Imperial Entangelements

Isaac Royce didn’t need to die.  He shouldn’t have, and in any Gal with justice he wouldn’t have.  But that just ain’t the Gal we live in, now, is it?

Kitty Verde was the one who told me.  Called me on the comm.  Good gal, that Kitty.  Back when we worked together she was the best desk girl I could ask for.  Tough under pressure, but what I really admired her for was how well connected she was.  Hardly anything around here happened that Kitty didn’t soon know about.  Amazing what you can learn at the salon.  People love to talk, especially if not to us cops.

“They say his body was found in Stepstones Bay,” Kitty shouted across the floor when I arrived.  Now everyone had to know.  Who?  Who?  Soon Edna’s Beauty Parlor was like one of those old scenes in the vids of fancy funerals.  Crying that’ll crack your ear.  Isaac Royce was a promising kid.  Owned a street cart he sold Womp Brats out of.  Had his own recipe of condiments, too.  Hot, cold, sour, sweet, runny, thick, you name it Royce had it, or else he’d make it and have it next time.  I had grown up all my life in sight of those jungles – never knew there was so much flavor there.
“Stepstones Bay, huh?  Why was he swimming there?” I took the death stick from Kitty and sucked in a pull.  The salt flavor sparkled in my mouth, a sign the stick was near its expiration.  Getting fresh sticks had been difficult even in the old days.  Near impossible since the Takeover.  I handed it back to her.
“He wasn’t swimming.  Body’s up at Lauvey’s.  You should head up there, Pierce.”
“Look, Kit, I get its sad and all, but what’s this got to do with me?”
Kitty got that look in her eye.  “Boys from Dantooine know not to go swimming in Stepstones Bay.  And they certainly know not to go when they’re covered in fresh blaster marks.”
“They wouldn’t” I gasped.
Kitty shrugged and took out a lighter for the deathstick.  “They shouldn’t.  But what’s stopped these goons before?  Go check it out before everyone else decides to.  This news is hot.”

I gave Kitty a peck on her green cheek before heading out the door.  I untied my big Kath-Hound, petting her big head.  She which growled affectionately and rubbed back in return.  The beast lowered her body to let me on and took gentle hold of the reins.  The clouds overhead broke as I rode towards the city center.  About time, I thought.  We’d almost had 24 hours without rain.  Around here, that’s practically a drought!

I arrived at a checkpoint and waited while the stormie inside did Force-knows-what.  They’ve no sense of customer service, of doing a job for the sake of the people.  A quick glance around confirmed that.  The storefronts here, like near all the checkpoints, had been emptied and boarded up.  Nobody could do business with those White-heads stationed around day and night.  The whole of the corner of Sunday and Market was nothing but ferrocrete slabs in front of windows now.
“Identification?”
I pulled out my citizenship pad and handed it over.  The stormie looked at it.  “What’s your business here Mr. Flowers?”
“I live here.  What’s yours?
“I work here,” The stormie retorted, sliding it into the dark-colored R droid’s body.  After giving off a few beeps the black dome rotated as its the camera came to view me.  I held my arms up and away so the droid could get an easy reading.   Not many people here have only one hand.
The R-unit beeped and my datapad popped out again.  The stormtrooper handed it to my handless arm and chuckled as I reached for it with my good hand.  “How’d you lose it, anyway?”
“Darth Vader.” I snort.  “I lost the hand but I’m the one who put him in that breathing suit.”
Stormie suddenly stood up straight.  “Citizen, where is your Patriotism??”
“How could I forget?”  I straightened my back and bellowed, “Long live the Emperor.”
“Move along,” stormie said, opening the gate and turning away.

This used to be my city.  I knew every family, which kids got into trouble and how to steer them back.  We’d get help to those who needed it – a real community effort.  Only fools think safety is a blaster on every block.  Fools like those stormies.
When the Emperor first sent a detachment we felt honored and even put some of our own precious budget into the new barracks.  But that wasn’t enough and soon the stormies were demanding exclusive use of the spaceport for TIEs, and then a seat on the governing council, and then checkpoints to check for rebel activity.  Finding none, they decided they just weren’t looking hard enough.  That’s when they took over the police station, and put me out on the street.
As I left the checkpoint behind life returned to the storefronts and poured into the streets.  Chatter and music from the cantinas and restaurants.  Beggars with their hand out.  Kids running around.  It was normal if you could ignore the stormtroopers standing on balconies, trigger fingers shaking with anticipating.  They weren’t a problem unless you looked up.  Well, they hadn’t been.

“Boss, boss!” Someone called.  Might as well be my damn name.  Looking over I saw Dixon coming to me.  Dixon was a beat cop who’d worked under me for a while.
“I told ya, I ain’t no one’s boss no more, Dicks.”
“Yeah, but Pierce just don’t sound right, boss.”
“Just cause it ain’t right don’t mean it ain’t is.”  I gesture upwards with my eyes briefly.  “Well, you hear the news?”
“Hear what?  I’m heading down to Tami’s for a game of Sabaac.  Hear what?”
“Nothing, forget it.  Playing with the block?”
“Most.  The usual.”
“How late?”
“Late as I can stay in”
“Play easy, Dicks.  I’ll swing by later.”
“Sounds serious.”
“Might be.”
“Need a hand? Would be good to see some action again.”
I waved, “One’s served me well enough so far.  Go play your cards.  Don’t get aggressive at the 20s.  I’ll be back soon, I think.”
“You got it, boss.”  Dixon strolled away, flat cap covering his bare scalp.  Too young to be bald, he’d shaved it off for some of the nonsense fashion the kids do.  I remember when he first came in with it we really ran him hard for it.  Just good kiddin’, really.  That was decades ago now, but still he kept his head bare as a dome shield.  But he’d turned out to be a good cop, and a great investigator.  Could have been head of the department, but managing people wasn’t his strong suit.  Could hardly control his own family, back in the day.  But his kids were grown now, and his wife had….. well, we weren’t sure where she’d gone.

Still, that’s more a family than I had.  I’d taken the city for my bride.  Oh, but the old girl had a whole mess of cousins and nieces and nephews to watch out for, and uncles and aunts pulling my attention.  I was plenty busy in the family business.  Trying to keep everyone happy, usually failing, but rarely making anyone so miserable they wanted me gone.  Family history showed things could be much worse.  Gangs pitting father against son, corrupt officials extorting neighborhoods every time they wanted so much as a pothole filled, shadowy murderers ready to make anyone disappear.  The city wanted peace, and I was the man to put the house in order.  Until Grand Daddy Palpatine came, that is, and those stormies started looking for their own trouble.
Rain continued to fall, and the pavement shimmered in the late evening light.  The soft pads of the hound’s feet licked the pavement.  Dantooine’s jungles gave us a steady supply of hot, sticky rain.  Unpleasant stuff. 

I arrived at Zapp Lauvey’s Serenity Funeral Home and tie up at the bottom of the steps.  Reaching into my coat I toss a juicy, orange treat from my pocket in front of her.  Turning around I saw Zapp beckoning me over, dry under his droid’s shadeshield.  Wasteful expense, I had always thought.  Droid’s were for menial tasks Beings didn’t want to do.  Sometimes they could be hired for computations, or for messier interrogations.  But as a personal servant they were wildly overqualified.  Still, I wasn’t going to refuse his invitation.  I stepped under and took Zapp’s hand in a firm shake.  Walking up the stairs together he handed me a deathstick.  “I was wondering if you’d come.”
“Isaac was a good kid.” I said.  Now inside, I sat on a nearby chair and took off my boots.  Zapp’s droid took them and rushed away to dry them.  Now that’s a droid’s business.  Zapp looked at me and nodded slowly.  Was he agreeing?  Did he hear me?  I put the deathstick in my mouth and lit it up.  It tasted cool, like a ringflower.  Zapp had maintained some good connections, it seems.
We went further inside, to a room we’d once ruefully called the audience chamber.  I’d come here many times on the force to see the newly deceased.  Worst part of the job, by far, seeing the family really fight like that.  Disagreement over price, accusations of infidelity, or just a bad bite of slyth.  I’d heard in the less developed systems crime was less random.  The Hutts will shoot you, sure, but only if it’s worth their while.  But somehow in the city everything becomes personal.  A disagreement over price wasn’t about the money, but the dishonor of being cheated.  Infidelity became evidence you weren’t worthy.  Injustice isn’t just a failure of an ideal, but a personal insult, too.
But in all that time I’d never seen something like this.  Martha, one of Zapp’s attendants, pulled the cloth from over the body.  When I saw him I bit the deathstick so hard it snapped.  I instinctively spit it out, and Zapp put his foot on the burning side to smother it.

