A SEPARATE LAW: PART TWO - [Comm-Links](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links) - A SEPARATE LAW: PART TWO A SEPARATE LAW: PART TWO ======================== Undefined Undefined A Separate Law [Previous](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13147) [Next](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13149) Content ------- English Dropping his duffel, Gates looked around his tiny apartment a last time and verified he had every one of his very limited assortment of personal items. Satisfied, he took his MobiGlas out and called the management company to let them know he’d vacated the premises. Mundane matters complete, Gates cued the cutout software on his MobiGlas and placed another call. Angelique’s heart-shaped face appeared in the pick-up, smiling. The bruises Kitty had put there were already fading. “Armi!” she said, eyes too bright for complete sobriety, but not so high he had to take notice. “Good to see you’re feeling better, Angelique.” She nodded, picking up on the cool response. “What is it, Armi?” “I’m leaving on business. You’ll be on your own for a bit.” Angelique frowned, pretty brows drawing tight, “But who’s going to look after me?” “You will continue as arranged. Nothing changes.” “The Se-“ He interrupted her, not wanting her to use the title, “Nothing changes. Deposits will continue. Keep happy and listen well. I will be in touch.” “What about the other thing?” Angelique asked, brushing her bruised eye. “Taken care of.” “Just like that?” “Yes.” “Thanks.” “A word of advice: clean up, if you can. I won’t be around to correct such problems in the near future. Besides, you know that stuff does you no good.” She bit her lip, looked away, “I know … thanks.” “Be safe.” He closed the channel and put his MobiGlas away. She would either sort out her drug problem, or not. Either way, she was a good source on Senator Yaldiz’s secret life, being the central pillar of it. He gave the apartment a final glance. Two years, reduced to a single ruck and a couple new assets; some on and some off the books. Not bad, but not the best use of an old agent’s time. He sighed. It will be good to be back in the fold, back with Special Action. Picking up his ruck, Gates left. An hour later he stepped up to the local Advocacy quartermaster’s counter to claim the tag for the ship he’d been allotted. The kid behind the counter smiled as he pushed the datakey across. “Avenger, designated A3301. That old bitch is on flight line two.” Ignoring the kid, Gates signed for the tag and hit the locker room. Donning his flight blues lit the old excitement, putting a bounce in his step as he walked onto the flight line. Gates found her by the designator painted on her tail. Found her, and snorted. He was tempted to go back and punch the kid quartermaster out: A3301 was an early model Avenger, but at least a decade younger than Gates. He shrugged, mounted the ladder. It’s been too long, he thought, slinging the ruck through the hatch of the old fighter. Pre-flight was easy and quick, old skills coming back. Gates logged his ground-to-orbit flight plan and request to depart. Both were quickly approved. He took off a bit gingerly, getting a feel for her. Been flying a desk for a long time, even before the suspension, after all. Gates found an honest smile curling his lips. In comparison to the ships he’d piloted at Special Action, she was sluggish and long in the tooth, but A3301 was his for the next little while. The trip to the Black Box was long and less than entertaining, requiring several transits and a few stops to confound anyone trying to track him. The irregular black asteroid wasn’t all that box-shaped. Gates was one of the few that knew its shape wasn’t the reason Special Action had named the place — it was their policy of wiping the black box nav recorders of ships that stumbled upon it. The defense network surrounding the Black Box sent multiple queries to verify his ID. For a long moment the only evidence he had that he’d satisfied the