[Coruscant] The Missing Street

[Honest Moe Uilor]

The 164th Precinct of the Coruscant Security Force’s Underworld Department, Northern Region was housed in- and around a large support column between Levels 1296 and 1289. A 7-story monstrosity constructed of reinforced transparisteel, the police station precariously loomed over the aptly-named Peacekeeper Plaza and was widely regarded as the most secure location in the entire area; accessible only through the building’s ground floor at level 1290 or, for those with the proper clearance, the “subterranean” parking garage at level 1289. While the surrounding area was considered relatively safe by Underworld definitions, ensured by the presence of law enforcement personnel and a high number of Guardian-class police droids, not five minutes could pass by without a CSF-airspeeder racing out of the garage, responding to suspicious activity somewhere else in the precinct with screaming sirens and a matching haste.

As Lieutenant Nesota Kynnovan pulled her Panther-class police interceptor into an empty space at the back of the parking garage that morning, her emerald eyes briefly fell upon the familiar sight of two colleagues who, dressed in their heavy leather and metal armor, scrambled to put on their helmets and adjust their facial masks as they ran towards their BARC-speeders. By the time the blonde-haired Coruscanti had disembarked from her own airspeeder with her black rucksack hoisted onto her back and her helmet propped beneath her right arm, the two BARC Patrol-officers were long gone already; leaving only the sound of their echoing sirens behind.

Just a normal day at work.

For security reasons, the elevator at the far end of the parking garage only went up to the ground floor. From there any of the other elevators, which were located on the other side of the reception area, could be taken up all the way to level 1296 but not without first being subjected to the watchful gaze of the desk sergeant. Sergeant Bolt, as he was affectionately called by the sentient police officers of the 164th Precinct, was a Guardian-class police droid who had once sustained damage while reporting to a domestic disturbance; losing an arm as he prevented an infuriated Rodian woman from attacking her unfortunate husband. Instead of requesting a replacement droid and start up a process that could potentially take months, the maintenance staff decided to take the damaged Guardian to the local Jawa instead, where he was repaired with the best available replacement part –the arm of an old B-1 Battle Droid- and subsequently repurposed as desk sergeant.

Upon spotting Nesota walking towards his desk, Sergeant Bolt shifted his attention away from the complaining Ithorian on the business side of the counter and spoke up with the masculine voice common to all Guardian-class police droids. “Lieutenant Nesota Kynnovan, Major Crime Unit.” As Nesota held her pace and turned her emerald eyed-gaze towards the desk sergeant, the droid continued. “You have one new visitor, awaiting your arrival in your office.” The blonde-haired Coruscanti replied with a polite nod and, as she made her way towards the elevators on the other side of the reception area, she could hear how the Sergeant interrupted the Ithorian’s steady stream of complaints by mentioning something about paperwork required to be filed in three-fold.

Nesota’s office, which was located on the fifth floor of the building, was a small room not much different from the other offices in the building. It was sparsely decorated with a metal desk and three chairs; two on the business end of the desk and a slightly larger one on the other side. She had managed to fit a small cabinet into the office, placing it against the right wall opposite of the large holographic bulletin board that took up most of the other wall. The whole was illuminated by three lights on the ceiling, one of which was broken, and the artificial light coming in from the transparisteel plates that made up the entirety of the back wall behind the desk. Perhaps the view over the Peacekeeper Plaza five stories below was the most impressive thing about the entire office.

As Nesota opened the door, her emerald eyes came to rest upon the brunette woman sitting in one of the chairs. Knowing that the brunette would have a serious problem if she sought out the Major Crime Unit, the blonde-haired Coruscanti placed her helmet onto the cabinet and dropped her rucksack into the unoccupied chair before putting two cups of hot stimcaf on her desk. The brew was strong enough to desaturize one’s dreams, exactly the way Nesota liked it, and as she took one for herself she shoved the other one a little closer towards the woman. “Here, stimcaf.” With those words, which left her soft pink-glossed lips on a tone that almost bordered friendly, Nesota sat down in her own chair and began to look at the brunette; patiently waiting to hear what brought the woman to her.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Coruscant. It had been a while since she had been to the city planet. It seemed to have been doing well rebuilding after the mess that the Sith created with their war against the Galactic Alliance. A hand ran through her brunette hair as she walked through the streets headed towards the office she had a scheduled meeting at. She could almost still feel the debris that took her a week to wash out of her chestnut locks, imagine the prized dreadnaught of the Alliance crashing through the roof of the Jedi temple. Still drove her insane, but at least she survived.

