His mood is sinking while he's going home. He can't blame it on exhaustion.
What the fuck, Krev thinks looking at his reflection in an airbus window, it all went well. Nothing to complain about. Nothing to fear anymore.
But that's a lie, and he can't resist knowing it.
The truth is: he regrets how it went.
It should've gone according to their Plan Aurek: one of the aliens betrays him and tells Vad it's this Krev Kossar fellow who's been writing about the clone army contingency orders. Vad takes Krev away from the scene — and away from Bnagen. Vad recruits the one blabbing to spy on her.
That would've put a definite end to your relations with the Aqualish cunt. You'd also have to search for another place to live in, though — so it's not all bad.
But this is also a lie. It's not the reason why Krev gets so miserable before getting home.
The real reason why is that they didn't blab.
Neither of them said a word. They didn't give him up — they didn't give up a filthy Human. He was sure they would — one of them. Maybe even both. But they kept silence.
And Krev Devin? Krev Devin is betraying their trust.
Banthashit. You can't betray someone you didn't join willingly. It's impossible.
That's true. It is — can't be any other way.
But logic fails Krev Devin, and he feels as terrible as he's ever had.
They just knew if they ratted on you, you'd rat on them in turn.
Yeah, except they know you don't know shit about them — apart from them working for Bnagen. What would you fucking tell the police — that these two who openly admitted they work for Bnagen indeed work for Bnagen?
He spends two hours arguing back and forth with himself. It's nothing — not like they are jailed because of me. No, that's not what it is about. It's about what you did, not what it resulted in.
He really was trying yesterday. The worst thing. He really was. Put effort into convincing Kadrur not to go to a meeting with Bnagen immediately after they got out of the well. He did it knowing they hadn't betrayed him.
Betrayed, huh. Not like they had any reason to see you as one of them. Maybe the Gossam does, but he wasn't there.
Why? Why didn't they say anything? Was it the goal, the purpose? If you share it with someone, if you truly do, you can't betray him — even if you hate his guts.
Banthashit. Didn't Captain Ullef have a purpose back on Atnakis? Wasn't it the same purpose we all shared? Didn't stop him from telling the kazotites the location of his company. He told it himself to the court martial. Never denied he had betrayed his own troops. Never said he did it to escape torture or anything. No, he really believed that he could do more good to our purpose if he got the enemy to trust him than his men would in the field. How does it make it not betrayal? Would the boys who got burned alive agree it wasn't?
Krev never liked Captain Ullef. The fact doesn't bring him solace, but somehow lets his mind out of the labyrinth — as if it's a solution to his problem, and with that, Krev finally goes to sleep.
Sun wakes him — actual sun crawls up on his back. He gets up and watches it until it disappears behind the building across the airlane. It does him good: yesterday's troubles have receded by the time Krev gets back to thinking about them.
They want the same thing you do, he thinks as he makes his caf. They want to dismantle this rotten system. Fuck does it sound grand — a rotten system. Fuckers on the news have said it so many times it lost its meaning. Makes you wonder if it was on purpose.
Alright. Bnagen and her boys want the same thing. Down with the system and all that. The same system that deports aliens and brainwashes clones. They want it broken down — and I'm down with it. We have nothing to fight over.
Right. As long as Vad doesn't make you do some undercover shit for him.
Krev dismisses the thought. The caf's too good after the midday doze of sun. He'll tell him. He'll tell Vad if Vad asks. He'll just tell him how it is.
The rightness of the idea burns the worry out of him. Yes, he will — and if Vad doesn't like it, well, let him arrest Krev, but Krev won't do it. Won't betray the aliens' trust.
You already did, though.
True. He even nods to himself. But that's life. What did you expect? Sometimes, you have to do bad things. Sometimes, you don't, but end up doing them all the same. And the bottom line is: do your best not to repeat it, 'cause you won't undo what you've already done.
His mood stays good, though. His mood stays great — not in the sense of glitterstim-induced euphoria which you know will pass and with this knowledge poison yourself. No, it's a very steady good mood when you know you can't do anything differently — and it makes you accept any and all consequences.