security protocols was the fact he hadn’t been blown to tiny particles. He was given a flight path and followed it to the last decimal. Some things you just don’t take chances with. He entered a blacker pit in the dark side of the asteroid and slowly linked up with the docking collar extended for his craft. The hull clunked as mag-locks gripped his ship, connecting his systems with those of the base. Gates smiled as his sensors went off-line and all lights went dark before the docking collar started drawing A3301 into the asteroid. Advocacy agents were trusted, generally, but institutional paranoia was the name of the game with SA. This way he couldn’t have told anyone what ships were in the docking bay even had he wanted to. “Special Agent Gates, welcome back to Special Action,” a woman’s voice interrupted his thoughts, mild trace of an accent spinning the words in pleasant fashion, “I’m Vasser, Special Agent in Charge. When your hatch opens, follow the blue line to me. I’ll brief you in on your mission.” The Special Agent in Charge briefing me in herself? Unusual. Probably wants to set the tone by putting the old warhorse in his place first off. Setting himself to keep his temper, Gates collected his bag and waited for the hatch to pop. When it did, he followed the illuminated line along a series of empty passages to a hatch. It opened under his hand, revealing a small room. Vasser sat inside, fingers interlocked on the table before her. White-blonde hair, cut short to fit under a flight helmet or combat armor. All in all, a bit hard on the edges for his personal preferences, but quite attractive. Her expression was neutral as she shook his hand. Nice grip. Not trying too hard. Good sign. Gates smiled, “SAC Vasser.” She gestured him into the seat across from hers, “Special Agent Gates. I trust your trip wasn’t too trying?” He shook his head. “Good to be back in a cockpit.” She smiled, showing even white teeth for the first time, “You might grow to resent being in one before this is over and done.” “I doubt it, but do tell.” “All right.” She punched at the tabletop, calling up a series of files. Gates heard his MobiGlas chirp as it received copies for later review. “Three Advocacy agents have been murdered in recent months.” That got his attention. “Why haven’t–” he snapped his jaw shut on the question when he realized why he hadn’t heard: if these were deaths of undercover agents on active investigations, they wouldn’t have been reported, not through any channels to which a suspended agent would have access. She continued as if he hadn’t started to say something stupid: “We already have a team chasing down the primary suspect in one case, but I’m tasking you with looking into the other two. On the quiet, as a bounty hunter.” Not adding up. She read him too easily, or at least figured her explanation was lacking: “Problem, Agent Gates?” He shrugged, “Just that I’m not known for the quiet quality of my investigations.” Her smile returned. He decided he liked it as she continued, “No, you’re known for breaking things. That works in our favor on this one: in fact, as far as anyone but you, me, and your old SAC knows, you’re still on suspension.” “About Oda, she’s not a fan of mine … And there’s the quartermaster who assigned the ship I came here on.” “My problem, and already dealt with.” “All right.” A barely-visible eyebrow arched, “Just like that?” He smiled, “If you say Oda is handled, then she’s handled. Same thing on the kid manning the ship depot. Beyond that, I’d rather get on with learning what you know about someone who thinks they can plant our agents without retribution.” She looked at him a long moment, seeming on the verge of saying something. Gates waited, expectant. Vasser didn’t speak, instead looked down and called up an image of an agent in his academy uniform. “Agent Max Nawabi. Graduated twelve years ago. Most recent assignment: Customs Control and Enforcement. Sent in, undercover, at Corel, to investigate rumors of slave trading. Expected to be a