Gree and the Art of Theft

[Tiberius Anar]

As a general rule people do not notice a droid on Coruscant. Droids are ubiquitous: fetching, carrying, yessing and noing, toing and froing. To notice a droid on Coruscant- to mark its existence particularly- is as likely an occurrence as noticing a leaf in a forest. A leaf or relentlessly urban Coruscant on the otherhand…

The leaf fluttered down from the tree. It was the first to fall. The Master, in quiet defiance of fashion, liked to allow nature to progress as it was intended. The entire climate of the planet might be regulated but here, here in The Garden, here the seasons came and the seasons went as much as was possible.

Gree’s nimble fingers snatched the leaf from the air, mere centimetres above the neatly mown lawn. Had he been able to smile, he would have done so. Not that he wanted to smile. Gree did not have emotions and he did not, therefore, have any need of such facial expressions.

What he did express was an instruction, “Lower the temperature zero point zero zero two degrees every hour for the next three days. Stabilise at that point.”

A vocorder was sufficient means for any droid to express himself. It was clear that this was so for the droid tasked with climate control in The Garden flashed its acknowledgement.

Gree turned and walked out of The Garden and into The House.

The House (Gree had never known another) was one of those old fashioned affairs that have sometimes been permitted to exist in a metropolis of transparasteel and permacrete. It was fashioned of stone dug from the earth. It was floored with boards. Its walls were painted or panelled or hung with papers. Doors swung rather than sliding. Had Gree seen other houses he would have been quite surprised.

He (curiously Gree, devoid of other human qualities did assume the gender in some respects at least, certainly the pronoun) moved to the kitchen. There he took The Tray as he did every morning. He walked to the The Breakfast Room. Through the doors he went and to the table. There he set down The Tray.

The Master smiled benignly at his servant. This was what Gree had been told was the nature of this particular facial expression: he had been given no cause to doubt it. “Thank you, Gree.”

A chime sounded as Gree passed back along the hallway.

The Door? At this hour?

Gree checked himself. Surprise and curiosity were not accustomed reactions. He would see to it that this was investigated by The Technician.

The Door should always be answered, however, and so it was. By Gree as it always was.

Two Gentlemen. One tall and rather stout. The other, shorter and thinner.

They were not familiar.

“Can I help you, Sirs?”

“I rather think you can.”

A bright blue flash. Darkness.

No. On Coruscant people do not, as a rule, notice droids. Of course, when a droid is blasted in the middle of the morning and hauled away, someone is bound to notice. Aren't they?

[Tiberius Anar]

The call was logged of course but it did not receive particular attention. Nor did the second. Or the third. The fourth, however, went elsewhere. A different line and a different voice made a difference.

The desk officer was somewhat chagrinned to be rebuked. A droid, just a silly droid, gone missing. Hardly worth the datastorage for the call log let alone investiagation time.

The rebuker, a senior officer, felt much the same. But he, too, had been rebuked, and so moved the rebuke along the line.

His rebuker, the section chief, agreed as well but the commissioner had been insistent. So he passed along the issued the rebuke and let it rumble on. He also picked up the comm and made a call. Sometimes droids do get noticed...if only when they are not there.

[Tiberius Anar]

Lucius Gryle considered this call to be the latest, but also the best, in a long line of insults.

Once upon a time he had employed his not inconsiderable skills to solve intricate frauds. He had been feared by double dealing accountants and their clients for many years. Any attempt to bury their tracks would, undoubtedly, fall apart as soon as Gryle arrived on the scene.

Well...not on the scene per se...he had people to do that for him. After all, financial crimes are largely conducted from behind a desk and so, too, was their detection.

Nevertheless, their sordid efforts, however competent, failed to avoid the inspector's probing eye and so his career had prospered.

Now he was reduced to looking for droids. Oh cruel fate!

[Tiberius Anar]

"My client is most concerned."

"Yes, I gathered that."

"The droid is most important to the functioning of my client's household."

"I see," Gryle was not sure that he did. The household seemed to be running perfectly well. His coat had been taken, a cup of steaming drink with biscuit "presented, a refill offered. All without the assistance of this disappeared droid.

