Bramblebriar Lane/Chapter One

Chapter One
Anton Matronezzi gave the documents before him a cursory glance, and then leaned backward, his chair creaking as he cast his gaze to the ceiling and let out a loud groan. He was once again reviewing a case about a Duros petty officer who was reported missing. His team had been called upon to further review what was supposed to be a simple unauthorized absence case that the Kuati field office of the Republic Naval Criminal Investigation had been struggling with for almost a month now&mdash;a case that Anton had reviewed over and over, and he was convinced that he would not find anything new this time than he would the twentieth or fortieth time. The leads had simply gone cold. Hell, the leads hadn’t even gone anywhere! He and his fellow agents had investigated the bar, they investigated the ship docks, they investigated the ship, rack-to-rack, tripping over each other in the confined corridors while combing every inch of the Foray-class blockade runner for clues and following leads that only served to complicate the case with extraneous cases of their own&mdash;a senior crewer had illegally acquired an officer’s ceremonial vibrosword from an Outer Rim post exchange&mdash;but nothing was found that shed any additional light on the missing petty officer.

The fact of the matter was Cad Hepper had vanished. And in a galaxy plagued with pirates and other fringers and mad men with powers that Anton didn’t possess, to simply vanish without a trace was not a very hard thing to do. Anton knew that the Duros petty officer was last seen in a cantina in the KDY shipyards that orbited Kuat. He also knew that no matter the planet, a cantina always attracted unsavory characters and the petty officer’s watering hole of choice was no exception. Just because he wore a uniform did not make him immune to a gang of thugs who were out looking for trouble. And according to the bartender who was working on the night that Cad Hepper disappeared, a local pirate gang was indeed in attendance. Perhaps Cad looked at them wrong and they decided to make sure that he will never make that mistake again.

RNCI agents had never recovered a body, however. It may have been dumped into orbit, Anton surmised. Easiest way to dispose of a body; throw it out into space. He had seen numerous such cases when he worked for CorSec. Once a body was out floating amongst the myriad of debris in the vast vacuum, it was almost impossible to find.

Adjusting his lekku draped around his shoulders, Anton leaned forward on his elbows and massaged his forehead with his fingertips. Petty officer Cad Hepper must have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time and his body was ejected into space with the rest of a ship’s garbage. That explanation may not bring any comfort to the petty officer’s family, but it would provide a modicum of closure, and more importantly, it should satisfy Anton’s boss.

As if Anton’s musings were a cue, his boss strode into the office, a disposable datapad under one arm. He was a silver-haired Human with his face set in a permanent state of hardened irritation, as if the inside of his shoes were riddled with annoying grains of sand and tiny pebbles. Heron Lethroy Grimm had been the head of the small team of RNCI agents since Anton joined several years ago, and he could readily recall that his boss had the same lightsaber up his ass then as he did this morning. Grimm cleared his throat as he stalked across the room and toward his desk, the data pad tossed onto its surface with a loud slap.

“Got another one,” Grimm said sternly. He hit a button on the wall-mounted viewscreen and transmitted the information from the datapad to it. “A Marine declared UA at 0500 this morning on Corulag. Gunnery Sergeant Tuffass failed to return from liberty.” An image flashed onscreen of a Gand in military dress.

An audible cringe sounded by Anton’s ear. Beside him, Agent Davi Zatelé grimaced.

Immediately, Grimm shot the raven-haired Zabrak his ever-present glare. “Something wrong, Davi?”

Davi shook her head. “I just don’t like bugs...”

“He’s not a bug,” Grimm returned his gaze to the viewscreen. “He's a respected drill instructor who has never gone UA in his entire career. The gunny usually spends liberty off-base, and usually reports back promptly. However, this time he has not been seen or heard from since the evening before. What I want to know is why. So, grab your gear. We’re going to Corulag.” With that, he grabbed the datapad, turned, and stalked out of the room.

Anton strapped his blaster to his thigh and tucked his coat under his arm as he looked to Davi, who was gathering her things in a similar fashion. “Don’t like bugs, eh? Big bad Davi is scared of bugs. Can’t say I blame you. Spider-roaches creep me out.”

