| Author |
Topic:
The Last Twilight - (detective/mystery OC and others) - Update 30.07 'Amidala'
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cdmcc
Registered:
Apr '05
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Date Posted:
3/14 8:51pm
Subject:
The Last Twilight - (detective/mystery OC and others) - Update 30.07 'Amidala'
- Date Edited:
7/30 12:49pm (12 edits total)
Edited By:
cdmcc
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Title: The Last Twilight
Author: cdmcc
Characters: OC and a few characters - You'll see 
Genre: Detective/Noir 
Time frame: Post AOTC, Pre ROTS
Description: I've been reading a lot of noir stuff so have decided to give it a go in the SW time frame. Can't promise clockwork like updates though 
Chapter 1
It was a hot, claustrophobic morning on the brightest centre of the universe and my mouth felt like a drought. It took all my strength just to lift my bones from the bed. I shook numerous crumbs from the crumpled suit I had put on two days ago but never taken off and stretched my legs. The stains didn't follow the crumbs. My arm had cramp and I grimaced as I moved it in a circular motion. It wasn't a good start to this or any other day.
After a shave, a shower and a whole pot of caf without even blinking, I felt somewhat more human. Being human, of course, was a moot point in this day and age. I sat at the counter of a small diner three blocks from what passed for my bed and skimmed the holo news as I chewed hard on what was quaintly known as the five credit breakfast. Palpatine had failed to pass the latest bill to stop 'undesirables' entering Coruscant space. It was all too complicated as some good looking Senator from Naboo with a pair of legs to match her attitude argued her life away and my head began to hurt so I threw a few credits onto the counter and blinked with real pain as the artificial light hit my eyes.
It was eleven in the morning and I felt like death.
It takes a while to fit in with the flow of life on this planet. You look up and all you see is a blur. You look down and it's the gutter. I was just another crumpled suit with a bad attitude on a planet full of countless others. Maybe that's why I kept an office in the bowels of this place. To feel alive. To fit in.
It's difficult to be a somebody when you've got nobody and nobody has you. As it stands I look older than my thirty four years. My family are long gone. Two brothers died in typical bar room blaster arguments about women who caused fights just like my Sister used to do before she vanished to some desert planet five years ago. I was the eldest – the great hope for a family who clawed their way up the lowest social ladders of various systems without ever being considered irreplaceable.
Some hope.
I stopped off and got a bottle of that blue stuff that goes down a treat. I hadn't been to the office in a couple of days and I wasn't convinced that I left it in the best of shapes.
The entrance to my building is a small, ill fitting double glazed door bracketed into a small, ill fitting tan brick wall which sits in a street the cops are called out to every two months on average. An old ex-soldier called Herno sits in the lobby and dozes every day for a few credits and a half bottle, although no-one is sure who hired him and no-one can be bothered asking. There's a cheap holo company and a droid decorator just down the corridor and neither of them know Herno. It seems like a hobby to him. I tried to get round him by tip-toeing but he has good hearing when he wants to and lights up like a gaming machine when he gets some company.
“Hey!” he cried in a voice like an old, broken holo. “Where have you been? I been looking for you.” He sounded sincere but I doubted he had moved ten feet in the last year. There's a heavy air over the man, he shuffles like he's just learned to walk but can't grasp why he should even try.
“Busy”.
He drinks a lot to generally forget that he drinks. It's like that down here. I was too preoccupied in trying to get away from a conversation with anyone that I didn't hear a word he said. I felt bad from time to time and I've even seen that lopsided face in the odd dream begging for some company but I can't bring myself to comprehend the life he has, or that one day it could be my face in some younger guys dream.
I turned away and moved towards the stairs as quickly as I could without wobbling. I could practically chew my breath when I took a step. My office is a small hutch on the third floor with a main entrance and a small reception hall which is rarely used. Herno wailed a bit but realized I had no patience and gave up quite easily with a flap of his almost translucent veined hand. I mumbled and coughed and spluttered like a baby as I searched my pockets for the key before noticing that my door was already open.
“It wasn't locked,” said a female voice, deep and husky.
She was dressed in what passed for the latest fashion, the ones that cost too much to be really considered appropriate in this day and age. It certainly flattered her but then again most anything would have. She stood up and straightened her skirt and I noticed she was about a head shorter than me, but what a head! Her big brown eyes were pools surrounded by four heavy lashes, her lips full and dark hair flowed gently underneath what I assumed was a hat. Her gloved hand pushed a compact back into a bag made of some dead animal and her expression was terse to the point of open hostility. She had a figure that would have made an onion cry. She followed me into the main office and I could hear her hips swish as she walked. Something inside of me fell on its side.
“Mr Tavker I was under the impression that you were a respectable business.”
“There's nothing more respectable than this business Miss......?” I ventured mildly. I moved around a desk which held little more than a half full cup of something brown and an empty jar filled with a few pens. The drawers with my confidential documents inside were still locked so that was one thing.
“Mrs,” she said as if I had just proposed something indecent. “Mrs Caleena Naytren, and I've been waiting for an hour and a half.”
If my finances weren't lower than the odds on Palpatine being on the holo every night she would be seeing the door at speed.
“Please, sit down.” I was already guessing why she was here. Blackmail? Kind of obvious, but she was fidgeting pretty bad. “Drink?” I asked. She looked at me with real venom then and I wondered if I had made a mistake, but her eyes softened and her hand stopped trembling. Her small pink tongue darted between her lips and her eyes took on a slightly faraway look. I took her silence as an affirmative, produced a well drained bottle from the squeaky bottom desk drawer and poured her a small measure. She tried to stay calm but her hand moved quicker than it should have and as she reached for the glass and a few drops landed on the desk.
“So what can I do for you?” I asked.
She sipped gently and turned the glass round in her hand. I could see the red mark of her lipstick as it spun.
“Perhaps I shouldn't have come here,” she murmured. It was the same old same old. I had narrowed the odds down to even money on a cheating spouse. She took another sip and her back stiffened in the chair. “Mr Tavker I wish to employ you to find my husband. He hasn't been home for five days. It is most unusual and I'm very anxious. Although we are not as...close as we once were, I still feel some sort of responsibility.” Her voice had gone all cold again.
“I see. Another drink?” She shook her head. She had begun to look older than what I suspected were her late twenties. I scratched the back of my neck and patted down a loose strand of hair on my head. A lost hubby. Probably off with his secretary for a weekend. A waste of my time, but I suppose I needed the money. The fact crossed my mind that if I didn't know I needed the money then I probably didn't.
“Look, Mrs Naytren, I don't mean to sound disrespectful but are you sure you want to find your husband?”
Her eyes narrowed again. “What do you mean? What are you implying?”
“I'm implying nothing. You came here, remember? As far as I'm aware it's a free galaxy and I have the right to my ideas. Listen, plenty of people have walked through that door with their eyes full of fake tears, wailing and asking me to find their beloved. Some come in, like you, with a little attitude and some with reserve - all asking the same thing, and then when I do find them they end up divorced or dead. Guess who normally gets the blame? I've been called as a witness in cases where the husband got everything from a sore face to a rather more serious blaster wound in the cranium so I think I know something about it. You should ask my rather dissatisfied customers. And another thing - why not go to the cops? On second thoughts, scratch that because you do seem to want to find him.”
“You talk a lot Mister.” There was a hint of an accent I couldn't quite put my finger on, but it certainly was not one usually heard in the upper echelons of high society. Maybe she worked her way up and was afraid she would lose the lot.