"Despite this the police have been unenthusiastic in their response."

"We regret that."

"I hope so."

"And we will take action."

"See that you do."

The mysterious victim of crime had sent his lawyer to do the talking. Not a comfortable interview.

"I will."

[Tiberius Anar]

Nor was Gree comforable. He was not uncomfortable either. He simply was not as he should have been.

More accurately, his actions and the reactions to them, were not as they should be. Only slightly less so. This troubled him (as much as a droid could be troubled) because this defied the Principles of the Universe.

All droids, of course, are hardwired with the Fundamental Principles of the Universe. The laws of thermodynamics, the mathematical certainties of the binary sequence, of prime, ordinal, and cardinal numbers are firm, fixed points around which all else revolves. The sould, such as it is, of a droid is quite Newtonian and perceives the Universe in those terms. All action receives reaction in equal measure.

Yet, now it seemed to Gree that, in some way, that it did not.

He determined to move his body down the corridor. This triggered the servo-processor and then the servo-motors. But all a little less quickly than it should have done. The floor seemed to be under his footplate just a little less quickly than it should have been. The door, when he reached it, met his hand a fraction of second too late and yielded on its hinges, by the same degree of lateness.

This was most...confusing...

[Tiberius Anar]

Things were most confusing for Gryle, too.

He had had been walking around the house from which the droid had disappeared. He had pushed open (who had hinged doors these days?) dozens of doors and poked around every room he could find. In every place he found immaculate, if antiquated, order.

If this droid was so essential to the operating of this place, then why was this so? Surely, something should be amiss.

Gryle had tried to establish quite what function the droid had served. He had expected, given the state of the house, to find that, in actual fact, the droid did nothing. Yet it seemed that the droid did a great deal.

There was the answering of the door. There was the fetching of meals. There was the instructing of other droids in their duties. There was the handling of mail and the dispatch of orders to the world beyond.

Establishing all of this had been a little difficult because, aside from the mysterious master of the house, everyone there was a droid. And most of them were not equipped to communicate orally so he had to resort to text-based conversation, which was time consuming.

After all of this effort, Gryle had concluded that, while the droid did a great deal, he was not the only one to do any of it. Following the disappearance, the other droids had simply stepped in and taken care of things.

So why did the absence of this single, rather outmoded, unit from a household matter enough to stir up the police from the top down?

[Tiberius Anar]

This was the same question being asked by the two men who had been briefly and rather violently introduced into Gree's existence.

It troubled the shorter of the two rather less than his companion. (Not every little and large pairing of criminals fits the stereotype.) So some hours after Gryle had gone to his bed, Mr Undool sat picking dirt from under his nails while Mr Jorin paced back and forth muttering to himself.

"I wouldn't let it worry you," the shorter man said, flicking away a particularly black lump of dirt.

"That is not within your gift," growled the taller man.

Jorin could be like that at times. Given to cryptic statements in response to his companion's perfectly straight forward utterances.

Undool considered this reply for a few moments and then said, "I meant you shouldn't let it trouble you."

Jorin snorted. "Being troubled by things is what has allowed me to keep us in business for so long."

Undool shrugged his acceptance of this point. It was undeniable that Jorin's tendency to worry about things paid off. The incident in Uxlos has shown that well enough. Who would have thought that a client could be so devious as too booby trap the rendez vous? It was almost criminal the ingratitude of some people.

"Well, we know this droid is the key to this job." Undool flicked away more dirt. "We have the droid so it is simply a matter of working on it a bit and then we can get our reward."

"After delivery," growled Jorin.

"Well, of course after delivery." This mood of Jorin's was getting just a little irritating.

"Provided that we are not caught," Jorin continued.

"Well..."

"And we find the door."

"Well..."

"And unlock it."

Undool shut his mouth. He was prepared to wait while his colleague worried on a little more, listing yet another set of obstacles to overcome. But Jorin seemed to be finished.

"I wouldn't let it trouble you..."

[Tiberius Anar]

Gryle was stood amid droid parts.