The boy’s body was riddled with shots, and his face a laser-pumped pulp.  If I hadn’t been told I never would have known it was him.  In regular times I’d need more ID than that, but these weren’t they.  Only stormies would be so gratuitous.  The question was why, and why him.
“That’s enough, Martha,” I said as I looked away.
“Sure thing, hon.” she said dryly.  She leaned over the body as she replaced the cover.  Out of the corner of my eye I accidentally caught a glimpse down her blouse.  That Cal’s a lucky guy.
“Damn unfortunate,” Zapp frowned as he led me back into the entrance.  “But also the whole planet’s going to waste, as far as I can see.  The Empire brings more mining and logging ships every month.  It’s like they want to turn us into Geonosis or something.  The Republic didn’t give us much, but it didn’t ask much, neither.”
“That’s bad enough, without them picking off our best and brightest.”  I looked out the window before I took a seat to put my boots back on.  The quiet in the room was interrupted only by the rain outside and the chatter thereout.  When my boots were back on I lit the remains of the deathstick and took a long pull before standing.  “It’s grisly,” I said.  “Any idea how it happened?  I heard he was found in Stepstones Bay.”
“Yeah.” Zapp said.  “Body was found by Tyrese out feather watching.  I’m amazed there are still birds around around.”
“Found there, but probably not killed there.”
“What makes you so sure?” Zapp asked.
I puffed out some black smoke.  “You saw him.  He didn’t drown.  And it’s unlikely he was shot there.  Where was Isaac last seen?”
“I saw him on his corner last week.  But that’s all I know.”
I put the deathstick in the ash bowl.  “Well, thank you for your time.  I’ll let you get ready for whenever Marlene arrives.  If you hear anything interesting, let me know.”
“Will do,” Zapp said, and we shook hands.  “Good to see you on a case again, Pierce.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I said.  “Hard to get justice when the whole system’s so screwed up.  But family mysteries never sit well with me.  Gotta do what I can.”  I head out the door and down the stairs.

Untying my hound I got on and began riding forward.  The big orange sun shone bright over the horizon, despite the ongoing rain – casting long shadows as I headed back to the bar.  Tami’s had been a hangout for cops even during the days of the Republic.  It wasn’t the oldest cantina in the city, or the cleanest, or the…  Well, it was ours.  Palps couldn’t take that away from us, at least.  The Stormies preferred the newer, fancier cantinas.  Tami’s was a local hole-in-the-wall to them.  But we’d come there so often it got to be known as our night office.
I tried to clear my mind for the investigation ahead.  I had no clues whatsoever about what happened or when or why, and I’d long ago learned guessing only got one attached to guesses.  A real detective follows the evidence and lets himself be guided like a dianoga to fresh meat.  Not the most flattering comparison, but dianoga’s don’t die of starvation neither.  If I trust the scent on this one, I might find the biggest meal of my life.
A covered speeder slowly moved down the street, coming my way.  Years ago we were offered funding to buy a few speeders to replace the hounds, but we’d voted it down overwhelmingly.  Better to spend that money in the schools or on the parks or the spaceport.  What use did we have for metal boxes?  Walking around, or riding a hound, makes you a visible part of the community.  But that’s not what the stormies want.  They see us all as just riff-raff, ready to follow Rebel orders at a moment’s notice, if not for their vigilant threats of violence.  What connection could they want with us?  The speeder rumbles by and into the fog.

Another block and I arrived at Tami’s.  The boys were still playing Sabaac.  Dixon was still in, but obviously low on credits.  Todd Guthrie took a hit, glanced at the card as it came in, and put it facedown in front of him.  From the way his eyes lingered on the card, though, I knew it was a good one.  Guthrie was slow to trust even something as lifeless as a playing card.  Dixon, eager for his turn, shifted his gaze to Barby.  I walked to the bar and tapped the wood quietly, eyes trained on the game across the dark room.

“What is it you need, Captain?” A sultry voice said from behind the bar.
“I told you, I’m not a captain no more.” But I smile nonetheless.  I love it when she calls me that. “Sharp-iron, and shake it loose.  Gonna be a long night.”
“Gonna clear your friends’ pockets?"
“Nah, that’d be rude.  But something’s come up.  Need’s my attention.”
“It’s rude to be vague.”
“It’s rude to pry,” I said, tilting my head so I could see her from the corner of my eyes.  Jamelia Carter was tall, thin, and dark.  Closest I’d ever got to a wife of my own, but thing’s got interrupted.  Occasionally we manage to interrupt things back.

I looked back to the table.  Barby Jules was still thinking.  Slow as ever.  I strained my ears.  Barby would think for a minute or two even when he had only 18.  What gave him away was the speed he said hit or pass.
I heard that syrup in my ear again.  “Two sharp-irons, as you like them.”
“Two?”  I turned toward her.  She was wearing a tight get-up, and the outline it made brought some memories back.  In one hand she held a tumbler half-full with green liquid.  In the other she held a tall glass in her hand, in which small specks of bark floated.  Both hands were covered in blue, green, and silver jewelry.
“One for now,” She said, handing the tumbler to me, “and one for later,” she briefly glanced down to a second tumbler on the counter.  “One’s on the house – you decide which one.”
“Let’s see which causes me more trouble, and that will be the free one,” I said, taking the tumbler from her.  The bottom of the glass was frigid – a sign of the spirits mixing loosely.
She presented her glass and leaned over the bar.  “To kindness between old flames.”
“A warm memory for a dark night.” I said.  Our glasses clinked.  I took a few sips as she downed hers in one gulp.  She was always a bit impatient.  My drink practically froze my throat on its way down, and I made an effort not to cough.  I must have done something though, because she grinned as she crunched the bark that’d had gotten into her mouth.  Not for me, but I knew it gave a sweet aftertaste to her bitter drink.
Someone further down the bar gives a few taps and Jamelia turns to acknowledge them.
“Looks like something needs my attention, too.” She said dryly.  She leaned forward, turning her cheek towards me.  “Don’t forget to tip your waitstaff, Captain Flowers” she said in just that way.  I kiss her cheek.  “And?”  She said, turning her head.  I kiss her other cheek.  She laughs and quickly turns away.  I’ll never know how she gets it out of me so quickly.

“Hey boss,” the guys said as I sit down.  I take the open seat next to Dixon.  “I toldya, I ain’t,” I growl, but then interrupt myself with a drink.  They’ve heard it all before.
Dixon passes, with a confidence in his voice which betrays him.  Then the others pass.  On to betting.  Dixon goes first and he bets big.  “Too rich for me!” Guthrie said.  Barby folds, too.  Dixon lets out a huge laugh.  “Gotcha, eh?”  He flips his cards over:  -27.
“Yeah, thought that was the case,” Guthrie said.  “I woulda beat that, but not worth the risk.”
“Yeah, right,” Dixon says.  “Show em!”
“Bet more reasonably and you might’ve gotten to see them.”
“Come on,” Barby says.  “How’s he gonna learn this way?”
“He’ll learn when he learns how to bet, Barbs!”
“How’s he gonna learn that if we-“
“He’ll learn because if he keeps doing this eventually it’ll cost him.  That’s not an 80 credit bet, not on our income!”  He turns to Dixon, “Dick, ya gotta cool it.  Winning the hand isn’t the goal, you wanna beat your opponents.”
“By winning the hand.”
“No.  You’re thinking too small,” Guthrie admonished.  “You’re acting like that rich kid who can just buy anyone out, and you can!  Well, except you can’t because at some point you’ll lose.  Or you’ll come up against someone with more money and this won’t work.”
“You’re just sour cause I got you to fol-“
“Hold it!”  I interrupted.  “Come on, come on.  Dixon, Guthrie is right – eventually this will really come back to bite ya.  Gut, I think you may need to be the one to bite him.  What’d you have?”
Guthrie glared.  “I ain’t showing!  Not fair.”
“You’re right,” I taunted.  “It’s probably good you folded this time.  But your hands won’t all be that bad.”
“My hand wasn’t,” Guthrie declared indignantly, then grumbled under his breath.  After a few moments he flipped his cards over. “30 positive,” he said. Would’ve clean you good, Dicks.”
“Well, next time, bring your mop droid,” Dixon said, smirking.
Guthrie grumbled as he gathered the cards to shuffle them again.  “You in, boss?”
“Actually,” I said, “Something’s come up.  Needs some looking.”
“What is it?”  Dixon said.  “The Baker kid getting into trouble again?  Better we catch him before the stormies do.”
“We ain’t savin’ anyone this time.  Too late for that.”
“Sounds serious,” Guthrie said, putting his cards away.
“Isaac Royce is dead.”
“Wow.” Barby said, dragging the word out.  Dixon smashed his fist into the table.
“You know it was them?” Guthrie asked.
“Nobody else assembles a firing squad like that.  The boy was a pulp, and the soak didn’t help.”
“What happened?” Barby said.
“Who cares?!”  Dixon shouted, and we waved our hands to get him to be quieter.  Stormies don’t come ‘round here, but they pay informants well.  “Who cares why,” Dixon continued, quieter.  “Dantooine’s prize boy is dead.  We gotta make them pay!  If we don’t stand up now, when will we?” Dixon added.  “When we’re all dead?”
“I sympathize, I do.”  I said.  “But first thing’s first.  We gotta get more information.  Then we got to plan our next move.  They’ve been turning up the heat for any whiff of Rebellion, and this place is a primed charge as it is.  An uprising could be to our advantage but it could also give the Imps the excuse they need to clear us all out.  We gotta be careful.”
“But this ain’t got nothing to do with Reb-”
“We don’t know that.” I interrupted.  “Maybe Isaac had connections we didn’t know about.  Even so, they got their fortified checkpoints and tanks and that Destroyer orbiting us.  If he went Rebel, we’ll need to mourn in private, unless we want to mourn the whole planet.  But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.   Guthrie and Barbs, you figure out Isaac’s last whereabout.  Dixon and me will go straight to the block and see what’s going on, officially – and unofficially.  Any spare questions?”
There were none, so we downed the last of our drinks and split up.  I flipped Jamelia a few credits on the way out.

