense. They can't ignore the truth.
Oh yeah? They have been doing that quite well so far. What other reason do they have to procrastinate their asses off for so long?
The Jedi. Alnam could go to the Jedi.
What an idea. Really paints a picture right in your head.
Vad Alnam ending the bloodshed and leading the Jedi into the den of the evil clone-creating forces. Only to be appointed the Supreme Chancellor by a unanimous vote — right after a dewy-eyed Palpatine endorses him as his last act on the post. Would be just like some ancient opera Mother so loves.
But who would that evil force be? What is there at the bottom of it?
Father said it couldn't be done without help from the Corporate Sector. But that doesn't answer the question: who used that help?
Whoever he is, he doesn't want to harm the Republic. That's the Commission's general assumption. Otherwise, he would've used the Grand Army to do so.
Alnam has a problem with it. A major one.
Maybe the time isn't right yet.
Maybe whoever is behind the GAR creation needs the CIS dealt with first. Maybe whatever he has in store for the Republic will tie the troops down for a long time and let the Separatists advance.
Or: maybe he needs the troops concentrated somewhere — the Core comes to mind, but who knows. Right now, they're spread pretty thin, the clones. Can be not efficient for whatever their commissioner has in mind.
The contingency orders are their own can of worms. Yes, they come from the Chancellor — but some may be initiated by a Senate vote. Up to and including physical removal of the Chancellor — "with lethal force, if necessary — you make up your own mind what qualifies as necessary to the deranged minds of the obese Rep senators," in the words of the one and only Krev Devin.
The orders are a Republic thing — added to the clone army training after its discovery. That's what the yesterday's holoexperts said. Alnam doesn't doubt it — not even the people on the commission would stay calm if the GA had had these orders built-in already before it became of the R.
But they didn't mention who came up with the orders in the first place. Wouldn't surprise Alnam if it was a commission of some sort.
A commission is something you can infiltrate — whoever you may be. So is the Senate.
Now that sounds like a trail: somebody got the army built. Then this somebody got the contingency orders issued to it by pulling strings of senators — or by being senator singular slash plural.
So all this just to remove the Supreme Chancellor, a man whose term is limited in the first place? Sure, the war prevented Palpatine from retiring — but once it's over...
Or the war had been planned and prepared long in advance. Maybe not prepared — but expected. So an army was needed anyway — but someone powerful enough to commission it also put a way to remove the Chancellor — any Chancellor, be he Palpatine or his successor or his successor's successor — the Jedi, and senators as a quality-of-life feature.
Sounds sound.
Of course — maybe the orders aren't the end of it. They are just something the deserter wrote down. Maybe there was more — but Devin was shooting first and asking questions later. Maybe there were more orders, given to the clones before the Republic discovered them. Maybe those weren't even orders — but some sort of programming.
Shit. That makes sense.
That makes a dangerous amount of sense.
That explains ConCare: people who were in charge of assessing the new asset of the Republic knew there was something like that. Like a code put into a droid — but biological. Whatever. ConCare is their way of trying to remove or block it. Hence lobotomies.
Can a clone even be programmed like that, though?
Alnam isn't sure. Hardly anyone in the Republic is. Once about every ten years, there's a major public uproar about allowing full-person cloning. People who can't have children usually get paraded by sick journo types, but the technology remains off-limits. The uproar dies down — to reappear in ten years.
Rumors have it, you can get yourself cloned in the Hutt Space, if you're rich enough to afford the process — and to make the powers-that-be turn a blind eye to it, if you are a citizen of the Republic. But who knows? Can be a load of crap.
Those Kaminoans, though, they know their cloning. Would be nice to talk to one or two — but the only ones on Coruscant are the legation.
But realistically, they don't even have to program the clones during the test-tube stage. Brainwashing can be just as effective — and there's no telling what they taught to the first batches before the Republic's arrival.
Good. A good theory. But don't fall in love with it. You still know too little.
Father also thinks Ranulph Tarkin's connections to the war industry made the GAR possible. Is it likely — or just Father's opinions about the military-industrial complex leaking into his judgment?
Tarkin... Wasn't it his nephew or something you met at Mother's party last year? Alnam suspects so — would be a hell of a coincidence to have somebody else named Tarkin in the military. You never know with those military types, though. Can't put it past one of them to take a new name commemorating his childhood hero.
Tarkin was all about strengthening the central government. Not what most people — if anyone who's not part of his cult even remembers him — would tell you. No, they think old Ranulph had a major hard-on for war. After all, he did — but he was more complex than that.
The Republic military he wanted to see so much was a means to an end. Alnam is one hundred percent sure. He thinks his father would agree. And Tarkin's end was a strong centralized government — of course, run by a Human, preferably surnamed Tarkin — and an army to support it.