“I do talk a lot. It's a big problem. People say I'll talk myself into an early grave. They might be right. Why choose me?”
It was a valid question given my collapsing reputation.
She crossed her legs the other way. I shuffled a bit in my seat and got caught staring at them. She didn't miss a beat. I kept starting though.
“A friend. Although I may be revising that relationship given what I've witnessed this afternoon.” I caught her half smiling before she remembered why she was here. “Anyway, enough of the pleasantries. Your fee?”
“Four hundred a day,” I lied, trying to find a way to get out of the job. “Plus expenses.”
“I'll have two thousand wired and more if you require it.” She opened her bag and pulled out a small holopad which she pushed across the desk. “Here's what I have, which is everything you need. I'm sure it will all be useful. If you need any more details, let me know. I expect reports on a regular basis.” She rose and smoothed herself down. “And I expect success Mr Tavker.”
-----signature-----
I, for one, do not think the problem was that the band was down.I think that the problem may have been
that there was a Stonehenge monument on the stage that was in danger of being crushed by a dwarf.
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Jade_Pilot
Registered:
Dec '05
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Date Posted:
3/15 6:12pm
Subject:
RE: The Last Goodbye- (noir/detective/mystery) - new story 15.03.08
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Cool beans!  I could just hear the sax music playing through the entire piece.
Best line: He drinks a lot to generally forget that he drinks. It's like that down here.
Great story, I'm so in! Please put me on your PM list.
Bravo! 
-----signature-----
Fall semester now commencing...se habla español and more cowbell!!! ** "ginchy's gambit" http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29089731&brd=10477&start=29091637
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VaderLVR64
Title: Fan Fic Manager Digging out from Fay
Registered:
Feb '04
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Date Posted:
3/17 6:01pm
Subject:
RE: The Last Goodbye- (noir/detective/mystery) - new story 15.03.08
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Loved it! Please PM me with updates.
-----signature-----
If you have to choose between tears and laughter, remember that laughter burns more calories.
They call me NANA Vader.
At least she doesn't lack confidence...
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cdmcc
Registered:
Apr '05
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Date Posted:
3/31 11:39am
Subject:
RE: The Last Goodbye- (noir/detective/mystery) - new story 15.03.08
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Jade & Vadey - why thank you 
Again - apologies for the Anglophile spelling (if it's correct  )
Chapter 2
Finding someone who doesn't want to be found can be a tricky business. Not impossible, but definitely tricky. She had left me, in holo form, twenty minutes which made up the life of her husband, Lander Naytren - weight one eight two, age forty eight, height six one. No distinguishing features. Not much there for five years of marriage. The monotone female voice blared out as I sat and watched their wedding day holo which showed a slightly sad looking individual with huge pink fleshy bags under his eyes, big jowls for cheeks and slicked back hair which had been dyed one shade too dark. The kiss between them was too weak to hold any real affection and he held himself at arms length from what I assumed were her family.
Having spent what some would say where the best years of my life working for the crime prevention unit on Coruscant I had to admit that tracking missing persons was not my favorite activity. One way or another it generally ends in tears. Coruscant is a big planet and there are a few quiet districts that people on the lam have crawled into and not crawled back out of for a good number of years. In fact one guy wanted for high extortion was living it up in one of the tallest, most luxurious buildings until he eventually died of natural causes. The cops protested about not finding him but it was his own home. It cost a well connected commissioner his job but I don't think he worried too much given that he supposedly got left a bundle in the will.
So it was late afternoon and I felt at a loose end. Starting a case is usually the most exciting part, if you could call any of it exciting any more. I suppose some people may call me jaded. The sudden appearance of clones meant that a lot of people ended up attempting to find the best way to spend what was left of their spare time. Me? I was one of them but I had already burrowed my way down into the stench of the underclass well before the guys who had no connections.
I locked up and headed to the district library. Most people have private transports but I like to walk when I can. There's still little areas here that don't stink to high heaven with the smell of three million types of food and don't have walkways covered in drink and blood. It feels good to smell clean air from time to time, even if it is artificial.
The library used to be bankrolled by an old man who made his money by inventing a safety device for the miners. It was a lovely old building near Ploto town. When I was younger it kind of gleamed like a promise when you walked past it. There are posed statues on the upper levels, carved from the finest rocks. It was a noted seat of learning and had a reputation all across the galaxy because the old man had done his research there. Then he died and his daughter wasn't too keen on a quarter of her inheritance funding a dusty old building with no return. And so, like many things here, it got old and beat up and surrounded by garbage. I still used it every week.
The steps had huge cracks in them and only two old women and a few half broken droids patrolled the aisles, patting down what was left of the paper books and the photographs and the maps. Some were said to be a thousand years old but I don't buy it. If they were, they would have been sold.
I found my usual seat easily given that there was only myself and a drunk sleeping off a hangover inside, and activated the computer. It groaned into life. The HoloNet gave me three thousand hits on the name alone. I narrowed it down and it seemed that Mrs Naytren had omitted to tell me of the fact that her husband was one of the richest men in the galaxy. I guess I should have read the gossip and society columns more closely. The guy was made of money although looking through the reports there were no real descriptions of how he came by it. It was as if he had woken up one morning and become a magnate without quite understanding why.
There were pictures of him, grim faced and shaking hands with politicians. A holo report on a trip to open a new med facility on a planet smashed by some unmentionable disease. He had the look of the kid who was in my education unit – his Mother pushed him out the door in the morning and he didn't stop running all day.
The last entry for Naytren was the previous week. He was actually smiling in that one, a weedy, half hearted smile. He was handing over a small ball to another man. The caption underneath said:
'Bail Organa, Senator for Alderaan, accepts a sizable donation to the campaign from Lander Naytren of Naytren Industries.'
I sat back in the seat and bit at my lower lip. Something about this stunk to the sky. The only question was if I had the energy to get involved. I clicked on the comm unit and prepared to call in a favor.
Chapter 3
I've never been overly fond of the Senate. Maybe it was down to the people who worked there or maybe it just brought back some bad memories, but either way I wasn't in the best of moods as I paid the taxi and stepped through the Great Door. The Senate was in session so the only people meandering around were school parties and flustered secretaries in their stiff necked grey tunics. The coolness of the shadows were pleasant enough but then it was always pleasant enough. I took off my jacket and stretched my arms a little. I made my way along the corridors, mildly surprised that no-one had asked for identification. Galactic disturbance and vicious warfare usually call for at least that.
As I reached the main level Tarus saw me coming and nodded. It was lucky he saw me because the new uniform for the Senate Guards appeared to consist of covering as much of the human face as possible. Tarus had hired me a few years back on a second class blackmail beef which he was afraid would cost him a start in the guards and less than glamorous wife number five. It was easy pickings but I had done a good job for him and men like Tarus, upstanding men when they feel like it, know when they're in your debt. Especially when they fail to pay the whole bill.
“You're late,” he grunted through the blue helmet. I could see his eyes, still brown and blazing. I wondered if he had managed to kick his many habits. The thin gray line behind his krayt milk white fingernails gave me one answer. “I'm taking a risk here.”
“Who's talking?” I asked, gesturing with my head at the main chamber as I slipped him a small holo.
“Corellia. They yack a lot and don't seem to get much done.”
“Nothing changes.”
A group of children passed by, two or three all wide eyes and the rest full of vacant expressions.
“I'm uncomfortable with this,” he muttered, but he had already slipped the holo away. If he was going to refuse me he wouldn't have let me come across half the city. He knew better.
“It's a hunch, nothing more. How's the wife?”