Good job with these platitudes, he tells himself. It doesn't ruin his mood.
He escapes his cell and goes on a trip. Airbuses are his best friends. He thinks of visiting Fucktwerp Bannison, but decides not to disturb the old man.
Besides, he thinks, better don't get used to visiting other people. You're likely to end this whole story not in the shape for visits.
It takes him to the Benduday. He realizes — to his own surprise — he's been thinking about Vad's invitation even yesterday: somehow beneath the thoughts about Bnagen and her outfit.
What got into Vad? Not a good idea for them to be seen together — even if just by Vad's family.
But that's the kicker: Vad is cool with bringing you into his house. He's fine having you talk to his family. Fuck, this sounds faggy as all hell. Whatever. You get the meaning. He doesn't treat you as dumb muscle that exists solely to muscle him out of his problems. Which can't be said about certain people back on Telos.
Yeah, fuck, that's right. Sumar never invited him over to his house. Oh, no time, no space, eight children and a mother-in-law, sorry, Krev. Krev? As if. The amphibian fuck would say Devin — invariably.
Who wouldn't? When you look like a hundred kilos of trouble, people can't help but erect walls between themselves and you. Overfamiliarity is one way. Well, Sorval isn't like that — but he's your younger comrade. Looks up to you — universe help him. And friendship between equals? I don't think so. Oglago? Like hell he would treat anyone like his equal. Good old Oglago. Coruscant really did a number on him. Got to his head. The real truth — the real real truth — is Krev was no different at the time of his first stay. Must be an all-the-time issue with them Kessel boys coming to the Galactic City. And Krev — Krev treated Oglago as an elder brother. Tried to emulate him. Was easy to get into that mindset — Oglago and his state-of-the-art speeders, spick-and-span three-pieces, and luxury whores. Oglago and his charred remains falling probably all the way down to level one. Krev is fine emulating himself.
His road brings him to some posh neighborhood — pointy roofs and columns, that type of deal. Krev's never been to Muunilinst, but Harnaidan from tourist guides — back when it was still on tourist guides — looks like it was an inspiration.
He gets off the bus, but there's almost nowhere to walk here — every inner yard is cut off by a gate. He visits a music store — would've preferred a grocery, to compare prices to his local ones, but he can't find one.
A real nice store, what can he say. Not that Krev has a ton of points of reference — he gets his music a different way. It's still solid. Real sunny — gets more sun in a day than Krev's apartment in a year. Wide aisles. Thousands of slugs — Krev suspects there's a color-based system to how they are located, but he's too dumb to understand it. Has to read plain Aurebesh for navigation. He doesn't recognize most of the genres — let alone bands. He likes the store. He leaves it empty-handed — as a sign of respect. Won't buy anything just to make the shop assistants think he came with purpose in mind.
Outside — it's still sunny, take note — Krev recalls Sked Verbado, Bannison's old musician friend. Does he even know this store exists? Well, not this one, but a store like this? Can he imagine? Do memories from his previous life come to haunt him?
Krev lights up a cigarette. Stands there for the duration of it. Then he goes home — he feels that his today was productive. No need to taunt the Galaxy by not accepting your victories.
Store-given good vibes start rolling off him when he gets on a bus going back. Should you go to Vad's place? I mean, seriously, just think about it. Krev thinks and arrives to no answer. One: he'd prefer to have a beer or four with Vad — maybe have him meet Sorval under less strained circumstances. All this family picnic stuff makes him sweat. What do you even do at a family dinner? Two: is it a smart move for them to be seen around each other? And three: such a dinner will make it seem like this story might have a happy end, won't it?
And you can't have that. If you believe it, you will start cutting corners. You will start searching for safer options.
He tells Sorval he'll be going, and that seals it.
The demonman gets all stirred up about Vad's operation. "Shit," he says, and he also says, "fuck." About a hundred shits and fucks later, he asks: "Is there place for me in your love duo?"
But Krev can see he's not getting worked up over it like he did last time.
"I can ask him," he says. "But do you really want it?"