Allyson Locke was lucky that day, she had the now Grandmaster at her side at the time – her reflexes were a bit better. Since then she had discovered more of the Force and her reflexes have improved. Arriving at the department, Allyson yawned – it was early, and she was still running on Kashyyyk time, there she was more of a night owl. Seeing the light of the sun this early was never her favorite moment.

Heading into the prescient, Allyson looked around and pulled at the bomber jacket she wore. It didn’t attach her the Spacy, but still belonged to the Silver Jedi. The name on the jacket didn’t belong to her, but it was a minor detail and she usually waved it off when others asked. Looking a bit lost, another officer poked his head up and guided her towards the Lieutenant’s office. She gave a lazy salute and then headed towards the woman’s office. Hazel orbs peered about the office getting a slight feel for the woman. She had hard good things about her, which was always a positive when dealing with the sensitive subject she came to deal with.

The office had a leather chair which was meant for those meeting with the woman, she found it not the most comfortable, but with some adjusting she was able to find a position decent enough to keep her there for the time being. While she waited, the brunette Corellian waved her hand over her wrist mounted comm device. A holographic image that was only visible to her at the right angle, showed the details of the report, the real details. In her lap was a file that was for the Officer. Something had happened to one of their own on a mission in the underworld of Coruscant, Sith still lingered and so did the usual perps, the last thing they needed to know was that the Silvers were snooping around.

There was movement, she felt it from outside of the room, shoulders stiffened as she looked at the door. Could be anything and the woman had become jumpy as of lately with her last mission. Seeing that it was the one she had been waiting for, Allyson settled back into her seat and waved her hand over the wrist comm – closing out the sensitive information. A smile spread across her lips, as she nodded taking the Caf. “Smells good, thanks.” A memory was attached to caf like this and she smiled fondly remembering it and the person that she shared it with. A sip and she nodded, Yep, just like Yutan. Setting the cup down, Allyson exhaled and handed over the file drive to the woman. “Rumor has it that you have a homicide investigation going on.” Of course, Allyson wasn’t going to reveal that she had been eavesdropping the last few days trying to pick up who and what department got ahold of the case. “The man who was murdered, he’s family of someone from the Order – so I’ve been sent out to help with the investigation.”

Allyson kept quiet that the man was with the Shadows and was undercover trying to get a breakthrough on the gangs that had inhabited the Underground. There was no need to go into those details with the local police force. A smile remained on the Corellian’s face as she nodded, “So I’ll be helping out hopefully we can find out what happened to him.” It was getting warm in the room, so she removed the bomber jacket from her frame and let it slouch behind her. A pair of dog tags hung from around her neck, and a hand dusted off the white v-neck t-shirt. It was nice not having to deal with her spacy uniform for his.

“Oh,” Pinching the bridge of her nose, Allyson shook her head. “Geez, I’m sorry. Introductions. I swear I have manners” A playful laugh escaped the Corellian as she held out her hand. “Lt. Commander Allyson Locke of the Silver Spacy, nice to meet you, uh…” The woman’s name hung on her tongue as she looked around and finally found her desk plaque, “Lt. [member="Nesota Kynnovan"]”

 

[Honest Moe Uilor]

As the brunette started talking, Nesota listened attentively while her emerald green eyes observed the woman on the business side of her desk. When the homicide investigation of this John Doe had been assigned to the Major Crime Unit, she wondered why it wasn’t assigned to the competent, albeit overworked, people of the Criminal Investigation Department. At the time Nesota assumed that their victim had been a higher-ranking member of a major Underworld gang and that his violent death would have consequences for the stability of the precinct; that would have certainly justified the attention of the Major Crime Unit. In between two sips of stimcaf however, the blonde-haired Coruscanti began to realize she had been wrong about her initial assessment and that, while she undoubtedly tried to help, Allyson Locke had given her a lot more new questions than she actually answered.