He glared and said nothing before assuming his usual position with a shake of the head. “She left. I had to take on other work to pay her off. These are bad times Tavker, real bad times.”
“That's all I've heard for years,” I said as I left him.
I spent the next two days catching up on paperwork that I had neglected for the good reason that half of it was on cases I couldn't remember. I put my ship in to get repaired and got a shock when the bill came. I washed the grimy windows of my office and picked up a new soft cushioned chair from a shop near the Fobosi district. In short I was bored and even tempered. There were no new clients and no signs of anything on the horizon except a new round of clashes in the outer rim and even more hysterical attacks on supposed seps in the lower levels. Coruscant was on a knife edge but I felt like I could slide through the cracks in its pavement.
I was eating the usual heavily salted fare that masqueraded as my dinner at a dive called Dex's in CoCo Town when a call came through from Tarus telling me to get my lazy anatomy across to 500 Republica. It took me twenty minutes of growling through heavy traffic lanes to get there.
“I've been calling you for three hours,” he grumbled. He was wearing an all in one bright orange jumpsuit with a dark brown long jacket which trailed to the ground. As he turned to me the jacket fell open and I spotted a pretty lethal looking blaster sandwiched against a roll of fat.
“Nice get-up,” I ventured.
“Security uniform. I told you I got a second job.”
“So when you're not guarding the Senators it's the rest of the rich and powerful? They must sleep easy at night knowing some guy is pulling round the clock shifts to watch their pets.”
He straightened up and chewed down on his lip. “One fine day you're going to say the wrong thing to the wrong guy and end up very dead.”
“What like? Here's the bill?”
He shook his head and just turned away. I followed him through a back door and then down a heavy ladder which led into the maintenance section. Ladders and wrought durasteel gangways stretched up, way up and I got the feeling I was supposed to get there somehow.
“You can't be seen,” he said, reading my mind. “It's very private property and they are all far too jittery. Last week they installed three thousand holocams. Three thousand! There's talk about weaponry in the walls. ” He whistled quietly as he began to climb.
It took us what seemed like an age and my back was soaked when Tarus motioned to stop. I was surprised how fresh he was given the considerable bulk he was carrying. He motioned for me to climb off the ladder and wriggle through a small gap between floors. By the time I caught up with him he was pointing through a small hatch before rolling out of my way. I crawled along on my elbows.
“That's him,” he whispered as I went by.
I found myself looking through a metal grille. To the right was a turbolift which was probably bigger than my office. There was a small reception room with a few awkward looking seats of differing pastel colors. There was a small amount of light flitting across the room. And there was Mr Lander Naytren pulling out of what looked like a warm embrace with the fetching Senator from Naboo. So that was it. I couldn't say I blamed him but then I didn't blame anyone in troubled times. He kissed her on the cheek with far more affection than his wedding day kiss and she smiled and put her hand on his shoulder.
Tarus breathed into my ear. “Are we even now?”
-----signature-----
I, for one, do not think the problem was that the band was down.I think that the problem may have been
that there was a Stonehenge monument on the stage that was in danger of being crushed by a dwarf.
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VaderLVR64
Title: Fan Fic Manager Digging out from Fay
Registered:
Feb '04
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Date Posted:
3/31 1:14pm
Subject:
RE: The Last Twilight - (noir/detective/mystery) - Update 31.3 - The Senate
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So glad to see this updated! I was going to leave a longer reply, but I should be going to work.  
-----signature-----
If you have to choose between tears and laughter, remember that laughter burns more calories.
They call me NANA Vader.
At least she doesn't lack confidence...
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Jade_Pilot
Registered:
Dec '05
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Date Posted:
3/31 4:15pm
Subject:
RE: The Last Twilight - (noir/detective/mystery) - Update 31.3 - The Senate
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Outstanding update!
And aren't you quite the lyrical writer: "When I was younger it kind of gleamed like a promise when you walked past it."
Great voice, great descriptions, great characterizations!
Bravo!
-----signature-----
Fall semester now commencing...se habla español and more cowbell!!! ** "ginchy's gambit" http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29089731&brd=10477&start=29091637
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cdmcc
Registered:
Apr '05
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Date Posted:
5/26 1:25pm
Subject:
RE: The Last Twilight - (noir/detective/mystery) - Update 26.5- The Missing Body
- Date Edited:
5/26 1:27pm (1 edits total)
Edited By:
cdmcc
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Vadey and Jade - thanks to my two loyal readers   .
Here's a BIG update
NOTE - CPS is the Coruscant Police Service
Chapter 4
The constant low level noise of a Coruscant rush hour morning woke me from a vivid dream which had been delightful yet lacked the real pleasure of being positively indecent. There was no hot water in the fresher, something which was an all too common occurance. I shaved with a grimace and a razor duller than a banking clan Senate speech. I drank a pitcher of water in two gulps and prepared for a reasonably good day.
I had left Tarus the previous night on good terms. Him in his new uniform grumbling about lax morals as he headed to an air conditioned turbolift, me in my year old dark brown suit wondering aloud how easy it was to make money on the capital of the galaxy. I decided against immediately advising the wife that a rich and powerful mistress, the poster girl of the center left, had taken her place in her husband's affections, and instead ventured downwards to the bright neon of the bars and gambling dens. I only lasted an hour before the banal staleness and dreadful similarities of every stinking place bought me a yawn so I had sloped home to a relatively early night. Even I was surprised.
I long ago found out that any news is better delivered face to face to a client. It tends to keep them happy and feel like they are getting something for their money other than a broken heart and a heavy conscience. I took a taxi just to rack up some more expenses.
The Naytren residence was one of those new privately funded horror shows of supposed modernity built slap bang on the border lines of three different sections, each one of which entitled their new dwellers hitherto hidden delights, such as tax breaks and massive public subsidies for building in a supposedly poor area. The general slob population of the planet was either too dumb or too punch drunk or a combination of both not to notice that most of their caring leaders and representatives were moving in there and taking advantage of their generous allowances to top up their already bulging pensions. The main uproar had been one ex jailbird holo star buying the penthouse for a ridiculous amount of credits. It was speculated he could have bought his own planet for what he shelled out. He had been on the news weeping with joy and babbling about having his Mother over to live the dream.
I found it hard to share his enthusiasm for the place. The building itself was as tall and straight as the last election promises and everything was perfect. Too perfect. These monstrosities made 500 Republica look like a slum. It was also too bright, too ostentatious, too demanding on the eye and stuck out like a sore thumb next to crumbling factories and beaten theaters. It was all part of the new design – specifically not to fit in with your surroundings. But what did I know? They were already throwing up exact copies across the planet and fistfights were commonplace between money driven developers over zonal rights.
I took the smooth turbolift ride to the ninetieth level penthouse. A pleasant droid held the door open and indulged in small talk and pressed the buttons for me. That's what it has come to now. Droids opening doors and clones running the place.
There was no obvious way of advertising your presence on or around the Naytren door so I hammered it twice with my knuckles and leaned against the frame.
Nothing.
I hammered again, this time a bit harder and five times. I was about to try again as the door flashed open and a young man angrily looked me up and down. He was in his mid twenties, with dark brown hair which was too long but had been cut to be fashionable. It curled up at the nape of his neck and made his head look bigger than it was. His eyes were narrowed and behind the lids lay deep gray pupils. His nose drooped too close to his fat lips and his whole face looked as if it had been squashed downwards. He was dressed in the usual bland all blue servant get-up you see flashing past your eyes when they pop in to the gambling holes during their breaks to put their meager bets on the straw backs of long shots in the vain hope that a winner will soon have them hiring their own help.
