[Citadel Noir] I Have A Few Questions

The first thing a person noticed as they approached Precinct Three was the blue and black. It was everywhere. On the shirts and jackets of off duty cops. Patterned on the armored hardsuits of the Enforcement officers that stood on street corners, in the transit stations, mantled by the cool lights and burning neon of the Citadel. Insignia stenciled onto walls, onto aircars and ships, tucked away in the corners of shop windows and kiosks along with those little "I Support My C-Sec Officers" stickers that you could buy for twenty credits a pop.

The second took longer to see, hard to spot if you weren't looking but once you started it was even harder to stop. Folding armored panels that shuttered away blast doors. Massive mechanized clamps on the ends of the covered bridges that spanned Citadel's artificial chasm. Cameras, tucked away in the corners and alcoves and overhangs. Panels on the street edged in muted warning strips, stylized images of turrets stamped on the hatches. Drone colonies latched onto the sides of buildings like massive, angular, insect hives; tucked into the dead layers between the end of one level on the mountain of metal that was the Precinct and the start of the next.

Everyone noticed the third thing, on some level anyway. Really it was obvious when you thought about it, nearly impossible to miss. And yet so so many people, even as they walked the avenues and streets, saw the glittering, sprawling mass that was the sub-district from the glass walled elevators and on approaching vessels, did just that. The spires of Citadel Security were the core, and everything else crew up around it. Spreading out in concentric rings and along spiderwebbed magnarail lines.

Thirteen million permanent residents on the Citadel before the war, the number swollen by an order of magnitude by refugees and immigrants; military personnel and visa carriers. Millions per arm. Tens of thousands per district. And three titanic Precincts to oversee it all: Upper-Ward, Mid-Ward, and Lower-Ward; commanding and coordinating the dozens of satellite stations scattered across the Tayseri Arm.

The convoy of aircars were like flies against Precinct Three's bulk. Gnats. Tiny and utterly insignificant. A quick exchange with C-Sec's air control and they landed on one of the myriad pads that sprouted from the titanic arcology like mushrooms ringing a tree.

The late Ms. R'lonsi went down to the Medical Examiner and his freezers. The witnesses, those deemed potentially useful, had been requested to come downtown as it were. More thorough interviews, a better summation of events. Paperwork. Busywork.

Critical busywork even so, the Cross was close enough to Midward that technically it was Two's jurisdiction but given the nature of the assailant's flight, the victim's ties to Lower Ward it was elected that the case be ceded over to Lower Tayseri. A bullet dodged. A mess neatly avoided.

Of course, not for the people currently lazing, lounging, or sitting anxiously as the case may have been in one of C-Sec's many many waiting rooms. Counting down the seconds and minutes until an officer was available for them to speak to.

"Oh, I hope they're not changing the first part of the Frezz arc. I mean, it was rather dark, but that just let us know this wasn't going to be your standard kids' show, you know?"

"I do not".

"I guess they don't want to just redo everything exactly how it was, but really, I hope they keep the essence of the arc because the Gestyekti-Freshila feud is really one of the best parts of the show..."

"Joset. I would appreciate it if you would put the book down and concentrate".

Farlon had a weary tone to his flanging voice, and Joset realized that his friend was on edge, more so than he'd perhaps ever seen him. Now, that was interesting. As a rule very little seemed to get through that thick turian skin. Sitting in the precinct, the pair of them waited for interview - and for a chemical analysis of the blood which Joset had carried in on his sleeve. Deciding that he'd avoided thinking about the situation long enough, the salarian put the season guide down and squinted at his friend.

"I don't want to concentrate. I just wanted to get out and socialize for a bit and now someone's dead and somehow I'm involved. Or my sleeve is".

"I could have stopped them".

Ah, so that's what this was about. "Look, C-Sec will find them. It's not your job to magically sniff out criminals and grab them as they go by. Especially not when I'm around, thank you". He scowled. "Although you'd probably do a much better job than the people in charge are doing. I'm telling you, something has to be done about these crime rates". He launched into a moan.

The tables had turned. Now it was Joset nattering at length and Farlon quietly trying to sink into the backdrop.