Night had come, and the street lights gave off their pale yellow glow, enhanced by the rain and fog.  The green light of the full moons could be seen when the clouds parted, before being covered up again.  The streets were emptier than before.  Our hound’s splashed through the street.  The swish-slosh was hypnotic.  When there was no one in sight, Dixon leaned towards my ear.
“You really think Isaac might’ve been a-?”
“Not a chance,” I said.  “You don’t dump Rebels, you raise them high.  His body would’ve been strung up so all could see the price of dissent.  Whatever happened, well, it wasn’t planned.  That’s my gut, anyway.”
“Poor kid.  Of all of us to get blasted.”
“And think of his mother.”
“Oh, yeahh.”  Dixon said, and soon the hypnotic steps were back.
On either side the stores start being boarded up.  Bright lights in the distance confirm our approach to the checkpoint station.  As we approached, the stormie in the window jerked suddenly, awakened from his slumber by some alarm.  Funny how unserious they take their jobs at time.
“Citizens, what’s your business this late?”
“Reporting a crime,” I said.
“IDs?” Stormie said, hand out.  We handed ours over.  After the droid had scanned us, the stormie handed them back.  “On your way,” He said, opening the gate and turning on his window shield again.  I would have guessed after such an incident the security would have been on higher alert.  Maybe those that did the deed aren’t talking.  Certainly I’d had the same policy when I was in charge.  The fewer people who know, the fewer are able to blab.  I shiver at the idea that me and them could be thinking the same way, despite the warm night air.

Even leaving the checkpoint behind most of the storefronts here remained boarded up.  Back in the day even the area around the police station was thriving – we offered safety, connections, and justice.  There was even a school in view from my corner office.  Now it was closed, along with near everything else.  The storefronts not boarded up were run by outlanders and Imperial contractors.  They had taken the Block and turned it into a hellish vision of the future.
“Still.”  I say dreamily.  “This old road brings me back,” I said to Dixon.  We called the old police station the Block because it took up a whole city block.  Training facilities, jail cells, admin and processing rooms, a break room, interview rooms, and a stable for the Kath-hounds.  There were also a few bedrooms upstairs for late shifts.  The Imps had built a landing pad to the north of the building – apparently the one we had on the top wasn’t good enough for them.  Rumors swirled of an expansion of the jail cells beneath, and an ‘enhancement’ of our interview rooms.

“So whatta we do, when we get there?  We can’t give ‘em a shakedown, or we’ll get strung up high.  But how I wish we-”
“Now listen Dicks,” I said, holding my arm out to stop him.  I turned to get in front of him. “Get that hothead of yours in order.  These stormies, they’re trained until there’s no humanity left in them.  Personally, I don’t believe the clones were replaced by human recruits – who’d willingly sign up?  And clones are real good at taking orders, including vows of silence.
“So we don’t go there shooting lasers from our yappers.    We go and file a missing person’s report.  Don’t even let them know we found him.  See their reaction and take it from there.  I don’t expect to learn much from them.  But once we’ve tried that we can head down to admin.  That’s who we can really ask – Sue, Calder and Bar-kays.  Our old pals – not these white-suited bozos.  Got it?”
“Got it, boss,” he said, saluting tightly.

My comm rang.  I brought it to my face and clicked.
“Flowers here.”
“Pierce? It’s Kitty.”
“Hey Kitty.  Listen, I’m in the middle of something.”
“Oh, ok.”  She said sadly.  “It’s just, oh I know what you’ll say but I just had to, Pier, I just had to know.”
“These comms aren’t secure,” I say cautiously.  Kitty’s curiosity made her very well connected, but sometimes she could get in over her head.
“I’m at the Block.  Just had to learn what the official story is, you know?  I’ll be safe, I promise.  Don’t you worry.  But if I don’t see you ag-”
“For Force’ sake,” I grumbled.  “Kitty, wait right where you are.  Dicks and I were going there already, and we’re almost there.  Don’t say a damn thing!”  I kill the connection.  “Come on,” I say to Dixon, and we hurry to the front door.
When we get there, Kitty’s shouting up a whole racket.  So much for being careful.
“He’s dead, and you’ve got nothing to say for yourself, plasticface?
“Grab her,” I say to Dixon.  He puts a hand on her shoulder and she falls into his arms, sobbing.  “He was such a special boy!”
“I’ll be sure Zapp puts him in a special bag.” Dixon said.
“We’re sorry, sir.” I said to the stormtrooper.  “It’s just the boy’s been missing for days, and we’re all just worried sick.”
“She said he was dead five minutes ago,” stormie responded through his voice filter.
“You’ll forgive Kitty her hysterics.  You know women, yeah?  He’s only missing at this point.”
Stormie just faced me and was quiet.  After a while he let out a soft, “Mmmmhm.”
“Do I have to spell it out?  We’d like to file a missing person’s report.”
“Does this boy have any Rebel connections?”
“Absolutely not.  He’s a loyal Imperial.”
“You’re sure?  These Rebels – they’re tricky.”
“Swear on my mother’s life.”
“If he’s so loyal, the Rebels may have kidnapped him.”
“Then all the more reason to act!”  I said, seizing the opportunity.
“No,” Stormie said.  “That’s too obvious.  Seems like a trap.  If he’s loyal to the Empire, he’ll resist any Rebel torture.  He’ll die before he turns.”
“Can’t we at least send a search party?”
“That’s perfectly legal, and the Empire wishes you luck.”
I gaped.  “When I said we, I meant….” Maybe we weren’t alone in keeping the stormies at arm’s length.  They see us as a ‘them’, too.
“Oh, no.”  Stormie said, with a scoff clear through his vocalizer.  “We’ve Rebels to hunt.  Can’t get distracted with your missing children.”
“He was damn near 18!”  I shout.
“Oh listen, Pierce,” Kitty shouts behind me.  “They don’t care about him, or any of us.  They might as well have pulled the trigger.” Dammit, Kitty, stop provoking him!
“The Empire has a strict policy against killing citizens,” stormie said.  “Anyone we kill is a rebel.  Now if you excuse me, I’ve got real problems to solve.  Long live the Emperor.”
“Long live the Emperor,” we all say in sequence.  Dixon just about spits out the words.
Then a blue shield materializes over the crystacrete desk, and slowly darkens until it is opaque.

I whip around to look at the others.  “Kitty, what are you- Wait!”  I hold up my hand.  “Let’s not talk here.” I motion towards the opaque shield behind me.  The Empire had long perfected shields which could be made opaque on one side and perfectly transparent on the other.  “Come on, let’s go down to admin.”
We walk down the lengthy hallway, Dickson in front pulling Kitty along, me in the back.  Well that was a Galactic waste of time.  I couldn’t help but wonder if things could have gone differently if Kitty hadn’t shown up.  Stormies never showed any care for us, anyway.  But he didn’t get defensive at Kitty’s accusations, either.  Well, what did that tell us?  Maybe they were being more tightlipped about the incident than I expected.

