Coruscant is a wound. A nasty open wound someone tried to cauterize with a plasma cutter.

Krev should be desensitized, but the sight of Mrabanjano — where the part of The Invisible Hand that had not stayed with Skywalker landed — takes his breath away. He presses his face to the glass of the bus window and looks, looks, looks. The smoke is still rising — as it's been for nearly two days.

They say three hundred eighty thousand people died. What's that next to Atnakis? Not much, but all of these died within a single day.

Doesn't help almost none were combatants.

Mrabanjano was mostly warehouses and foreclosed projects. What does this "mostly" stand for? Ten thousand? Fifteen? Krev has no idea, but all this devastation couldn't amount to zero, could it?

Not much is left of The Invisible Hand. Krev imagined it would be sticking out above the buildings like a knife out of somebody's chest, but all it left behind is this smoke — thick and tiredly black and mercifully blown in a different direction. Not much is left of Mrabanjano — although it's his Human-sized bias speaking. Ain't so easy to wipe a Coruscanti street out when it goes kilometers forwards and backwards and a good kilometer down. Something is surely left — but what Krev is seeing makes the mind ignore this obvious fact.

He wonders if Vad chose the meeting place his chose for this reason. Look at what they do. Cooperate. Look at their works and stop doing stupid shit like going into Brotra, 8 with a thermal detonator in your pocket.

Didn't take a thermal detonator to take care of that. Two thousand creds wasted — unless he can find another use for it, of course.

Some crazy bad luck, that. The Confederacy must've forgotten about optic recalibration.

Krev takes a gulp out of the Avello bottle. If he was a drug enforcement officer, he'd pick up anyone carrying a bottle of Avello off the streets no questions asked until they're in an interrogation room. Nobody in their right mind will drink this serum-tasting crap — but when your stomach refuses everything after a week-long spice binge, you'll welcome the serum like it's mother's milk, not that Krev's mother's milk didn't contribute to his habits. Normal water doesn't have this effect and goes out as soon as it goes in. Same goes for any other mineral water Krev's tasted, and some of those tasted worse than Avello. So what makes Avello so special? He stares at the sticker. Doesn't recognize half the minerals listed anyway.

His thoughts get blown back to Brotra, 8 — even though that's not where the wind is blowing to. So Dooku shot his own pet cell the first thing after getting into the orbit? Doesn't take someone who can tell what every element they put into these bottles is to see that's insane.

As much as it would be comforting to see the Beam That Destroyed Brotra, 8 as an act of divine justice, Krev can't forget one important thing that, alas, grounds him in the real world.

Not only Separatist ships were in the orbit that moment the day before yesterday.

They did a good job — if they did it, and I fail to see who else could have. Republic intelligence agencies. I guess they don't get their keep for nothing. They did uncover Bnagen's cell just in time for the attack to false-flag it.

Was it Vad?

Well, I'm about to find out.

Krev cares more about the answer than its implications.

They are meeting on Dun Pellic Square — a half-kilometer-wide platform overhanging the Industrial District. The bald spot — someone used to call it in his previous life; maybe one of Oglago Babel's girls or maybe himself. Under today's steely skies, it looks less like a head and more like a war helmet.

Sightseeing — if you want to see the sights the Industrial provides — is the only thing Dun Pellic has to offer apart from a rare fast food kiosk.

He takes a walk, sipping Avello and trying not to breathe in the kiosks' fumes. The rain can't decide if it wants to begin or not. Duracrete smells like wet dust from its false starts.

Vad is waiting by the platform's edge. He looks melodramatic — overseeing the ruins like some mad general. Krev is in no mood for laughing at that, though.

He lights up a cigarette. Damn it — it's the last one and the pack ain't birthing any more.

"Made you wait, huh?" he asks.

Vad turns to him. Looks him up and down. "You look terrible."

"I know how I look."

"Care for a sandwich?"

Krev shakes his head.

"I thought so."

Vad turns back — to the transparisteel of the parapet.

Gonna keep the drama up, aren't we?

He steps closer. "So I guess I owe you an explanation."

"I guess you do."

"Well, our spider-face friend is no longer with us."

"And Sorval?"

Krev takes a puff. "That was supposed to be the reason she'd be no longer with us."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"You saw him?"

"I did. He's dead. Dead and buried."

And I don't even know where, because whatever that posh fuck told me is lost to history.

"Are you sure it was them?"

"Who else? They told me it was gang violence, but we both know it's shit."

"Who told you?"

"At the hospital. Morgue, whatever."

"Gang violence?"

"It's banthashit, Vad. He just so happened to get gang-violenced when he was about to get you those documents? Get out of here."

"What about the documents?"

"Gone." Krev makes a wide gesture with his hand, and the cigarette almost slips from his fingers. "With the rest of Brotra, 8."

"Still were going there, these bastards?"

"They didn't have any other home."

"You sure Sorval didn't manage to smuggle them out?"

"I mean... I couldn't get inside his place, but..."

If you weren't busy busting your veins, you could've been there when the owner was throwing Sorval's shit out.

"... but he never told me he got them."

"Do you know for sure it was them?"

"Why? Hell yes I know for sure. Why? What does it matter? They're all dead regardless."

Vad looks him in the eyes. "Yeah. They are."

Looking at the traffic, it seems as if Krev's the only one seeing the smoke over Mrabanjano. Just two days, he thinks, just two days, and it's already back to normal. Bad stuff doesn't linger.