“No press,” he said in a high pitched voice and shut the door in my face.
I waited a second or two and then booted the door hard. He obviously hadn't moved because he was back outside in a flash.
“Something wrong with your hearing?” he snarled.
“That's better,” I said. “Now go and tell your boss I'm here.”
He took the card from me as if it was poison and gave it a glance, looked back up at me and smirked. I didn't like that smirk. I told him so and he flushed deeply. He retreated for a while before returning and showing me in.
“Thanks,” I said, showing my teeth. No point in alienating the help.
I followed him through the lobby. My feet dragged through a five inch thick carpet. It was like struggling through long grass. Everything was blue. Pale blue walls met a dark blue ceiling. It reminded me of being underwater. Even the oversized stuffed fabric seats were blue, their massive armrests like a barrier. We went through another door and he left me there.
She was standing next to a large mirror and her hair was pulled tight against her head. It wasn't a good look for her. She was dressed in a pale green suit which swished with the faintest of movements. Across the room an old woman sat dozing in a chair with her head lolling in front of her as if she were ready to wake from a dream at any moment. I cleared my throat.
“I'm at a loss to know why you are here,” Mrs Naytren said coldly. I tossed my hat onto the couch and sat down. She turned from the mirror and her dress changed color to a deep dark blue. I noticed it at once as the usual Corellian funeral attire. Not a good sign. I crossed my legs but didn't say anything.
“You can keep the credits. That is what you came for?”
“Is it?” I asked.
She moved away from the mirror and round to the the huge window which took up most of the far side of room. She stood still for a moment and then turned to face me, and for a split second the glare of the traffic created a bright new sun which formed around her head. I realized the whole thing was glass. They must have been throwing money away.
“Why else?”she asked. She looked puzzled. “Quite frankly to turn up at such a time is...”
The old woman woke with a grunt and stared at me for an age. Her breathing was ragged and heavy. “Are you here for the money?” she asked. Her voice was thin and wiry and her silver hair was dirty and had been scraped across her high forehead.
“Go back to sleep Mother,” Naytren said gently. The old woman's eyes glazed over. I got the impression she was neither tired nor ill but simply drunk. “You'll have to excuse my Mother. It has come as a shock to all of us.” She fiddled with her hair and turned her gaze onto the skyline. I decided that skirting the issue was getting me nowhere.
“Would you mind telling me what has happened?”
She looked a little puzzled and smirked slightly. “Do you mean to tell me that you.....Oh never mind,” she said and laughed, a hollow little laugh. “My husband was found dead last night.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.” My voice sounded a little funny to my ears, almost as if it the words had been uttered by unmoving lips. I felt a sliver of sweat work its way down my back. “What happened?”
“The police were a little vague on the matter. You just missed them in fact. I didn't tell them I had engaged a private detective. They have been known to take the wrong view of things.”
The recently bereaved usually fall into a few categories; the disbelieving, the angry and the resigned usually but she wasn't falling into any of them. She was a smart cookie alright. The outward signs were there but I wasn't convinced that this whole business wasn't a relief to her in some ways. She pointed to a table with a myriad of bottles and glasses. “You can fix yourself a drink if you like.”
My shirt was sticking to my back when I got up and went across to play bartender. I held up a bottle and she gave a small nod and her tongue came out again. I poured her a large one and handed it across. She sipped immediately and rested the glass against her forehead.
“What exactly did the police say?”
She snapped out of her reverie and looked at me through a jumble of thoughts. She was probably doped up to the eyeballs to kill the shock but she managed to shake her her head as if to clear it. “Only that he was found dead in the early hours of the morning and that it was too early to tell what had happened. Poor Lander. Poor, poor Lander.” She wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye.
I could see there wasn't much to get there in that musty room with the drunk widow and her equally drunken mother.
I made my excuses, paid my respects and left in a hurry. On the way out I caught sight of the help with his feet up in the kitchen watching the pod racing on the holo. He looked up and glanced at me with dead eyes before burying his head back into his chest.
Chapter 5
I didn't do much for the next couple of days. There wasn't very much to do unless you were feeling suicidal and answered the adverts to get you out for the war effort fighting alongside the first batches of clones on the worst systems in the galaxy. Every morning I got up at a reasonable hour and stood against the window in my office, watching the steam come down from the high priced cleaning shop ten floors above me. Why the rich just couldn't buy the recycled stuff like the rest of us I would never know.
Herno hadn't been in the lobby to greet me and a shiny new protocol droid had slid in to take his place, a droid which rather boldly sported an advertisement for the spare office space which accrued with every passing month.
There were no new customers and very little to clear up. The Naytren credit chip lay in my little safe. Something chewed away at me on that case. There had been nothing as far as I could see to state that the man had gone. After a whole morning of watching an insect batter itself against my window I decided enough was enough and, after a quick call, headed along to the CPS .
Once it had been one of the most important buildings on the planet. Now it was a jumble of disrepair and unkempt from the roots up. I stopped at the main entrance and rubbed the corner of the doors I had walked through as a youth, with my morals in the right place and a sunny outlook on the life. The seven years I spent there had eventually felt like a lifetime as one by one the thrusters came off the grand dreams you have when you are young and you believe you will make a difference. Most of the CPS had drifted away into more lucrative and rewarding forms of work, like smuggling and private security. The introduction of clones came soon after the over reliance on Jedi as a peacemaking force and the CPS had found itself marginalized and dealing with juvenile delinquency and traffic problems. The fact they had landed the Naytren case had intrigued me, and the silence was astonishing given how notoriously leaky the department was.
Tenn Tarsyn and I went way back. We started in the department at the same time. I managed to get out but he had stuck grimly to the task at hand, forever believing the case that would break him was just around a corner, in an alley, in a jewelery store, in a politician's home – anywhere. He had been promoted quickly at the start, mainly because he ticked all the boxes and did what was asked without so much as a whimper.
Pull an extra shift? No problem.
Look the other way? You got it.
He had quickly begun to sicken me but I could never stay angry with him for too long. In the end I defaulted on his friendship by having his wife move in with me for six months. Truth be told he should have thanked me for that one. All she talked about were his deficiencies. Last I heard she was living with Tarsyn's two spoilt daughters and a new rich husband on Praesitlyn. It didn't surprise me. Tarsyn wasn't the kind to stay mad for too long with anybody though and he was soon amenable to the odd quick visit for information. Now, as I looked for his office amid the piles of boxes and small groups of clones, I hoped he was still just as useful to know.
I soon found a door with his name engraved in black ink on the frosted transparisteel. The letter 's' had been scraped away and never replaced. I knocked and heard the familiar low voice, accent heavily disguised, bid me enter. The expletives that followed were all show. Tarsyn was a polite man, deeply proud of his family background, although I was never too sure exactly what that included.
He looked up from his neat old desk as I entered. I noticed there were a few holos facing him, probably of him and his sullen faced children when he gave them a minute on their tenth birthday. Nothing much had changed in his office. His seat was a cold hard alloy that squeaked badly when he reclined. The old desk had a few hiding places for the odd bottle or a file that had to be mislaid to save face. The walls that weren't covered with filing cabinets, official documents and memorabilia were a light purple color and desperately in need of a retouch here and there. I realized they no longer had droids when he got up to make himself a caf.
“Long time no see,” he sighed as he slumped back into his seat. It squeaked badly.
I took the smaller seat on the other side of the desk.
“How have you been Tenn?” I regretted the question almost instantly as his face clouded.