long-term op, he was checking in regularly before his handler lost contact two months ago. He turned up dead in a back alley on Nexus last month.” Another graduation image. “Agent Gage Knowles. Graduated ten years ago. Most recent assignment: Narcotics Investigations. Sent in at Nexus on long-term undercover operation regarding narcotics trade along the Magnus-Nexus-Corel systems. Made regular reports until contact was lost two months ago. Turned up on Nexus in a trash heap within days of Nawabi’s corpse.” “Aside from the timing, what makes you think the killings are related?” She looked at Gates, called up the autopsies of both agents. “They made almost no attempt to cover up either killing, and the weapon used was the same in both instances.” “Exactly the same?” “Yes.” . . .to be continued Gates ließ seinen Seesack fallen und sah sich ein letztes Mal in seiner winzigen Wohnung um und bestätigte, dass er jedes einzelne seiner sehr begrenzten persönlichen Gegenstände hatte. Zufrieden nahm er sein MobiGlas heraus und rief die Verwaltungsgesellschaft an, um ihnen mitzuteilen, dass er das Gelände verlassen hatte. Mundane Angelegenheiten abgeschlossen, Gates hat die Ausschnitt-Software auf seinem MobiGlas angeklickt und einen weiteren Anruf getätigt. Angeliques herzförmiges Gesicht erschien lächelnd im Pickup. Die blauen Flecken, die Kitty dort hinterlassen hatte, verblassten bereits. "Arme!" sagte sie, die Augen zu hell für völlige Nüchternheit, aber nicht so hoch, dass er aufpassen musste. "Schön zu sehen, dass es dir besser geht, Angelique." Sie nickte und nahm die coole Reaktion auf. "Was ist los, Armi?" "Ich gehe geschäftlich weg. Du wirst für eine Weile auf dich allein gestellt sein." Angelique runzelte die Stirn, hübsche Brauen zogen sich zusammen, "Aber wer wird sich um mich kümmern?" "Du wirst wie vereinbart weitermachen. Nichts ändert sich." " Das Se-" Er unterbrach sie und wollte nicht, dass sie den Titel benutzt: "Nichts ändert sich. Die Einzahlungen werden fortgesetzt. Bleiben Sie glücklich und hören Sie gut zu. Ich werde mich mit dir in Verbindung setzen." "Was ist mit der anderen Sache?" fragte Angelique und streichelte ihr gequetschtes Auge. "Ich habe mich darum gekümmert." "Einfach so?" " Ja." " Danke." "Ein Ratschlag: Räum auf, wenn du kannst. Ich werde nicht da sein, um solche Probleme in naher Zukunft zu beheben. Außerdem weißt du, dass dieses Zeug dir nicht gut tut." Sie biss sich auf die Lippe, sah weg, "Ich weiß... danke." "Sei vorsichtig." Er schloss den Kanal und legte sein MobiGlas weg. Sie würde entweder ihr Drogenproblem lösen oder nicht. So oder so, sie war eine gute Quelle für Senator Yaldiz' geheimes Leben, das die zentrale Säule davon war. Er gab der Wohnung einen letzten Blick. Zwei Jahre, reduziert auf einen einzigen Ruck und ein paar neue Vermögenswerte; einige auf und einige außerhalb der Bücher. Nicht schlecht, aber nicht die beste Nutzung der Zeit eines alten Agenten. Er seufzte. Es wird gut sein, wieder in der Falte zu sein, zurück mit Special Action. Gates nahm seinen Ruck auf und ging. Eine Stunde später trat er an den Schalter des örtlichen Advocacy-Quartiermeisters, um das Tag für das Schiff zu beanspruchen, das ihm zugeteilt worden war. Das Kind hinter der Theke lächelte, als es den Datenschlüssel rüber schob. "Rächer, benannt nach A3301. Die alte Schlampe ist auf Fluglinie zwei." Gates ignorierte das Kind und unterschrieb für das Schild und ging in die Umkleide. Doning his flight blues beleuchtete die alte Aufregung und setzte einen Sprung in seinen Schritt, als er auf die Fluglinie ging. Gates fand sie bei der Kennung, die auf ihren Schwanz gemalt war. Ich fand sie und schnaubte. Er war versucht, zurückzugehen und den kleinen Quartiermeister zu schlagen: A3301 war ein frühes Modell Avenger, aber mindestens ein Jahrzehnt jünger als Gates. Er zuckte mit den Achseln, bestieg die Leiter. Es ist zu lange her, dachte er und schleuderte den Ruck durch die Luke des alten Kämpfers. Der Vorflug war einfach und schnell, alte Fertigkeiten