"Did you tell anyone, uh," he starts, "uh, about Bnagen?"

"Anyone? Like whom, exactly?"

"Like anyone."

"If you're asking, you must have suspicions. Go on, voice them."

"I don't know. Maybe up your chain of command."

"Why would I?" Vad raises his eyebrows.

"I thought it was your duty, no?"

"Very funny."

"Seriously, Vad. They shot the building from the orbit."

"Oh, so you think I told the Seps? Or what? What kind of sense does it even make?"

"I'm not sure it was Seps."

"What?"

"Seps had no reason to blow it up. But on a day when so many buildings are blown up..."

"I don't want to hear this shit."

"Look, I'm not pointing any fingers, but... it's very convenient, isn't it?"

"I don't see how."

"Like I said, I'm not pointing any fingers. It can be that they ran out of use."

"Or it was just a coincidence."

"Maybe. They told me as I was going there that Count Dooku was going to address them right then. I thought it was banthashit — just to get me inside, but at this point, I'm not sure about anything."

"Wait. That means the Seps got the documents?"

Krev shrugs. "Maybe."

"But then again," Vad says as if to himself, "the ship fell, so maybe they didn't manage to... oh, shit..."

Krev coughs. Throws the butt into the trash bin.

"I mean," he says, "it is a possibility, but if the Seps thought they were going to take over that day, why would they kill their own agents?"

"They thought no such thing. Their plan was to abduct the Chancellor and force him into signing the surrender. It could take weeks — all the while our special forces would be combing Coruscant for enemy elements like there was a burning rod in their asses."

"Sure. Makes sense. Or, well... Even if they got caught at that point — what difference would it make?"

"Krev," Vad sighs, "the Republic didn't bomb those fuckers. You sound like a damn conspiracy theorist spouting his banthashit on the holovision."

"Okay. Alright."

"Wanna know why I could never tip anybody off about Bnagen?"

"I didn't say you did!"

"Remember the man who was doing money schemes with her?"

"Let's say I do."

"I killed him."

"Okay..?"

"Murdered him. He was unconscious, and I threw him off a building." Vad nods at the edge of the platform. "Me and... another agent."

"Okay."

"He was a fucking rapist is what he was. We were doing the world a favor. You told me how you killed that exec on Manaan, right? It was the same thing."

"Sure. Right. I mean, I'm the last person who's gonna judge you."

"I couldn't tell anybody about Bnagen because I could not have her in a courtroom. I have no idea what she knew or suspected or—"

"Okay. You don't have to—"

"We got him at her place, you see. She wasn't there, but... Who knows, right?"

"Right. Well, she's dead now. You got nothing to worry about no more."

Vad smiles. "There's always something to worry about. My father, for example. I haven't been able to contact him since the attack."

"Was he on Coruscant?"

"No. I mean, I don't think so. What I do think is he's heading here."

"What for?"

"To address the Senate. Launch an audio code that will cause all the droids to unite against us sentient oppressors. I don't know, but I suspect it's going to be big. In fact, so big that we may be looking at our last chance."

"Last chance to do what?"

"Last chance to uncover what this whole shitpile is about. Look, Krev. I'm sure he didn't tell me half of what he knows. I'm sure his archives on Sanner can shed a lot of fucking light on it. Damask, the clone army — everything."

"And you think he's not home?"

"Well, he's not picking up his comlinks, so... And believe you me, he's got no reason to sulk at me. No reason at all."

"So you're going to what, go there and check?"

"No. Work. But you are."

"What?"

"What? You don't need to work."

Krev chuckles. There go my nerves.

"Well, matter of fact, I might need to reconsider that. I'm running out of money."

"Then maybe cut down on drugs. What? You're going to get upset? I shouldn't have called you out for the fucking Avello-slurping degenerate you are?"

Krev just stands there, not knowing how to respond.

"I mean," he finally says, "you're right. That's all because of the drugs. You're right."

Vad steps uncomfortably close to him. "I need you to go there. I need you to go through his archives. Give it a good, clear thought. About what you find, you know. Take this."

Something pulls Krev's hand down. He looks at it: a comlink.

"There's a message I recorded. For RT. That's the tower my father lives in. It's the comlink it gave me, so it will let you in, but it's sure as hell ain't going to let you rummage through his archives. You'll have to improvise once you're inside."

"What if your father is there?"

"Then refer to the previous step. Improvise."

"I don't know—"

"You don't need to. All you need to do is do what I tell you. I need you to go there and fucking finish this shit. No fuckups. No nonsense. In and out. If you don't have money, here. Should be enough for a ticket. They're going to open West Championne at five this evening, local time. I suggest you be there five hours sharp."

"We're not fucking around this time, are we?"

"No. Not this time. We won't be able to communicate — this is the safe comlink. So don't stay on Sanner for too long. Don't make me nervous."

The surge of all-washing certainty you get when you get an assignment and you know the commander giving it is good, no, great, is rising in Krev's chest — but somehow, slowly and unconvincingly.

Guess I've grown old.

"I'll do it," he says.

"You will."

He starts planning the route to Championne when he hears Vad's voice. He turns back.

"I got some good news too," Vad says, "so it's not all dark and gloomy. I think I'm getting back together with my wife."

"With Ormi?"

"That's the only one I have."

Krev nods. "Good for you, man. Good for you."