Not a matter of preference with this one — the army was to be led by a Tarkin.
Too easy to see Tarkin as a blithering clown — with his pygmy navy thing and seeming Seswennan separatism and with all the things the propaganda machine here in the Core trumpeted on for years. But Alnam's yet to find a single Judicial Department agent who'd see old Ranulph in this light. No, they all agree — not something that happens often — that old Ranulph was not playing a regional warlord. He was preparing. Building up the foundation of a future army.
And this is something that doesn't sit right with Alnam. Tarkin wanted his army to control the Republic. To be the thing that holds it together — which would make him or his approved heir the de-facto ruler.
So why would his followers — assuming they can agree on anything — want a clone army? Made by non-Humans from beyond the known reaches of space. Indoctrinated by them. Put under command of Coruscant — with very few actual Human officers to supervise them.
Nuh-uh. Doesn't match up.
Let's go one step at a time.
If we assume the Tarkinists did commission the army, then why did trust the Kaminoans with raising it?
Remember what the Jedi Master said?
They were trained by Mandalorian mercs. So maybe that's whom Tarkin trusted?
Mandalorians — what's not to like about them? A perfect race for any militarist.
Except for their independence boner, that is.
Alnam mulls it over for a few days. No, he can't see Tarkin and his peers putting the fate of their plan in Mandalorians' hands. He asks for Leland Howoren's opinion one day at the HQ.
"Tarkin and Mandos?" Howoren drawls. "Fat chance. I think they had a few run-ins back in the Iaco Stark days."
"Far as I understand, Stark had all sorts of people at his side. Seems weird singling the Mandos out."
"Well, Ranulph Tarkin had no love for any kind of pirates, don't get me wrong. And since some of the Mandos were pirates his Security Force fought, he just assumed all of them were of the like breed. That's the kind of man Ranulph Tarkin was."
"So no way he'd be behind hiring them to train the clones?"
Howoren smirks. "No way in hell. Dates don't even match."
"Some people have a way of reaching for you from beyond their graves."
"They do."
"Then who did it? To your mind?"
"I wish I knew. I'd get my medals and go happily retire."
Alnam works overtime — the case requires it. Besides, it's hardly work — he's just looking through some old holonews.
The timeline:
12.10.29 — that's when the official version places the discovery. But the official version also states it was the Republic Intelligence that made that discovery, so fuck that noise.
13.4.17 — that's when Obi-Wan Kenobi actually discovers the clone army. Nearly four months later. It's faaaar more needed now than it was four months ago.
13.4.19 — Kenobi is captured by the Separatists on Geonosis. Later that day, his apprentice and Senator Amidala try to break him out and get taken hostage too.
13.4.20 — the Chancellor is granted emergency powers. Promises the Republic an army to counter the Separatist threat. At this point, not one regular citizen knows the clones exist. Some people question how the Chancellor was able to pull the right strings in the Senate so quickly — in just under four months. But it's much crazier than that: he managed to do it in three days. Palpatine is insanely resourceful.
13.5.21 — the First Battle of Geonosis. The initial reports are now hard to find below all those thousands of screens of later analyses, but here they are: nothing specific about the army fighting for the Republic. Only late on 13.5.22 do the news agencies spill the beans and start mentioning clones.
All it took the clones to go from an orphan army to fighting for the Republic was thirty-five standard days — thirty-eight, if you count from the moment they were discovered.
The Jedi discovered the army. They informed the Supreme Chancellor at once — uncharacteristically.
And they still managed to piss all that efficiency away during the First Battle.
That whole operation is a fubar after fubar. Almost two hundred Jedi dead — which could've been prevented with better planning. GAR dropships were just a few hours away from the planet when the battle started.
You'd think several hundred Jedi should've been able to put the hostilities off by two fucking hours if they knew the cavalry was coming. Especially since they'd arrived on the planet a day or two before.
It's almost as if they didn't know the GAR was going to intervene.
This part is the weirdest one: a Jedi Master — their Grand Master, in fact — was leading the rescue mission.
If not for that, it would've been easy to dismiss as usual Judicial Department banthashit, when the secular top brass doesn't trust the Jedi and vice versa. But no, there were Jedi on both sides — and it still somehow resulted in a catastrophe.
What was it? An internal Jedi war? Just a stroke of bad luck? Something of so big a scope you can't even imagine it by looking at the pieces available to you?
War: seems unlikely. To go to these lengths just to cull a sizeable, but not great part of the Order? What for? If the Grand Master was behind it, surely the wise old Yoda could find an easier solution to get rid of those two hundred Knights. Just send them to a black hole — how would a Jedi refuse his Order's orders?
And besides, say what you want about the Jedi — this shit doesn't smell like what they'd do. This is waaaay too cold for them.
