3-8 INTERVIEW

The Guardian droid makes for an excellent pack mule.

As it takes its final step onto the twenty-second floor, you hop out of its arms and give it a bow of thanks. No matter how much you still dislike droids, you’ll acknowledge that this one has earned its keep. Marginally.

The other one… not so much. That one — face still partially stripped of paint — you’d traded out, leaving it behind to do whatever this one was doing. You’re certainly glad you did too, as you have a feeling that the other one would have dropped you at least a dozen times on the way up. This one, however, bore your weight without comment or complaint and steadily made its way all the way up the stairs as sure-footed as a mountain goat!

It follows close behind you as you make your way toward Ioaniis Tlin’s apartment. As you walk, you look around, searching for that surly medic. Surprisingly, you’d not seen him on your way up. Maybe he’d gone to the wrong floor?

Apparently not, for he’s already caring for Tlin by the time you arrive. Tlin’s legs are immobilized, waiting for straightening and setting later. Most of his contusions are also already tended to, partly by the hand of the medic, partly by Master Lasah.

Master Lasah gives you a nod as you approach, then makes her way over, stepping smartly around the medic and over any debris.

“Thank you, Xena. That was faster than expected. Good work.”

You smile awkwardly, unsure of how to receive that praise. Fortunately, Master Lasah quickly moves on, saying, “I have not been able to question either Tlin or healer Neen here. Tlin is still not in a position to respond, and Neen has been too busy to answer questions.”

“Do you want me to… do my thing? I can probably get something out of Mister Tlin, and maybe something from… Neen — was it?”

“Yes. Sarko Neen. And yes, please ‘do your thing.’ As long as you can do it without harm to either of them, that is.”

“Yes, Master.”

You decide to start with Ioaniis Tlin. Since he’s been unresponsive, he’s unable to answer Master Lasah’s questions. Who did this to him? Why? And, was this related to Ryker in some way?

You open your warp-eye and stare down into the man’s true-self. You haven’t done this in a while, but it’s no harder than before. You simply have to look, poke around, and parse the information. Easy!

Well, it turns out it’s not so easy. A blanket of pain muddies his most recent memories, hazing out the details of what has happened. You stare at a mushy stack of pancakes, the syrup having soaked through, then dried and started disintegrating. The pancakes — the layers of true-self — meld into one another more than they should.

It looks as though the memories have already started to be lost — to be folded into the greater whole of his psyche. The only thing he really remembers is pain and pressure. A senseless beating for no greater gain than to teach him an undeserving lesson. He just wants to forget.

But, he still remembers some things. Very pertinent things. The mush of true-self doesn’t deter you as you know the detail is still there. The pieces you get are fractured, though. Disparate sensations, fractured and shattered from his ill treatment at the hands of some “friends.” Slowly, you gather them up and piece them together like a rough puzzle. Slowly, you get a picture of what happened.

Tlin’s former “friends,” did not appreciate the mysterious death of a potential customer on their territory. However, it wasn’t the death that they were truly annoyed at. After all, Tlin had nothing to do with it and they knew that. No, it was the fact that he reported the death to CorSec first; what a terrible friend, not thinking of his buddies until a long time later!

That’s all there is. Nothing on Ryker — the incident having been beaten deep into the dark depths of his soul, ruining the nice order of the typical true-self. You’d have to dive far down to find it and you don’t have the time at the moment to do so.

You blink your warp-eye, shaking away the afterimages of Tlin’s true-self. When you look up, however, something odd happens. For a moment, you could swear you can see a realm of howling horror just beyond the veil of realspace. You blink again in surprise and it’s gone. A disturbing illusion.

You have no time to contemplate that as the medic, Neen, stands up at that moment. He strips a pair of disposable gloves from his hands, then shoves them into a pouch at his waist and pulls out a fresh pair from a different pouch. He turns to Master Lasah, a fog of weariness suddenly descending upon him.

“I’ve done what I can. Ioaniis will be alright. He’s stable and that’s unlikely to change. I just need to get him down to my clinic so I can give him some scans and set his legs.”

“Wonderful,” Master Lasah says, her tone just barely rising above monotony. “Do you mind if we come along? We have some questions for you too. It is about Justinia Ryker. The woman who died yesterday.”

“Fine. That’s fine. Your daughter already told me. I need a hand carrying Tlin to the lift anyways.”

“I’m not—” you start, before being cut off by a pat on the shoulder from Master Lasah.

“Very well,” she says. “And, what is this about a lift?”

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

It turns out there’s a set of working turbolifts further into the building. No wonder why Neen was able to get up there so quickly!

Master Lasah, the medic, and the droid carefully carry Tlin’s prone body out the door and to the lift, using half of Tlin’s ‘fresher door as a stretcher. You walk ahead, guiding them such that they do not bump into anything. It’s a much smoother trip down this time and soon you’re all standing within Neen’s clinic.