"No, I want to sit this one out, you know. I think it's not important enough for me."
"I'm serious."
"No shit. I'm serious too, man. I want it. I want to be on the team when it gets real. And it will get real — I can smell it."
For a sec, Krev seeks for a reason why he won't bring the demonman into this. Then, he remembers the Tshindral spaceport. What would've become of him if the guys shooed him away?
A thought flashes in his mind: yeah, and this way you turned out just fine, but he knows not to listen to it.
"Alright," he says, "I'll talk to him."
"Really?"
"Really. Why're you asking?"
"Never mind."
"I'll talk to him. I told you."
"Good. Thanks."
It's hard to resume the conversation after that. Those last words were dead already, weren't they? As if they knew they served no purpose, because the purpose — the purpose — has just accepted Sorval, speaking through Krev's mouth. Krev has always been above all that esoteric shit, but this time, the weight of the moment lies on his shoulders to the end of the day.
He wakes up on Benduday remembering his visit is set and sealed. Until he gets out of the bed, he entertains himself with ideas of not coming.
Then he goes to take a piss and brush his teeth, and his doubts are set aside.
Has he looked into the files? he wonders, waiting for the sun with a cup of caf by the window. Krev sure hopes Vad has: it's time to move on. Time to recover after Palpatine's strike.
Real precise work that one was, and whoever's responsible for planning is a real piece of work. Must be some special agency director. Who knows? Maybe even the RDS's. Maybe there's even way for Vad to... well, better not get ahead of yourself.
But really — they slaughtered a Jedi for this. For the show. May be banthashit — but to the people of the Republic, it was real, and they ate it up. They ate it up without turning a hair. The Jedi Order, too, turned no hairs. That's fucking Krev up: even the fucking Jedi didn't say anything. The best he found online was a forty-second interview with some Jedi Master who said it was the Order's inner business and the military shouldn't have poked their collective nose into it.
And that's it. That's it.
Not even the Jedi questioned it — at least, not publicly. They're either on the ruse — or they don't mind what happened.
They got scared, though. All of them. You did it. You made them act.
Well, they acted alright.
They were scared, though. They shat their pants. They really believed the orders posts could do them in.
Or not. Or they knew they could save themselves at any moment with their holoperformance. A good question: was it even live? Endless talk shows that followed suggest it wasn't — but perhaps, the talking heads just had been told in advance.
Yeah, they don't seem too afraid. From what Vad told him, looks like they're putting some effort into investigating the posts — but not too much. Even if the danger's over now, wouldn't it make sense for them to look for the people who put them into it in the first place? Out of vengeance, you know — and to see what else they know that they shouldn't.
Some surprise they'd be in for if they find Krev. With all the information that basically fell on his head, he's learned jack besides what Brate had spelled out for him.
What is Geon. project? Something much worse than the orders and ConCare boys, it looks like. Or: something Brate didn't know much about.
Banthashit. He knew enough — enough to scare him.
Somebody smarter than Krev should be looking into it.
While he has time, he goes to the grocery and buys a bottle of wine — not the priciest they got, but not Bannison's glow-slop, either — and a box of candies. He thinks about getting flowers for Mrs. Alnam, but settles on it being too backwater Outer Rim.
The dinner is to take place closer to Quadrant D-156 than Vad's place is. Obelisk Lane — a neat little hood. The droid driver asks Krev if he wants to see the obelisks — Krev has time and can't say no to that. The cab dives about eighty levels down, and Krev sees the obelisks. Not so much obelisks they are as carved building sides. Millions of lines of hieroglyphs, must be. Krev asks the droid what the story is, and the fucking clanker offers to sell him a tour. To that, Krev can say no.
They fly up, above the tops of the obelisk buildings. More buildings still rise. The cab flies through a tall narrow archway and into a semi-secluded yard. Heck, Krev likes it here: tons of greenery and a nice contrast between the higher rises and the more modest buildings that litter the yard. A nice place.
He gets off at the ground level. Well, ground is underselling it — it's higher than his apartment. A good break from all the Coruscant verticality. Krev finds the right entrance and calls the Alnams's flat.