He motioned with his head to the closed door of his office. “You seen them? Clones. They're taking over. Can you believe that?” He laughed, a high pitched laugh full of deliberate misunderstanding and a bad attitude.
“I heard rumors.”
“Rumors. Hah. Rumors are usually made up but this is true. These helmets aren't even the good ones, they're the ones with the faults and the ones who didn't take to the training or the ones who got things blown off on Geonosis and Foerost. Blasted clones.” He rammed one of his drawers shut with a thump. The noise cut the limited chatter outside the door. They weren't even bothered he was talking about them. Nobody could get used to clones. “They're like droids without the personality.”
“Look on the bright side, at least your too old for active duty.”
He looked at me sharply, curled his lip and sighed. “You know, I don't think that would bother me right now.” He lifted one of the holo pictures from the desk and stroked the side. “My little girl is getting married next month. Can you believe that?” For a moment his eyes welled a little and he beamed. “Naturally I wasn't going to be invited until she put up a fuss.” He took a big noisy slurp of the caf.
“Are you being closed down?” I asked, trying to get him away from his maudlin state.
“No.” He waved a hand in exasperation. “Not for a while anyway. They keep putting the handover back every time Dooku racks another system up. But it won't be long anyway. One way or another.”
“So what will you do?”
He shrugged his big shoulders and the little gold braid on his sleeve shimmied. “Security job. There's a lot of demand right now so I suppose that's one thing. Might have to lose a few pounds but I've still got it up here. Even if it ain't appreciated no more.” He tapped his head with a pudgy finger. I noticed a bead of sweat drip with a long plop onto the desk. “Enough about me. You mentioned something about a file?”
I had formulated a plan on the way here but that plan had been based on Tarsyn being his usual stiff backed company boy self. I decided honesty was the best policy.
“Your department took something on I was starting to look into. Anyway it's all over now but I was interested in the report. It seem to have been sent to the Outer Rim by accident.”
He grinned his usual big sloppy grin. When he was working his way up he had been known as 'the magician' given the number of files he managed to lose when the high ranking officials got taken to task in front of the Senate's criminal committees. Five massive cases had been overruled and Tarsyn had shot up the ranks if not the pay scales. The year I left he managed to squirm out of the big Rodian slavery ring that had managed to operate underneath one of the outlying precincts.
He got up from his chair and turned his back as he opened the filing cabinet.
“Name?” he asked, sliding out the drawer.
“Naytren.”
The drawer stopped for an instant and was the gently pushed shut again. He looked around and gave me the evil eye.
“Never heard of him.”
Always the poor cop. “Who said it was a him?”
He began to sweat a bit and went over to his door, gently opened it and looked around the corridor. When he was satisfied that no-one was eavesdropping he came back to his seat and pulled it up conspiratorially.
“What do you know?” he whispered.
“Only that he was found dead. That's it.”
“Ssshh,” he waved with his hand as if fanning himself. “That's a hot one. One of our traffic boys broke down near the Works. Found a body, brought it back here.” He moistened his lips. “As soon as he arrived, a secretary noticed who he was and called me and before I even got through my front door his body had been taken across to the coroners. I've heard nothing since and I got an order from the top not to mention it again – 'it never happened' – those were the exact words - it never happened.”
“That's strange. No matter what happens the ones who find are the ones who investigate.” This had been true since the CPS formation. Before that a shambolic collision of private security firms had battled over rewards and grants from the Senate. “How did he die?”
He shrugged once and raised his hands. “I never saw the body. The secretary was a temp who finished that night and the guy who found the body has been signed off with shock. He thinks the guy jumped out of a speeder nearby.”
I could feel a tingling sensation at the back of my neck. It was a funny little feeling that usually appeared when I couldn't find an answer to something and I really wanted to know the answer.
“Which coroners office?”
The big brown eyes widened. “Now wait a minute here Tavker, you can't just go wandering into the ice boxes and pick up files, especially not on one of the richest guys in the galaxy.”
“I'll be discreet.”
“I've seen you be discreet. On the holo at the protest rally practicing resuscitation techniques with my wife.”
I could see straight away he wasn't going to stop me. “What level clearance do you need?” I asked quickly.
“Five for the normal level but eight if it's inner level.”
“What level are...”
“Eight,” he sighed. “What the hell.” He got up and picked his hat from the rack. “I don't like getting investigations yanked from under me, especially not from those clowns up at the boulevard.”
*
Half an hour later we pulled up at a nondescript building in the mid levels. Surrounded by a couple of banks and an old department store, it could have been anything from a dentists to a masseur. According to Tarsyn this little blank building was the main coroners office now on Coruscant and huge funding had been approved on Palpatine's first budget vote. It looked like a big waste of credits to me.
Tarsyn flashed his badge at the clone who studied it carefully. I followed suit with an old one which had been fished from a dusty old drawer at the station. The clone again took an age before pointing with his thumb. I exhaled after what seemed like an eternity. I may look as if I don't care much but I'm generally attached to my body the way it is and life kinda appeals to me now and then.
The walls were gleaming and a few droids scuttled about, carting and lifting boxes and bottles of liquid. I heard a low human voice bounce of the reflective walls to my left but quickly fell into step and followed my companion to the right. There were no desks, no seats and certainly no welcoming smiles and inquiries.
“Cold, isn't it?” he whispered. “Supposedly it's a research facility as well but I've never seen the evidence.”
We followed the corridor round and round and I could have sworn it also went downhill. The light was the same everywhere, a dull minute glow from somewhere in the walls. My footsteps echoed and I was beginning to get nervous when we eventually came to a door. Tarsyn stopped and looked at me doubtfully.
“You're sure you want to go through with this?” he asked.
“Yep.”
He held up his card to the side panel and the door bleeped once.
“Ask a stupid question...”
The door shot open with a whoosh and we went forward into a low ceilinged room populated by bacta tanks, long metal trays and lots of droids. They buzzed, hummed and chattered and the artificial sounds collided to give the impression of a human conversation, perhaps in a waiting room when the nerves make you talk to people you would normally rush by without sparing the time of day.
A med droid glided up to us after a moment.
“D80D at your service.”
“We're looking to view a body. Brought in four nights ago. Name of Naytren.”
“Identification please,” asked the droid pleasantly. We flashed the badges again and the droid scanned them.
“The body named Naytren was released approximately seven standard hours after it was brought here.”
“To who?” I asked.
“I am not aware of that information.”
“Who brought him here?”
“I am not aware of that information.”
“Is there a file?”
“The file was taken along with the body.”
“Great,” muttered Tarsyn and grasped my arm. “We're wasting our time here. I have to look for a wedding present.” I shook him off and turned back to the droid.
“Who performed the autopsy?” I asked on a hunch.
“I did.”
My breath caught slightly in my chest and Tasryn stopped complaining. I placed an arm on the droid's shoulder and spoke carefully. “Were you wiped?”
“No sir,” the droid said. I gave it a little smile.
“Can you tell me what you saw then?”
The droid clicked for a moment and cocked it's head slightly. Without preamble it lurched into a long monotone of abuse and injury.
“Broken sternum at mid section, three broken ribs front, ripped muscles on the interior and exterior of heart, scalp lacerations twenty five percent, dislocated third and fourth finger left hand...” I listened as it droned on and turned to Tasryn, his big eyes getting wider and wider with every passing injury.
“This guy was thrown from a speeder by the sounds of it,” he said. “This is no accident or suicide. He's got classic defense wounds.”
