Before the Saga The Doqvic Method (1109 words)

Title: The Doqvic Method
Author: rktho
Timeline: ~32 BBY
Characters: Original characters
Genre: Short story
Summary: A captured criminal receives an unusual offer from the detective responsible for his arrest.

——

“You were a difficult man to find.”

The spice dealer's blindfold was removed. He found himself in front of a dining room table, loaded with meats, finger foods and pastries. A pudgy, sideburned man in the uniform of a Republic Security Force inspector sat at the opposite end. His accent was distinctly non-Coruscanti, but difficult to place. “Then again, many criminals find I am a difficult man to avoid.”

The spice dealer noticed something in front of the uniformed man. The knitted cap and black wig the police had confiscated from him when he was arrested.

“Remove his binders,” the man ordered, and the prisoner’s escorts unshackled him. The spice dealer removed his hands from behind his back and rubbed his wrists. “Please, sit.”

The prisoner sat at the table in front of an empty plate. His host waved to the officers behind him to take their leave. “Help yourself. You must be hungry.”

The dealer looked around the room. The wall behind the man was semicircular and made of transparisteel, displaying a magnificent view of the evening Coruscant skyline, lit spires towering in the distance, lanes of speeder traffic flowing in the distant foreground. He’d never been to the surface before.

“Is this your house?”

“It is.”

The dealer furrowed his brow. “Why am I here?”

“I suppose you don’t recognize me.” The uniformed man lifted his chin.

The dealer’s mind superimposed a beard on the man’s face where now there were only sideburns. “I sold you death sticks!”

“Correct,” the man nodded approvingly. “My real name is Lieutenant Doqvic, CSF.”

The man’s accent was all the more peculiar, remembering that when last he had spoken with the dealer, it had been in fluent Huttese, with a thick brogue that matched neither the typical Huttese articulation nor the accent he spoke with now. “You were a cop!”

“Plainclothes police,” the detective smiled. “An underused asset in criminological endeavors, in my opinion. That police armor is meant to intimidate, but I find most often it rather breeds animosity. And as for those laughable droids— ha! Easily outwitted, utterly lacking in the intelligence requisite for investigation, completely useless for discreet work, and of course, overly brutal. The amount of times the opportunity for interrogation has been ruined by an oafish 501-Z beating the perpetrator into useless pulp…”

“Why did you bring me here?” the dealer asked pointedly.

“I shall explain promptly. Eat, eat.” Doqvic handed the dealer a bowl of joganfruit salad. “I invite every criminal I arrest to sup with me. A pragmatic innovation of mine.”

“So this is an interrogation?” The dealer folded his arms. “I don’t know anything.”

“You may not have much information,” said Doqvic, “but then again you may. What I do know is that you are extremely clever. I am impressed, Mr. Murk.”

The dealer was silent. “An interesting alias, Clasqueous Murk,” Doqvic mused. “Rolls off the tongue, but orthographically, not the most aesthetically pleasing combination, in my opinion. A peculiar moniker for a Devaronian, but then, that’s the point, isn’t it. Did you saw your horns off yourself or were they lost in a previous incident?”

The dealer’s eyes grew stormy. “Touchy subject, I see. Likely the latter, then.” Doqvic picked up the hat. “You at least utilize it to your advantage. Your disguise was quite ingenious. While the police searched for a pale-skinned human with black curly hair, you washed the makeup off your face and disappeared into the crowd. Tell me, what is your real name?”

The dealer fixed the inspector with a withering scowl.

“No, it won’t matter,” Doqvic waved. “I don’t foresee you using it again. But I must compliment you again on your talent for disguise. I hope you appreciated mine, as well.”

The dealer continued to glower.

“You’re probably wondering how I identified you as a non-human,” Doqvic supplied. He tapped his ear with his thumb, brushing against his thick curls. “The earlobes were the key. Your hat and wig only covered the pointed tips. When you have studied the art of profiling as intensively as I have, even contributed to it somewhat, there are subtle differences you learn to detect. Devaronian earlobes are ever-so-slightly longer than most human ones, and much stiffer. I identified your true species when we exchanged the merchandise and I was able to get a close look at you.”

The dealer chewed his lip sourly with his sharp teeth. “I am surprised to find your eyebrows are natural,” Doqvic remarked. “That’s uncommon in Devaronians.”

“So you just invited me here to gloat, is that it?”

“Not at all, my friend.” Doqvic wagged a finger. “As I said before, I find you quite talented. I think you could make something most impressive of yourself.”

The dealer narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You and I are not so different, Mr. Murk.” Doqvic dabbed his mouth with a napkin and stood. “I have been many things in my time. A thief. A burglar. A slicer, an unlicensed bounty hunter, a smuggler. I was once in your position, before I became an officer of the law. Now I offer you the same chance.”

“What?” The dealer cocked his head. “You want to… hire me?”

“I owe much of my success to my interplanetary spy network in the criminal underworld,” said Doqvic, tapping his nose. “You could be of use to me.”

“You want me to become a narc,” the dealer said dubiously.

“Think of it,” Doqvic urged. “Very little will change for you, except that you will now be on the payroll of the police. You’ll join criminal enterprises as a double agent, keep tabs on them. If and when the police move to arrest, your escape will be arranged and you’ll be back on the streets in no time. You’ll have every resource a professional criminal could ever want, right at your fingertips. Disguises, weapons, snooping equipment, slicing implements, all provided by the police. You’ll never wear a badge and uniform unless you need one. A freelance agent, working for the betterment of society, with the comfort of legal immunity. We’d let you keep a fair portion of your ill-gained profits. You could sell and use all the spice you want and never see the inside of a cell. Or you could branch out beyond the spice trade, dip your fingers into every criminal enterprise under the stars. We could make you big in the underworld. Think on it.”

The dealer took a drumstick thoughtfully and leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. He took a contemplative bite, chewing and swallowing before asking, “How big?”

The corner of Doqvic’s mouth turned upward.

——

I wrote this story a while ago, but I realized I had not posted it here. Clasqueous Murk would go on to appear in my ongoing saga, Stars In Their Multitudes, under a different name. I plan for Doqvic to make an eventual appearance as well. I have a few more ideas for potential Doqvic stories, including a TTRPG oneshot. We shall see if I ever get around to writing them.

 

I love your detective story. Lieutenant Doqvic is a nice character to know more about

 

Thank you! I hope to create more Doqvic content at some point. He's got a lot of hidden depth that will catch readers off guard.

 

You set the scene very well, the first sentence sucks you into the story with a serious level of curiosity.
The observation on the Police droids is amusing.
Doqvic sure knows the art of flattery.
Also knows his species. Now I'm wondering what kind of hat and wig the Deveronian was wearing to hide his horns.
Hiring the rogue, quite the clever man this officer is. Of course, there is the risk he could just disappear in the crowd the moment he's released.
But I can see how the offer could be enticing, if ethically questionable.

Well written and clearly communicated. I enjoyed it for what it's worth.

 

Doqvic dislikes brutal enforcement methods— not, perhaps, for the most altruistic reasons.

It served him well as a con man, and now it serves him as a police recruiter.

This particular Devaronian has only stumps now. Any wig and hat could feasibly work— I was picturing maybe a beanie. He should have chosen a wig that covered his ears!

Oh, Doqvic has ways of incentivizing his recruits not to bail on him— he rewards them well and keeps a close eye on them.

Ethically questionable indeed— there is a subtle but pointed critique regarding the police as an institution which is intrinsic to Doqvic's character. Extra points for picking up on that. Thanks for reading!

 

Nice little introduction to a couple of fun characters.

 

Thank you!