As he waits for someone to pick up, he's having second (third? fourth?) thoughts about it. It's not a good idea. What are you even going to say?
Should've called Vad first. What if he's not here? he thinks just as Vad's hologram appears on the door lock panel.
"Oh hey," Vad says, "Jez. Come on up. Floor 36."
Krev walks in. A stairwell above, he gets into a seemingly unnecessarily twisting corridor that leads him to the elevators and the main stair access. He remembers his time at Bannison's. Like hell I'm walking thirty-six floors.
Takes a look around while the lift is making its way down. Here, the light from a little window above the entrance door doesn't reach, and the corridor is only lit by a dim lamp. It's not gloomy, though — comfy instead. But maybe it's just the Kesselian awe at even the minutiae of Coruscant.
A minute — and the corridor lights up with the turbolift lamps. Krev doesn't dwell on the new details captured out of darkness. A place poorly memorized is a place easier to return to.
Thirty seconds later, he's at the Alnam floor. Another corridor — a straight one this time and well-lit. One of the doors on the side opposite to the turbolift is open. Krev walks past the stairwell access (it makes an attempt to open for him, but decides not to bother mid-motion).
Weird seeing Vad in civvies... well, at home. Krev's seen him — at Vad's place, but he can't shake off the feeling that wasn't home for Vad.
This seems to be. Look at him: shirt untucked. Sleeves rolled up.
"Hey," Vad says. "Come on in."
They shake hands, and Krev enters.
The apartment is on the smaller side — if you don't count its really tall ceilings. Cozy — but sort of lifeless.
Shit, maybe you'll stop? You haven't seen anything but the entrance hall.
"Oh, you shouldn't have," Vad says, taking the bottle and the box from Krev.
"It's nothing. I mean, couldn't bring myself to come empty-handed."
"The bathroom's to your left."
Krev goes to wash his hands. Beyond the bathroom is the kitchen. Mrs. Alnam is there. When was the last time Krev had a home-cooked meal?
"Hey, Mr. Kossar."
"Hey, Mrs. Alnam."
He can hear her laugh. "You started it," he says.
The bathroom smells of some creams and soaps. Krev's home never smelled this way, but somehow, it smells like home.
"Where's Junior?" he asks when he comes out.
"Ah, he had more important business to attend with his friends," Ormi explains, drying a dish.
"Oh yeah? He seemed so eager to listen to my stories."
Vad comes in with the an additional tray. "I know, right? Kids, man."
"Do you have any?" Ormi asks.
"Uh, no," Krev says. "My lifestyle doesn't exactly..."
Oh, great. The first awkward pause. Many to come, to be sure.
"Can I help somehow?" he says. "I don't know, cut something up?"
"It's okay," Ormi says. "Fish will be ready soon."
The kitchen is small, but its high ceiling and almost wall-tall window give it a shrunken senatorial abode vibe. The oven is on the right from the entrance, along with a fridge, sink, and hanging cupboards. An oval table stands in the middle, surrounded by two chairs and a couch that hugs the wall. Above the far side of the couch, to the left from the window hangs a viewscreen.
Krev tries to soak as much feel of the place as he can. A place poorly remembered is easier to return to — but a place you synchronize with is the place you want to come back to.
"It's a nice place you have," he says.
"Thanks," Ormi responds — Vad is away from the kitchen again. "It's not the best district, but... Where do you live on Coruscant?"
"Quadrant D-156. It's not the best district, either."
"I've lived here all my life, but I don't know where it is, to be honest."
"Well, it's a huge city. The biggest there is. I guess you can be forgiven for not knowing it all like the back of your hand."
"Oh, it still hurts. My pride is wounded."
"Right. How dare we outlanders know something you don't! You should, you know, send us all back home."
"Well, there are people," she points at him with a long-handled spoon, "who think that way."
"I thought they were more concerned about aliens."
She nods. "That's true. I don't know if you heard, but our First Ingress Minister cracked down on non-Humans when the war started."
"It began long before the war," Vad says, coming back in. "They stopped naturalization programs when the Separatist crisis was just starting."