kamen zurück. Gates protokollierte seinen Boden-Orbit-Flugplan und bat um Abflug. Beide wurden schnell genehmigt. Er zog sich etwas behutsam aus und bekam ein Gefühl für sie. Ich fliege schon lange einen Schreibtisch, immerhin schon vor der Aufhängung. Gates fand ein ehrliches Lächeln, das seine Lippen kräuselte. Im Vergleich zu den Schiffen, die er bei Special Action gesteuert hatte, war sie träge und lange in der Klemme, aber A3301 war für die nächste kleine Weile seins. Die Reise zur Black Box war lang und wenig unterhaltsam und erforderte mehrere Transite und ein paar Stopps, um jeden zu verwirren, der versucht, ihn zu verfolgen. Der unregelmäßige schwarze Asteroid war nicht ganz so kastenförmig. Gates war eines der wenigen, das wusste, dass seine Form nicht der Grund war, warum Special Action den Ort benannt hatte - es war ihre Politik, die Blackbox-Naviorekorder von Schiffen zu löschen, die über ihn stolperten. Das Verteidigungsnetzwerk um die Black Box herum schickte mehrere Anfragen zur Überprüfung seiner ID. Für einen langen Moment war der einzige Beweis, dass er die Sicherheitsprotokolle erfüllt hatte, die Tatsache, dass er nicht in winzige Partikel geblasen worden war. Er bekam eine Flugroute und folgte ihr bis zur letzten Dezimalstelle. Einige Dinge, bei denen man einfach kein Risiko eingeht. Er betrat eine schwarzere Grube in der dunklen Seite des Asteroiden und verband sich langsam mit dem für sein Schiff verlängerten Andockkragen. Der Rumpf kollidierte, als Magnete sein Schiff packten und seine Systeme mit denen der Basis verbanden. Gates lächelte, als seine Sensoren offline gingen und alle Lichter dunkel wurden, bevor der Andockring anfing, A3301 in den Asteroiden zu ziehen. Advocacy-Agenten wurde im Allgemeinen vertraut, aber institutionelle Paranoia war der Name des Spiels mit SA. Auf diese Weise hätte er niemandem sagen können, welche Schiffe in der Andockbucht sind, selbst wenn er es gewollt hätte. "Special Agent Gates, willkommen zurück bei Special Action", unterbrach die Stimme einer Frau seine Gedanken, leichte Spur eines Akzents, der die Worte auf angenehme Weise dreht, "I'm Vasser, Special Agent in Charge. Wenn sich deine Luke öffnet, folge der blauen Linie zu mir. Ich werde dich über deine Mission informieren." Die verantwortliche Special Agentin informiert mich in sich selbst? Ungewöhnlich. Will wahrscheinlich den Ton angeben, indem er das alte Schlachtross an seine Stelle setzt. Gates stellte sich darauf ein, sein Temperament zu bewahren, holte seine Tasche und wartete darauf, dass die Luke platzt. Dann folgte er der beleuchteten Linie entlang einer Reihe von leeren Durchgängen zu einer Luke. Es öffnete sich unter seiner Hand und enthüllte einen kleinen Raum. Vasser saß drinnen, die Finger verriegelten sich auf dem Tisch vor ihr. Weißblondes Haar, kurz geschnitten, um unter einen Flughelm oder eine Kampfrüstung zu passen. Alles in allem ein bisschen hart an den Kanten für seine persönlichen Vorlieben, aber ziemlich attraktiv. Ihr Ausdruck war neutral, als sie ihm die Hand schüttelte. Schöner Griff. Nicht zu viel Mühe. Gutes Zeichen. Gates lächelte, "SAC Vasser". Sie deutete ihn auf den Sitz gegenüber von ihrem, "Special Agent Gates". Ich hoffe, deine Reise war nicht zu schwierig?" Er schüttelte den Kopf. "Schön, wieder im Cockpit zu sein." Sie lächelte und zeigte zum ersten Mal sogar weiße Zähne: "Du könntest es dir übel nehmen, in einem zu sein, bevor das vorbei ist." "Ich bezweifle es, aber erzähl es mir." "In Ordnung." Sie schlug auf die Tischplatte und rief eine Reihe von Akten auf. Gates hörte sein MobiGlas zirpen, als er Kopien für eine spätere Überprüfung erhielt. "Drei Advocacy-Agenten wurden in den letzten Monaten ermordet." Das hat seine Aufmerksamkeit erregt. "Warum nicht -" schlug er seinen Kiefer zu, als er erkannte, warum er es nicht gehört hatte: Wenn es sich um den Tod von verdeckten Ermittlern bei aktiven Ermittlungen handelte, wären sie nicht gemeldet worden, nicht über irgendwelche Kanäle, zu denen ein suspendierter Agent