Davi stepped up to Anton as she looked upon the Twi’lek with her sly, half-lidded gaze, a smile curving her lips. “Big bad Davi may not like them, but it doesn’t stop me from squishing them... Just as I can with you.” She gave a chuckle, winked, and walked away.

Anton couldn’t help but smile to himself and shake his head. He slung his bag over his shoulder and followed Davi.

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

Anton rubbed the small of his back with one hand and winced as he cracked his neck. A day’s trip in a naval transport was certainly a far cry from the luxury of a Pan-Core liner. No cute stewardesses, either, Anton mused ruefully. He hoisted his bag over one shoulder as he followed the rest of his team. Only he, Grimm, and Davi were present&mdash;Gabby Taretto and Seager May’san stayed behind at the Corulag field office. And since they were investigating a UA, then their medical examiner wasn’t needed on scene. Anton smiled in amusement; Drayk Muldoon was a chatty fellow and Gabby and Seager were now his captive audience. Emphasis on “captive,” he snickered.

Several paces in front of Anton, Grimm walked deliberately up to a tall Zabrak in a drab green service uniform. Must be a commanding officer, Anton surmised, judging by the imposing rainbow bars of ribbons that were smartly affixed above the left breast pocket.

The decorated Zabrak gave a curt nod. “Thank you for coming. I’m Captain Clanic Mesgraff.”

Grimm was obviously irritated. “Mind telling me why my team was called all the way out here for a UA?”

The captain nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. “Gunnery Sergeant Tuffass has never been UA in his entire career. He’s punctual to a fault, he routinely makes contact with his CO while on liberty...” he trailed off as he cleared his throat. “It’s just so unlike him. No one has heard from him in days.”

Grimm nodded as his demeanor changed to that of calm professionalism. “Then, we’ll need to see his rack and his office, Sir. Where does he usually go on liberty?”

Mesgraff nodded and invited the team to follow him as he walked down the road flanked on each side by blocky ferrocrete buildings. “The gunny usually goes off-base. One of the cantinas in town, the Sleepy Watchman, is fairly popular with the noncoms...” he paused again as his voice dropped slightly. “The other week, I had called Tuffass to a meeting. We were discussing his retirement.”

Anton could see Grimm’s posture change; the man had straightened as if a flag were run up the middle of his back. However, he apparently did not allow it to impact his voice. “How’d the gunny take it?”

“Like you’d expect,” Mesgraff said as if it explained everything, though Anton was still confused. “The Corps was his life. Joined when he was a grub, the only Gand I had ever seen. He’s a good Marine, dedicated himself to the Corps. Exceptional DI. But... he’s getting up there in years... Fifty years of service, can you believe that?”

Grimm nodded as he followed Captain Mesgraff; Anton and Davi in step a few paces behind. “And he’s still training recruits. Why did you wait this long to discuss his retirement?”

“I’ll be frank,” Mesgraff cleared his throat. “Tuffass is a wounded warrior. Double amputee, lost his arm and leg in the Great Sith War. Would’ve been mustered out, but he could regenerate. Grew those limbs right back. But, you know how old wounds come back to haunt you...”

“We’ll need to see copies of his service and medical records, Sir,” despite his courteous nuances, the tone of Grimm’s voice still made it clear that it was not a request.

“Of course,” Mesgraff nodded and led the team into one of the less-than-spectacular gray buildings. Anton gave the structure a cursory glance and noted that it was no different than the other buildings that he had passed, delineated only by a different set of letters and numbers above the door. The inside was sparse, with a few plaques and Marine Corps posters on the walls.

Mesgraff stopped before the door, punched in an override code, and the door hissed open. “If you have any questions, I’ll be right outside.” He stepped to one side to allow the team access to the office.

Grimm entered with little more than a grunt and a nod. Davi was equally as silent, so Anton gave the captain a nod as he passed. “Thanks.”

Mesgraff returned the nod and stepped out of view. Anton set his bag on the floor, pulled on some disposable gloves, and removed his holocam from the bag. He gave a low whistle as he snapped a few images of framed award plaques. “All he needs is a shelf full of smashball trophies and he’d have my nephew’s room... You get any of these when you were a gunny, Grimm?”