When we arrived at admin the door was open.  Sue and Calder were at their desks, with a stormie standing guard.  Can’t risk blowing the plan twice.  “Take her outside,” I whisper to Dixon.  He nodded, and the two of them head down the hallway, though Kitty tries to get a few choice words out before Dixon threw his hand over her mouth.
Too late, I realized my mistake.  I was alone with a stormie, or practically.  Admin wouldn’t be able to do anything if he decided to blast me, or risk getting shot themselves, so I couldn’t stay long.
I knock on the wooden door and walk in.  Sue and Calder look up.  “Heyyyyy, Flowers!” They both say.  “Hey Kitty,” Calder coos, but then stops.  “Sorry – I thought I heard Kitty, too.”
“She was, but she and Dicks went out for some private time.”
“Oh,” Calder said, his eyes more intently focused on me than I’d expected.  There’d always been romance rumors around the staff, but I’d stopped following the gossip when we lost our office.  But apparently some people still cared.
“Good to see you,” Sue went on.  “What brings you back?”
“I’d like to file a missing person’s report,” I said plainly.
“Who?”
“Darth Vader.  Haven’t seen the guy in weeks.  I’m worried!”
They let out a chuckle and out of the corner of my eye I notice the stormie raise his head from what he was reading.  Got his attention.
“No, I’m afraid it’s worse,” I said.  “Isaac Royce is missing.  Been gone a few days.  No one’s seen him.  We’re getting nervous.”
Sue gasps and Calder looks away.
“That one isn’t a joke.  Unless you’ve seen him and we can solve the mystery right now.”
“No, no,” Sue says quickly as Calder starts typing into his machine.
“What about you, whitey?”  I shout.  “You seen our boy?  Strapping young man, really.”
“Don’t know the name,” stormie says.  For all I know it’s the same one, from the voice.
“Shame, really.”  I turn back to the others.  “Hey, can you guys also do me a favor?  Check the logs and see what’s there.  His last known checkpoint registration would be very helpful, if that can be discovered.”
“I’ve some other thoughts, too,” Cal said.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.  Hopefully we’ll find him before it’s too late.  I’ll be in the night office.”
Sue and Calder both nodded silently. “Shouldn’t take too long to find what you want.” Cal said, fingers tapping away.
“Good.  All the same, I’ll be at the night office.”

I hurried out the door, buttoning up my jacket against the continuing rain.  When I got out, Kitty and Dixon were sitting on a bench under the overhang.
“Let’s go to the bar, they’ll be there soon.  The others might be back too.  Maybe they had better luck.”
I turned it over in my head.  Assume that stormie knew the score.  Why wouldn’t they want to send a search party they knew would fail?  Hell, if they find his body they can play hero and say Rebels shot him up.  Force knows they’re looking for an excuse to tighten the noose.  On the other hand, looking for a dead boy is a waste of their resources.  Are they worried we’re setting them up?  Providing an opportunity for the Rebels to pick them off?  As if there were any here.
But what if that stormie really didn’t know?  The stormies had been looking for Rebels for almost a year now with nothing to show for it.  Wouldn’t they welcome the opportunity to truly comb through the rough of the planet looking for bodies?  And on the other hand…. Nothing.  Not after Kitty’s fit.  Maybe stormies get guilty after all?  If they think the body’s still hidden they’d like to let it stay hidden.  I gotta talk to Zapp and get the funeral delayed a week.  Otherwise our stunt might backfire.

Barby was already at the table when we entered the bar.
“Learn anything?”
“Not what we’d hoped. According to his friends Isaac was going to meet them at Alphine’s Porch four nights ago, but nobody remembers seeing him.”
“I’ve been to Alphine’s plenty of time and don’t remember a thing!” Dixon laughed.  “They serve a mean Touch of Death.”
“Yeah, but that was Before.” Guthrie said.  “I haven’t been in a while but they’re less wild now, I’d reckon.”
“Still,” Barbs said.  “The bigger issue is three days ago was that big rainstorm.  Whatever evidence there is to be found around Stepstone is long washed out.  Assuming he died the night of the party.”
We sat in silence for a few moments.
“Does Alphine’s allow stormies to come?”
“What’s allow got to do with it?  They go in their sometimes, I’m sure.  They’re also known to harass party-goers after hours.”
Dixon put his thick chin in his hand and looked down at the table.
“How was the block?” Barbs asked.
I turned to Kitty.  “Nearly a disaster.  This one came in all hot, accusing everyone of everything.  We got less than I’d hoped.  But I think we got enough.”
Jamelia came and dropped by a drink.  “Your favorite,” she said right to my ear.
“Yes, you are,” I said.  “But no more, tonight.  Just some Kava juice, really.”
“Alright, Captain.” She said, picking up the drink.  The coaster stuck to the bottom.  She shook the glass and it fell.  It lands on its side before teetering and landing upside down.  That’s when I see it.  Mayfield Rex, and a comm number.

I let out a groan.  “Rex knows.” I say to the others, who sigh in response.  “Kitty, are you feeling better?”
“Much,” She said, weakly.  “Sorry, I just-“
“No apologies needed.  Just stay away from those stormies and we’ll be good, hm?  Can’t have you getting shot, it’d break my heart.  But go home for the night, will ya?  Royce’s ma must know by now.  Make a lunch and bring it over to her.  See what you can learn – might be she knows something.”
Kitty let out a laugh.  “I think you’re just trying to get rid of me, boss.”
“I’d be surprised if you’re not able to recognize it by now.  But you’re a liability to yourself and the operation.  I’m sorry, but that’s how it is.  Stick to what you’re good at.”
I saw Kitty give me a glare before smiling sweetly and saying, “However I can best serve!  But you don’t expect me to go home all by my lonesome.”  She’s a real nuisance, but that’s how it is, isn’t it?  Can’t always pick your allies.
“Barbs, take her home, will ya?  And maybe on the way back swing by Lauvey’s.  See if anything new’s come up on his side.  Oh!  Actually, tell him he’s got to delay the funeral.  We filed a missing person’s report, and it’ll be suspicious if we suddenly bury someone who’s body we couldn’t find.”
“Yes sir,” Barby said as he stood up and offered his arm.  “Perfect gentleman!” Kitty cooed, taking his arm and leading the way out.  I went out the back door and pulled out my comm.

“Pee-ahce!”  I hate how he says my name, and he knows it.  He’s my city’s old man, who only wants to praise his daughter’s virtue, not deal with any of its slime.  As far he’s concerned, his city is an immaculate example of Imperial loyalty and subjugation. “There’s a big crowd outside my office – what’s going on here?”
“What’s this got to do with me?  Isn’t it a magistrate’s job to know what the people want?”
“Don’t give me that democracy crap – I want to avoid bloodshed.” Too late for that.  I bite my tongue.  Doesn’t seem he knows about Royce, or leastways isn’t ready to talk about it.  “Thought you were with me on that, but maybe the occupation’s radicalized you, too.  Tell me you can fix this, Pee-ahce,”
“Alright, I hear ya.”
“Command is breathing down my neck, wants to let their guys wet their rifles.”
 “I’ll be by soon.  Keep ‘em on a leash.”
“Aah, you’re tha best, Pee-ahce.  Dantooine’s finest never sleeps.”

Not that I didn’t want some shut-eye, but family comes first.  I head back in and grab my coat, velcroing it tightly.  Dantooine nights are cold and soaked.  Even when it isn’t raining the water just lives in the air.  I tip my cap to Jamelia and head out the front door.  My hound is still tied up.  I free it and hop on.
“Boss, wait!” I heard in the distance.  Calder rides up on his own, smaller hound.  “Come with me, Cal.  Rex called.”
“The bastard,” he mumbled. “What does he know?”
“Not sure, except there’s an angry mob outside his office, and stormies are itching for a fight.  Let’s go.”
“Exactly what you need, I think,” Cal said confidently.  He’d always wanted to be impressive.
“Well?” I say, expectantly.
“Stormies were out on usual patrol a few nights back, and when they came back their weapons were sent to maintenance.  That’s sometimes standard, but what caught my eye is only some of their weapons were sent.  Usually everyone’s weapons are checked after, but only a few were sent this time.  Also, that patrol hasn’t gone out since.  Officially they’re designated “on-world, off-duty,” which is Imp lingo for a whole range of absences, but can also be used to discretely indicate disciplinary action.  Something unusual happened during that patrol, I’d bet.”
I reach over to Cal and put my hand on his shoulder, though I can’t get a good grip and it slides off.  “You did good, Cal.  Next batch of slyth I get, you’re getting some.  I mean it.”

