Chapter Text
There's a saying somewhere that Coruscant never sleeps. I don't know who says that, because Coruscant can't exactly sleep if it never wakes--it's too caught in some weird twilight haze of noise and faceless crowds and bright lights and back-alley shadows. All the artificial daylights make time blend together like it never does on any other planet, and sleeping and waking gets to be about the same way. It's the simulated weather that does it, I think. Everyone goes a little nuts when the sun only comes out if you tell it to.
The point is, Coruscant never sleeps, but I do, so I was not happy to be woken by an alarm at 0600 hours at the crack of artificial dawn, telling me that someone was waiting at my office. I checked my commlink, just to see if I'd forgotten some kind of appointment with this mystery visitor, but there was nothing. No message, no courtesy call. That was an exceptional lack of etiquette, even in the lower levels of Coruscant.
Still, rude business was business. I wasn't so well off I could snub a client out of hand, so I went.
He was waiting in the hallway when I got there, his arms crossed and looking every bit the image of impatience, as if getting me out of bed an hour and a half too early was a horrible inconvenience for him and not for me. He was a young man, a human. A handsome man, by most metrics, with a square jaw and strong nose and clear blue eyes. His feathery brown hair was loose around his slightly tanned face in the careless way that meant he'd put a whole lot of care into it. He probably would have looked more charming if he wasn't so busy scowling at me. As it was, I was too tired to have any opinion of him at all, beyond supremely annoyed.
"About time you showed up," he groused as I unlocked the door.
I ignored him and went into my office, directly past the sign that clearly said my hours started at 0900. Whoever this man thought he was, so long as he had a paying job for me, he could drag me out of bed at dawn, but lines had to be drawn somewhere, and I'd be damned if I'd say a single word before I had my morning tea.
He got the message, but didn't like it--he scowled even harder and more threw than sat himself on the office couch much like a petulant child would. He watched me as I put water in the kettle and pulled mugs from the cupboard beneath my bookshelf, then selected a tin of tea leaves from my bottom desk drawer. A lot of them were running low--I'd have to buy more soon.
I watched my guest back, though I didn't make it as obvious as he did. He was a fidgety sort, always flexing his fingers or tapping his toes, with a gaze that roamed all over my office when it wasn't fixed squarely on me. There was a restless glint in his eyes that gave me the sense he'd stayed up all night instead of getting out of bed early, which only excused some of his horrible decorum.
He was dressed in dark robes that were quite distinctly Jedi in style and his discontent made the Force churn around him--clearly Force-sensitive, and not just a little. A Jedi in profession, if not in temperament. I didn't see a lightsaber on him, but it didn't mean he didn't have one. Those robes had a lot of places to hide a weapon.
I didn't see why a Jedi would come looking for me--last I heard, they managed their own affairs. But then again, last I heard, Jedi didn't participate in wars either, and that was clearly no longer the case.
A minute or two passed in silence until the water finished boiling and the kettle shut itself off. I measured a sizeable pinch of loose tea leaves--an aromatic Alderaan blend--into an old ceramic strainer and settled it in my mug, then poured the hot water over to steep. Only once this was accomplished did I finally address my incredibly rude guest and ask if he would like a cup for himself.
The Jedi wrinkled his nose. "No, thanks," he said, in such a tone that implied he'd rather kiss a bantha's behind. I was not especially surprised that he would refuse any semblance of civilized hospitality, but was disappointed nonetheless. It would be nice, sometimes, if people could exceed expectations instead of living down to them.
"Suit yourself."
We sat in silence as I waited for my tea--I, out of choice, and he, likely out of stubbornness. Chances were, he found it more palatable to be silent by choice than to speak and be actively ignored. It was about 0630 at that point, which was still a lot earlier than I was ever usually awake, but later enough that I was feeling human again. Outside, I could hear the city start the shift to daytime patterns. Speeder repulsors and foot traffic filtered into the buzz of carbon dioxide scrubbers and humming power generators and the clatter of wind-blown refuse. I listened without thinking about much of anything at all, certainly not about the Jedi sitting across from my desk who would undoubtedly cause many headaches in the next few days. It was peaceful, at least for the moment. After ten years of this thing, you take what you can get.