Grimm merely grunted as he inspected the walls. He stepped up to a large shrouded frame and clenched his pocket torch between his teeth. “Davi, give me a hand with this...”

Davi walked passed Anton and positioned herself on the other side of the frame. She and Grimm carefully lifted the sheet from it and revealed the large, framed board, covered in name tapes. Davi stepped back as she tilted her head to one side. “What is it?”

Anton stepped between Davi and Grimm and snapped a series of images. “Wall of names?”

Davi gave Anton an incredulous look.

Anton nodded to a small plaque affixed to the top of the frame. “That’s what it says.”

“Why would he have this ‘wall of names’?” Davi leaned in close to read the name tapes. “Who are these people?”

Grimm stepped backward in order to take in the shrine as a whole, a small smile gracing his face for a brief moment. “Tuffass was big on earning your name. If you were lucky to be one of his recruits, you were nameless until you proved otherwise.”

“But, why?” Davi stepped back as well.

Grimm turned and walked over to inspect a set of shelves and a door set into the corner of the room. “That’s just his way.”

“Just as being all mysterious and cryptic is Grimm’s way,” Anton said quietly with a chuckle as he moved passed Davi and approached the desk. He snapped a few images of the desktop; a computer and a few sheets of flimsi were the only objects on it. He allowed his camera to dangle from the strap around his neck as he opened a desk drawer. “Huh.”

“What?” Grimm was already at Anton’s shoulder.

Anton moved to the side so that Grimm could see the contents of the drawer. “Emergency chocolate. Our missing gunny has a sweet tooth.”

“Bag it,” Grimm said simply and returned to his own investigations.

Anton pulled a bag from his pocket and gathered up the chocolate bars. “A serious sweet tooth. He puts Gabby to shame.” He straightened and looked at Grimm, who was standing before the door in the corner.

Grimm hollered over his shoulder. “Captain!” He gave the door’s handle a few exploratory jiggles before the Zabrak appeared in the office. “What’s in here?”

“Ammonia chamber,” Mesgraff said simply as he walked passed Anton and over to Grimm. “The base installed that for Tuffass ages ago. He doesn’t breathe our air, so he spends his downtime in there to have a break from wearing his gear.”

“Generous of you,” Anton cut in as he snapped a couple of images, including one of Mesgraff standing like an eopie caught in the headlights of an oncoming speeder.

“The Marines take care of their own, sir,” Mesgraff nodded. He returned his gaze to Grimm. “If you want to go in there, I’ll need to cycle out the ammonia. Should take about fifteen minutes to clear it.”

Grimm nodded and stepped back from the door. “We’ll need to dust it.”

“Doubt you’ll find anything other than his prints,” Mesgraff leaned in and keyed a sequence on the pad affixed beside the door. “Once the red light goes out, it’ll be safe to enter.”

Grimm nodded again. “We’ll also need the gunny’s computer, Sir.”

“Of course. I’ll get a couple of my men to load it up for you,” Mesgraff turned and headed for the door.

Anton finally turned away from the ammonia chamber and resumed his investigation of the desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Davi approach him. He picked up one of the flimsis from the desktop and squinted at it. “Stang... makes my doctor’s signature look good...” He handed it to Davi. “Any good at hieroglyphics?”

Davi took the flimsi in both hands and held it close to her face. “It looks like Aurebesh...”

Anton snatched the flimsi away and sneered at the Zabrak. “What, they didn’t teach you how to read in Mando Camp?”

“Oh, they taught me how to read,” Davi stepped up to Anton to look him right in the eye, another smile gracing her lips. “But, more importantly, they taught me how to rip a man's organ out through their sphincter&mdash;"

“Let me see that,” Grimm took the flimsi out of Anton‘s hands to have a look at it. “It is Aurebesh... only just.” He threw his gaze to the door and once again summoned Captain Mesgraff into the office. Only this time, he did not actually voice his inquiry, but rather simply held up the flimsi in a harsh grip.

Mesgraff once again, much to Anton’s irritation, brushed passed the Twi’lek as if he were an out-of-place chair. He leaned in to look at the flimsi held tight in Grimm’s hand, but did not touch it. “Notes about his latest batch of maggots. Tuffass is only functionally literate in Basic.”