Vocorders, detached metal limbs, lamps, manipulator arms, wheels and treads filled the shelves that lined the workshop. The bench in the middle of the room was mostly occupied by most of a protocol droid. The rest of its surface was occupied by coils of wire drawn from the droid's torso. Here and there, a component could be seen wired into these coloured lengths.

The workshop was owned and run by Knol Hud'tey, a Bothan. Gryle had rarely encountered members of this species and, those he had encountered, he had regarded them with suspicion.

This one, he regarded with irritation.

Hud'tey seemed more interested in reciting the specifications of the missing droid than in what the droid did (unless it related to the specifications). He seemed to have no interest in the whereabouts of the droid nor in any significance that might attach to the disappearance.

He tried again, "Yes, but is there anything about this particular droid that would make him interesting?"

And off the Bothan went again with the specifications and, to his shame, Gryle began to tune out.

Enough was enough. Time to leave.

The inspector was just ceasing the opportunity to interupt the flow of words in order to excuse himself from the technician's company, when Hud'tey said something of actual value.

"It was interesting to perform, of course, but it is not a modification that would be worth anything."

Gryle's instincts kicked in and, instead of interupting to escape, he interupted to enquire further.

"I'm sorry. What was interesting to perform?"

It was another hour before Gryle left but at lest he had a lead.

[Tiberius Anar]

Gree assessed the situation.

He was in The Kitchen. The Tray was in his hands.

He deduced that he should be making his way to The Master to deliver his breakfast.

But how had he come to be here? A search of recent memory files might help.

The search seemed to take slightly longer than usual. The results, however, confirmed his passage into The Kitchen so all was well.

Gree turned to take The Tray to the Master and...

Gree assessed the situation.

He was in The Master's Dressing Room. A heavy brocade robe was in his hands.

He deduced that he was laying out The Master's clothes.

But how had he come to be here? A search of recent memory files might help.

The search seemed to take slightly longer than usual. The results, however, confirmed his passage into The Master's Dressing Room so all was well.

Gree turned to hang the robe on The Dressing Stand and...

Gree assessed the situation.

He was in The Study. A databook was in his hands.

He deduced that he was tidying up The Study.

But how had he come to be here? A search of recent memory files might help.

The search seemed to take slightly longer than usual. The results, however, confirmed his passage into The Study so all was well.

Gree turned...

Gree assessed the situation.

He was in The Kitchen. The Tray was in his hands.

He deduced that he should be making his way to The Master to deliver his breakfast.

But how had he come to be here? A search...

Gree assessed the situation.

He was in The Master's Dressing Room. A heavy brocade robe was in his hands.

He deduced that he was laying out The Master's clothes.

But...

Gree assessed the situation.

He was in The Study. A databook was in...

He was in The Study...

He was in The Kitchen...

He was in The Master's Dressing Room...

Gree assessed the situation.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

[Tiberius Anar]

"My client is anxious that you seem to have made no progress, inspector."

"I can understand why that would be so."

"Perhaps it would be clearer if you reported daily."

The lawyer again.

"I am not working for your client. I am working for the city."

"To protect its citizens and their interests, including my client."

"Yet other citizens would not receive daily reports. Especially not on lost property."

"But my client is not like other citizens..."

"I don't know about that."

"...and nor is this lost property."

"Oh, I know that very well..." Gryle smiled at the lawyer. A broad, knowing smile.

[Tiberius Anar]

"How much longer is this going to take?" The tall man was visibly agitated.

"I am not certain at this point," the technician seemed unconcerned though he might have been extremely worried for all his face gave away, "I had to shutdown and allow a cooling off. I could re-start now but the processors are still too close to overheat and..."

"Never mind the technical mumbo-jumbo! How long?" He seemed oddly alert, even worried.

"As I say I am not certain but a day a least once I re-start the process."

The two visitors (the one asking the questions and his companion) regarded the droid on the table, amid a mass of wires and parts. It seemed like an untidy mess to their untrained eyes but the technician assured them it was all in perfect order.

The one who had been speaking looked to his companion. This short man had not spoken before but now he did and it was in a tone of...well...menace was the best word for it.

"Now about this policeman you say came calling..."