Isard's Grip - Chapter 2, Part 1
Aug. 18th, 2005 05:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
athersgeoWow. I'm on a roll today. I've updated one of my CBB drabbles three times, I've nearly got the next installment of my OTHER CBB drabble finished and ready for posting, and oooh, lookitthis: More Isard's Grip.
See how productive I am when armed with a Marillion CD and an otherwise empty office *nid*
For the prologue and chapter 1 (in its completeness), check the links over on the right *points*
As ever, this hasn't been beta'd or edited (beyond spellchecking), so if there are any problems/silly errors/complete goofs give me a prod.
See what you think :)
Chapter Two
"So what do we know?" Myron asked as Caz closed the door of his office and sat down.
"Well," Caz answered, "SOCO says that Greeta was dismembered by some kind of bladed weapon."
The corner of Myron's mouth lifted in a small smile. "I think I'd worked that out myself."
Caz acknowledged the truth of that statement. "SOCO was basically ruling out a lightsaber or other form of laser cutter."
Myron had just about worked that out, too, but he let it pass. "What else?"
"SOCO's initial findings are that Greeta was killed where we found her." Caz consulted with her datapad. "SOCO says that she'll have the toxicology reports and a final cause of death first thing tomorrow morning."
"A final cause of death?" Myron blinked. "I'd have thought that would be obvious."
"Apparently not," said Caz, putting her datapad down again. "SOCO isn't sure that Greeta wasn't killed by some kind of narcotics overdose, and the beating and dismemberment happened post mortem."
Myron's eyebrows slowly slid up. "There's some likelihood of that?"
Caz nodded. "SOCO found injectors and injector tracks on Greeta's arms. She also said that the ligature marks were consistent with the use of stun-cuffs, and I found a set stored in the nightstand by the bed."
He blinked. "Sex toy?"
His partner blushed. "Maybe. SOCO thinks it could be. The ligature marks aren't recent; she said they were more like scars than anything else."
"So we've got a pair of Rodians with a thing for kinky sex." He frowned. "Sex turned rough and went rapidly south?"
"It could be," Caz said hesitantly.
Myron shook his head again. "No; I'm not buying that theory either. It's too neat, and this is a messy crime." He frowned again. "Did SOCO say anything about the piece of Basic scrawled on the wall?"
Once more Caz picked up her datapad. "Yeah," she said eventually. "The handwriting matched samples found in the house, so either Greeta or Doda wrote it. DNA trace analysis will be completed in the morning to confirm which one."
Myron gave a slow nod. "My guess? It's Doda." He chewed on his thumb for a moment. "OK. Here's what we're going to do. I want you to find everything you can on Doda and Greeta Kavila. Their life history. When they came to Couruscant. Why." Caz nodded. "I'm going to see if I can speak to the most famous of Lusankya's victims."
~*~
Hobbie made his way through the labyrinthine headquarters of Starfighter Command towards the small office that had been set aside for Rogue Squadron's use, mentally reviewing his stint as a pilot trainer. When was the last time Rogue Squadron had the luxury of a choice of pilots? The normally dour expression on his face mutated to a wry grin. As far as he could recall, they'd never had that luxury before. Even back on Yarvin, before the battle against the first Death Star, the roster had been a matter of the only people checked out to fly X-Wings, and that was stretching it a little, seeing as Luke Skywalker wasn't officially checked out on an X-Wing until a month after the Yarvin evacuation, nearly two months after the battle!
Still wryly amused by that realisation, Hobbie reached Tycho's office. The door was open, so after a cursory rap of the knuckles against the doorframe, he entered. To his surprise, though, he found Tycho slumped, sound asleep, across his desk.
"As if one Wedge in the squadron wasn't enough," Hobbie muttered, shaking his head. Louder, he called, "Tycho, tell me you didn't sleep here last night."
Hobbie watched as Tycho jerked upright, eyes suddenly wide and confusion written large on his face. For a few seconds, the Alderaanian stared at his surroundings (and Hobbie) in complete noncomprehension. Then he blinked.
"Hobbie?"
Hobbie smiled patiently. "Yes, Tycho. Hobbie."
Tycho blinked again, then rubbed a hand over his face. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, you asked me to review pilots for the squadron's roster," Hobbie answered, amused.
"I did?" Tycho echoed, blankly. "That's for tomorrow morning."
"It is tomorrow morning, Tych."
"Tell me I didn't sleep here last night," Tycho pleaded.
"No can do, boss," said Hobbie. "You were slumbering like a baby Ewok in his mother's arms when I came in just now."
For no reason that Hobbie could see, Tycho shuddered violently at that. "I must have been," he murmured. Then he shook his head. "What time is it?"
"Nearly nine hundred hours." Hobbie frowned. "Tych, are you OK? You look a little out of it."
Tycho shook his head. "I just need some caf, that's all." He pushed to his feet and grabbed the empty caf pot on his desk. "Let me go fill up; Nawara should be here soon and we can get started."
Hobbie nodded and watched with a sense of disquiet as his friend headed out of the office. There was something more wrong than being sleepy. Of that, Hobbie was positive. If nothing else, Tycho hadn't even ordered him not to tell Wes and Wedge about this morning and that was the one thing Hobbie would have expected Tycho to have done. Perhaps something happened yesterday? Or maybe he's worried about Winter? He shook his head. Perhaps Nawara could shed some light on matters.