“Let me get this straight, Sir... The gunny spends fifty years in the Corps and he can barely read?” Incredulity was evident in Grimm’s voice.

“He can barely read Aurebesh,” Mesgraff corrected. “He prefers to fill out his forms in his own language and he uses speech-recognition when practical.”

Grimm snorted. “What language?”

“Gand.”

Grimm turned and shot Anton a look.

Anton shrugged. “Don’t think we got that one, Boss.”

“We’ll need a language doo-dad.”

“Module,” Anton said helpfully, “...Boss.”

“Module, datapack, whatever. Get it here ASAP or shove it up your rectum." Grimm muttered and returned his glare to Mesgraff.

“We have one available, one moment,” Mesgraff turned to leave. “After you’re done here, I’ll show you to Tuffass’s rack.” He brushed by Anton and walked out of the room.

Anton readjusted the holocam around his neck as he continued his investigation. “Well, this UA is getting interesting... We got an old gunny who can barely read, loves chocolate, and is a bug...”

“He’s not a bug,” Grimm’s voice reprimanded from behind Anton’s shoulder. Those four words were immediately followed by a beep, and then a cla-chunk-pssh as the door to the ammonia chamber was apparently unsealed.

Anton turned away from the desk and followed Grimm into the closet-sized room, snapping pictures of the bare walls. “Not much to look at...” He glanced down to the worn, intricately-patterned woven rug that had been placed directly in front of the simple bench that jutted from the wall. “Though, that’s certainly something to look at...” He took a deep breath and immediately wrinkled his nose as a hint of a pungent stench seeped into the back of his throat. “Is it me, Boss, or does this place smell kinda like nexu piss?”

“It’s the ammonia, Anton,” Grimm said as he knelt beside the rug and carefully rolled it up. He turned his head and shouted over his shoulder. “Davi! Get me a large bag!”

Anton glanced over his shoulder as Davi stood just outside of the chamber, her arm outstretched in order to hand over the bag.

Her face was screwed up. “Smells like nexu piss...”

“Yeah,” Anton chuckled as he took the bag from her. “That’s what I said.” He handed the bag to Grimm and resumed his image recording of the tiny alcove.

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

The gunnery sergeant’s quarters were small, with but a few meager possessions and trappings; a bed, nightstand, a lockbox, and some shelves. The bedclothes themselves were pulled so tight that Anton was convinced that he could bounce a credit off of them. “Certainly no Corellian Ritz...” he said aloud as he snapped some images. “You’d think that for as long as he’s been in the Corps, he’d be given a better place to sleep. At least some place with a bigger bed, nice holosystem, private refresher...”

“This isn’t a resort and Tuffass stays near his recruits,” Grimm said matter-of-fact as he waited for Mesgraff to jimmy the lock on the trunk.

Anton nodded and continued to snap images. Beside him, Davi inspected the walls, particularly a dent that was a few inches below chest level. She studied the impact, and then curled her hand into a fist and placed it against the dent. “He has a temper...” She straightened and backed away so that Anton could take a picture of the dent and moved on to examine a few other similar marks. “Though, punching from the hip... Bit awkward, isn’t it?”

Mesgraff stopped beside Davi and nodded. “Tuffass isn’t very tall. About yay high.” He held his hand level with the bottom seam of his breast pocket.

“Size didn’t matter,” Grimm cut in from his spot by the lockbox. “New recruits were terrified of him. But, the gunny’s one of the best. You were lucky to get into his platoon.”

“Were you in his platoon, Boss?” Anton snapped some images of the dents in the wall, then walked over to Grimm to record the contents of the box.

Grimm shook his head. “My platoon could certainly hear him.”

“Loud little cuss, eh?” Anton took a picture of the bound book of flimsi that Grimm had extracted from the box.

Grimm opened the book and glanced at its contents. “Gabby will have fun with this...” He bagged the book and continued to explore the assortment of items stashed somewhat haphazardly in the trunk. He removed another bound flimsibook, bagged it, and uncovered two holobooks, which he read off the titles. “Squeak! and... Goodnight Brain, Wherever You Are... both audio-only copies...”  Grimm shrugged as he bagged those as well. “Confirms his illiteracy...” He peered into the trunk, then leaned backward so that Anton could have a look.