Noticing that the woman had held out her hand, Nesota grabbed it in a firm handshake. “My condolences, Commander Locke.” As she spoke however, the blonde’s Coruscanti-accented voice wasn’t exactly sympathetic; instead matching the sceptical look in her eyes as she gazed into the other woman’s hazel ones. In the Underworld, people were killed on a daily basis for something as simple as getting into the wrong elevator and most of those cases were barely even investigated as it was. Those were just a matter of “wrong place, wrong time”. It just didn’t made sense to her that an officer of the Silver Spacy would come all the way to Coruscant to assist in the investigation of what was simply just an unlucky death, not unless there was a bigger picture she failed to see.

Willing to give Allyson Locke the benefit of the doubt, at least for now, Nesota continued. “I take it you want to see the remains and arrange their repatriation with our medical examiner?” The tone in her voice was about as genuine as the warranty on items bought from the local Jawa, and it matched the look in her emerald green eyes as the blonde rose up to her feet. “In the meantime, I’ll make our case files available to you and make arrangements so you can visit the location of the murder.”

 

[Allyson Locke]

The handshake was firm, and Allyson returned the grip. As the pleasantries were over with, she could tell while they were talking that the Officer had something she didn’t believe. Allyson wasn’t that foolish, she used the story for two reasons, one, so that she didn’t weird anyone out or alert the wrong people that the Jedi were planet side embedding themselves for investigative reasons. Also, second to see if the officer she was working with was as good as they had mentioned. Having been in the spy game for some time now, Allyson’s expression never changed, never giving away anything as she continued to narrative as to why she was here.

“Preferably the remains first along with the autopsy report. I’d like to get the remains back to the family as soon as possible.” The other woman stood, and Allyson followed, she felt a nerve pinch in her lower back as she winced slightly. That chair was far more uncomfortable than she realized. A hand rubbed her lower back slightly as she grabbed the bomber jacket and swung it over her slender frame. Fingers fidgeted with her dog tags as she kept the smile spread across her face.

[SIZE=10pt]“Are you the lucky one to show me around?” Her voice pleasant as she tried to lighten the mood the best she could. If they remained gloomy and stern she would go crazy. She held her cup of caf tightly as she tried to think of something more to say without giving anything away[/SIZE]

[member="Nesota Kynnovan"]

 

[Honest Moe Uilor]

Knowing they would likely not return to the office after their visit to the morgue, Nesota ignored the brunette’s question as she moved around her desk and instead took her helmet from the cabinet. It was a normal question and the Coruscanti knew that the other woman only tried to lighten the mood a little but, as her emerald green eyes absently stared at the helmet while she tried to think of a way to respond, she couldn’t help but to feel annoyed. Even a little insulted. While she had very little choice but to accept Allyson’s explanation for now, Nesota knew from experience just how dangerous it could be to be kept in the dark here in the Underworld; the fact Allyson Locke most likely knew more than she was letting on and hence deliberately placed both of their lives in danger just rubbed her the wrong way. Especially because the other woman was light-hearted about it.

Propping the helmet beneath her right arm and holding on to her mug of stimcaf with her left hand, Nesota turned around and took the three steps she needed to reach the door of her office. With something that almost resembled a real smile, she turned her attention to Allyson Locke while she opened the door. “Indeed. Lucky me.”

Most of the trip down to the morgue was made in a glum silence at that point.

For practical reasons, the medical laboratory and the adjacent morgue were located in a separate part of the police station’s basement. This way, the medical examiner and his assistants of the Criminal Investigation Department could drive their airspeeder almost entirely into their laboratory and bring in any victims both swiftly and discreetly. As the two women made their way through the parking garage and approached a set of metal doors imprinted with both a biohazard symbol and the words “MEDICAL LABORATORY”, Nesota leaned towards Allyson a little and, slowing her pace, spoke up for the first time since their departure from her office. “There’s a reason why I drink my stimcaf this strong.” The Coruscanti turned her emerald green eyes towards the other woman and, for a brief moment, an actual smile began to adorn her face. Even though the woman annoyed her a little bit Nesota didn’t want to traumatize the brunette and, as she spoke, the tone of her slightly accented voice actually became a little caring. “Keep the mug close to your mouth, as if you want to take a sip. Like this.” She demonstrated it by raising her mug of stimcaf and holding it just inches from her bottom lip; taking in the strong aroma of the atrociously strong brew. “The smell of the stimcaf will suppress the stench of formaldehyde.”