Suddenly there was a loud siren behind us.  Some amplified voice said, “Citizens, halt!”
A small patrol speeder eased up besides us.  The dark window faded to transparent, but the gleam of a shield was still visible in the mist.
“What’s your business out so late?” Stormie said.
Cal just looked ahead, and I remembered why he’d been stuck in the office for so long.  Kid had no composure.
“Magistrate Rex called on us,” I said.  “Go ask him why.”
“Weapons?”
“Got none.” I said.
“You sure?”  Stormie asked, producing a small scanner.
“Go ahead.” I said.
Stormie clicked the device which whirred and fired a green line of light through the window.  He showered first me, then the beam switched to Cal.  I saw him lift his left foot so it was behind the Kath-hound’s body, where the beam wouldn’t hit it.  When the scan was complete, the stormie turned off the device.  “Dangerous to be out at night,” he said.
“The hound’s got speed and a good sense of direction.  And teeth, if needed.”  I said, digging my heels into the side to make her growl.
Stormie turned the window on again and drove off into the night.  I hate those stormies, I really do.

Calder let out a loud sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath throughout the encounter.  “I thought we were dead!”
“We might have been, if your leg hadn’t pulled up like a diagsnake.  Got something in there?
“Oh, yeah.” He chuckled nervously.  “Just for a bit of self-defense.”
“Oh?”  I asked provocatively.  “From whom?”
“Oh, uhhh.  You know.  Intruders.”
I chuckled, nudging my hound’s sides to get her going.  “Think you’re gonna catch a stormie alone in the dark and take him out?  I commend the attitude, Cal.  Come on, let’s go.”
When we were on our way, I said “I’m surprised, to be honest.  You ever fire that thing?”
“Yeah, I’ve trained with it.”
“No,” I said.  “I mean for real.  At someone.”
Cal didn’t answer.  I decided not to press him.  Some secrets are best left untouched.
“Just be real careful, Cal.  Royce’s death is bad enough.  But a dead stormie?  That Destroyer is likely to bombard us all to hell.  You ever find yourself in that situation you come find me immediately, y’hear?”
Cal was quiet for a while.  Then he let out another loud puff of air.  “Yes, boss.”
“And for Force’ sake, man, learn to breathe while you’re nervous.  That brain of yours needs oxygen to think, you know!  I need you on your game for this.  Rex will want to hear what you just said to me, and he’ll want to hear it from you.  Be confident.  Rex will be looking for ways to do nothing – it’s what he’s best at.  Last thing we want is for him to think you’re lying.”

Finally we arrived at the Magistrate’s mansion.  It was deserted, with no signs of life except for a few stormies standing on balconies and roofs.  Where’d everybody go?  At least there's no smoking pile of bodies.  I pointed to a post under an awning.  “Let’s tie up here, head up on foot.”  Cal and I slid off our hounds and onto the wet pavement.
“Cal,” I said.  “Leave your gun with the hounds.  We won’t get lucky twice.”
“Ok,” Cal said, obedient but sullen.  He obviously had grown strong attached to the weapon.
We approached the mansion slowly.  When we got close enough I put my arms up and shouted.  “We come in peace!  Rex called us, and I think he’d like to see us alive.”  Whether the stormies heard me or not I couldn’t tell, but they paid us no mind.  A few steps later and we were inside.

The Magistrate’s mansion had been a humble place once, as the wooden floors attested to.  But the Empire offered luxurious rewards for his obedience, and Rex revealed himself to be a man of significant material interest.  Rex’ girl, Lyn, directed us to one the mansion's newest renovations.  What I hated most was the way the light reflected off it’s metal surfaces.  Wood devoured at least some light, causing a room to be bathed in something more affectionate and bearable.  But these expansions were lit up real bright, the way starships were in the vids.  It felt wildly out of place.  We walked through a weapon scanner, which only hums as we go through.  Further down two stormies stood by the open door, at attention but out of the way.  We both walked down the hall and inside.

Rex is a tall being, with yellow skin and red eyes.  Imps don’t usually go for non-humans, but Twi’leks’s are shifty enough to be regular exceptions.  Some say it’s because the Emperor is a Twi’leks.  Rex is sitting on his desk when we walk in, rolling a few sticks in his hand.  He’s wearing silk pajamas that have been cut to fit him perfectly.  There’s an Imperial badge over his right breast knitted over the dark blue.  He holds out a stick to me.
“Pee-ahce.  And who’s this?”
“Calder Montgomery, and admin at the Block.  Cal, meet our fearless leader, Rex Mayfield.”  I say, taking the stick.  It’s a lot heavier than I expected.  “There’s nothing in this gal you can’t pay him to do.”
“Pee-ahce, I admire your principles, you know that.  But what they won’t get you is these.”  He produces another stick and hands it to Cal.  “They took Kevana leaves from the jungle and mixed in some raw spice.  Potent, and a lot tastier than those death sticks you favor.”
Cal lit the stick, which caught quickly and crackles.  The end burned purple.  “That’s great stuff!”  He exclaimed.  Hard to know if he’s acting or nervous or sincere.  I light up mine and suck it in – tastes like berry and lillywater.  “Damn, the boy’s right!”  I said.
“My own special mixture.  We can make a killing on the market, buy the spice cheap from Kessel.”
My suspicion rises. “Who’s we?”
“Dantooine!” Rex shouts loudly.  “Industry has helped many a developing system.  Now I don’t blame you for being hesitant – this kind of plan needs a lot of up-front investment.  We never dreamed of it before because the Republic never spread it around.  But the Empire, ahh, see, the Empire is good to its fr-“ he stopped himself and lowered his voice.  “Well, the Empire doesn’t have friends.  Partners, though.  They want to see their partners people thrive.  In this case, that's all of us!”

We stood there in silence.  If Rex was trying to wait me out, he’d have another thing coming.  I learned long ago the best way to get what you want is to come with two things: The right questions and a lot of patience.  People hate silence.  I’ve had people confess whole crimes rather than sit quietly in an interview room.  Somehow the words bouncing in their heads just are aching to come out into the open.  I coulda stood there all night staring Rex down.  

“I see your friends have arrived,” a voice behind us said.  I whirl around.  A stormie had come out of the bathroom in the corner of Rex’ office.  This one was holding his helmet.  He had an orange plate on his right shoulder pad.  His face was young and mean, and he wore a menacing scowl.  “A bit late, I see.  We already cleared everyone out.  The people here are poor, and when you’re poor there’s not much to do but yell about it.  Look, I get it.  But it’s my job to keep order, and order I’m gonna keep, and damn your lax schedules.”

Rex cut in, hopping off the desk.  “Pee-ahce Flowers, this is-”
“Just call me Commander.  That’s what I am, and that’s all you need to know, citizen.  All those fine soldiers who keep the peace on this backwater are under my command.”
You keep the peace and I’m just a hairless Wookie.
“Thank you, Command.” Rex said firmly.  Command didn’t move.  Rex said, "You may go, now."
"Your permission isn't necessary.  All the same, I think I'll stick around for a while.  Would like to hear what your informant has to say.
"I am not his informant," I shout back.
"He's a partner," Rex said.  "But if you insist, we have nothing to hide.  You just might find it boring, since nobody's getting shot."
I turn back to Rex.  What does he think is going on here?
"As I was saying, this factory could be quite a boon for us all, really."
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“That crowd,” he said, vaguely gesturing to the front.  “Keep the people busy and prosperous and they’ll have nothing to protest about.”
“Is that what you think that was all about?” I demanded.  “You think the people were protesting because of money?”
Rex looked dumbfounded.  “Well, yeah.  What else would it be?”
“Oh you really are a treat,” I sigh.  “We’ve been doing alright in this system for generations, you know that.  Never wealthy, but we’d never call ourselves poor.  And then they all show up and suddenly you see us as some backwards civilization which needs rescuing.  Honestly!"
"So what's the deal?" Rex asked.  I held my tongue.  Announcing this news in front of an uninvited audience was probably...
“Isaac Royce is missing!” Cal suddenly shouted.  I stole a glance at Command, who didn’t so much as blink.  Inhuman, I thought.
“Isaac Royce?!”  Rex repeated.  He leaned back on the desk.  “That boy made a good sausage!  And sauces!”  Rex stood up straight again.  “Command, send a search party."
"I don't take orders from you."
"But this is an opportunity to play hero.”
“We are heroes,” Command said.
“Play hero, play hero, play hero,” Rex pleaded.  “You want those people to respect you and your soldiers?  Show your value.”
“I don't need anyone on this rock to respect me.”  Command said.  “I’m here to serve Moff Prescott, who serves the Emperor.  Not to play-act.”
Rex turned to me, his eyes wide.  “Apologies, Pee-ahce.  You can see I don’t have the pull I once did around here.  Why don’t you get your own search party going?”
“Already got one,” I lied.  “Been looking for days.  But it would be nice to have some,” I cock my head toward Command, “official help.”
“It would be useful, I’m sure.” He responded.
I turn to Rex.  “Can we talk alone, maybe?  I’m worried at this rate I’ll get to see a stormie not only without a helmet but also without a head, when I punch his clean off.”
Rex gave out a laugh.  Command took a step forward.  “Am I catching a whiff of Rebel, citizen?”
I turn on my heels.  “You want Rebels?!  You keep paying no mind when good citizens start vanishing.  That’s how you’ll get rebels.”
“Good,” Command said tightly.  “My blaster’s getting rusty.  I could use the target practice.”
I stepped back.  He obviously wasn't going to listen to reason.  Fortunately, he doesn't actually make the decisions around here.  But neither does Rex, really.  That much is obvious.  So who does?
“Forgive me.  It’s just, he was our best boy.  Even I’m a bit torn up about it.”
“I’ve lost a lot of good soldiers fighting the Rebels.  A missing boy is none of my concern.”  Command put his helmet back on.  Even through the communicator I heard his contempt.  “Long live the Emperor.”
“Long live the Emperor,” we all responded, and he walked briskly passed us, slamming the door behind him.