My tea finished steeping, and I set the ceramic strainer aside on a folded napkin, just so. I took a sip. It was smooth and rich with slightly bitter undertones--a properly brewed cup, as it should be. I gave myself another quiet moment to take in the warm aroma, then set the cup down. It was best not to upset my guest too much. "So. What brings you to my office this early in the morning?"
Now, the Jedi's agitation was palpable, like gale-force wind whipping out into Force despite whatever shielding he had--if he had any to begin with. With such poor control over his emotions, I had no idea how he had ever been Knighted. Maybe standards had declined in the last twenty years.
He sneered at me. "You're Obi-Wan Kenobi."
That was probably supposed to mean something, so I took another sip of my tea and tried to remember if this Jedi was one I ought to know. I didn't have to think very long; I could count the number of Jedi I knew on one hand. The number of Jedi that knew anything about me was even less, and this one wasn't one of them. Most likely, he'd gotten my name off the HoloNet or the sign on my door. Maybe saying people's names like he was accusing them of something was just how he got his laughs in.
"You know, usually when you meet someone it's polite to introduce yourself, not the other person. And now you've gone ahead and introduced me, whereas I cannot do the same for you," I said. "How awkward for us."
The Jedi made a face. "You don't know who I am?"
"I just said as much. This conversation will go a lot faster if you don't repeat everything I say."
The Jedi scowled even more. It was a wonder he didn't have a permanent wrinkle between his eyebrows. He cursed in Huttese under his breath, then said, "You can call me...Rex."
"Sure, 'Rex'," I said. "I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi. Private investigator. How do you do?"
'Rex' had a blackmail problem. Not one of his own, but of someone he was protecting--a Senator Amidala from Naboo. I, of course, wanted to know why the Jedi were involved with a Senator's protection, to which 'Rex' responded with a snotty, "That's none of your business."
I pressed, as I always did, and he told me it was a matter for the Jedi Order.
This was not the first time a Jedi had pulled rank to try and tell me what I did and did not deserve to know about my own job. It was, however, the most ham-handed and impolite of these attempts I had ever seen. If 'Rex' was somehow acting on behalf of the Order--of which I had significant doubts--he was definitely not garnering my good will towards them, which I already had precious little of to begin with.
I didn't see the point of this charade. Jedi end mission reports, so long as they weren't classified, were public record--it was an important part of Republic transparency. I could and would look it up on my own time. Either 'Rex' didn't know this, or he was determined to waste my time. Neither of these suppositions were flattering.
"Very well," I said. "Let's move on to the blackmail, then. Do you have the message with you?"
'Rex' nodded and pulled out a piece of flimsi. Not surprising. Blackmail letters were often made in physical media since they were harder, though by no means impossible, to trace. "It's the third one we've gotten. This was delivered to me last night, around 2300."
"To you? Not to Senator Amidala?"
'Rex' made a face like he'd swallowed a frog. "We, uh. Check the Senator's mail for things like this. And other hazards."
"That hardly seems like something that would require Jedi attention, but fine," I said. "May I see the letter?"
'Rex' handed it to me, and I turned it carefully between my fingers. It was cream colored with crisp construction and a medium weight--definitely high quality stationery. The actual contents of the letter were less sophisticated: 'Senator Amidala will retract her amendment proposals for Bill 2712a, or her secret will be the least of her worries.' Not the typical wording to put the bite on someone, but clear enough.
"When did you first get these letters?"
"About a week and a half ago. They all say basically the same thing."
I hummed to myself. "I notice this letter doesn't actually mention what secret your mystery blackmailer is attempting to reveal. Are you sure this secret even exists?"
"Yes," 'Rex' said.
I set the letter down. "And do you have any idea what it might be?"