Zugang hätte. Sie fuhr fort, als hätte er nicht angefangen, etwas Dummes zu sagen: "Wir haben bereits ein Team, das in einem Fall den Hauptverdächtigen verfolgt, aber ich beauftrage Sie damit, die anderen beiden zu untersuchen. In aller Stille, als Kopfgeldjäger." Das ergibt keinen Sinn. Sie las ihn zu leicht, oder zumindest dachte sie, dass ihre Erklärung fehlt: "Problem, Agent Gates?" Er zuckte mit den Schultern: "Nur, dass ich nicht für die ruhige Qualität meiner Untersuchungen bekannt bin." Ihr Lächeln kehrte zurück. Er entschied, dass es ihm gefiel, als sie weiter sagte: "Nein, du bist dafür bekannt, dass du Dinge zerbrochen hast. Das wirkt sich bei diesem Fall zu unseren Gunsten aus: In der Tat, soweit jemand außer dir, mir und deinem alten SAC weiß, bist du immer noch suspendiert." "Über Oda, sie ist kein Fan von mir... Und da ist der Quartiermeister, der das Schiff, auf dem ich herkam, zugewiesen hat." "Mein Problem, und ich habe mich bereits damit beschäftigt." "In Ordnung." Eine kaum sichtbare Augenbraue gewölbt, "Einfach so?" Er lächelte: "Wenn du sagst, dass Oda erledigt ist, dann ist sie erledigt. Das Gleiche gilt für den Jungen, der das Schiffsdepot besetzt hält. Darüber hinaus würde ich lieber lernen, was man über jemanden weiß, der denkt, dass er unsere Agenten ohne Vergeltung einsetzen kann." Sie sah ihn einen langen Moment lang an und schien kurz davor zu stehen, etwas zu sagen. Gates wartete, Anwärter. Vasser sprach nicht, sondern sah nach unten und rief das Bild eines Agenten in seiner Akademieuniform auf. "Agent Max Nawabi. Hat vor zwölf Jahren seinen Abschluss gemacht. Letzter Auftrag: Zollkontrolle und -durchsetzung. Eingesandt, undercover, in Corel, um Gerüchte über Sklavenhandel zu untersuchen. Erwartet, eine langfristige Operation zu sein, schaute er regelmäßig vorbei, bevor sein Betreuer vor zwei Monaten den Kontakt verlor. Er tauchte letzten Monat tot in einer Hinterhofgasse auf Nexus auf." Ein weiteres Bild der Graduierung. "Agent Gage Knowles. Abschluss vor zehn Jahren. Letzter Auftrag: Drogenfahndung. Eingesandt bei Nexus über eine langfristige Undercover-Operation in Bezug auf den Drogenhandel entlang des Magnus-Nexus-Corel-Systems. Er berichtete regelmäßig, bis der Kontakt vor zwei Monaten unterbrochen wurde. Er erschien auf Nexus in einem Müllhaufen innerhalb von Tagen nach Nawabis Leiche." "Abgesehen vom Zeitpunkt, was lässt dich glauben, dass die Morde miteinander zusammenhängen?" Sie sah sich Gates an, rief die Autopsien beider Agenten an. "Sie unternahmen fast keinen Versuch, beide Morde zu vertuschen, und die verwendete Waffe war in beiden Fällen die gleiche." "Genau das Gleiche?" " Ja." . ...wird fortgesetzt Dropping his duffel, Gates looked around his tiny apartment a last time and verified he had every one of his very limited assortment of personal items. Satisfied, he took his MobiGlas out and called the management company to let them know he’d vacated the premises. Mundane matters complete, Gates cued the cutout software on his MobiGlas and placed another call. Angelique’s heart-shaped face appeared in the pick-up, smiling. The bruises Kitty had put there were already fading. “Armi!” she said, eyes too bright for complete sobriety, but not so high he had to take notice. “Good to see you’re feeling better, Angelique.” She nodded, picking up on the cool response. “What is it, Armi?” “I’m leaving on business. You’ll be on your own for a bit.” Angelique frowned, pretty brows drawing tight, “But who’s going to look after me?” “You will continue as arranged. Nothing changes.” “The Se-“ He interrupted her, not wanting her to use the title, “Nothing changes. Deposits will continue. Keep happy and listen well. I will be in touch.” “What about the other thing?” Angelique asked, brushing her bruised eye. “Taken care of.” “Just like that?” “Yes.” “Thanks.” “A word of advice: clean up, if you can. I won’t be around to correct such problems in the near future. Besides, you know that stuff does you no good.” She bit her lip, looked away, “I