"Yeah, but they didn't deport people back then."
"They did, believe you me. Just not as blatantly as they do now."
"Maybe I should be concerned?" Krev says. "What if they deport me as well?"
"You look Human enough," says Ormi.
"I don't know, I'm still worried. Wouldn't put it past them to take me off the street and, you know..."
"And where would they deport you if they took you off street? Telos, is it?"
That catches Krev unawares. "That's just where Vad and I met. I'm from Manaan originally."
"Manaan, really? I've always wanted to go."
"It's not really worth it. Too anal a place, if you'd excuse my language."
"Maybe if you live there, then yes."
She gets the fish out of the oven, and they sit down. Vad uncorks the bottle. They drink to their meeting.
"So, Jezideg, if you don't mind me asking," Ormi says. "Manaan. Is that a factor in why you chose Mon Cal paintings? You know, what's with the water?"
Krev struggles to spit out a fish bone in a way that no one notices.
"Huh," he says, "I never thought of that. Maybe you're right."
"I bet you are," Vad says. "Ormi works at an art gallery."
"Really?" Well, shit. Thank you, Daddy Alnam, for this story in particular. "Well, then I guess you are right. Huh. Well. Like I said, I never really thought of it—"
"We had a Dac exhibition last year," Ormi says. Krev hopes with every fiber of his heart she keeps talking. "You know, it was supposed to be a joint thing, so both Quarren and Mon Cal," she gestures towards Krev when she says 'Mon Cal,' "works of art. Most of them were sculptures, but anyway. The idea was, I have to assume, to bring the end to the hostility through art. Yeah, as if. Contributors bombarded us with requests — day after day after day. You wouldn't believe it, really. 'Oh, I don't want my gelatinous sculptures to sit right next to a Calamari field!' 'Oh, don't you dare put my liquid poetry in the same hall with a Quarren resonator — it's going to break the artistic intention!' And, of course, Dalia — she's our supervisor — didn't even think about taking our side."
"That's somewhat of a recurring theme," Vad says.
"That's saying nothing. Her head is so far up her ass, she really thinks an exhibition is going to cure centuries of hate and mutual slaughter. One exhibition."
"Yeah," Krev says, "there's no love lost between the Mon Cals and the Quarren. None I've worked with — well, I'm not very art-minded, I just sort of put the funds together, that sort of thing — they all hated the Quarren's guts."
Ormi nods enthusiastically. "It's like that on both sides. I don't think a joint exhibition can fix it."
"I read somewhere," Vad says, "that the only reason Dac remains with us is that the Calamari hate the squidheads too much to have a unanimous vote on secession."
"Sure, since this kind of things are solved via a vote."
"Well, I don't know," Krev says. "At least at first, the Seps only took those planets who voted in favor of joining."
Vad rolls his eyes up. "And what about now?"
"Now they conquer the planets they desire. I'm not saying they don't."
"Maybe you should. Ever since we shoved Durge's Lance up Grievous's mechanical asshole..."
"We're eating here, thank you," Ormi says.
"Yeah," Krev agrees, "let's stop all this political discussion deluge. I bet we all hear it enough outside."
Vad shows him his palms. "Truer words. Let's have another one, what do you say?"
They have another one. It downs on Krev that the wine is too sour. Great job ruining it, he congratulates himself.
"Have you seen By All Laws of Morality, Jezideg?" Ormi asks him.
The absurd thought she may be testing him prevents him from lying.
"No, I haven't."
"It's about Olush Divartee. Pretty good for a biopic. Not a masterpiece, don't get me wrong, but pretty watchable."
Krev nods — as politely as he can. To avoid looking her in the eyes too much is darn awkward.
"We had a Divartee room a while back. Just two or three paintings, really."
Krev acts before he can think. "Never had one myself. Sold a few copies, but no original works."
Ormi raises her eyebrows. "You sold them as copies, I hope?"
"What is it, more discrimination and wrongful assumptions about us provincials? Of course I did. Where I'm from, if you try to cheat your customers, they can shoot you. Legally."
