A Certain Point of View/Part 7

Narasi stirred, unsticking her bottom lip from her pillow where she had drooled on it. She opened and closed her mouth, swishing her tongue to clear the taste and spitting out her Padawan braid. As she arched herself up she became aware of a blink on her utility belt. Though it was halfway across the room, she reached a hand out for it, opening and closing her fingers and whimpering at it persuasively. After a moment she remembered Tirien was not in the room, smirked sleepily, and pulled the whole thing to her hand with the Force.

It was her Jedi transceiver beacon. Shaking her head and wiping the sleep out of her eyes, she plugged the beacon into her datapad to pull up the message.


 * G ETS OLD, DOESN'T IT ? M ALI TAKES IT IN STRIDE, I GUESS .  M OST PEOPLE AREN'T J EDI, SO THEY NEED HEROES TO LOOK UP TO .  C ORELLIA'S BIG ON PLANET PRIDE, THOUGH, SO MAYBE SOME OF IT'S UNIQUE TO US .


 * G LAD THEY FINALLY LET YOU OUT OF THE CAGE . S TAY SAFE .  –A LDAYR 

Narasi shook out her hair with one hand as she held her datapad with the other, frowning over that. Maybe some of it was unique to Corellia, but a lot of it tracked with what she had heard and sensed the day before. She wondering how to share that perspective with Tirien.

Sensing him awake, she crawled to the edge of her bed, chuckling at the distance. After she had cleaned herself up, she found Tirien in the main room, wearing only pants and a light tunic, kneeling in front of the window as the sun rose over the mountains. His eyes were closed in meditation, and Narasi knelt beside him, yawning and immersing herself in the Force too. She considered the world of possibilities for the day, the different ways to track down the fate of Ayson's mother and how to talk Tirien into a reunion with his family.

She rose when he did, looking around the parlor. "Not a lot of space for lightsabers, Master."

"Lightsabers aren't the only way to fight," he retorted. "Help me move the furniture."

Narasi cracked her knuckles and stretched out her hands, but stopped when she saw Tirien physically lifting one end of the sofa. She hefted the other, but complained, "We could do this with the Force in three seconds, Master."

"If I wanted to use the Force, I could do it without you," he replied. "The Force isn't a droid that exists just to make your life easier, Narasi. Treat your powers with respect."

She sighed, feeling guilty about levitating her belt and absurd for feeling guilty. "Yes, Master."

They sparred hand-to-hand in the cleared space. Tirien had a lithely muscular build that suited his Makashi fencing, but it meant he had to rely more on deflections and joint attacks than straightforward hitting. Though only fifteen, Narasi was already almost as strong as some adults, and she enjoyed the feeling of driving her master back with a series of haybalers—right until he stepped into one, turned her arm over his shoulder, and threw her over his hip and onto the floor. He was smirking when she got back up.

"I know you're excited for Form V," he commented, "but finesse before brutality."

Sparring until they were both sweaty and sore, they separated to shower and dress. Tirien refused to allow her to order room service a second time, but sent her on her way into Isalius with enough credits to eat for days. She considered eating at the hotel restaurant just to be snarky, but ultimately bought some fruit from an open-air café instead. The morning was brisk; Narasi snugged her coat and tried to practice Tapas as she walked. It was harder to concentrate on it while she was walking, but after a few blocks her ears didn't feel as cold, at least.

It was easier to ignore sideways glances from passing Pantorans today, since she had a goal in mind and an idea where to start. A droid taxi took her to the nearest police precinct. A few officers eyed her and a surveillance droid swooped back for a second look; she resisted the urge to see if she could short-circuit it with the Force.

The officer at the desk took one look and slowly dropped his hand to his holstered sidearm in a manner he apparently thought was subtle. Taking a deep breath, Narasi overlooked that, strode confidently to the desk, and said, "Good morning. I need to find a death record."

Suspicion was all over his face. "Are you a citizen?"

She unzipped her coat to show her garb and the lightsaber on her belt. "I'm a Jedi."

That, at least, gave him pause. He studied Narasi critically for a moment. "I heard about you. You're here with Kal-Di."

Narasi nodded. She had sworn to herself not to play the I'm Tirien Kal-Di's apprentice card except at the utmost end of need, but he had asked.

The officer grimaced. "Guess Kal-Di's life isn't completely charmed, then."

Narasi narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Hating Zygerrians was one thing, but suggesting she was a misfortune for her master was a new and harsher insult. "I'm still a Jedi, and I still need the information."

He shrugged. "We don't keep death records here. Ma'am."

"There might have been a criminal report," she reasoned. "It probably wasn't a natural death."

"Got the case number?" the Pantoran asked.

"I know the last name," Narasi offered.

"What part of case number wasn't clear, ma'am?"

Narasi felt her temper rising and the edge of the desk digging into her palms as she squeezed onto it. She was sure that someone or some droid in the facility could help if they wanted to, but she would grow old waiting for that to happen. Pulling her fingers free, she fought the temptation to mind trick him into helping her; he probably wasn't as weak-minded as the mall cops. "Where are death records kept?"

He sat back and crossed his arms. "Not here. Bundle up, it's cold outside."

"Thanks," Narasi snarled, turning on her heel; she used the Force to slide the doors open for effect, then felt guilty the whole way down the sidewalk as she thought of what Tirien would say. She leaned against a light post, stymied; she could always try her luck, but she wasn't sure anyone else would be any more accommodating. Then something occurred to her.

She took the comlink from her belt. She didn't want to lead them along, but she also couldn't let Tirien down—he was trusting her to find the information they need. She scrolled to the frequency and depressed the signal key.

It was only a moment before the reply came back. "Narasi?"

"Hey, Rylar. Is this a bad time?"

"No, not at all. Did you talk to him?"

"I haven't had a chance yet," she hedged. It wasn't quite a lie… "I actually need your help."

"Uh…okay?"

"My—Tirien gave me an assignment, but I kinda hit a wall. You said your sister's a lawyer, right?"

"She's studying law."

"Well, it's sorta law-related…do you think you could connect me with her?"

Rylar laughed. "That'll be pretty easy; she's here."

"In Isalius?" Narasi blinked. "She's a student here too?"

"No, I talked to her yesterday after you. She came in late last night."

Narasi winced, trying to keep the tic out of her voice. "That's…that's great! Can we get together?"