But maybe there was a conflict within the Order. Simply not your regular one, where one side wants the other harmed.
No. The polar opposite of the concept. A Jedi conflict.
One side didn't want the other parties to get hurt.
Maybe the Jedi — or a faction of them — knew at first sight something was off about the clones. Maybe they psychiced it. Or maybe they had a look at the documents, or spoke to the cloners, or to the clones, or even used their common sense. One way or another, they decided it was an awful idea to employ the clone army.
So they went to Geonosis to save their people on their own. No clones required.
But maybe their Grand Master didn't see it the same way. Maybe he foresaw how badly the mission would go and thought there was no other solution but to bring the clones into it.
Would the government sanction the use of the Kaminoan army if it wasn't used on Geonosis? If the Senate didn't see the wisest Jedi Master personally command it?
Would the war even start — or the entire thing would have deescalated, with the Seps claiming they were defending against the Jedi force and the Republic Senator was a collateral damage? If there were no eyewitnesses and no Republic control over the planet afterwards to show the Galaxy the CIS was planning to have said senator mauled by wild animals?
Alnam doesn't know. The only thing he does know is that he doesn't fucking like asking these questions.
Well — and he also knows he has to.
.
.
.
"I want you to stop going to that Bnagen's place," Ven says. "A droid can do it."
"As you wish, sir."
Alnam's devoid of feeling. Too early to feel anything. He'll mull it over later — just like Father told him to.
"We can't waste any time."
"Should I take it as confirmation we do not believe either Bnagen or Fozatta is on Coruscant?"
"No. It is still a trail we're working."
"Only not the primary one now."
Ven looks at him from under his eyebrows. "We need to see the Speak Out case in court by the end of the year. Focus on that."
"With all due respect, sir, I don't see how that one is going to end in our favor. It's just a showcase of people's stupidity: no one checked, no one gave a damn. I don't believe there was any malicious intent behind that ad."
"Are you the court, Vad?"
"Sir — with all due respect — I firmly believe you know the importance of keeping the personnel motivated. Currently, this case does not motivate me. Putting all of my effort into it will result in a drop in my productivity despite my best wishes."
Ven looks tired.
"Dismissed," he says.
"Someone really pissed in Onoile's cereal," he tells Mtoro at their desks.
"No shit." She turns her big head towards him. Watches him — almost with disbelief in her eyes.
"What?" he asks.
"Are you pretending to be blind?"
"Oh, don't tell me he's got a crush on me. I've got enough stalkers as it is."
"Hardy har har."
"What? Come on! Spit it out."
"So you really have no clue about the inner business between Javirr and the Director?"
Alnam really doesn't. He's been too busy checking news, following dead men's trails, and thinking about the Grand Army lately. The RDS politics have successfully evaded him — or he them.
"Oh shit," he says.
"That's putting it mildly." Mtoro quickly looks around and then lowers her voice: "It's all but set that Bohm will retire next year. Guess who's going to replace him in all likelihood."
"Javirr?"
"The one and only."
"And he's got a beef with Ven? I recall Ven telling me something—"
"Our Onoile has been gunning for Javirr's position too actively." Mtoro's voice is so quiet now, it's hard to believe it's coming from an Ithorian. "Like, beyond what is considered the norm here."
"Never took him for the type. Really?"
"Really. I heard he even went to the Chancellor's Office a day after Javirr's quarterly report to quote-unquote, 'provide an alternative point of view.'"
"No fucking way!"
"Right? He went there on his own volition. Must have scheduled a meeting two months in advance."
"I'd be pissed, were I in Javirr's shoes."
"He's perfectly pissed in his own pair. And now his standing is improving by day. The Outer Rim Branch has essentially supported him — with the interview they ran in their rag. The Inners seem to favor Galendaki, but I doubt she'll even think of trying her chances against Javirr in the current climate."
"You think the Chancellor will okay him?"
"If the Director recommends him as his successor? I don't know what's got to happen for him not to."
Alnam shrugs. "Makes sense. But does Ven really expect to win enough favor to get him out of this snafu with the Speak Out shebang?"
"A bad tactic, you think? I don't know. It sounds quite ingenious to me."
"How so?"
"Showing that his department can solve boring, run-of-the-mill cases just as efficiently as we can solve super-star crimes will go a long way proving to the Director Ven can't be thrown under the bus."
Mtoro drives her chair closer to her desk. Then she returns back to Alnam's: "You know what, I think you might be the reason he's been relying on those limelight investigations so much. I mean, it's hard to forget how you braved that precipice..."
"Okay, okay." At first, Alnam's protest is mocking — but then he gets serious. "Wait a minute, are you saying I did nothing worthwhile after that?"
