Moenia isn't Theed, and we definitely don't have the kind of budget their Constabulary has. I'm reminded of how over budget we are every time the Lieutenant-Constable sits in on the bi-weekly meeting of the senior Watch-leaders as it is.
I'm sorry, but as far as your word goes on Naboo, it won't go as far as 'spurious scans draining an already overtaxed budget' with the Ell-Cee."
...
An ember of irritation that had been glowing faintly in the back of my mind ever since I began dealing with the constables suddenly ignited into a flare of genuine anger at this latest obstruction.
The frustration I'd been feeling over the need to manage Constable Kiherri fueled that anger, until before I knew it, my mouth was open, and I was ready to fall back on my credentials with Republic Intelligence to demand the scans be run as a matter of the Republic's security.
Eyes narrowed, my gaze happened to pass over Ahsoka as I habitually scanned the area about the conveyance we still stood upon, before my gaze returned to the object of my anger and frustration. Agitated as I was, it took a moment for what I'd just noticed to really register, then I felt a bit flummoxed.
Instead of just staring off into space or finding some trivial means to relieve the boredom induced by this long ride down a swampy trail that was frankly rather monotonous in its near uniformity, my new apprentice appeared quite intent on studying my interactions with the constable.
I didn't think she was close enough to hear our conversation, but her open, honest, eager curiosity made me want to smile, and this in turn caused me a moment's confusion. The anger I'd been feeling, and this gentler emotion collided and refused to mix, like oil and water.
"What the fark is wrong with me? I mean, sure, the Constable isn't exactly the easiest person to work with, and yes, his habit of fixating on one subject until you want to shake him is a little annoying, but since when am I the kind of person to pull rank and stomp on someone to get my way?"
I didn't have an immediate answer for either of these questions, and that was genuinely disturbing, given how much effort my Master had put into ensuring I had a good idea of who I was and wasn't.
No one was ever going to accuse me of being the most serene, levelheaded person they'd met, but I didn't lose my cool and treat the locals like ignorant impediments either.
Concerned enough to launch a deeply ingrained process of self-assessment taught to me by Dark Woman, I began methodically reviewing everything that had happened from the time Crissayel had killed Ravara, up to a few moments ago, when the aberrant emotional reaction came to my attention.
Reaching the moment in memory where I'd spotted Crissayel lifting the second of two identical necklaces off the unconscious Bpfasshi, I found myself tempted to smack the base of my palm into my forehead.
The repulsor-lift craft was slowing to turn and come up alongside the platform floating on the water at the edge of Lake Paonga by the time I held up a hand to indicate to the constable I needed a moment. "IG-1, could you come over here and present the H.V.C.C?"
Watching the previously motionless droid loom up to his full height and begin smoothly weaving pass the craft's other occupants to reach me, I took a moment to explain myself to the man I'd just been speaking with, "My apologies, Constable, I seem to have been a bit remiss about enacting proper containment procedures. I'll be with you in just a few moments."
Looking on as the tall droid marched up, did an about-face to show me his back, and opened up a small rectangular chamber in his rear torso armor plating that was lined with polished yet cracked whitish-gray stone, the policeman's curiosity got the better of him, as I took the black necklaces with their heavy, organic-looking pendants out of my belt-pouch and deposited them inside IG-1's High Value or Contamination Containment chamber.
Mouth partway open as he struggled to find a way to phrase his question, the Constable and I both watched as the battle-droid's phrik-composite armor plating slid shut, before he finally just came out and asked the obvious question.
"Why does your droid have a stone-lined compartment in its back, and what were those things you deposited inside it? Please tell me that wasn't evidence you removed from a crime scene where a Class One offense was committed, Knight Skywalker!" There was an almost pained tiredness to the constable's question and follow-up statement, but I'd had quite enough of working within the constraints of local procedure for the nonce, and essentially said as much.
"The stone is Alderaanian marble, from the Plaza of Emancipation. Circumstances give said stone a number of helpful properties, when it comes to containing objects tainted with malignant energies, and droids are far less susceptible to Dark Side contamination than any organic sapient to begin with. Otherwise, there is no productive way to answer your question, Constable.
Suffice to say said objects fall squarely within the remit of the Jedi Order, have no substantive bearing on any active investigation of the Constabulary, and that you absolutely do not want to go on record as arguing those amulets should be turned over to you or any other representative of the Constabulary."
Our gazes locked as I finished my explanation, but I had neither the time nor the inclination to argue about this. If the Constable couldn't demonstrate the better part of valor here, I really would trot out the "Matter of Republic Security" privileges granted me as an S.U.A. I might eventually end up having to justify my reason(s) for doing so, but it wouldn't be to this man, his Chief Constable, or even Queen Jamilia.
The bump of the repulsor-lift boat against the floating platform brought an end to our staring contest. Blinking, the cop finally sighed, shook his head sharply, then wisely returned to the previous topic, "I'll do my best to get the scans of Ankar's remains performed as soon as possible, but it will take me at least a couple of hours to find out what Ankar was doing, and where he went during his final twelve hours.
That's assuming he remained in the city, mind you. If he went more than a few hundred meters into the swamp or took an aircar beyond my jurisdiction, I won't be able to learn anything useful about his activities in a useful frame of time. I, ahh, I don't know what you think you can do about the Gungans, but I wish you the best of luck with your mission, anyways."
The pilot was making urgent gestures amounting to "Get off my kriffing boat this instant!" so I offered the cop my final hurried suggestions, "Focus on the couple of hours preceding Ankar's time of death, and make sure the coroner doesn't confine their attention to the wound-tracts.
The entire cadaver needs to scanned for any traces of high-grade duranium, phrik alloys, and any cortosis composites which might have been left behind by simple contact transfer. You might also want to check Ankar's weapon, because if this incident was treated like an animal attack, I doubt anyone did a full disassembly to check the warranty tell-tale chip for evidence the weapon was rapidly reloaded."
I was already turning to make sure I was the first off the boat to secure the platform for the others, so I only saw the man shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. His reply, though, that I heard clearly enough, "Just handle the Jedi end of things, Knight Skywalker. If there's anything criminal going on in my city, with all due respect, I won't need pointers from a talented amateur to find it.
Despite the temptation to point out he'd needed just such a pointer to get the ball rolling, I let the prickly yet committed investigator have the last word. Allowing the press of my disembarking companions to carry me off the boat and onto the platform, to await our next ride.