"What makes you think I'd tell you if I did?"
I sighed and drummed my mechanical fingers on my desk. The sound usually soothed me, but today was trying my patience in many ways. "It is my understanding that you are attempting to hire me to investigate this blackmail attempt. Usually, these investigations are easier and faster when I don't have to find things you already know."
'Rex' frowned. "You think knowing the blackmail would help you?"
"It could make a difference, but obviously there's no way to know until I actually have some idea of what it is," I said. "Do you know what this secret is or not?"
'Rex' paused for half a second too long before replying, "No."
Great. He was one of those clients. Sometimes I wished my business attracted a more forthright clientele.
I nodded. "Very well. I should warn you, though, that if I investigate this case, there's a very high chance I'll learn this secret of Senator Amidala's."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a fact," I said. "If you ask me to investigate something, you shouldn't be surprised if I do just that. If I learn anything, I won't turn around and blackmail you or the Senator--I'm sworn to confidentiality, so long as it's not something criminal in nature, but if you're uncomfortable trusting me to that extent, then perhaps my services aren't the best option."
"Sworn by what?" 'Rex' asked.
"My honor and my integrity as a professional. You have your Code, I have mine," I replied. "I have a business to run, 'Rex'. Word gets around, and I'll have no clients at all if they hear I'd sell them out for a pretty credit or a few hits in the face."
'Rex' leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. He seemed to think on my words, and whatever he thought, he didn't seem to like it. He didn't leave, though. It was not a resounding show of faith in my abilities or discretion, but it was good enough for now.
"So," I continued, tapping the blackmail letter, "what exactly do you expect me to do with this?"
"Investigate, obviously," 'Rex' said.
"Investigation isn't magic, my dear. I have to know what I'm trying to find. Do you need to know where this came from? Who sent it?"
"I need the blackmail to stop," 'Rex' said, gesturing vaguely to the letter.
I took a long moment to drink more of my tea, then set it down again. "I'm a private investigator, not a bounty hunter."
'Rex' ground his teeth. "That's fine. All I need is a name."
That had me pause long enough to properly appraise 'Rex' once more. He was obviously angry, even without my being able to feel it through the Force. His emotions were barely leashed, roiling like a live thing just beneath his skin, thrashing to break free and hurt someone. It was the furthest thing from Jedi serenity I could imagine. I wondered what 'Rex' would do if I gave him the name he asked for, but I didn't wonder long. It was pretty obvious--he wanted to hunt and kill whoever had threatened Senator Amidala. For some reason, this protection job was extremely personal to 'Rex'.
If this was what the Jedi Order was turning out these days, I had made the right decision in leaving. I would hate to become anything like this man.
Could I really do this? The job itself was straightforward, but I didn't like that 'Rex' was using me as part of his personal manhunt--if I wanted to offer those sorts of services I'd still be collaborating with bounty hunters and probably make a lot more money. I didn't want any part of someone's messy revenge--especially the deadly kind. Even if my heart was as blackened as Honorable Master Jedi's, this was the exact kind of job that could make me an accessory to murder, which was the last thing I needed.
"I can get you your blackmailer's name," I told 'Rex' after some long consideration. "I might even be able to do it fast, if your blackmailer is still on the planet. But when I find them, I'm going to turn them over to the authorities, not you."
"What?" 'Rex' snarled.
"You might think yourself above the law, Master Jedi, but I am very much not," I said. "I can't find and give you your blackmailer's name, knowing you'll commit murder with it. There's a due process I can't afford to subvert, and if you want my services, neither can you."
"I'm not going to kill them--"
"You obviously are," I said. "You're angry beyond reason over this situation, and if that blackmailer were here in the room with us right now, I have no trouble believing that you could cut them down without a second thought. I have morals, Master Jedi, ones that are worth a lot more than five hundred credits a day plus expenses."
"I have to know who's sending these letters," 'Rex' growled.