"That's not what I'm saying. I'm not saying you failed Ven's — or anybody's — expectations. What I'm saying is that Ven shouldn't have expected you — or anybody — to perform equally brilliantly every single time. It's not how it works."
She makes a move to roll back to her desk, but stops.
"And Vad," she says, "try not to rub elbows with Ven too much."
.
.
.
The Speak Out people have decided to hold their ground to the last man: every visit to their office is now a nightmare you won't see even in comedy skits about the horrors of bureaucracy. It's Alnam's new routine: instead of Iqooda, he goes to Balgeta Street daily. Can't say if it's an improvement.
Balgeta isn't far from the Works. The skies here show that. The air contents probably do, too.
He has to work for a week with no days off — can't visit Devin. He knows the deserter's journals are not going anywhere, but part of him feels like they are.
He sees Yalgi off to Alderaan the next Primeday. There's a feeling nagging at the back of his head: he could be looking through the clone's journals right now. He tells it to shut up — for the hundredth time and the thousandth.
"Now I'm having second thoughts," Ormi complains when Yalgi's group starts walking towards the boarding ramp.
"Don't. Alderaan is nothing an eleven-year-old Alnam can't handle."
She gives him a sad smile. "I feel like I'm a terrible mother."
"Oh, for... will you please stop? You're working your ass off to be able to give him a vacation that doesn't consist of looking into a holoscreen entirely."
"I know."
"You are a good mother. I don't even know why I have to say this to you."
"I know I'm being stupid."
"Always with the drama."
"Speaking of which," Ormi smiles, this time more cheerfully, "my mom wanted to come. I dissuaded her."
"If you did it for my sake, you shouldn't have. I am more than capable of suffering her for an hour."
"How nice of you."
"Well, that's more than she can say about me, so..."
At the very door of the spaceship, Yalgi turns around to wave at them. Alnam raises his hand — and all of a sudden, realizes how and why Ormi is feeling. Something puts his heart in the vises, in the tickling, strangling vises. His son's smile, his tousled hair, his little frame are so fleeting, so quick to go, so tiny on the galactic scale that Alnam has to take a deep breath not to break down in tears.
It doesn't escape Ormi.
"Are you okay?" she asks. Alnam isn't sure if the genuineness of the concern in her voice makes it easier or more difficult for him.
"Yeah," he answers. "You need a ride?"
He is driving her to the gallery. She seems much more composed now — maybe thanks to his moment, now she has assumed the role of the consoling mother.
But she definitely is far more at ease now than during any of their past meetings in a long time. In three years — at least. She even changes the station — not something she has done in his car throughout all that time.
Alnam has a good mind to ask her: maybe what went wrong with them, maybe out. Has to focus on the airlane in front of him fully.
"That ad still running for five minutes straight?" he asks, hating himself for that. What a stupid fucking idiot, wasting the opportunity like this!
Doesn't that describe most of what he's done or said to her?
She gives a laugh. "So you don't really ride the subway. I see, I see."
"I just wanted to ask you about something you care about."
"I know. Thanks." She stretches herself in her seat. "It's doing fine. The exposition."
"And what about you?"
"You know... I have no right to complain, I guess. I mean, Yalgi is good. He's healthy. He's happy. Mom is okay. You are okay."
"But there's something that tells you that's not it. That's not all you need. It's just the bare minimum. Something that should always be true — so that you don't have to worry about it."
"I don't... Maybe it's the worrying that makes life life. I don't know. But there is something, I guess. And we both know what it is, right, Vad?"
She looks at him. He knows he's going to hate himself even more for what he is about to do — he just has no idea how much more.
"This is when I'm supposed to ask you to go out with me, huh?"
"I don't know about that 'supposed' business. But maybe we can figure something out nonetheless."
"I'd love to," he says, "but—"
.
.
.
His next day off is scheduled a week in advance — like a mythic hero whose destiny is spelled out long before his birth.
Krev Devin lives in some shitty remote quadrant half a Coruscant down from the surface. Alnam imagines it will take him a better part of the day to get there: he doesn't want to show his ID, so going via the orbit is a no-go.
He grabs a cab the evening before his day off. It's some half-legal cab company operating in the upper middle levels. A droid drives — Alnam makes sure of it. Droids remember stuff better, but their memory has to get wiped every now and then.
He dozes off a couple of times during the first few hours of trip. Once, he wakes up to find the droid stuck in a droid-only jam — must be some glitch in the routing processor. With Alnam's help, it manages to get off the fucked lane. The trip continues.
It's a long-journey cab, with hoses and bags for waste removal. Alnam isn't using those — he tells the droid to make stops at diners instead. Kind of defeats the purpose of leaving the comlink and datapad at home, but there's hope nobody's going to go through security footage of random diners any time soon.