~*~
See how productive I am when armed with a Marillion CD and an otherwise empty office *nid*
For the prologue and chapter 1 (in its completeness), check the links over on the right *points*
As ever, this hasn't been beta'd or edited (beyond spellchecking), so if there are any problems/silly errors/complete goofs give me a prod.
See what you think :)
"So what do we know?" Myron asked as Caz closed the door of his office and sat down.
"Well," Caz answered, "SOCO says that Greeta was dismembered by some kind of bladed weapon."
The corner of Myron's mouth lifted in a small smile. "I think I'd worked that out myself."
Caz acknowledged the truth of that statement. "SOCO was basically ruling out a lightsaber or other form of laser cutter."
Myron had just about worked that out, too, but he let it pass. "What else?"
"SOCO's initial findings are that Greeta was killed where we found her." Caz consulted with her datapad. "SOCO says that she'll have the toxicology reports and a final cause of death first thing tomorrow morning."
"A final cause of death?" Myron blinked. "I'd have thought that would be obvious."
"Apparently not," said Caz, putting her datapad down again. "SOCO isn't sure that Greeta wasn't killed by some kind of narcotics overdose, and the beating and dismemberment happened post mortem."
Myron's eyebrows slowly slid up. "There's some likelihood of that?"
Caz nodded. "SOCO found injectors and injector tracks on Greeta's arms. She also said that the ligature marks were consistent with the use of stun-cuffs, and I found a set stored in the nightstand by the bed."
He blinked. "Sex toy?"
His partner blushed. "Maybe. SOCO thinks it could be. The ligature marks aren't recent; she said they were more like scars than anything else."
"So we've got a pair of Rodians with a thing for kinky sex." He frowned. "Sex turned rough and went rapidly south?"
"It could be," Caz said hesitantly.
Myron shook his head again. "No; I'm not buying that theory either. It's too neat, and this is a messy crime." He frowned again. "Did SOCO say anything about the piece of Basic scrawled on the wall?"
Once more Caz picked up her datapad. "Yeah," she said eventually. "The handwriting matched samples found in the house, so either Greeta or Doda wrote it. DNA trace analysis will be completed in the morning to confirm which one."
Myron gave a slow nod. "My guess? It's Doda." He chewed on his thumb for a moment. "OK. Here's what we're going to do. I want you to find everything you can on Doda and Greeta Kavila. Their life history. When they came to Couruscant. Why." Caz nodded. "I'm going to see if I can speak to the most famous of Lusankya's victims."
Hobbie made his way through the labyrinthine headquarters of Starfighter Command towards the small office that had been set aside for Rogue Squadron's use, mentally reviewing his stint as a pilot trainer. When was the last time Rogue Squadron had the luxury of a choice of pilots? The normally dour expression on his face mutated to a wry grin. As far as he could recall, they'd never had that luxury before. Even back on Yarvin, before the battle against the first Death Star, the roster had been a matter of the only people checked out to fly X-Wings, and that was stretching it a little, seeing as Luke Skywalker wasn't officially checked out on an X-Wing until a month after the Yarvin evacuation, nearly two months after the battle!
Still wryly amused by that realisation, Hobbie reached Tycho's office. The door was open, so after a cursory rap of the knuckles against the doorframe, he entered. To his surprise, though, he found Tycho slumped, sound asleep, across his desk.
"As if one Wedge in the squadron wasn't enough," Hobbie muttered, shaking his head. Louder, he called, "Tycho, tell me you didn't sleep here last night."
Hobbie watched as Tycho jerked upright, eyes suddenly wide and confusion written large on his face. For a few seconds, the Alderaanian stared at his surroundings (and Hobbie) in complete noncomprehension. Then he blinked.
"Hobbie?"
Hobbie smiled patiently. "Yes, Tycho. Hobbie."
Tycho blinked again, then rubbed a hand over his face. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, you asked me to review pilots for the squadron's roster," Hobbie answered, amused.
"I did?" Tycho echoed, blankly. "That's for tomorrow morning."
"It is tomorrow morning, Tych."
"Tell me I didn't sleep here last night," Tycho pleaded.
"No can do, boss," said Hobbie. "You were slumbering like a baby Ewok in his mother's arms when I came in just now."
For no reason that Hobbie could see, Tycho shuddered violently at that. "I must have been," he murmured. Then he shook his head. "What time is it?"
"Nearly nine hundred hours." Hobbie frowned. "Tych, are you OK? You look a little out of it."
Tycho shook his head. "I just need some caf, that's all." He pushed to his feet and grabbed the empty caf pot on his desk. "Let me go fill up; Nawara should be here soon and we can get started."
Hobbie nodded and watched with a sense of disquiet as his friend headed out of the office. There was something more wrong than being sleepy. Of that, Hobbie was positive. If nothing else, Tycho hadn't even ordered him not to tell Wes and Wedge about this morning and that was the one thing Hobbie would have expected Tycho to have done. Perhaps something happened yesterday? Or maybe he's worried about Winter? He shook his head. Perhaps Nawara could shed some light on matters.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-19 07:14 am (UTC)