Taleeze had been hesitant about taking that 'last look' before the dead body had been lifted into the C-Sec transport. She'd rather remember R'lonsi the way she had been when she was still breathing. Instead of just giving her contact, she herself had eventually been taken to the precinct for a detailed questioning. That sucked since it would cost her all the work day.

She sat on a chair among others who waited. She flinched, hugged her coat a bit closer, crossed her exposed legs and opened her omnitool, typing a message to the manager, she wouldn't be in anymore today. By now her stomach started grumbling very audibly. Taleeze had been on her way to grab some lunch when this mess unfolded. The first shock had subdued the feeling but now it was coming back with force. She switched from the message center to the omni-mirror application. She looked into a grumpy asari's face with super heavy club makeup. The bright lights in the room where highlighting it in a very unflattering way. Her mood didn't rise and she was wondering if they had snack machine somewhere.

"Hey officer, excuse me" she asked a Salarian C-Sec who came bye, "I am starving, I have no idea how long this is going to take, is there a snack station nearby?"

Mirala was again silent, staring in the vague direction of a nearby coffee table, though she could see nothing but Terena's face.
What was the last thing the matriarch had said to her? What was their last conversation about? Had she ever told young Terena how much she appreciated her assistance?
She'd no answers. She probably had little more for C-SEC, when they deigned to take her statement, but it was all she could do to help.
And no more. If there were anything, I'd be doing it now.

To his everlasting credit Kio paid for some half decent delivery; so it was slightly less awkward than it would have been if Jiang had just been sitting there, watching him scarf down his icecream straight from the pint spoon-bereft as he was. Burgers on delivery. Everyone's best friend. Granted it was still decidedly uncomfortable mind, but that had more to do with the turian's raging "quietly studly" sex appeal (as far as he was concerned) and the human's issue of "you called me up and basically dropped a dead body in my lap" (as far as she was concerned). Still, things had calmed down more or less, Xiaofan had commandeered some poor paper pusher's desk and was digging into her fries; boots up on the polished metal and ceramic. Kio was still engaged in the aforementioned scarfing, mandibles all aflutter and slightly stained with candied weilas beetle and cookiedough.

Plenty of time to get down to the nitty gritty of the why.

They'd already discussed some of it on the car-ride over, one of Jiang's Sergeants so kindly chauffeuring the two in black and blue style to the Precinct but there was still a decidedly great deal to talk about.

"So." She said around a mouthful of greasy bun, beef patty, and Delsi Gosso's Five Special Sauces, "if you're right"

"Not if." A pause and then Kio emerged, dabbing at his icecream stained beak. Jiang offered a napkin and he gratefully accepted. "Sorry Jiang, it's really not an if. I mean I know what I'm talking about. And you know that I know what I'm talking about."

Sigh.

"Right so since you're probably right,"

"I'll take it."

"Damn right you will, so as I was saying since you're probably right about all this...what exactly do you want me to do about it? This is Homicide's gig and I've uh, already kicked over one kid cop's sandcastle today."

Kio tilted his head in a halfshrug, half nod towards the greater waiting room as a whole laying just out of earshot. "Besides just being careful and pulling the files? Iunno honestly, wait and see what your buddies turn up?"

Between them dataslates quietly flickered, mostly ignored for now, their screens sliding from picture to picture, report to report. The missing stared back. The missing and the found, all ID-tagged and indexed based on probability and relevance to parameters.

"Figures." Jiang said as she returned whole-heartedly to her meal.

The salarian had been grumpy and in a hurry but he pointed Taleeze towards a vending machine. The asari chose two BoostyBars… and while one actually made it to the slot, the other got stuck between the magazine and the front window…. Typical. She frowned but didn’t think long and biotics flared up around her right hand, as she tried to free the bar.

But of course that stupid machine had a biotic seal field. Most had, to prevent manipulation and theft. It could be overcome with enough force of course but a simple shake of the whole apparatus was easier. Which was what she did, making some noise. But with a satisfied grin she nwatched the bar drop into the slot.

“Hey, what the fuck do you think you are doing?” said a turian officer from behind her.

Taleeze took her two energy bars, dangling them in front of the turians face, smiling.
“One got stuck, sorry.”

He grunted and looked at her suspiciously. “Just get back to your seat, and don’t wander around.”

“Sure” She shrugged and did just that, biting off a large chunk of the chocolate covered snack. Much better.