Anton looked into the lockbox and summed up a rough total of ten packages of chocolate that he could plainly see. He snapped an image and began to silently count the bars as Grimm carefully removed and bagged each and every one. “Stang! Fifteen! How much chocolate does this guy need?” he laughed as he snapped another image. “Seriously, this bug craves chocolate more than the director did when she was pregnant!”

“He’s not a bug, Anton,” Grimm sounded more irritated and impatient than usual as he stood and approached the shelf unit to examine its contents. He selected a case seemingly at random, flipped it open, and showed Anton the formidable strip of ribbons that were nestled inside. “He’s a decorated combat veteran who could strangle you with your own headtails and you’d do well to remember that.” He snapped the case closed to emphasize his point as he returned to his work.

Davi sneered at Anton. “You know... I think I’m beginning to like this Tuffass...”

“You would,” Anton glowered as his chastised lekku twitched about his shoulders and he snapped the holocam in the Zabrak woman’s face. He moved his viewfinder to the shelf, recorded it, allowed the holocam to dangle around his neck, and then picked up one of the framed images. It was a candid image of Tuffass flanked by two other gunnery sergeants; a Human woman with dark auburn hair and her female Rodian companion. The smiling women had their arms around Tuffass’s shoulders and Anton could almost detect a smile behind the Gand’s respirator, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what to look for. “Well, what he lacks in charming good looks, he apparently makes up for in personality. Those two gals there are niiiiice&mdash;” he overdid that syllable as he replaced the holo. “Wonder if I’ll get to interview them...”

“You won’t question any of them,” Grimm cut in as he picked up the holo and examined it. He turned to summon Capt Mesgraff, the holo held aloft in his gloved hand. “Who are these two with the gunny?”

Mesgraff squinted as he studied the image. “Ah, Gunnery Sergeants Laera Reyolé and Reeka Chorizzo.” He cleared his throat. "Reyolé was stationed on Carida with Tuffass, and Chorizzo had a stopover. Former recruits of his, those two.  They held him in high regard.”  He then fixed Anton in his gaze.  “That image was taken about twenty years ago.”

Anton didn’t want to show it, but he grimaced. So much for chatting up some cute Marines...

Grimm, however, was unfazed. “Where are they now, Sir? Have they had any recent contact with the gunny?”

“Chorizzo is on Corulag, I can contact her. She works for the Public Relations Bureau, now,” Mesgraff was deliberately avoiding Grimm’s second question, at least that was how it seemed to Anton. “Commander Reyolé, though, she’s... no longer with us...”

Grimm nodded slowly. “I’m sorry to hear that, Captain.” He replaced the holo and Anton stepped backward as the grouchy lead agent moved on to inspect the bed.

Anton followed him. “Doubt there’s anything under the sheets, Boss.” He snapped a few images of the tight bedding. “Unless it’s really flat chocolate...”

Grimm didn’t answer him and proceeded to examine the head of the bed. He swiped the pillow aside with one hand; with the other, he reached between the mattress and the wall, and with a tug, he extracted an angular lump of durasteel. He fixed Anton in his stern gaze as he revealed the item to be a hold-out blaster, which he dangled on his finger by the trigger guard.

Anton threw his glance over to Captain Mesgraff, who appeared surprised, his mouth agape. He regained his composure and cleared his throat. “Well... honestly... I am not sure what to tell you...  I heard about some incident that happened a while ago... after the memorial service. Tuffass and Reeka apparently ran afoul of some pirates...”

Grimm was not about to let the matter rest. “What happened and where?”

“Some incident at the Sleepy Watchman, that’s all I heard.”

“And where did you hear this?”

“Scuttlebutt.”

Grimm narrowed his eyes. “You should know better than to trust scuttlebutt.” He again indicated the blaster dangling from his finger. “I’ll need to see those service records as soon as possible, Sir.”

Mesgraff nodded and left the room quickly. Anton let out a breath as he returned his gaze to Grimm. He brought the holocam up to his eye and framed the blaster in the viewfinder. “Someone’s got some demons...”

“Yeah. Our missing gunny.” The blaster held in Grimm’s hand was captured on holofilm in a blinding flash.