“I’m afraid if it was a copy of The Good Book, chances of getting the matter resolved are close to zero.”
Basil covered his mouth with a hand and gnashed his teeth. The alternative was yelling at a cop, which seemed unwise if you wanted her help. After a calming breath he said, “Look, it was theft, and it was right at the train entrance, so RepRail must have security footage. The on-board security said I should check with the station police, the station police referred me to border guard… Feels like I’m getting further away from a resolution. Who do I have to talk to to get things going before the footage gets deleted?”
The officer did look sympathetic, but that didn’t bring back that brand-new limited edition with illustrations by C. Cidrain. She sighed. “Since the theft was on Republic soil, you’d have to report it to their authorities. But you said you aren’t initiated, and they have exceptions to property law there regarding unbelievers owning items such as holy scripture.”
“Wait, wait, wasn’t that got rid of in the free trade agreement last year?”
“Officially. But I’ve seen some similar cases, and they were all wrapped up in red tape like a mountain mummy until the victim gave up, or until Republic authorities found some technicality or other loophole to throw them out.”
Basil vented some curses. “And the seller never asked about my religion.”
“They like money. Sometimes I wonder if some of them work together with thieves and buy back and resell.
“I’ll give you contact information, and you can try to get it pursued. If you know which number of that collector’s edition you had, maybe that gives you a bit more leverage than usual. I wish you good luck, but don’t get your hopes up too much. Sorry.”
Shortly he stomped off, carrying home a slim leaflet instead of the precious book he’d paid for.This entry was also posted at http://anke.dreamwidth.org/182027.html. You can comment wherever you prefer.