The droid eventually stopped as it recognized we were speaking. “Will that be all sirs?”
“Yes, thanks. No. Wait a minute.” I quickly took out a little pen and scribbled the droid's name and got it to repeat the most pertinent data from its autopsy report. If felt a bit dirty taking down a man's death in that manner; a page full of little scribbles and scored out mistakes. The droid was finishing the list of injuries again.
“.....loss of nails left foot small toe.” It clicked a bit more before finishing. “Cause of death – circular wound to the chest, non cauterized.”
I started slightly. He had been dead before he had hit the ground. “What made the wound? Blaster?”
“I have analyzed the wound and it was not made by a blaster.”
“What then?” I asked, excited despite my better efforts.
“According to my calculations, the offending weapon was a lightsaber.”
-----signature-----
I, for one, do not think the problem was that the band was down.I think that the problem may have been
that there was a Stonehenge monument on the stage that was in danger of being crushed by a dwarf.
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VaderLVR64
Title: Fan Fic Manager Digging out from Fay
Registered:
Feb '04
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Date Posted:
5/27 5:09am
Subject:
RE: The Last Twilight - (noir/detective/mystery) - Update 26.5 The Missing Body
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Wow! Two updates for the price of one! Loved the whole thing, but this was priceless:
Pull an extra shift? No problem.
Look the other way? You got it.
He had quickly begun to sicken me but I could never stay angry with him for too long. In the end I defaulted on his friendship by having his wife move in with me for six months. Truth be told he should have thanked me for that one. All she talked about were his deficiencies. Last I heard she was living with Tarsyn's two spoilt daughters and a new rich husband on Praesitlyn. It didn't surprise me. Tarsyn wasn't the kind to stay mad for too long with anybody though and he was soon amenable to the odd quick visit for information. Now, as I looked for his office amid the piles of boxes and small groups of clones, I hoped he was still just as useful to know.
-----signature-----
If you have to choose between tears and laughter, remember that laughter burns more calories.
They call me NANA Vader.
At least she doesn't lack confidence...
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Jade_Pilot
Registered:
Dec '05
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Date Posted:
5/27 7:11am
Subject:
RE: The Last Twilight - (noir/detective/mystery) - Update 26.5 The Missing Body
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Outstanding!!
This just keeps getting better. Love the voice throughout and the dead on (sorry) descriptions. I feel like I'm right there.
"That's what it has come to now. Droids opening doors and clones running the place."
You have painted this picture for us and done so brilliantly!
Bravo!
-----signature-----
Fall semester now commencing...se habla español and more cowbell!!! ** "ginchy's gambit" http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=29089731&brd=10477&start=29091637
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Myriad_Daydreams
Registered:
Jun '07
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Date Posted:
5/31 6:12am
Subject:
RE: The Last Twilight - (noir/detective/mystery) - Update 26.5 The Missing Body
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Sign me up for PM's!  This isn't the type of thing I typically read, but you've got me completely hooked
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DarthIshtar
Title: Former CR
Star Wars Trivia Hostess
Registered:
Mar '01
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Date Posted:
6/8 10:02am
Subject:
RE: The Last Twilight - (noir/detective/mystery) - Update 26.5 The Missing Body
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I love the vaguely Dick Tracy feel to all of this and am looking forward to more. PM list, please.
-----signature-----
I've finished reading Breaking Dawn!
Morale officer of the ACWDBTTCAOT.
"Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit." ~Virgil, Aeneid
"Ecce domino" (The pizza guy's here)
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cdmcc
Registered:
Apr '05
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Date Posted:
6/20 6:38pm
Subject:
RE: The Last Twilight - (noir/detective/mystery) - Update 26.5 The Missing Body
- Date Edited:
6/21 5:23am (1 edits total)
Edited By:
cdmcc
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Vadey - It was a bit of a big update wasn't it? So glad you still like it all.
Jade - As ever I grovel
Myriad_Daydreams - I'm so glad that you like this and especially that it's not something you would read.
Ish - Thanks for the kind words. Not that up to date on Dick Tracy but I shall have a hunt for some of it. the film wasn't the best mind you
Anyways, have been a bit busy but have most of this done so should be good few posts soon....
Chapter 6
Sometimes a case creeps up on you and you just don't know exactly how or when it got its dirty little fingers into you. Other cases, like the Naytren one, are a little more blatant in their seduction. I had spent a whole night sitting at my old antique desk wrestling with what remained of my conscience. It made a few potent arguments once it had woken from its slumber and in the end got me on a technicality just as the artificial light overtook the darkness to herald a new day. When it came down to it, I just couldn't leave something as intriguing as a battered dead body with a lightsaber shaped hole in it and move onto something else without answers.
I heard the name Naytren mentioned on the news as I was dipping my sleep deprived head into a basin full of ice cold water. I grabbed a towel and watched as a blond reporter with attitude got more wrong in a minute than I had with my last wife over the course of our final, dreadful two months together. According to the bastion of knowledge and truth that is the holo news, Lander Naytren had died in his sleep of a dormant disease with more syllables than a wookiee wedding vow. That lovely little shivery feeling you get when you know you're being lied to like an undecided voter two weeks before election time began to creep up my spine. I grabbed my hat and coat and decided to get some answers.
I couldn't be bothered driving so I fell into a taxi at the rank and the driver barely looked up from his breakfast as he maneuvered the old vehicle, with a sigh from him and a shudder from the taxi, into the heavy transport lanes. Each little craft that flew past carried the same troubled faces there always were at that time of the morning. The ones trying to forget the night before, the ones wondering if they would still have a job and a wife when the next day broke and the ones with all the dreams in the galaxy but no desire to risk their pleasant little struggle for a much larger and more vicious one.
After an unnecessary detour which added a whopping ten percent onto the real fare and a couple of harsh words from myself, I eventually eased myself out and entered the familiar surroundings of the Senate. It was a just a hunch really, as most detective work is, but the Senate gave me an opportunity to stick my nose into things that didn't concern me, which is something I seem to have a particular talent for.
The main hall was crowded and crackled with the buzz of intense conversation. Across to the right where the holo interviews take place whenever some form of juicy gossip is turned into cold hard news, a small group of protesters were being herded into an unmarked transport by some heavily armored clones. Gone where the days when heavy handed policing would be news. Nowadays no-one even knew what side of the fence their neighbors were on and barely spoke in fear of causing a riot or getting involved in a debate which would take up half of their lives. I tried to make out the writing on a placard but it was in some alien language and I had never been a particularly good student when it came to the political climate on every planet of the Republic. Given the state of the Republic, that placard could have been slandering any planet.
For all my feelings about the place, and there were many, many mixed feelings, I had to tip my hat to the Senate as a building. As the Republic had grown beyond its fledgling member's interests, its cornerstone had mirrored it, becoming both a potent symbol of the ability to adapt, and, in many ways, the one valid reason for its continual existence. At the building's sculpted sides, well past the newly developed banks of turbolifts, were old hewn staircases which twisted and wound their way skywards. I counted the steps as I climbed, losing the feeling in my left leg around number four hundred and twelve. I chided myself half heartedly for my lack of fitness, given that I was supposedly in the prime of my life.
Most of the senatorial offices seemed to have been placed in a rather haphazard manner, as if they had been fought over and conquered depending on their owners importance in the grander scheme of things. It was all a long way away from the era when Senators would spend most of their days ensconced in various embassies. Out of sheer luck, the offices for Alderaan were situated on the first floor I searched. A couple of clones stood motionless outside the main entrance. They were so still they could have passed as high price art installations. I moved to the door and they stopped me with a gloved hand to the chest.