know … thanks.” “Be safe.” He closed the channel and put his MobiGlas away. She would either sort out her drug problem, or not. Either way, she was a good source on Senator Yaldiz’s secret life, being the central pillar of it. He gave the apartment a final glance. Two years, reduced to a single ruck and a couple new assets; some on and some off the books. Not bad, but not the best use of an old agent’s time. He sighed. It will be good to be back in the fold, back with Special Action. Picking up his ruck, Gates left. An hour later he stepped up to the local Advocacy quartermaster’s counter to claim the tag for the ship he’d been allotted. The kid behind the counter smiled as he pushed the datakey across. “Avenger, designated A3301. That old bitch is on flight line two.” Ignoring the kid, Gates signed for the tag and hit the locker room. Donning his flight blues lit the old excitement, putting a bounce in his step as he walked onto the flight line. Gates found her by the designator painted on her tail. Found her, and snorted. He was tempted to go back and punch the kid quartermaster out: A3301 was an early model Avenger, but at least a decade younger than Gates. He shrugged, mounted the ladder. It’s been too long, he thought, slinging the ruck through the hatch of the old fighter. Pre-flight was easy and quick, old skills coming back. Gates logged his ground-to-orbit flight plan and request to depart. Both were quickly approved. He took off a bit gingerly, getting a feel for her. Been flying a desk for a long time, even before the suspension, after all. Gates found an honest smile curling his lips. In comparison to the ships he’d piloted at Special Action, she was sluggish and long in the tooth, but A3301 was his for the next little while. The trip to the Black Box was long and less than entertaining, requiring several transits and a few stops to confound anyone trying to track him. The irregular black asteroid wasn’t all that box-shaped. Gates was one of the few that knew its shape wasn’t the reason Special Action had named the place — it was their policy of wiping the black box nav recorders of ships that stumbled upon it. The defense network surrounding the Black Box sent multiple queries to verify his ID. For a long moment the only evidence he had that he’d satisfied the security protocols was the fact he hadn’t been blown to tiny particles. He was given a flight path and followed it to the last decimal. Some things you just don’t take chances with. He entered a blacker pit in the dark side of the asteroid and slowly linked up with the docking collar extended for his craft. The hull clunked as mag-locks gripped his ship, connecting his systems with those of the base. Gates smiled as his sensors went off-line and all lights went dark before the docking collar started drawing A3301 into the asteroid. Advocacy agents were trusted, generally, but institutional paranoia was the name of the game with SA. This way he couldn’t have told anyone what ships were in the docking bay even had he wanted to. “Special Agent Gates, welcome back to Special Action,” a woman’s voice interrupted his thoughts, mild trace of an accent spinning the words in pleasant fashion, “I’m Vasser, Special Agent in Charge. When your hatch opens, follow the blue line to me. I’ll brief you in on your mission.” The Special Agent in Charge briefing me in herself? Unusual. Probably wants to set the tone by putting the old warhorse in his place first off. Setting himself to keep his temper, Gates collected his bag and waited for the hatch to pop. When it did, he followed the illuminated line along a series of empty passages to a hatch. It opened under his hand, revealing a small room. Vasser sat inside, fingers interlocked on the table before her. White-blonde hair, cut short to fit under a flight helmet or combat armor. All in all, a bit hard on the edges for his personal preferences, but quite attractive. Her expression was neutral as she shook his hand. Nice grip. Not trying too hard. Good sign. Gates