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Nicholas continued: “Things have changed since you’ve been gone, mon ami.”

“Well, c’est evident. There’s more plainclothes about.” Chase had had a feeling that coming back to the Common wasn’t exactly the greatest idea she’d had in some while, but in all honestly, she’d had no other place to start. Though she could disappear into a background, it usually took marks and some information to make it “go smooth” (to borrow the captain’s phrase). As it was, she was flying blind---well, blinder than she was used to---and the Common had seemed like a good place to get her bearings.

“Plainclothes?”

Chase broke her gaze and turned from Nicholas to Zoe, who’d made the remark. Zoe was growing more and more unreadable, her face becoming impassive. Chase had a feeling that it wouldn’t take much for Zoe just to shoot her and be on with her day.

“Policier clandestine, or “plainclothes,” are the Alliance’s forces here in the Common.”

“And these “plainclothes,” they’re different from feds how?” Zoe’s arms loosened just enough to fold them across her chest.

“I believe, madame, that I can answer that,” said Nicholas. He never moved from his desk---something else that had apparently changed in the time Chase had been gone. Usually Nicholas was one to greet people standing. The generally jovial demeanor she remembered him having had been replaced with a quiet resignment. Something wasn’t right here…not at all. But until she could put her finger on it, Chase silently believed it was best just to stay and get as much information as possible.

“Federales, or “feds, as you call them, don’t like making an ‘official’ presence here in the Common. The corps régissant corrompu you call ‘the Alliance’ hasn’t been welcome.”

“Still the Alliance just can’t keep away from this