A few moments passed in silence.  Rex motioned with his head for us to go to a window.  With the press of a button, it slid to the side and we walked outside.  There was an awning above, though with the wind it didn’t provide much protection from the rain.
“They swear my office isn’t bugged, but who believes them?  This way the wind at least will shield our voice."
“Sorry about him, by the way," Rex says.  "He uses my bathroom whenever he wants – am I gonna say no?  He's a pain in my ass.”
“Seems like it."  I said.  "Well, listen.  Isaac Royce ain’t missing.  Not anymore.  He’s dead.”
Again, Rex’ eyes registered more emotion than I would have expected.  But, without Command there, he didn’t hide it away so soon.
“We’re sure the stormies did it.  We’ve been filing missing person’s reports all over, gauging their reaction.”
“What makes you think they did it?”
“Well, number one, who of ours would?  He was a promising boy.  And the body.”  My skin crawled at the memory.  “Rex, they shot him up fierce.”
“Unrecognizable!”  Cal said.  I turn around and raise an eyebrow.  “That’s what Kitty said,” Cal said defensively.
“What's this guy doing here, anyway?  Hasn't added much to the conversation so far.  Training your replacement?”
"No," I said. “Cal works admin at the old Block, and he can get into the logging system.  Tell him what did you found.”
He told Rex about the inconsistencies with the weapons maintenance.
“That crowd,” I said.  “Well, you let stormies start killing off our best and brightest without any punishment and trust me – you’ll get a lot more visits.  Maybe even some actual rebels.”
“What am I supposed to do?”  Rex exclaimed.
“Maybe put down the slyth until you figure it out, hm?”
Rex looked down at it.  Then he put it back in his mouth.  “These aren’t slyth, Pee-ahce.  They’re non-habit forming.”
“They killed our boy!” I shouted.  “Isaac Royce is dead – murdered by those white-faced thugs.  No amount of industry is gonna undo that, or prevent the next murder.”
“Everyone thinks they’re immune to wealth, but Dantooine wouldn't be the first planet pacified by investment.”
I took a step closer.  “If this doesn’t get addressed – if you expect us to just grin and bear it – then the next time you see a big demonstration, don’t call me.  If you wanna talk to me, you’ll have to come out to the crowd – I’ll be front and center.”
“You do that and Command’ll have no problem gunning each and every one of you down.  Is that how you’re gonna solve this?  I didn’t think you were the martyr type.”
“If so you think they’ll spare you?  What use will the Moff have for a local lackey if all the other locals are dead? Think, for Force sake, man.”
“Get out of my sight.”
“Gladly!”  I shouted back, “Come on Cal, let’s go.”  We went back in through the window and stomped back out the front.

Cal and I untied our hounds and rode together for some time, venting our frustration at the situation.  Finally we got to Cal’s home, so we said our good-byes and I rode on.  I was exhausted by then.  I nearly fell asleep on my way back home.  Fortunately, my hound knows the way.  When I arrived I was soaked, cold, and dead tired.  Even seeing her standing in the doorway did little to wake me.  “It’s not that death puts me in the mood,” she said as she helped me inside, “But it reminds me to enjoy the moods when they arrive.”  I slept covered in her syrup all night.

***

The next few days were full of dead ends and death-sticks bit to the edge.  Rex couldn’t persuade the stormies to search for Isaac, or to do anything.  “But I got something in the works, I think.”  He tells me.  Yeah, right.  Just another empty promise.  Finally, we decide the ruse isn’t worth it any more, and we have Zapp announce the recovery of the body.  A private memorial is planned, followed by the usual public condolences at Mrs. Royce’ house.

That afternoon I pull on my best clothes while downing a fresh pot.  My communicator beeps and I turn it off.  The dead deserve our respect and attention.  Even Kath-hounds have been seen howling at a dead dog, even an old one who just won’t wake up.  All life is sentimental.  What really separates us from the animals is the war and hatred and twisted justice.  Sentience is a curse.  I hop on my hound, slightly jealous of his simplicity.
Marlene Royce lived on the third floor of a stacker, outside the main city.  Lots of the elders live away from the hustle and bustle.  The checkpoint is busy and the line moves slowly.
I chat with the people near me in line.  Heather’s son was recently promoted to associate at the law firm.  Jack was still breeding miniature krayt dragons, convinced he could make them thrive in the jungles.  Seth Brown got caught cheating again.  Why couldn’t those stormies have taken one of the waste like Seth?  Why’d it have to be Isaac Royce.

At the check point I hand over my ID.  stormie slowly turns on the droid, which slowly turns to scan my face while reading my ID.  “What’s your business, Mr. Flowers?”
“Condolences.”
“To whom?”
I turn to look into the distance.  Several dozen people have been let through since I was in line.  “Are you serious?  Same as them!”
“Been hearing Rebel talk.  This kind of event would be perfect for them to blend into.  But if you’re really going, you’ll know the name of the grieving.”
I let out a heavy sigh.  No use arguing.
“Marlene Royce.”
“Upon the death of her…?”
Are you serious?
“Her son,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“Named?”
“What is this, an investigation?  Isaac Royce!”
“Thank you,” stormie said, handing my ID back to me.  The window turns opaque again, and the gate opens.  What a Sithspawn I groan as I pass by, following the crowd.

When I arrive there’s already a line out the old building.  I tie my hound up in sight of the few others that are there.  They bark warily at each other.  Every so often a few people leave and a few more can go in.  The saddest conveyer belt you ever saw.
I finally get inside and up the stairs.  The chatter from inside apartment 31 was loud but indistinct.  Slowly I edge my way to the door.  When I’m let in, everyone greets me, “Captain – you came!”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say.  Still, I never know what to say at these sort of things. No mission, no mystery to solve, no justice to serve.  Just sadness.  But it’s important to be present for the family in hard times.  I chat politely as I go down the line.  His Uncle Rick is there, as is his older brother Slye, and his on-again off-again, Danisha.

Finally, I arrive at his mother.  She’s tall, her usually well-kept pink hair tangled from lack of care, her face creased with a mother’s tears.  I’d about die if I ever saw my mother looking this way, or murder whatever Luke, Lando, or Han made her feel that way.  No one deserves this grief.
She held my hand tightly and pulled me closer.  I lean in as she wraps her other arm around me.  She whispers in my ear, “Can you do something?  Don’t let my boy die for nothing.  My sweet, my sweet, my –“ her voice trailed off, replaced by chokes.  Uncle Rick put a big hand on her shoulder.
“Not much we can do,” I say weakly.  “We tried.”
“Please!”  She gasped roughly, and I felt some spit land on my ear.
“Mother,” Slye said.  “Please.”
“But he’s gone, and they’re still here.” She said.  I’d never heard they spoken with such venom.
“Alright,” I said quietly.  What else is there to say?  Tell her no?  Tell her this is just how the gal works?  Freedom is just an illusion, slowly eaten away by whoever’s really in charge?  I’m supposed to take care of these people, and this is all I have to offer?  Is that all I am?  Some bearer of bad news?  I thought of my own mother again.  How could I treat this mother any different?  How can I call this city my family if I don’t do everything I can to defend them.  What use is it to be around if I can only offer comfort during a battle we will all inevitably lose?  I’d just be another Rex, making promises to keep the peace, not to push for justice.
“Alright,” I say again.  “I’ll try.”
“Thank you, captain.”  She said, and she released her grip on me.  We exchange kisses and I go down the back stairs.