She laughs. "Why do I get the feeling it's you who are responsible for the, uh, unbecoming image of the provincials?"
"Our self-hatred is only rivaled by the Quarren-Mon Cal thing."
It's nothing, he thinks. It's nothing. Nothing a jerk-off session can't fix. And maybe a little spice. Yeah, a new ampule might be ripe for opening.
"So how, pray tell," Ormi starts again, "an art dealer ends up on Telos? I've been in business for over eight years, and I've never heard about any notable collections there."
"As if you heard about Telos itself," Vad tells her.
"That's right. I hadn't before you went there. By the way, it's not like you heard about it before that, too. So what was it?"
"Maybe it's a trick of the trade," Krev answers mildly.
"Oh, come on! If it is, it's one I want to know."
"What for? To have an excuse to go to Telos IV of all places?"
Ormi laughs. Krev tries to keep his sigh to himself.
"What are you going to do," Vad says, "sometimes you just end up on Telos IV no matter what."
Krev nods. "Sometimes you do."
"You know what happened to Vad there, don't you?" Ormi asks him.
"Yeah. A horrible thing."
"But one to be expected in a place such as that one," says Vad. Doesn't look too fond of the turn the conversation has taken, either.
"Is it really so bad there? It's hard to imagine a Republic planet being so, well, dangerous."
"It's not strictly a Republic planet," Krev explains. "It's under our protectorate, but it's not really a full-fledged member of the family, you know. Like, they don't have a representative in the Senate, because part of its sector is part of the Republic, but another one isn't."
"Yeah," Vad says, "all such planets are represented by a single senator per Rim. Not even a real senator, mind you — a representative without full senatorial power or some such."
"I never realized," Ormi says. "More fish?"
Krev declines.
"Maybe I'm not seeing something," Ormi continues, "but it sounds like a great opportunity for, like, organized crime."
Krev chuckles. "You bet. There's less law on Telos than breathable air."
"That terrorist attack," Ormi looks at Vad — the pain! — "still isn't solved, is it?"
"No, I don't think it is. Really, it speaks to the RI's capabilities more than to the criminals' prowess, though."
"I don't know about that," Krev says. "I think that Devin fellow was somehow involved."
"Oh yes, the Devin fellow. Tsk — I shouldn't have told you so much about the investigation."
"Vad! I didn't expect you to be so careless about your work! It's a wonder how they still haven't fired you!"
"No, it's just me being this good at deduction," Krev says. "They should hire me, if anything."
"Well, maybe they will," Vad smiles. "At this rate, an art dealer will do us more good than an entire team of special agents."
"Don't be so harsh on yourself, pal."
"I'm not being harsh on myself — just on all the other suckers."
Krev sips his wine. It's no glitter.
"Sorry," he says, "can I smoke somewhere around here?"
There's no balcony in the apartment, so he's forced to go to the stairwell. Vad goes with him. Helps him open the transom. Krev feels guilty all of a sudden.
He offers Vad a cigarette. Vad refuses.
"I ran a check on Ordulann," he says in a oh-by-the-way voice.
Adrenaline hits Krev's system.
"You did?" he asks.
"Uh-huh. Ulmis, too. But Ordulann is more interesting."
"What's so interesting about it?"
"You wrote that the conglomerate included now-CIS companies."
"Yes, their site shows some logos."
"Well, actually, those seem to be a red herring. There's a Republic one that is way more interesting."
"No way."
"Life always finds one. LiMerge Power. Ever heard of it? Neither had I. Two facts about it. Number one: it's ten times bigger than all the rest of the conglomerate put together. An number two: it used to do major deals with one H. Damask the Second."
"The Second? How many more of them are there?"
"Beats me. This one is unlikely to be just a namesake, though: the funds were going through Damask Holdings, so..."
"Shit." Krev clicks the ash his the cigarette. "You were hard at work, I see."
"And you thought I wasn't. No, don't say anything, I know you did. Well, guess what: you're not the only one who's taking the matter seriously."
"How did you do it?"
"Seriously. Well, I have my channels. Contacts in the Tax Office who know how to trace fund movements."