"And you would, after they were arrested. That would put an end to their blackmail, wouldn't it? Just like you wanted," I said. "But if you're so committed to your vigilante headhunt, then by all means, go ahead. Find them yourself. There's nothing I can do during my investigation that you can't. I daresay that with your Jedi powers and resources, you could find them even faster than I could." If he were smart enough to know how to use his skills. Since he hadn't managed to find the blackmailer yet, despite having two prior chances to do so, Master Jedi's investigative skills likely left something to be desired. "Or you can take your blackmail to a different private dick, one who doesn't care about the blood that gets spilled on their actions. There's plenty of those, too."
"You're supposed to be the best," 'Rex' said.
I had no idea where 'Rex' had heard such a thing. I certainly wasn't telling anyone that.
"I highly doubt I'm the best. Coruscant is a big city," I told him. "I'm quite good at my job, I won't deny that, but there's plenty of acceptable substitutes if my ethics are a breaking point for you. I can even refer you, if you'd like."
'Rex' fumed over my words, considering his options. While he did that, I went to brew myself a second cup of tea, this time with a piece of crystal sugar at the bottom. By the time my tea was ready and I had retaken my seat at my desk, 'Rex' was still thinking.
It took him an age to respond, but finally, he said, "Fine. Do your investigation. As long as this gets taken care of, you can do whatever you want."
'Rex' finally departed at 0712, leaving behind the blackmail letter, the letter's envelope, my thousand credit retainer, and a throbbing headache between my temples. He was still agitated when he left, but it would be a snowy day in Coruscant before 'Rex' learned to let go of his agitations.
I wondered if he wasn't exhausted, being so angry all the time. I certainly had been, when I was younger. I had learned better, eventually, so maybe there was hope for 'Rex', but I wouldn't stake any hopes on it. If his Master couldn't train some emotional discipline into him after ten to fifteen years of Padawanship, some part along that learning process was probably irreparably broken.
I put it out of mind. He'd paid me to investigate, not to waste time thinking about how the Jedi had gotten to wherever the hell they were now.
I picked up the envelope. Not for the first time, I thought wistfully on how much easier my life would be if I could simply ask the Force for answers. For a brief time, back when I was still at the Temple, I knew someone who was psychometric--he could get memories from things he touched. If I had that, I could probably get a clear look at the blackmailer's face, if not their intentions as well, but psychometry was unfortunately something inborn, not learned. Not that it mattered. I couldn't use the Force that way anymore--I hadn't been able to for a long time. All I had now were my eyes and hands.
The envelope was soft pastel blue, made of similar, if heavier high-quality stock to the letter, possibly even from the same matching set. The envelope flap had been sealed with self-adhesive, and the jagged edges in the slit top showed it had been opened with something dull--maybe a fork or a screwdriver. Assuming 'Rex' was the one who had opened the top, the envelope had not been tampered with in any way I could discern. I didn't bother with fingerprints. Even if anything had survived transit, I didn't have a database for that kind of thing. If 'Rex' wanted forensics, he should have gone to law enforcement.
I flipped the envelope over. On the back, there was a private courier's stamp in black, with a postmark date from the day before. Speedy delivery, especially in this city. I recognized the stamp's design as coming from a courier service a bit further down the lower levels, perhaps a twenty minute's drive away. I'd used their services before--it was a reputable business, despite their usual clientele. The envelope had a return address, belonging to what was obviously some part of the Senate building, but no mailing address. Annoying but not unusual. Private courier services often only sent a few packages at a time, so giving a courier a verbal mailing address without writing it down on the package itself was common, if frowned upon. The return address was also not strictly required, but couriers were a lot fussier about having one--having undelivered packages hanging around was one of those things that could really get a courier service into hot water.
I tapped the envelope against my chin. Most courier services didn't have package drop boxes--all packages had to be checked over in person before they could be sent out, which meant that most likely, someone at the courier service had face-to-face interaction with the blackmailer or one of their associates. That was as good a place to start as any.
I finished my tea, put on my coat, and left.