“Arms up,” one of them said. I complied and he passed a scanner across my chest and legs. After a second or two it beeped and one of them jerked a thumb over his shoulder, dismissing me from their presence. For a second I felt the urge to slap his helmet from his head but I decided that it wasn't a good day to die in a hail of clone laser fire, so I just smiled politely and left them to it.
Bail Organa's office was slick without being opulent. Each piece of furniture seemed to be at a specific angle which bore no relation to its importance in the large room. In the far corner a few humans laughed softly and two Bothans sat and whispered to each other. I took my hat off, smoothed my hair down and made my way to the circular reception.
A young, pretty girl with a Friday night look on her face smiled as I approached. Her name tag said 'Oonia' and she was fresh faced, eager to please and obviously enjoyed her job. Her bright white shirt closed over at the bottom of her long neck and her dark short hair was cut to the collar.
“Good morning,” she squeaked. “Can I be of assistance?”
“Hello Oonia.” She liked that and her eyes went a bit wider. I put on my well-to-do accent, the one I use when I loiter in expensive restaurants and enjoy the view in upper class bars. “I have an appointment to see the Senator.”
“Your name please?” she asked. I fished out a holocard which showed me looking distinctly unlike the high powered businessman it stated I was. She smiled again and scanned the computer. A little frown appeared on her smooth cream forehead. I wondered how long it would take me to get tired of a forehead like that. As foreheads go, it was a good one.
“I'm afraid Sir that there doesn't seem to be an appointment scheduled.” She went a little red in the face and I decided not to embarrass her further.
“Oh dear. How frightfully embarrassing. It was my secretary that organized it.” I leaned forward a little and lowered my voice. “Truth be told, she isn't very good. If only I had a secretary with your obvious qualities, I'm quite positive nothing like this would ever occur.”
She beamed so hard I almost had to shield my eyes from the glare of her teeth. She giggled slightly before catching herself. I could practically hear her thinking, 'Now Oonia, that type of behavior just wont do!.'
She got up from her little seat and I noticed the bottom half of her was just as pleasant as the top.
“If you'll wait a moment, I'll see if I can fit you in. I'll have a word with the Senator. What may I say it is regarding?”
“A donation to a charity I may make.”
She nodded with her head a little to the right and seemed impressed enough. Poor girl. Probably paid a pittance and the first mug who appears nice to her is actually lying like fury. I pretended to study some piece of Alderaanian art which hung lopsided on the wall rather than be embroiled in any kind of discussion with those also awaiting an audience. Even if I was turned down I could always come back later. It wasn't long before she came back smiling again and informed me that Senator Organa would be happy to see me and would I follow her this way please?
Bail Organa was not a man I had met before. In fact I wasn't aware of any Senators sitting at that moment who I actually had met. Mind you, back in the old days when I worked for the cops there were plenty of opportunities to look the other way when a Senator was involved in something.
He rose to welcome me from a desk groaning with datapads and computers and various other official looking objects. He was tall and wore his office well, with his high taste in fashion and impeccable grooming. I silently wondered what time the man had to get up at to allow himself the time to look good, and at that moment became acutely aware of my rather shabby apparel. His hair was thinning on the top but had been pressed over to one side and all of his clothes were one shade of gray or another. It was pretty obvious he eschewed the usual Senatorial employment practices of hiring as many of your family as is humanly possible, for he was the only one in the room.
“Good morning,” he said in a voice clear and steady. “My secretary mentioned something about a mix up?” I took his offer of his hand which was sweating slightly. He had a good, firm, steady grip. “Please,” he gestured to the empty seat across from him.
“Truth be told Senator, I lied to your secretary.”
He smiled. Just a little smile, as if he was used to such lies.
“I see. Who are you? Press? Private security firm?”
“My name is Tavker,” I said, handing over my real card. “I'm a private investigator.”
He immediately stiffened and I wondered just what was eating the man to have so obvious an unease about him. Already his posture had become defensive although he shielded the whole thing well. I had witnessed that type of body language before, plenty of times in fact, usually when some poor Joe got picked up soliciting in the Depro district and was pleading innocence just a little too strenuously.
“Well,” he said, placing the card carefully on the desk, “seeing as you resorted to lies to see me I fail to see why I should listen to anything you have to say. The door is over there.”
“Relax Senator. I'm not here to pressure you for anything.”
He seemed to take offense to that and stood up. The door opened with a swoosh and the lovely Oonia was there again, looking perplexed.
“Mr Tavker will be leaving us. He appears to have made a mistake.”
“Tavker?” she asked, finally putting two and two together. “I see.”
“Senator Organa,” I said quietly, “I'm not here to put a move on. I'm here with regard to the death of an acquaintance of yours, a Lander Naytren. I'm just looking for some answers.”
“To what?”
“Too much.”
He paused for a moment and punched the desk gently with a knuckle. “Alright Oonia, you can leave us now.”
She gave me a seriously dirty look as she flounced out of the office again. Organa had taken on the look of a man who had just gambled his life savings on the wrong pod.
“You knew Lander?” he asked sadly.
“No. Never met the man.” I followed him in returning to the seat. “Truth be told, something about this gives me the chills but I don't like being played. I take it you heard the news?”
He nodded and clasped his hands together, his ring finger traced his mustache. “Terrible.”
“Yeah. Look, I'm not going to lie to you. Bad choice of words,” I said in response to an upturned, immaculately shaped eyebrow, “I was hired by a client regarding Naytren. Nothing serious. Well, it didn't seem serious. Before I know it, he's dead and I don't like it when people die near me. It becomes easy for someone looking at it to connect the dots and a whole heap of trouble I don't want or need starts knocking on my door and asking me awkward questions.”
“How do I fit into this?”
“You seem to have dealt with the man on occasion. He was a big subscriber to charities you patronized and holidayed on Alderaan.”
“There's nothing sinister in that, many people give to charity and holiday on my home planet” he said with a smile and the confidence of a public speaker, “I take it you've never been to Alderaan?”
I laughed. “No. I once escorted a prisoner through the system mind you. Terrible shame, the Republic spent a fortune extraditing him to his home planet hoping it would encourage them to join, but all they did was tear him apart as soon as the shuttle doors opened.” He looked appalled. “'I'm well aware of your views on the justice system of outlying sectors Senator and I'm not here to debate it. Is this room safe?”
“What do you mean?” he looked genuinely puzzled.
“Has it been swept?”
“Ah. Yes, every day.” He looked embarrassed, as if this sort of thing was beneath him and his everyday business.
“Not by the clones?”
“No, but I'm interested to know why that would be a problem.”
“I'm sure it ends in an 'ism'. I don't really trust them. Anyway, it doesn't really matter.” I wanted to get off the subject as quickly as possible. I felt foolish, exposing myself as some sort of bigot when I wasn't sure if I even was. “When was the last time you saw Naytren?”
He thought for a moment. It was a good sign, that he hadn't really thought about it or been told to think about it. “About two standard weeks ago at a fund raising dinner for a charity my wife is patron of.”
“What's the charity?”
“For orphans of this terrible war,” he said quietly. “It is something my wife and I believe quite strongly in.”
“Naytren had no children?”
“No. He married quite recently I believe. Well a few years ago.”
“So he was an orphan himself?”
“Yes,” he said too quickly. “Look what does this have to do with anything? He died of a disease, a terrible affliction.”