He gets off two blocks away from Devin's address. The walk that follows gives him despair: this is how the man who's instrumental for the Republic's wellbeing lives. It's not even an upgrade from Devin's place on Telos IV.
The environment does what it can to tell him nothing important can happen here. It doesn't work.
Half a dozen claustrophobic corridors later, he finds Devin's door. Brings his hand to the doorbell panel. Listens to the warble inside: the real estate developers would've done better to make walls out of flimsiplast.
It's almost ten in the morning in this time zone. Is Devin still asleep? Wouldn't be surprising — with how little sun this place gets.
Devin opens up eventually. Alnam tries to figure out if he is drunk or high. No smell. Pupils shrinking — some of the lamps in the corridor are working.
"Hey," Devin says. "Mind the cords."
And you thought the corridors were claustrophobic.
Devin's apartment is just a dead end of the corridor, an appendix put behind a door and called a living area. There are cords on the floor — whatever they are a part of must be huge. Alnam has seen all sorts of apartments here on Coruscant — has seen worse than this — but seeing Devin living in these conditions is wrong, for some reason.
Did you think a man like Devin should live in a cool pirate den? Get out of here.
"How are you doing?" he asks Devin.
"You mean all this?" Devin looks around. "I've been worse. Want some caf?"
Not the best idea to leave your DNA around here.
"Don't mind if I do."
"Alright. Go on, take a sit."
"Nah. I just spent seven hours in an aircar."
He looks as Devin starts up the caf machine.
"What I'm gonna show you..." the big man says. "You probably aren't gonna like it."
"I didn't think I would."
"You don't know it. The whole picture."
The caf is surprisingly not shit — but not not shit enough to be jarring in this apartment. This absence of disharmony is jarring by itself.
Devin takes a sip, halving the caf in his cup. "How is... your kid?"
"Good." The fucking bread people. You didn't check what the fuck their deal is. "He's on Alderaan now. In a summer camp."
Devin grins and nods.
"You have kids?"
"No. Probably for the best."
"Don't be so... harsh. Maybe they'd straighten you up a little."
"No straightening up this fellow."
Alnam shrugs. "Never too late. Anyway."
"Yeah." Devin rises. He takes up most of his room. "Well, uh... this shit... like I said, you aren't gonna like it. But I only ask you one thing: listen to the whole story. I mean, the whole story I got."
"Even if I didn't want to, I'd still have no choice."
Devin launches his computer.
"Back on Telos," he says, "your old man — when he got me in this situation — he insisted that I looked into ConCare."
"Okay. I know that."
"Right. It's basically a company that does fuck all."
"Apart from lobotomies."
"Uh-huh. But they, uh, they don't reflect that in their resume. Like, you wouldn't be able to tell what they do by looking at their site. They had, though, a little article a few years back. Unlisted it after your dad and I did our thing. But I have it saved."
"I'd like to look at it."
.
.
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HOLOMATERIAL: ARTICLE FROM THE CONCARE HOLOSITE, 12.10.19.
New Heights Reached in Lobotomy Field
ConCare Ltd. is happy to inform its investors that the end of the year brings much success to the research field ConCare Ltd. has pursued this entire period.
Lobotomy as a scientific area that has long been somewhat side-stepped by many medicine household names. However, we at ConCare are not afraid to push the boundaries of medical research.
At the present moment, there are twelve doctors, all accredited by the Central Medical Evaluation Bureau (CMEB) on Coruscant, working at our lobotomy lab. They are helped in their everyday toiling by the team of over fifteen nurses and attendants. Thanks to the sublime conditions we have managed to implement in our lab as well as in our doctors' residential complex, their work proceeds with the highest degree of efficiency. Good job, Docs!
According to the leading neurologist on the project, this year marks some truly groundbreaking discoveries that even a decade ago were not deemed possible by the scientific community. All due to ConCare's involvement and personal approach to the personnel's needs, not only have they been made possible, but also materialized with a great degree of success.
The nearest plans of the research laboratory include finalizing the annual reports, after which the doctors are going to leave on a week of vacations. Their research will continue the next year, and we are certain that it will bring even more brilliant discoveries!
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"What a load of shit," Alnam says. "I'm reading this crap for the third time — and I still have not a slightest idea what it's supposed to say."
Whoever wrote it for ConCare was no Kram Midduk — that's to be sure.
"Yeah," Devin says. "It doesn't have any substance. All its value is in its existence. Look — I have screenshots to prove it was listed last year."
"Right. So it's the year twelve."
"Way before the war. They weren't experimenting on the clones."
"You think? The clones did exist before the war, you know."
"So you think a Republic company knew about them then?"
"ConCare is a Republic company?"