You ever get that bile in your stomach?  That sense the Gal ain’t right, and won’t ever be right.  You could make a deal with the Force to toss yourself off a waterfall in exchange for galactic peace, but evil would rear its head before you even made a splash.  And not just evil, but small-mindedness.  An easy choice for a quick answer, instead of the tougher one for a better answer.  I thought I’d gotten used to that feeling – the sense of injustice so deep it sickens your body.  An awareness so strong the body refuses to endure and wills itself to sickness and then death.
I’ve seen lots of people lose hope and die like that.  They go to sleep and just never wake up.  It isn’t weakness.  Being able to endure such despair doesn’t make one strong.  If I’d been a good man – Real Good, like a Jedi, the sickness would have taken me already.  But no.  When the Empire came for them, they died defending their cause.  When the Empire came for mine, I just stepped aside – determined to bide my time.  But what good is time if it’s wasted?  I’ve been out of time for months.
But no more.

The vision of Marlene crying kept flashing in front of me.  Her pleading voice echoed all around.  I needed to do something.  It didn’t need to work.  It didn’t need to be smart.  It just had to be something.  Anything.  Just anything.  Just to demonstrate I was alive, and the Empire hadn’t snuffed the worth out of me yet.
Ahead of me, through the sight of Marlene’s face, I saw the checkpoint, and the stormie who occupied it.  I saw myself leaping into his window, tearing his mask off, and beating him until his backup came to blow me to bits.  Only I wouldn’t be tossed into Stepstone – they’d string me up high.  They’d say I was a rebel, and that I’d been one all along.
That’s why they hadn’t found any, they’d say.  Because the Rebels weren’t gathering in the forests, but they were hiding in plain sight.  They’d double, triple patrols.  All my guys from the block would be rounded up.  Jamelia, too, maybe.  Rex would be glad to be rid of me.  And then what?  The Empire’s grip would only tighten, and the body count would rise.
No.  I couldn’t do that to the people.  My family.  A man’s got to do what’s right, even if it’s suffer in silence all his days.

Well, perhaps I didn’t need to suffer in silence.  I could go to Rex and raise hell with him again.  No.  That would only relieve me of my burning to do something.  That makes it about me and my burden.  And Rex has always relished a fight.  He’ll get defensive even if it means he stops making sense.  He’s got the power – he doesn’t need to listen to me.  I need something else.
That's it!  I’ll bring him here.  Have him confront the visage that overlays my sight like a targeting computer.  If anyone can inspire Rex to budge, it’s poor Marlene Royce.
For the rest of my ride into the city I thought of the different ways that could play out.  How would Marlene respond to seeing him come?  How would everyone else?  Yes, this is what I could provide.  Cathartic release not for me, but for them.  And if they tear him limb-from-limb, well, hopefully they’ll leave me his right hand.  With a good medical droid we can put something of his to good use for once.

By the time Rex’ mansion was in sight my stomach was churning with bile.  I went behind a bush and pushed two fingers down my throat until it came out.  Blue and green muk on the ground, slowly spreading outward.  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and shook it off, and then put my heels into my hound.
As equilibrium returned to my body and mind, I noticed a shuttle on top of the mansion.  It had an Imperial insignia on it.  Rex is really seeing the perks pile up.  I tied up my hound near the front and went inside.  I walked with purpose, feeling my feet pound the ground as it went from wood to metal to carpet.  Opening the door to his secretary, I step right up to her desk, determined to make an entrance.

“Hi Lyn,” I said loudly.
“Oh, you’re here.”  Lyn says, surprised.
“Yes!”  I respond.  Then her surprise registers.  “Wait, what?”
“We’ve been trying to reach you on the comm.  I figured you’d call before you – well, whatever.  Go in right away.  You’re late.”
I stand there, stupefied.
“Here,” Lyn says, standing and opening a door.
“Mr. Mayfield, Mr. Flowers has arrived.”
“Finally!”  I hear him shout.  “Get in here, you idiot.  You have any idea how late you are?  We've been trying to reach you all day!”
Lyn reaches her hand towards me and tugs on my bad arm.  I feel my body moving forward, and my legs mindlessly carry me onward, inside.  The door shuts behind me and locks.
I heard Rex say “I assure you, Governor, we have been trying to reach him all day.” Following his gaze I see a stranger sitting in the corner.  He's in a large chair I've never seen before.
“Not to worry,” Said the stranger.  “Disrespect from local fools doesn’t bother me.  Your trust in him, however, does.  I expected something better.”
“I apologize,” Rex said.  “Pee-ahce Flowers has his own way of doing things.  It works, for the most part.”
“Very well,” The stranger said, standing.  Rex stood, too.  I turned to face the stranger.
“Pee-ahce, I’d like you to meet Moff Wulff Prescott, Governor of th-.”
“I can take it from here,” the man said, dismissing Rex with a wave of his hand.  Rex appeared to shrink at the gesture.

I stared at Moff for a few moments.  His face is tall and thin, with visible cheekbones.  His eyes are narrow and blue.  He was dressed in a slick green suit, not unlike what I’d just vomited, with badges adorning his chest celebrating a variety of cruelty.  His sleeve cuffs and collar are as straight as Rensui trees.  His boots shine like the night sky.  Even in my very best outfit, I must look like a wreck by comparison.
“I am Moff Wulff Prescott of His Imperial Majesty’s galactic order.  And you are Pierce Flowers of Dantooine.  Yes?  The one who asked to see me?”
“O- Oh?”  I stammered.
“We both did,” Rex cut in.  “I made the call, and Flowers here provided the engine under my ass, so to speak.”
“Vulgar expression.”  Moff said under his breath.  “Magistrate Mayfield, one day – very soon if we are lucky – that tongue of yours will simply stop working.  Until then, hold it between your teeth until spoken to.” He sat down and motioned for us to do the same.  Moff clapped his hands and a back door opened.  A man in a black uniform ran in and bent over to put his ear at Moff’s mouth.
I turned to Rex, “What’s going on?”
“You told me to do something, and so I did.  We’ve been trying to reach you on the communicator for hours.  Do you know how embarrassing it was for me for him to arrive and you were still nowhere to be found?”
I put my hand in my pocket and felt for the comm's power switch.  Still off.  I'd forgotten to turn it back on after seeing Marlene.

The man in black nodded and headed back into the doorway.  Rex turned back to Moff, who remained silent, eyes wandering the room.  I opened my mouth to continue the conversation, but Moff put up a hand.  “Not quite.”  I lean back uneasily and wait.
“This looks like the inside of a ship." Moff finally said.  He turned back to Rex.  "Is that intentional?”
“Yes,” Rex said enthusiastically.  “I thought it more befitting an Imperial building than our regular wood.”
Moff let out a laugh.  “Magistrate, do not confuse this place with a space of true Imperial import.  But if that is what you wished you would have done better to imitate the halls of Coruscant.  High ceilings and marbledcrete columns and floor.  That is the true Imperial touch."

Silence returned, and this time nobody interrupted it.  After a brief time the man in the black uniform returned with a platter and a tray table.  He set up the table in front of Moff, and placed the platter upon it.  Lifting the cover, he revealed a smoking hunk of meat.  It smelled delicious.
“Never discuss anything on an empty stomach if you can help it,” Moff said, grinning.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Wookie,” Moff said, as he began to cut into the blackened flesh.
“Aren’t they supposed to be hairy?”
“Well I’m not eating it raw,” Moff said, scoffing.  After a few bites, he looked up at us.
“Alright, let us begin.  Let me know if I understand things-”
“Wait,” Rex said.  “Can we eat, too?”
Moff’s mouth turned to a thin line.  “It would have been better to have had your staff fetch your dinner while mine was being fetched, but I will delay the discussion, if you insist.  Manners must be maintained.  However, I will not wait to continue eating.  Wookie is best freshly cooked.”
Rex paused, before tentatively saying, “I meant that you-"
“No!” Moff laughed scornfully.  “Why would you think I brought food for you, too?  Wookie is expensive!”
“Oh," Rex said dejectedly.
“So we will begin?”  Moff said.  We both nodded.  “Very good.”  Moff took another bite, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin.  “I thought a conversation between us now could save me a headache later on,” Moff said.  He leaned backwards in his chair.  “We each have some goals.  I need this sector Rebel-free.”  He turned to me.  “I understand you would like my stormtroopers off your planet.  And you,” he turned to Mayfield.  “You just want to survive, don’t you.”
“Sir, I just want what’s best for everyone.” Rex said, voice shaking.
“Likely story.” Moff spat out what looked like a small bone onto the floor.  He turned to me.  “You have some semblance of principles, Mister Flowers, even if your punctuality is provincial.  This one would shoot the lot of you if I ordered it.”
“He’d shoot himself, if you were insistent enough,” I said.  Moff chuckled at that.  Emboldened by this, I went on.  “I believe we share the same goal, really.  I know what Rebels means.  I remember the Clone Wars, when they were called Separatists.”
“So do I,” Moff said dryly.
I rush to clarify “I mean, I remember that when Separatists were found on a system an entire battalion would come to root them out, and the people would get caught in the fight.  Believe me, we don’t want Rebels around either.  Now your stormies.  Uhh, sorry sir, your Stormtroopers.”
He swats the mistake with a flick of the wrist.  “I’ve no love for them, either.  No more than one loves a good wrench.”  He nods slightly in Rex’ direction and I feel a smile creep across my face.  We’ve more in common than I expected.  He takes another bite of his meal, and some juice rolls down his chin before he catches it with his napkin.
“They've been here for almost a year now and they’ve found nothing.  But I tell you, and please understand this isn’t a threat.  Just the whole truth.  If they stick around much longer Dantooine will be crawling with Rebels.  Isaac Royce’ death is the final straw.”