smiled, “SAC Vasser.” She gestured him into the seat across from hers, “Special Agent Gates. I trust your trip wasn’t too trying?” He shook his head. “Good to be back in a cockpit.” She smiled, showing even white teeth for the first time, “You might grow to resent being in one before this is over and done.” “I doubt it, but do tell.” “All right.” She punched at the tabletop, calling up a series of files. Gates heard his MobiGlas chirp as it received copies for later review. “Three Advocacy agents have been murdered in recent months.” That got his attention. “Why haven’t–” he snapped his jaw shut on the question when he realized why he hadn’t heard: if these were deaths of undercover agents on active investigations, they wouldn’t have been reported, not through any channels to which a suspended agent would have access. She continued as if he hadn’t started to say something stupid: “We already have a team chasing down the primary suspect in one case, but I’m tasking you with looking into the other two. On the quiet, as a bounty hunter.” Not adding up. She read him too easily, or at least figured her explanation was lacking: “Problem, Agent Gates?” He shrugged, “Just that I’m not known for the quiet quality of my investigations.” Her smile returned. He decided he liked it as she continued, “No, you’re known for breaking things. That works in our favor on this one: in fact, as far as anyone but you, me, and your old SAC knows, you’re still on suspension.” “About Oda, she’s not a fan of mine … And there’s the quartermaster who assigned the ship I came here on.” “My problem, and already dealt with.” “All right.” A barely-visible eyebrow arched, “Just like that?” He smiled, “If you say Oda is handled, then she’s handled. Same thing on the kid manning the ship depot. Beyond that, I’d rather get on with learning what you know about someone who thinks they can plant our agents without retribution.” She looked at him a long moment, seeming on the verge of saying something. Gates waited, expectant. Vasser didn’t speak, instead looked down and called up an image of an agent in his academy uniform. “Agent Max Nawabi. Graduated twelve years ago. Most recent assignment: Customs Control and Enforcement. Sent in, undercover, at Corel, to investigate rumors of slave trading. Expected to be a long-term op, he was checking in regularly before his handler lost contact two months ago. He turned up dead in a back alley on Nexus last month.” Another graduation image. “Agent Gage Knowles. Graduated ten years ago. Most recent assignment: Narcotics Investigations. Sent in at Nexus on long-term undercover operation regarding narcotics trade along the Magnus-Nexus-Corel systems. Made regular reports until contact was lost two months ago. Turned up on Nexus in a trash heap within days of Nawabi’s corpse.” “Aside from the timing, what makes you think the killings are related?” She looked at Gates, called up the autopsies of both agents. “They made almost no attempt to cover up either killing, and the weapon used was the same in both instances.” “Exactly the same?” “Yes.” . . .to be continued Links ----- No links available. Images ------ 1 image/jpeg [ ![](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/n6ik8s2agc03ur/source/SeparateLawFI4.jpg) ](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/n6ik8s2agc03ur/source/SeparateLawFI4.jpg) SeparateLawFI4.jpg [Details](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/640) Last Modified 12 years ago Size 1.49 MB [Source](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/n6ik8s2agc03ur/source/SeparateLawFI4.jpg) [Info](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/640) Metadata -------- CIG ID 13148 Channel Undefined Category Undefined Series A Separate Law Comments 43 Published 12 years ago (2013-07-18T00:00:00+00:00) [RSI Article](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/comm-link/serialized-fiction/13148-A-SEPARATE-LAW-PART-TWO) [API](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/api/comm-links/13148)