"You bet. Look."
Alnam looks.
Devin's got an impressive folder: file lists for many screens. A Republic Tax Register document: ConCare is indeed a Republic firm. A subsidiary of BioTech. Has a pretty heavy presence in the Outer Rim.
"They have a tax incentive if you fund an Outer Rim company," Devin explains. "We'll get to it later."
Alnam is impressed.
"Rothana, huh?" Alnam muses.
"That's where it's registered."
"That's where the machinery for the GAR is made. Including the first batches."
Devin looks at him. "You think it's something?"
"Hard to say. A planet is a planet. Take your guess how many companies there are. Besides, it doesn't make sense that ConCare had clone subjects before the war."
"Yeah. You're probably right. So there's ConCare, okay? It's owned by BioTech Industries, which is in turn owned by Neuro-Saav, TaggeCo, and Dragoon Merchandise. One of these is not quite like the others, huh?"
"I've never even heard of this Dragoon thing."
"My thoughts exactly."
It's easy to forget Krev Devin is a hundred kilos of drug addiction when he's like this. Now, he looks like a conductor conducting the most important concert in his life.
"What's better, it holds the majority stake in BioTech. Forty-two against TaggeCo's and Neuro-Saav's forty combined, to be precise," Devin continues. He confirms each statement with a screenshot or a document. "Care to take a guess who runs Dragoon Merchandise?"
Alnam can only shrug.
"Felvath Dangor."
"Apart from the surname..."
"You got it. The surname's what's important. Ars Dangor's brother."
Alnam's chin is hurting from all the rubbing. "Well, that doesn't really prove anything."
"Most of what I got is circumstantial. But it's some fucking circumstance, let me tell you that. Listen on."
Alnam listens on, as if entranced by an ancient shaman's song.
"Their sister Daila is the executive of Dangor Industries. And Dangor Industries is supremely important for our case."
"I fail to see how."
"We're getting there."
Next document.
Ah, this one is good, looks like.
"This the diary?"
"Uh-huh. I'll copy it for you later. But look: Dangor Industries engineers. There's a whole bunch on them."
Devin turns away — from his computer to Alnam.
"They had been on Geonosis before the Second Battle."
"Okay."
"You don't get it, do you? Why would a respectable, upper-class Republic company send its engineers to a planet under the Separatist control? While there's still war going on?"
A good question from a good document.
"I don't know," Alnam admits. "What does it say?"
"Nothing. As for their purpose — nothing."
"Must be a military contract."
"Huh. Except they were there under a different name. Look."
Alnam peers into the screen.
"Forak?"
"With a double-krill. Now watch this." Devin opens up a different file. It's another RTR note: Forakk is a Rylothan construction firm.
"Okay, guide me, man," Alnam says. "What am I supposed to see?"
"Here. Exempted from taxes. That's the last year. And here's the one before. That's because of the grants from Ulmis and Ordulann. The Outer Rim Development Program. What it means is the recipient is exempt from taxes and the giver is given a huge-ass cut. So there's nothing stopping you from, say, opening a shell company in the Outers and having it do all the heavy lifting for your business."
"Wouldn't be the first loophole in the Republic's laws. But how is it related to Dangor Industries?"
"It's related to something else." Devin coughs. "That's the part I don't think you're gonna like."
He loads up another picture. It's a grainy holoimage of some delegation — but Alnam recognizes one of the men in it immediately.
"You wanna tell me my dad owns Forakk?"
"Look."
Alnam looks at the logo above Father's head.
"Ulmis Systems?" he reads.
"This picture was taken in the year 2 on Artesia. That's where Ulmis' headquarters is located. See the Muuns? This one is San Hill. The other one is Bakar Tum. At the time, both worked for Hego Damask."
"I still... I still haven't asked about Damask."
"Well... Damask was one of the biggest Palpatine's donors. For his first campaign."
"So what does my father have to do with all this?"
"I think — maybe — back in Valorum's times, your old man and Damask had vested interests in Ulmis Systems. Perhaps — I'm not saying it's how it is, but perhaps — they used it to create a bunch of companies in the Outer Rim and get tax cuts. But after Valorum was ousted, perhaps the Dangors somehow got your father out of this scheme."
"And now all that moves him is the desire for revenge?"
"That's not what I'm saying. It's like he wants to atone for what he's done — going by what he told me. I don't know. Guess I didn't believe that at first, but now... Now I'm not so sure."
This talk makes Alnam uncomfortable. He'd rather see proofs of Father's involvement in the creation of the GAR than listen about his atonement.
"I don't know about Damask and him," he says. "If Damask was the Chancellor's donor, you better be sure my father didn't get along with him."
"Hm. Things change, right?"
"Not this one. Father hated Palpatine since day one."