Moff sat back in his chair thoughtfully.  His blue eyes went toward the ceiling and stayed there.  Finally, he spoke.
“Yes, I see it now.  We’d smash the lot of you – of course.  But then to get your resources we’d have to turn Dantooine into another Kessel.  But that requires transportation, overseers, and training.  And they’d never do it as well as you could, knowing the place.”  His head came down and he looked back and forth between Mayfield and myself, “Costs best avoided.”  He smiled and sipped from a goblet.  Cautiously, I nod in return.
“So then it is decided." Moff declared.  "My people will leave, both the Stormtroopers and the resource extraction teams.  You will supply the Empire with 25% more materials than you are now.  And we will set up an ISB outpost within the system.  If there is Rebel activity, report it immediately.  We’ll know whether you do or not, since some of those agents will be among you.  But that’s better than Stormtroopers, I think you’d agree.”
What choice did we have?  We agreed.

“Thank you, gentlemen.”  Moff clapped his hands again and the uniformed man came out again.  "We're finished here," He said to him.  "Prepare the shuttle."  The man nodded and collected what was left of Moff's meal.  He turned his attention back to us.  “It is so hard to find good brokers this far from the core." He stood and we stood in response.  Extending his hand we each shook it in turn.  As he spoke the uniformed man came back to carry his chair out the door.  "Well, if you see me again it will be your last day alive in the galaxy, so I bid you farewell and hope that day never comes.”  Moff walked out the door, and Mayfield and I grinned at each other quietly until we heard his shuttle takeoff outside. Then we broke into celebration.  We had done it.

The stormies left much faster than I expected.  By the end of the week they were all gone.  In certain rooms in the Block it looked as if they’d just evaportated.  Cabinets still open, chairs nowhere near desks.  The checkpoints were abandoned wholesale.  We even found one of the scanner R-units in one of them, though it’s memory core had been emptied.  I had it moved to my office, as a token of our victory.  I sat down in my chair and looked out the window at the store fronts which were already being reclaimed.  "It's good to be back."

***

After the city had been cleaned up we had a big celebration in the plaza in front of Rex’ mansion.  Even his biggest critics had to admit he’d come through.  I didn’t mind giving him some of the credit.  At some point down the line I’d need his cooperation again.  I could enjoy his humiliation without adding to it.
“These are excellent,” I said to Sue, who was running the barbecue.  In addition to a good admin, Sue was one of the best cooks in town.  Didn’t want to do it for work though.  Money kills the satisfaction, she said.  That never made much sense to me.  What is money but satisfaction you can hold in your fist?
Rex had ordered the dismantling of most of the additions to his mansion.  Why waste money impressing someone who never wants to see you again?  I took a walk around the exterior, privately gloating at this concession of his.  Between that and the party noises behind me, it really started to hit me: I’d gotten my family back.

I walked behind the furthest new addition.  Suddenly I heard a familiar whine.  A blaster?  When’s the last time I’ve heard one of those?  Instinctively I leapt backward, though my arm hit an outer wall and I dropped my patty.  A red laser bolt flew past me and into the forest beyond.  I heard hushed voices and the scamper of feet, followed by a louder splat.  Someone had tripped.
That damn Moff.  I knew it was too good to be true.  He’d leave alright, then he’d have his spies kill us off one by one, until we agreed to become a Kessel just to keep our lives.  The Empire will make sell-outs of us all.
I drew my blaster and stepped boldly forward.  If they were gonna kill me, it wasn’t gonna be with a blast in the back.  I’d see it coming.
Looking down I saw two people struggling to get up.  “Freeze!”  I shout.  “Hands up, and get up slowly.  And drop your weapons, Imp scum.”
A single blaster was pushed over.
“And the other?”
“There ain’t another,” I heard a familiar voice say.
“Then keep your hands up and let me check.”
“No, no, you don't understand” She said.  It was definitely a woman’s voice. 
“Pierce.  It’s me.”  And she turned around with her hands up high.
“Kitty!”  I exclaimed.  “Kitty, what the hell are you doi-” I reposition my gun to aim it to the other body still on the ground.  “Then who’s that?  They got you captive, is that it?”
“No, Pierce.” Kitty said urgently.  She nudged the other person with her foot.  “Get up, Cal.”
Cal?

Calder Montgomery gets up.  “Sorry, sir.  Wouldn’t have fired if I knew it was you.”
“Why’d you fire at all?” I ask.  “Stormies are all gone, you know.  We’re having a party about it and everything.  Why’re you round here?”  The two looked disheveled.  But looking further I realize it isn’t just the mud.  Kitty’s blouse isn’t fully buttoned, and nor are Cal’s pants.
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
“Nothing,” Kitty pouts.  “Or it would be nothing if this one would just tell Martha it’s over.”
“It isn’t so simple!”  Cal insists, turning to her.
“I thought you said you tossed that gun after last time.  You almost shot Flowers, too.  Think we can cover that one up, too?”
Cover that one up?
“No!  It’s just that she’s real fragile, you know.”
“Well my patience is getting fragile!”
Too?
“Kitty, listen to me, please.  I’m beggin’ ya.  I’ll do it tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that before.”
After last time?
“Wait a minute,” I said, stepping forward and holstering my gun.  “I know what’s going on here.”  I said.
“We’re having an affair, yeah.” Kitty said. 
“No, no,” I said.  “You two.  You two killed Isaac.”

Cal stepped forward.  “I did, captain.  Kitty had nothing to do with it.  We were in a dark alley and he happened to come by, and I fired.”
“And he doesn’t have my reflexes,” I say to myself more than them.  “And realizing what you’d done, you emptied everything you had into him, and dumped him in Stepstones.  And then you,” I said, turning to Kitty, “You came to me as if you’d had some big news tip – but it was just lies.  Them stormies didn’t kill Isaac Royce at all.  They didn’t do anything wrong.  It was all you!”
“Yep, all me,” Cal said, stepping between us.
“Shut up, Cal.” Kitty said, pushing him over.  “If it weren’t for me you would have confessed long ago.”  Cal looked at his shoes.  “Yeah, Cal fired, but he would have left the body in the alley if it weren’t for me thinking of pinning it on the stormies.  Then Cal agreed to fake the patrol data.  And the rest is history.  And hey it worked out overall, wouldn’t you say?  So you’re welcome, really.”
I glared at her.  Twi’leks.  None of them can be trusted, not really.

“What?”  She said.  “You’re gonna arrest me?  That gonna be your first order of business now that you’re back?”
“No,” I said slowly, thinking.  “No, you’re right.  Stormies left because they think they did it – that someone did it.  At least they think we think they did it.  But with ISB all around, we can’t risk the truth getting out.  It’ll get back to Moff and I don’t know think he’ll take being lied to very well.  No, you’re right.”  I looked up.  “I can’t even fire either of you.  Too suspicious, and it’ll break the spell of victory on everybody.  I stick my hand out to Kitty.
“Miss Verde, I believe I underestimated you.  But I hope as long as you remain in the Block’s employ, you’ll be a little more straight with me.”
“A little more,” She said, smiling and shaking my hand.
“Now come on,” I said to her and Cal.  I dropped my patty back there, and my stomach’s just begging for a fresh one.  I turn to Cal.  “You tell Martha right away.  She’s not as fragile as you seem to think.” Cal's been enjoying some double-dipping, I'd guess.
“Yessir,” Cal said nodding.  “And my job?”
“Forbids you from having a weapon, least till I can train you myself to be a little less impulsive with it.  Imagine it had been a stormie instead of Isaac who found you and you'd shot him?  Then we’d all be dead.”
“Yessir,” Cal said.
I bent down to pick up his blaster and stuck it into my belt. “Now come on.  Let's get back to the celebration.”

Copyright ©️ 2021 Maslow Stories.

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I consider this story still a draft. I edit it occasionally. If you have any feedback for me, I'd love to hear it! Email me at armaslow@gmail.com. Please put "Star Wars Stories" in the subject line. Thank you!