3-13 INTERVYOU

“Hi, Master!” you say as you step out of the CorSec speeder. You wave a farewell to the CorSec officer as she zips away, then turn to Master Lasah.

“Hello, Xena. Are you ready?”

You nod, prompting her to begin striding down the street. You walk by her side, watching where you put your tail. Now that it’s no longer shrouded by a long robe, you’ll have to be careful not to trip anybody, or stab anybody with it by accident.

The two of you walk down Goldrock once again — the same route you took toward the scene yesterday. This time, there is no Guardian droid standing in the center of the intersection. Instead, isolated groups of people are scattered through the space, walking about their business just like you and Master Lasah. You self-consciously pull your tail behind you, trying to keep it as still as possible such as to avoid attention. Alas, it is not to be, for you have so many more visual aspects that you cannot hide.

“Master Lasah?” you say, still moving. “How are we going to approach this?”

“You know what my answer is.”

“You want me to decide again?”

An almost imperceptible nod, and you silently sigh. Of course.

“I think we should talk to Doctor Neen, Master. But, we should do it… cautiously.”

“How so?” she asks.

You take your lightsaber from your belt, tucking it into your tunic as best you can so as to hide it from sight. “I think panicking him would be bad. So, maybe we should just talk to him about Mister Tlin first. Say that we’re just checking on his health or something.”

“That is a good start, but what then?”

“Um, I guess I could try reading his mind again? He might give something away about the package he got. Could you try asking him some ‘leading’ questions?”

“That, I can do.” Master Lasah slows as you approach the clinic, then turns to you once more. “If Tlin is still unconscious, try checking his memories again. Afterwards, we will question that droid.”

“Yes, Master. There is one thing though.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t really see all memories; just the ones that build up in someone’s true-self. If the memory isn’t defining enough, I won’t be able to see it.”

“You do not think finding a dead woman in the middle of the street is defining enough?”

“I, uh…” you trail off, trying to gather your thoughts. “He might remember it, but I might not be able to see it in his true-self. If it did go into his true-self, it might have been overwritten in the beating he received. If he associated the memories too closely, then one might overlay the other too much.”

“Hmm. Very well. We shall have to hope Mister Tlin is up and about. From here, however, it doesn’t seem to be the case.”

As the two of you are standing so close to the clinic, it’s easy enough to look into the building. Tlin still lies on the medical bed, unmoving in his sleep.

“Just give it another try,” encourages Master Lasah. You nod in affirmation, and then you follow Master Lasah as she moves ahead to open the door.

Doctor Neen looks up from the counter, confusion turning to conflicted recognition. He is somewhat happy to see the two of you again, but you can see the tinge of guilt upon his persona. There’s little wonder why that’s there at the moment though.

“Master Jedi! Are you here to check on Ioaniis?” he calls out, hope so clearly growing within him.

Master Lasah confirms, turning that glimmer of hope into a gem of relief. He feels safe — secure in the belief that the two of you aren’t here in relation to the delivery he so recently received. He very clearly has something to hide. Whatever those vials were, they’re certainly something to look into.

Now, it’s time for you to work your magic.

…

Sarko looks at the odd pair of Jedi for the second time in two days, a sight he's glad he didn't see half an hour earlier. If they'd shown up then… Well, best not to think about it.

Now that he's passed the container off to the droid, he can forget about it for the moment. He just needs to help them as best he can with whatever they need, and then they'll get out of his hair. The Jedi are a strange people. The keepers of peace, apparently. He’s read the stories, seen the news. They go out on humanitarian missions and work to clean up the galaxy.

It’s a shame they can’t be everywhere at once.

Sarko isn’t one of those whining drunkards he sees so often in the bars, complaining that the Jedi don’t do enough. It’s not their fault that poverty exists. It’s not their fault that criminals exist. They do their best for the galaxy. He’ll do his best for his patients. It’s always been like this.

The things he’s done may bring the hammer down upon him one day, but he can only hope for forgiveness. Everybody makes sacrifices. His have brought more good than harm. He knows this.

The war, though. That puts a damper on things. This Count Dooku guy, apparently a former Jedi himself. He’d never have thought a Jedi, even an ex-Jedi, would lead a war of secession against the Republic. Insanity.

Jedi business is Jedi business, people have always said. Well, that doesn’t seem to be so true anymore.

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He’d seen it that day — the dull gray cylinder at her waist, hidden partially within a black leather sheath. He’d not been sure what it was back then, but now that he’s seen these two Jedi, he’s sure that what he saw was a lightsaber. Why else would these two be here? Jedi business is Jedi business no longer. He’d never thought he’d ever be caught up in something like that. Is it connected to the war? Hopefully not.

Sarko stands up, beckoning for the Jedi to follow him into the backroom. “Ioaniis is going to be fine. Things look bad, but he’s got no lasting injuries. The only thing I was worried about was the concussion, but he seems to be recovering rather well.”

The older Jedi nods at his words. “That is very good. Hopefully he can answer our questions soon. Has he awoken yet?”

“Yes,” Sarko replies. “I would have been worried if he didn’t. Got him hydrated while he was awake. He was lucid, but still needs rest. He should be asleep now.”

“How long ago did he wake?”

Sarko thinks back, counting the hours. “Hmm. About five hours ago, the last time. He woke up once before, an hour after you left yesterday.”