"Maybe Damask did at one point, too?"
Alnam sighs. "Maybe. It's business, after all."
"Exactly. So this is why I want to know more about Damask."
Now I do, too.
"I'll do what I can, Krev." He takes a pause. Then asks: "Do you think Dangor Industries is related to ConCare? I mean, the engineers business is related to the lobotomy business?"
"It can be. Both use the same scheme with the Outer Rim-based companies, at least. Both are ultimately owned by the same family. Maybe you can somehow ask your father about Artesia and all. I don't know if Forakk was a thing back when he had dealings with Ulmis — I couldn't find any info on its foundation — but..."
"How is that possible? In the Register—"
"They are very fond of their strikethroughs. Probably another corruption scheme, but whatcha gonna do."
"Okay. So your line of thought is..." He has to pause again. "That my father is in the know about the ConCare business?"
"I'm not saying that."
"Well, say something."
"Look, man, I'm not trying to get confrontational with you."
"Neither am I."
Devin's eyes show nothing. "Well," he says, "your dad had known about ConCare before I did, that I can tell you. The first time we met, he told me to look into it in Brate's documents. Now, it's possible he knew just because he had talked to Brate, or his assistant had, but, then again..."
It's probably that. No way would Father have to do anything with lobotomizing sentients. He's against droid memory wipes, for fuck's sake.
"I see," Alnam says. "Where did he even find this clone?"
"Brate talks about it a bit, but there's nothing concrete. He ran into someone called Theodane on Denon."
"Theodane? Like Theodane Nogolle?"
"That'd be crazy, eh? This Theodane guy works for your father, by the looks of it, so we can cross Nogolle off the list."
Alnam rubs his chin some more. "And what about you? How did Father get you on board?"
"He had a woman in the embassy working for him. I'd done some jobs for her prior to that. Guess she recommended me."
"What did he want you for? Running a Holonet gig?"
"Protection. For Brate."
"But you—"
"I killed him."
Alnam can't tell Devin's emotion — if there is any.
"I killed him in an accident. Your father has some major trust issues."
"That's true."
"Didn't tell us — neither Brate nor me. We were supposed to figure it out on our own. I don't know. I guess the embassy woman didn't want to risk her ass telling me all the details up front. Well. It ended how ended."
"Guess it always does."
"Guess so."
They sit in silence. Alnam fights his urge to think about Father's relation to ConCare and the GAR right away — the time for that will come later, after he will have read the clone's documents at least once. Making conclusions now is counterproductive — they'll only muddy the waters later on.
"My father thinks it is the militarist faction," he says after a while. "That they used their connections in the Corporate Sector to commission the clone army. Is there anything about that there?" he nods at the computer screen.
"I don't really think so. But you take a look for yourself. Maybe you'll see something I didn't."
Alnam finishes his caf when the doorbell buzzes.
He looks at Devin. The big man is pressing his finger to his lips. His eyes are drawing a route for Alnam: from the chair Alnam's sitting in and into the bathroom.
Alnam gets up. Another buzz. He pulls the flaps of his jacket apart: no blaster. Devin nods. Devin presses his finger to his lips again. Devin shows at the bathroom again.
Alnam gets in. He's still carrying his caf cup. Devin shows him an a-okay. Then he shuts the bathroom door.
Alnam is left in the darkness. He remembers the Telos IV situation — only then he had a blaster.
He listens. The entrance door opens up.
"You again," Devin is saying.
So who's that? More mobsters?
"I'm not my own man," somebody replies, "and you know it. Believe me when I say these visits do not bring me any joy. Not any more than they bring to you."
The door closes. Alnam tries to become as still as he can.
"So what does she want now?"
That's Devin.
"Usual stuff, you know." This voice is coming from down below — whoever's speaking is a fucking midget.
"Come on. If I go any harder with your shit, I'll lose all credibility I still got."
"You shouldn't be arguing with me, man."
"Oh, not this shit again."
"What can I do? I'm just an emissary."
"Well, you are her friend."
"Far from it, I'm afraid."
"You're not a Human. That's good enough in her book. Talk to her. Tell her we can't do it her way if we want actual results."
"You talk to her. I'm nobody. I can't do anything for you, man."
It's probably his dope runner. The thought makes the darkness of the bathroom a bit more bearable.
"You're real fucking helpful, you know that?"
"What can I do? I can't do anything."
Devin and his little friend fall silent for about a minute. Then the entrance opens again.
"See you," the midget says.
"Hope not."
The door clangs shut. Devin waits for half a minute and then opens the bathroom door.
"You know," Alnam says, "I'm a big boy. I can see a drug deal."
"What? Ah, it's not that. Fuck, how stupid do you think I am — to bring a drug dealer into my apartment?"
