Private Senator Dod Dies | Jedi Investigators

[Sela Basran]

SHIRAYA'S SANCTUARY
MASTER BASRAN'S STUDY
[the vibes]
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Warm lamps, reminiscent of oil lanterns that were commonly used in homes in Caldrin's Reach on Sela Basran's homeworld of Nethira, spilled golden-orange light in pools around them. The overhead light was off, leaving the office in a sort of intimate warmth, though this was merely a concession to a long day and the resulting eye strain that had given Sela a headache behind the eyes. The lamps were not the only nostalgic thing in the study; vivid wall-hangings, riots of color, flanked the window behind Sela's desk, and the battered copper tea kettle that sat on the heating plate were also of Nethiran provenance.

The tea that was waiting to be steeped once the kettle finished boiling was all Naboo though, as was the desk, the comfortable working chair, the two guest chairs facing the desk, and the bookshelves that lined the wall.

Her fingers scooped up the pen she had set down moments ago, carefully underlining a word on the note she had written. She was really just making work now, waiting for the arrival of the investigator. Sela did not know the group well, and it was a shame that her first introduction to them would have to be in relation to a rather grisly -- and, if she was honest with herself, inconvenient -- murder of one Monaray Dod . Until his assassination by explosive device in his Senate office, he had served as Senator from Toshara. His death had been but one in a string of shocks to the system of the High Republic.

And the Senate seemed unable to determine how best to investigate, and so it had requested intervention from the Jedi Order. It fell to Sela Basran as the Jedi Council's liaison to the Senate to request aid from the Jedi Investigators, and the appointed hour drew near for the appointment. Unorthodox to meet after hours though it might have been, Sela felt it appropriate, given how frequently students lingered in the archives or corridors and might overhear during normal hours of operation. Now, if Sela found anyone loitering, she would be well within her rights to send them on their way.

The kettle whistled. When the Jedi Investigator arrived, she would find Sela busying herself with a chipped teapot and the gentle spice of a Naboo blend.

Pari Sylune | Callista Volpe

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[Callista Volpe]

VOLPE

Pari Sylune Sela Basran

Callista Volpe followed in the wake of the Jedi Guardian. It had been made quite clear to her that she was not to be permitted to walk the sanctuary unescorted. It was too clean. She wasn't used to the pleasant mountain air.

They arrived at a small house and Callista stopped beneath the light of a warm lantern. She crushed her cig under boot heel before knocking on the door. Kaydee floated at her flank, chassis humming quietly.

"Wait here," Callista said to the forensic droid.

No one needed to know the firepower KD-935 was packing.

Callista found herself in a small study, facing an old lady.

"Are you Pari?" Callista asked. "We spoke on the comm?"

It was immediately clear that the question was not expected.

Callista suppressed a sigh. Karking Jedi. She should have known better than to get involved but she needed the credits and someone out there had passed her name around as an expert.

She reached into her coat pocket, produced a slim holo-card, and flicked it to life. The Argus logo spun in cool blue between them. She took a step closer to the desk but kept her hands visible. No sudden moves around Jedi.

"Callista Volpe." Her voice stayed flat, professional. "I'm in recovery and insurance. Which is a way of sayin' I deal with mysteries that can't be unpicked."

 

[Pari Sylune]

This was certainly an interesting assignment for the padawan. As her master continued to be needed elsewhere the young girl was being sent places by the council. Today she would be working with a hired agent. She had never done this before.

As th walked the halls Pari made sure the walk slightly to the left, following the other woman’s lead but keeping out of the way of the smoke. She had a serene pleasant look on her face as her teak colored eyes examined their surrounding.

“It is nice to meet you. Yes I am Pari.”

Pari had never been assigned an investigation so she wondered if this was an area of the Jedi that she would do well in.


Callista Volpe Sela Basran

 

[Sela Basran]

SHIRAYA'S SANCTUARY
MASTER BASRAN'S STUDY
​

Sela looked up from her desk when the door opened.

"Come," she said, her voice authoritative but not impatient, standing up. She beckoned them forward and gestured to the seats in front of her desk. "Come in, please. I was just making some tea, if either of you would care for a cup?" Luckily, Sela was perfectly able to multitask, especially where tea was concerned, so she was able to start the steeping process while the logistics were settled.

"You are aware, I hope, of the assassination of Senator Monaray Dod," Sela said, more brisk than she usually would be. All this business about murder -- and investigating on behalf of the Senate -- had her on edge, clearly. As she spoke, she busied herself with preparing the tea tray -- something that soothed her nerves when she couldn't stop what she was doing to meditate. "We have been asked by the Senate to investigate as neutral third parties."