“Wonderful. Do you think he would be available for questioning at the moment?”

Sarko shakes his head in an emphatic denial. “No, Master Jedi. For the sake of my patient’s health, I must say I do not recommend it. He should be fine, but I would rather wait for him to wake normally again and regain ambulation first. Waking him up to have him speak about what landed him here probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“I see. Well, you are certainly a dedicated doctor. Very admirable of you,” the Jedi says with a smile.

Sarko blushes at the praise, at the moment so very glad she cannot see the red blooming in his cheeks. Where those words would normally be sarcastic, he can tell that she means it entirely.

“It - It’s nothing, Master Jedi,” he stammers out. “It’s simply my job.”

“But, your job is merely to heal, whereas you truly care for them.” The Jedi once again smiles with sincerity. “Thank you, Doctor. You will be adequately compensated for your work.”

“There’s no need!” Sarko blurts out, though he knows there’s always a need. “I’m just glad to help!”

The older Jedi — Sarko curses himself, suddenly realizing he does not remember her name — looks down at the younger who is tugging at her robes. She nods, then turns to face him again with a mournful sigh.

“I am most sorry, Doctor Neen, but we must bother you further. First of all, you shall be compensated. I will not have it any other way,” she says, cutting off his repeated refusal with a raised finger.

She continues, raising another finger as she speaks. “Second, we do have some more questions for you. Do not worry; you are still not a suspect and we know you are trustworthy. However, we need to cover all our bases and gather as much information and context as possible.”

“Of course! Just one moment,” Sarko says, hiding his smile behind a mask of professionalism. Trustworthy, she says! He gestures to the side, showing them to his preparation room, just next door from his two patients. He then rushes to the front to put up a sign for moments of indisposition like this, notifying any patrons to simply press the button at the front desk to get his attention.

On his way back, he checks in on his droid, ensuring that it’s keeping watch on his two patients properly. He’s still unsure if he should fully trust it considering its source and its other function, but it certainly fulfills its medical purposes well enough. Perhaps one day he won’t have need of it. Perhaps one day his clinic will be rid of it and its business.

“Thank you for waiting, Master Jedi,” he says as he re-enters the room. “I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t recall your name.” As he finishes his sentence, somehow gets a feeling of annoyance from the little one, so he quickly amends his last statement. “Sorry. Names.”

“I am Jedi Master Lasah, and this here is Xena,” the older one responds indulgently. “We are glad to meet you.”

“Likewise. And, you can call me Sarko.”

She nods, but to his disappointment, does not reciprocate with a first name. No matter. It’s not like he had any hope anyways, what with the Jedi’s ascetic lifestyle.

“Ask away, “ he prompts.

“Thank you, Sarko. Firstly, we wanted to know if you have seen anything odd or out of place in the last two weeks.”

He thinks for a second, but nothing comes to mind. He shakes his head. “Business as usual, Master Jedi. I’m always getting people like Tlin in here, and everything else tends to be minor. This isn’t the safest area, especially with all that industry, but everything tends to just be either accidents or gang violence.”

“Gang violence is typical here?”

“Small time stuff. Not true shootouts. Anything big tends to be shut down by CorSec rather quickly.” Sarko slows his words, suddenly conscious about how close he’s getting to the line.

The little one, Xena, speaks up, startling him though he tries not to let it show. “What are the things that go on? Is there anything that could lead to the violence? Drugs? Smuggling?”

At those last two words, Sarko freezes for the briefest of moments before responding. “Uh, yes. Or, I suspect it.”

“You should report that! Then the bad guys can be caught!”

Sarko almost spits out some choice words at her naivety, but has to choke it back with the sudden onrush of guilt. Yes, he could have reported it all, but things would be so much worse if he did.

“What would be worse?”

He stares at the tiny Jedi, looking up at him with that gold-painted eye. Did she read his mind?

“No, you said that out loud,” lies the girl.

“Really?”

Lasah interrupts her junior, placing a hand on her shoulder as she’s about to speak again. “Are you having any issues with the local criminals, Sarko? We could, and would help you.”

Sarko suddenly realizes he’s standing, shaking with the urge to run from the room. That wouldn’t help though, he realizes now. That wouldn’t help anything at all.

“We can help you,” Xena says — a lilting, high voice, so sincere in her youth. “We can help!”

Sarko wavers. He knows running wouldn’t do anything, but should he really spill everything to the Jedi? They’re not even here for this!

“This… this doesn’t even have anything to do with the dead woman, though! Why do you want to help with this? You’re just wasting your time.”

“Well, it is still possible that it is all connected,” Lasah says. “You see, we went to the Coruscant Highline Bank earlier today and found something rather interesting. Have you heard of it?”

“No,” he responds, shaking his head. He really hasn’t.

“Hm, well, no matter. We found—”

Suddenly, the door bursts open and you snap back to yourself. You look up, seeing the surprise in Neen and the alarm in Master Lasah. Coming through the doorway and lunging at you — the closest person to the door — is the medical droid. Both of its arms fall toward you at speed. At the end of one is the flat block, a seemingly useless manipulator, but certainly a good club. The other, just as robust but with a set of graceful fingers, holds a wickedly sharp knife.

“Xena!” Master Lasah barely has time to cry out, her lightsaber springing into her hand.

But she has no time, the droid is already too close.

You have no chance of getting your own saber out, hidden within your tunic as it is. You scream out and—