“Come on Senator. You're not as stupid as that so stop acting it. Look at you, a high powered Senator from a big name family. You're ruling class. You know how these things work. People don't just die from diseases that have just been made up on the spot. You know something about this whole thing is fishy, that's why you clamped when you found out I was a private. You just don't want anything to get tied to you as you're still in a delicate position in the Senate, what with the war and all.”
“You are insinuating Lander Naytren was murdered,” he snapped quickly.
“I'm insinuating nothing of the sort. I just want to know what you know of the man.”
He thought for a moment and rubbed at his forehead. The windows behind him resonated to the hum of the traffic. Cool air was pushed around the room. He sat back and sighed. I waited.
“Lander was one of the nicest, most decent men I have ever had the privilege of meeting. Strangely enough, the first time Breha and I met him I had no idea who he was. It was a function for a transport bill which the Supreme Chancellor had passed. We spoke of Alderaan, of my taking over from Bail Antilles, of all the problems in the galaxy. He was extremely well read, sympathetic and charming. Imagine my embarrassment when the following week I stood up in the Senate and made my maiden speech on the immorality of weapons manufacturers only to find that Lander Naytren was the premier weapons manufacturer in the galaxy, and I had been engaged in a riotous exchange of back slapping with him.” Organa laughed, a real laugh this time and I joined him. “Strange isn't it? What you think is important at the time? I could have died!”
“He obviously made an impression.”
“Of course. He is...was...like that.” He sat up in his chair again and gave me a serious look. “Can I assume what is said in this room stays in this room?”
“Why wouldn't it? I have a client to protect as well Senator.”
“Alright. He contacted me a month later. That began it all. He was a disillusioned, sad man when it came down to it. He wanted to make a difference. A serious difference. He had come from nothing, a boy from Tatooine who had stowed away on a transport and ten years later had pioneered a new way of producing large scale weaponry. Remember there were many, many border disputes and the outer rim was just a perpetual state of madness at the time. He made a fortune and invested it in all sorts of schemes and property. He had a golden touch. Whenever the bottom fell out of anything, his money bought it cheap.”
“So what changed?”
“It was after Geonosis. We met. I was polite, he was direct. In short, Mr Tavker, he wished to change the galaxy. He disliked the divisions in the galaxy, the split in the Senate and the fact that weapons manufactured in his name had created so much death.”
“A bit late to get a conscience,” I ventured.
“Conscience? For most of his life that was something that could be bought and sold. One day he traveled to a planet to sign a contract and the entire population of that planet were either enslaved or the walking dead. He saw himself as a young man. He realized that it was just blind luck that had got him out. He decided to do something about it.”
“What?” I had to say I was intrigued, but I wasn't sure I liked where it was all leading.
“He started to fund.....operations designed to improve the working lives of ordinary citizens. He sponsored planets and systems to join the Republic. He paid for mercenaries to fight against slavers and bounty hunters. He paid national debts off. It really was remarkable what he managed to do in the last year and a half.”
“Excuse me Senator, but I don't see a great deal has changed.”
“It was difficult to do. It was all done through dummy organizations and charitable trusts. On the face of it he was still a man making dirty money. It had only started to make some sort of difference.”
I chewed at my lip. This wasn't good. It was exactly what I wanted to hear but no good. Something inside was telling me to give it up but I couldn't.
“You were employed by the police?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Eight long, pointless years.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I was asked to.”
He laughed.
“Were there any other Senators that he took into his confidence?” I asked.
“I really wouldn't be at liberty to discuss that.”
“Understood. What about the Jedi?”
He looked confused. “The Jedi?”
“Yeah, guys who once were the law? Usually dressed in brown robes? Run about with lightsabers?”
“Amusing. He didn't say much regarding them. He was appalled at Count Dooku becoming the leader of the Separatist movement mind you. He spoke about setting up an anti-Dooku fund although I assumed he was joking. Believed the man to be unprincipled. Sadly he was right. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
I stood up and took my cue to shake his hand again.
“Thanks for your time Senator,” I said, shocked that I actually meant it.
“You're welcome,” he said warmly.
Oonia had a face like a Monday morning when she saw me although she melted a bit when I gave her a full smile and asked for her number.
*
I spent the rest of the day trying not to put two and two together. It was difficult. It was also pretty difficult to ignore the blue bottle ensconced in my bottom drawer in the office. I was tired and my eyes felt as if they had been glued shut. I drifted to sleep, a light feathery sleep with the gentle, soft touch of childhood and I dreamed. I dreamed of a man lying dead in the gutter, his eyes bruised and his body battered; twisted in some macabre fashion like a discarded broken doll. I dreamed of an army of clones, all white just like Oonia's teeth and shining with death, their blank faces etched in a permanent grin, just laughing, laughing at the carnage in their wake. I dreamed of the Senate on fire, with blue and black smoke coursing from its smoldering remains. I dreamed of a single Jedi, clothed in deep blue, hooded and resentful, marching in time to the beat of a single drum. I dreamed of a birth. A boy, born in a med facility as brown, fallen leaves battered against the side of its white wall.
I woke to darkness and realized that I had slept for an age and it had only been dreams. I clambered from the seat and wiped my moist forehead with a handkerchief. The artificial light had turned dark on the planet and it was the weekend. I could hear raised voices already from the lower levels. How long would it take, I wondered, before the weekend wasn't enough?
I decided that my time wasn't valuable enough to investigate the murder and cover up of a rich and powerful man. I might have still been asleep, but I just couldn't be bothered with it or the stupid crummy planet anymore. Let someone else do it. Organa had claimed to be a confidant of the man and the thought of murder really wasn't bothering him enough to raise it in the Senate. Let the rich deal with their own tragedies. I had had enough of my own.
I took the Naytren credit chip from my safe and went down to the garage. My old speeder was there, a craft that inspired little confidence yet had never failed. Its brown facade certainly didn't sit well with the newer versions, all shiny gold and packed with their intelligent driving systems. I didn't care much. It was cheap, I rarely used it and it hadn't failed me in twenty years. The lanes were packed with late night revelers. It was reassuring to know that even while war raged and half the galaxy burned to a crisp, the general population of Coruscant would not be denied their weekend festivities.
I managed to get a parking spot in one of the underground bays reserved for the leaseholders as there were no security guards there to inform me otherwise. It was on the hour so they were probably swapping shifts. I parked in the shadows and moved quickly on foot. The same pleasant droid in the turbolift pressed the buttons and hit me with the usual meaningless chit chat.
“Have a nice evening,” it said as I exited. I gave it a sarcastic smile and headed to the Naytren residence.
I managed to pause my knock just before my knuckles landed on the door.
The door was slightly ajar. I pulled it across to get it fully open. The only light came from the windows which showed just how busy Coruscant could be, even this high up. I got my bearings and decided to push on, thinking that the household were probably paralytic. To the right was the kitchen. I went in and tried the lights. Nothing. I moved across to the furthest section and tripped on something solid. I went down in a heap, smashing my nose and chin against a plexiglas worktop. By the time I got back onto one knee I could taste blood and felt a loose tooth scraping against my cheek. I crawled over on my hands and knees, feeling wetness under both, and grasped what I had tripped on. My hands moved quickly but not quickly enough.
By the time my hands had reached a rough outline of a cold, cold face, the dull blue ring and wicked swish of a blaster shot hit my back and I could only hope it was stun and a heavy cloth slipped over my eyes as I fell, fell, fell, fell.........................
-----signature-----
I, for one, do not think the problem was that the band was down.I think that the problem may have been
that there was a Stonehenge monument on the stage that was in danger of being crushed by a dwarf.
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