"I have this in writing from Senate Security," Sela went on as she adjusted the sugar bowl. "But I'll give it to you now just to get the ball rolling. Following a public dinner, Senator Dod was delivered a small obsidian box by a protocol droid. The box contained a miniaturized cinerary blast device, which detonated when the latch was moved. Routing telemetry recovered from the box shows it transited multiple High Republic planets before its final delivery to Toshara. Forensic analysis of recovered fragments -- including microscopic residue and metal alloys from the office wreckage -- matches ordnance components commonly sold through vendors at Port Nowhere aboard the traveling Azalus-class Dreadnought."

Sela brought the tea tray, with the requisite number of cups, and set it at the edge of the desk. She poured the right number of cups and carried her own back around the desk to sit in her chair. "Senate Security has named one Judah Dashiell as their primary person of interest in the murder. He was last seen entering the Palace on Toshara."

She sipped her tea and then set it down carefully.

"I hope I do not need to tell you that this is a matter of extreme delicacy. It requires professionalism and discretion in the highest degree. You may need to question Senators or senate staffers. You may need to interact with the Chancellor and her office. You may need to do the same for individuals on Toshara. You will do so in a manner as befits being representatives of this Order. Investigate, compile your findings, and locate Judah Dashiell. If the evidence supports the Senate Security findings that he is a primary suspect, bring him in for questioning." Sela folded her hands on her desk, surveying the two investigators the shadows had sent her, eyes darting between them once. "Any questions?"

Pari Sylune | Callista Volpe



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[Callista Volpe]

VOLPE

Callista Volpe stood in the study, the faint whistle of the kettle grating on her nerves. The older lady was not Pari.

Brilliant start Volpe, she silently chastised herself.

Tea was hardly on her list of vices, but given the scale of the case she gave a polite nod.

Callista stayed standing, coat still on, one hand brushing the pocket where her next cig waited.

Sela’s briefing cut through the pleasantries: incinerary blast device, obsidian box, Port Nowhere vendors, Judah Dashiell on Toshara.

Callista’s jaw tightened at the name. Port Nowhere was a smuggler’s pit. She knew the type who fenced ordnance there. They were not easy to make contact with.

She leaned forward slightly, elbows on the back of the chair she refused to sit in.

"So, Senate Security’s got a suspect and a trail. Convenient. What I need is access to the wreckage. Bomb fragments, senator’s desk, anything left of those artefacts."

Callista glanced at the Padawan. She looked like she was studying for a test.

Kid’s never done this before. Hope she keeps up.

"Question," she added, voice sharp. "You said ‘discretion.’ Fine. But if I need to shake down a few senators or Tosharan staffers, am I going to have your lot breathing down my neck about Jedi etiquette? Because I work faster without a babysitter."

She nodded at Pari, half-smirking. "No offence, kid."

"And why Dashiell? Anything I need to be aware of before we go looking for him?"

Callista had in mind the kind of information that - if widtheld - got an investigator shot.

The kettle’s steam curled into the air. Callista’s fingers itched for a smoke.

 

[Pari Sylune]

Pari was already starting to wonder if she truly belonged in the world of investigations. The uncertainty settled over her like an ill-fitting cloak, heavy and distracting. In the medical wing, surrounded by scanners, bacta tanks, and the steady rhythm of controlled urgency, she was confident, decisive, certain of every movement. Healing made sense. Symptoms led to diagnoses. Diagnoses led to action. Lives improved because of what she knew.


Out here, though, certainty felt distant.


Clues weren't labeled. People didn't present their wounds openly. Motives hid behind expressions, and every answer seemed to fracture into more questions. Pari found herself lingering a step behind, unsure where to stand or what to say, her thoughts looping through possibilities that never quite formed into conclusions. The silence between discoveries felt longer than it should have.


She hated feeling useless.

Callista, at least, moved with quiet assurance, eyes scanning, mind working angles Pari couldn't yet see. There was a steadiness to her, the kind that came from experience rather than instinct. Pari found herself gravitating toward that confidence, relieved she didn't have to pretend she understood more than she did.

So she watched. Listened. Followed.

If this was where the Jedi needed her, she would learn. But for now, she trusted Calilsta to lead the way, hoping observation might become understanding… and understanding, eventually, belonging.

Callista Volpe Sela Basran