Neen points ahead, directing you to proceed further into the building. While the Guardian droid sits in the waiting room, you hold aside a privacy curtain to allow Neen and Master Lasah to carry Tlin through. Hefting him up, they deposit Tlin onto a medical bed and relax.

“Two-one!” the medic calls past the curtains. The droid you saw earlier shifts, its actuators whirring as it stands and walks over. It pushes the curtain aside and stands to attention.

“You remember Tlin?”

“Yes, Doctor Neen. I do,” comes the reply.

“Great. Take care of him will you? I’ve given him preliminary care. Run some scans to see if I missed anything, then patch him up. Two broken legs, lacerations and contusions. Minor internal bleeding. Check here, here, and here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The medic turns back to Master Lasah and gestures back to the waiting room. “Let’s go. We can talk out there.”

“Very well.”

As the three of you make your way back over to the front of the clinic, you telepathically inform Master Lasah of what you saw within Tlin’s memories. Her own mind spins into motion, dissecting your words and the copied sensations you’d sent over.

One thing in particular catches her attention — something you’d thought odd too.

Potential customer?

Yes, that’s what Tlin heard before he was beaten. Master, why would they think that?

Hmm. I have an idea of what kinds of goods these friends of Tlin might be selling: Narcotics, most likely.

Drugs? Why would they want to sell that to a Jedi?

Did I not tell you? Ryker was working “undercover.” Insofar as simply wearing civilian clothing counts, that is.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

So, do you think they had anything to do with her death? They seemed… upset about her death though, so I think it’s unlikely.

I agree, but we cannot yet discount any connection. Keep it in the back of your mind. Speaking of minds, I would like for you to read Doctor Neen’s as I question him. Are you willing?

Yes, of course!

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

Sarko considers the woman standing in front of him. The Jedi.

The blindfold was disconcerting at first, but he now remembers the tales of the Miraluka — the eyeless humanoids that see with the Force. It’s a bit odd he hasn’t heard of very many Miraluka becoming Jedi. Then again, it isn’t as if he knows much about the Jedi anyways.

The blindfold reminds him of his other patient though. Not Tlin; the other one. He’d thought the man was Pantoran at first, but his physiology doesn’t match at all. Blinded and deafened in a speeder accident. Unfortunate, and now his problem to deal with. A big, very annoying problem. It’s a good thing he made that deal for the droid so he doesn’t have to do everything himself like the old days.

Sarko glances at the Jedi’s daugh—

Mentee!

Mentee… yes. The horns and tail pretty clearly indicate she’s not of the Miraluka. She’s been mostly quiet so far, merely doing her best for her… master? That’s what they call it, right?

“Doctor Neen. May we record this interview?”

Sarko nods automatically. Even if it does make him a bit nervous, he’s not going to say anything stupid.

“Thank you.”

The Jedi turns to the CorSec droid behind her and gives it some instructions. A moment later, an audible click sounds out in the room and the droid announces that it is now recording.

“Thank you again, Doctor Neen. It is ‘doctor,’ correct?”

“Yes, Master Jedi,” is his reply. “It is ‘master,’ for you, yes?”

“Indeed. Now, my purpose here is to ascertain the events that led to Justinia Ryker’s death yesterday. As you were the first medically trained person to observe her body, I would like your input. Just so you know, you are not a suspect. We do not yet know if it is foul play.”

“Ah, yes… Wait, foul play? Someone thought she was… murdered?”

“No. We have determined she perished from an allergic reaction. However, we do not know yet how it was triggered.”

Sarko thinks back to the day before, rubbing his chin in thought. “Yes… I had a suspicion of that. She had a few of the symptoms. Reddened skin. Hives. And, of course, asphyxia, among other things. Why her allergy attack triggered, I do not know. Do you know what she was allergic to?”

“Citrus.”

Sarko absently scratches his chin as he thinks. Citrus, huh… Where could she have come into contact with citrus? When he’d first seen her, she’d looked perfectly fine. Rather sad though, considering the way her path seemed to be leading her. Perhaps it’s good she went the way she did, rather than down the darker route.

“Did you see her any time before she died?” the Jedi suddenly asks.

“Wha— I mean, yes. I did.” Sarko leans back in his chair, trying and failing to hide his surprise. How did she know? Well, it’s not like he was hiding it. It just didn’t seem too relevant to the Jedi’s questions. He’s not guilty of anything. Not really. Nothing truly bad, at least.

“When and where did you see Ryker?”

“I saw her just outside here, actually. I was stepping out to use the ‘fresher. She said she was looking for a missing package so I let her inside to take a look while I ran to my apartment.”

“Your apartment?”