"And they won't suspect anything?"
Vad snorts. "It's routine for them. RDS agents have to turn to them all the time."
"And you don't have to give them any papers?"
"Well, we do, but if we do, it means more paperwork for them as well. So they are fine if we don't."
"Okay. Okay. So Damask is connected somehow. Uhm... have you thought about talking to your dad about him?"
Vad smiles. He looks very young in the day's last light.
"I told you," he says, "I'm going to ask around about him. Just not my father."
"Yeah, that's what concerns me. I hope I'm wrong, but it sounded to me like you were going to go to Palpatine with this."
"That's right. Good guesswork."
Krev makes a silent laugh. "Well, uh... Listen, maybe it's not the best option right now?"
"Why not?"
There's annoyance — slight, but growing — in Vad's voice. Too easy to see a pampered boy from a good family in him this moment.
"We don't know how he's involved in all this."
"He most likely isn't." Vad looks him in the eye. "He's the Chancellor."
"And this shit goes all the way up. You gonna argue with that?"
"I know him personally, and he's not a man to be involved in anything like this. Or have you watched too much quote-unquote liberal media? You know, the sort that think you should be held accountable for everything everyone you know has ever done."
"It's not like this."
"Is that right? Then how is it? Damask sponsored him, so he must be onto everything?"
"Not necessarily, and you know it. You know I'm not a complete retard." Why am I trying to justify myself to him already? "But going to a guy who's that important with our business — don't you think he maybe has some interests in it? Fuck, after the Jedi thing—"
"What Jedi thing?"
"You serious?"
"What about it?"
"They did it to discredit my leaks."
Vad laughs, and his laughter is bitter. "Are you serious, man? Do you really think the Chancellor has nothing better to do than read some shitty forums?"
"I'm not saying it was him personally doing all the stuff—"
"Listen. I've told you already. I know — for a fact — that Jedi had been a loose cannon way before you started with your leaks. I've looked into the files — the Order was concerned about him as early as when you were still on Telos chasing after deserted clones. Do you think they would keep him all that time just in case someone like you would do something like you did?"
"I don't know. But that's why I don't like you going to Palpatine — because I don't know. I don't know if he's involved and if yes, then how much. I don't know what lengths they are willing to go to."
"Don't be so dramatic, seriously. I'll just ask him a couple of questions. That's it. That's what you gotta do even if you think the guy you're asking them to is guilty. Especially if you think he's guilty. I mean, what are you so worried about? Even if, let's suppose — for the sake of the argument — he is involved, what is he going to gain from us talking? You never mentioned Damask in your posts, right?"
Krev has to nod.
"See? There's no way for him to guess it's even connected to the posts, then."
"My boys wrote about ConCare, though."
"So what? Damask didn't own it. He owned — if we're being real generous — some share at Forakk, maybe. And you never mentioned Forakk, right? Right?"
"Your old man told me not to."
Vad makes an expression as if his teeth hurt.
"Well, here's your reason why I don't want to talk to him," he says.
"Because he may be involved? Well, your reasoning escapes me, to say the least."
"The Chancellor," Vad starts with exaggerated patience, "is a busy man. He can't control everything that's going on around him. He likely won't remember what exactly I asked him in two days. As long as I'm careful with my wording. And my father—"
The door one flight above them opens.
"Are you going back or can I start doing the dishes?" Ormi asks.
"Should've just locked the door while we were out," Vad tells her.
"Next time, I might. Come on. I thought it was a family thing, but you two just escape for fifteen minutes straight."
"I'm sorry," Krev says. "My fault completely. Vad didn't smoke, by the way, I can attest to that."
"That's reassuring. Finish up your smoke and come back before I do lock the door."
The stairwell door shuts behind her with a loud bang.
"And my father," Vad says, "doesn't have much to do these days. He will think about the reasons I come to him — and he'll find them all, including those I didn't think about. Is my reasoning good enough for you?"
"I suppose it is," Krev says, but a sudden sense of something grand in its inevitability makes his heart tingle. "Let's go back before we get locked out of your house."