"So what was it?" Alnam puts his cup on the table.
"That fucking Aqualish bitch at it again."
"Aqualish bitch?"
Devin hesitates for a moment before saying, "Yeah, I fucked up. I mean, show me where I didn't."
"What happened?"
"I... I might've gotten too high once in a nightclub. Just my luck it was an alien one — I mean, an alien suggested it, so it's on me. I started raving about my thing, you know, about the orders."
"In a club?"
"I fucked up, I told you."
"Alright, alright. Take it easy."
"They, they fucking have a CIS spy ring. Whatever. Financed by from Raxus Secundus."
"Whoa, wait a minute! What are you—"
"I'm telling you, it's real."
"Alright." How could you ever think you can arrest him? "I believe you. I just need more information."
"They have a fucking CIS cell. Here. On Coruscant. They got me. Look," Devin hands him a datapad, "she sends me fucking instructions how to do the next leak."
Alnam looks at the screen.
"What the fuck," he says. "'Put more emphasis on how the droid army is completely safe compared to the clone one. It is not being deployed on the Confederacy worlds, while the clone one carries its duties on the Republic ones, including security...' What the fuck is this?"
"They want me to turn it into a fucking pick-your-side thing." Devin is breathing heavily — fuck, he might even cry. "They'll fucking turn me over to the cops if I don't. It's fucking... Fuck!"
"Take it easy, Krev, okay? Just tell me: what is this cell? Who was this guy?"
"He's a fucking nobody, a fucking Gossam prick! It's Bnagen, the Aqualish cunt, that is behind all this."
Alnam's ears get blocked momentarily — as if he was submerged into water.
"Bnagen?" he asks.
"Yeah. Their leader. It's hers." Devin points at the datapad.
"The Aqualish by the name of Bnagen?"
"Yeah, I told you. She's Aqualish, and she's a fucking bitch."
"And what's her name? Do you know?"
"It's Tuu Bnagen. Why?"
Devin looks a bit cooler now. That's good: the only thing Alnam would want to do less than take down a raging Devin is comfort a sobbing one.
"Well, that's..." Alnam says. "Huh. I've been looking for a Tuu Bnagen, Aqualish, for several months now. She's a s... she might know where a wanted person is. A different case. And now you're telling me you know her."
"Might be a different one."
"This one is definitely the more interesting one at any rate. A CIS cell? Are you kidding me? And if she is the one I've been looking for... Hell, this is a veritable spice mine."
Devin makes a half-hearted chuckle.
"Oh shit," Alnam says. "I forgot you are from Kessel."
"It's fine. I got over it."
Alnam looks at him, at this two-meter-tall hulk of a man — and sees nothing but a boy. But a good-hearted, red-blooded boy who's fucked up way too many times and wants to do good at least this once.
"Krev," he says, "don't worry, buddy. I'm gonna get you out of it. We're gonna. I'm with the RDS, remember? It will take some time — we'll need to figure out how to keep you under the RDS radar when Bnagen goes down. You're still a wanted man, remember?"
Devin smiles — his face is now how it must have been on Kessel thirty years ago. "That dumb bitch doesn't know my real name, man. Get it? I told them — in the club — I was Krev Kossar. Can you believe this shit?"
"Still too close. Doesn't take a genius to think the two Krevs who do clone-related leaks might be one and the same."
"Oh shit, and she's got the video. Fuck."
"The video?"
"Me in the club."
"Oh. It's some more headache — but nothing we can't manage. We'll go after their low-ranked people first, I think. Feel them up and release them. Maybe we'll get you, too — so that Bnagen doesn't suspect you. You got some fake ID, I assume?"
"Yeah. I'm Jezideg Kossar, going by it."
"Okay. Don't show it to the cops. Leave it at home when we go in for a raid. Any priors here on Coruscant?"
"No. I used to live here for a while way back. But no, I'm clean."
"No records? You sure?"
"Absolutely. Not on Coruscant."
"That's good. I'll need to think about it some more, but I already can see how we can do it. And Krev — don't let it get to you. We'll fix this shit — and then we'll fix all the rest or die trying."
Devin gets up from his chair. Takes a loud breath.
"Vad?"
"Yeah?"
"I need to tell you something."
"Shoot."
"You can... retract your offer of help, or... or arrest me right now — or shoot me, only you don't have a blaster, so there goes that. But I have to tell you."
"Alright. I'm not gonna shoot you — we've ruled that one out."
"Vad, if your father is actually on it, I'm gonna do my best to put him in the same place as the rest of them. If he's on ConCare..."
Alnam looks away. "I don't believe he is. Not really because he's my father — but because he's the man he is. But if he is on it — if he's had something to do with the creation of the army — I'll personally make sure he goes to jail."