“Yeah. I removed the toilet from this place to make room for more important stuff. My apartment is just next door anyways. Second floor. I just go there when I need to ‘go.’”

“And you trusted her not to do anything… unsavory?”

“My droid was manning the counter. I trusted it to at least sound the alarm if anything went wrong.”

“I see. And, when was this again? When did you see her?”

“Ah, right. It was about ten minutes before Tlin came to get me.”

“Hmm. The timeline is getting a bit messy. Let me recount the events. Correct me if I am wrong, please.”

“Of course, Master Jedi.”

The Jedi holds her hands out in front of her, extending fingers one by one as she speaks. “First, you spoke with Ryker roughly ten minutes before you next saw her. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“You ran to your apartment to use your ‘fresher.”

“Yes.”

“You came back, and she had not yet collapsed in the intersection?”

“No. Tlin came to get me at my apartment. He said that he couldn’t find me here. Fortunately, he knew where I lived.”

“And then, you saw Ryker. What was her state at the time?”

“Already gone. I’m no detective, but I can pretty confidently say she died pretty damn close to when I found her. You can trust me on that.”

The Jedi smiles with mild amusement while the child looks back and forth between the two of them, seemingly confused. It is true though. He’s not going to hide something like this from the Jedi. They’re Jedi! And, what’s the harm in aiding such an investigation? He had nothing to do with her death.

He hopes.

He’s got enough trouble on his hands anyways, dealing with the fucking cartel’s whims every other day. Damnable deal, but he really did need this droid.

“That should be all. Thank you for your time,” the Jedi says. “It seems you have a bigger problem at the moment, anyways.”

For a second, he’s again surprised by her seeming ability to read his mind. However, a crashing sound and the words of an unfamiliar language sounds out from the rear of the clinic. Cursing, he jumps up and—

≡][≡ ⬦⬦⬦ ≡][≡

You watch as Sarko Neen rushes to the back of his clinic. His other patient seems to have awakened and is now thrashing about, only prevented from leaving his bed by a set of restraints.

The words you hear are foreign — both those screamed out from the man’s throat and the ones rebounding through his brain. Even so, you can tell what he’s feeling. Even without your witchsight, you could probably tell by the tone of his voice, the jumble of his tangled thoughts, the raw emotion he expresses in the Force. He’s ever so confused. He’s frightened. He doesn’t know where he is and all he remembers is a sudden pain, and then darkness forevermore.

Blinded. Deafened. He has no other sensation than touch. A pitiable fate. You, however, are in a position to help. You’re telepathic. He needs no ears to hear you! Even if he can’t understand you, he’ll know someone’s there. Hopefully the feelings you project are conveyed.

Calm, you send to him. Calm, please. You’ll hurt yourself. Someone is helping you now.

The man’s struggles suddenly cease, his mind echoing the words you sent. He tumbles the words about, similar to the way Master Lasah worked through what you sent her earlier. Taking this chance, the clinic’s medical droid pushes a rectangular manipulator against the man’s chest, a glass vestibule on the back of the limb pumping with what’s likely hydraulic fluid. It gently moves him back into a safer, more comfortable position.

He doesn’t understand your words though. Not truly.

However, you’ve calmed him down. He’s still confused, but no longer by his situation. He’s confused by you.

Ozyly-esehembo?

What?

But, before you get a reply, the man’s mind falls away. He’s asleep.

Neen checks his vitals with a handheld scanner, while the droid adjusts the man’s restraints. Seemingly satisfied, Neen nods to himself, muttering while making his way back to you and Master Lasah.

“Sorry about that. My other patient can be a bit of a handful sometimes.”

“I can imagine. It must be terrible to be in such a position as that,” Master Lasah says.

“Yeah…”

“I mean no offense, but can you not have him transferred to a better equipped hospital?”

“I’ve tried to, but they won’t take anybody who can’t be ID’d. I have no idea where he’s from. He was stowing away on a ship and was injured in an accident at the docks. No one knows where he’s from.”

“Master Lasah,” you speak up. “Can the Halls of Healing take him?”

“I doubt it. You were just there. You know how busy they are at the moment.”

“Ah, right.” You look down in disappointment. “Maybe we can move him once more space has been cleared up?”

“Perhaps. I will keep it in mind. Speak with Alba when you next see her too.”

“I will!”

Master Lasah turns to Neen again and the two of you bow as one. “Thank you again. May we contact you again for further information?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful. Please let us know when Mister Tlin is awake too. We will be interested in speaking with him later on.”

You give Neen a small wave which he returns, and then you follow on Master Lasah’s heels as she strides out the door.

Just outside the clinic, she pauses and turns to you. “It is getting rather late. We do not have much time left today, perhaps just enough time for one more thing. Is there anything you would like to do before we head back? Otherwise, we could take this time to fetch the item from the bank.”