[Black Fleet Crisis] - 02(47)
“For income, sales, and employment data, all records one fiscal year or older are deemed historical.
For birth, death, bonding, and dissolution certificates, all records one hundred days” “What about census data—names and addresses, residences?” Akanah interjected.
“For biennial census data, all records fifty years—” “Fifty!” Luke exclaimed.
To Luke’s surprise, Akanah was unfazed. “Clerk,” she said. “I have a package to deliver to Po Reggis. Can you tell me his current address?”
The data probes spun. “Po Reggis resides at North Five, Twenty-seven Up.”
“Clerk,” she said. “I have a package to deliver to Trobe Saar. Can you tell me her current address?”
“Trobe Saar is not in the current city directory.”
“Can you tell me her last known address in Gri-ann?”
“In revision eighty-one of the city directory, Trobe Saar’s address is North Five, Twenty-six Down.”
“Are other city directories available?”
“Yes.” One of the data probes seated itself in a new port. “Connected to Central Directories.”
“Can you tell me Trobe Saar’s last known address on Teyr?”
“In Revision eighty-nine of the Sodonna city directory, Trobe Saar’s last known address is Kell Hath, Thirteen.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking Luke’s arm. “Let’s go, Li.”
“Are you sure?”
“i’m sure.”
Outside the committee office, Luke tried to stop Akanah for
an explanation, but she could not be headed off until they reached the spot where they’d parked the bubbleback.
“Why are you in such a hurry? We could have tried the children’s names,” Luke said. “Getting Chuckles to look in the city directories instead of the census was working like a charm.”
“You can’t search the directories with nothing more than the first name of a minor,” Akanah said, rapping on the landspeeder’s dome with her knuckles. “Would you open this up, please?”
Luke complied, and they climbed in together. “I know that because I tried, from Cartaros, years ago,” she continued as the bubble sealed around them. “It’s impossible without knowing the family names they were using. Are we going to get started, or not?”
“Started where?”
“Sodonna, of course.”
“Revision eighty-nine was more than fifteen years ago. And we don’t know that Norika went with this Trobe Saar, or even if Trobe was part of your circle.
Chances are this is going to be another North Five—a disappointment.”
“No,” she said. “Not this one.”
“Why are you so sure? An hour ago you thought this was hopeless. And this morning you were sure they would never make their home on Teyr.
Why so upbeat all of a sudden?”
“Because Kell Plath is a Fallanassi name.” She hesitated, then added, “It means ‘held breath’—an allusion to our meditation exercises.
Besides,” she said, “what other leads do we have?”
“You’ve got me there.” Luke fumbled in his pocket for the traveler’s aid card. “All right, where is Sodonna, anyway?”
The river city of Sodonna was on the far side of Teyr from Griann and the Rift, straddling the Noga River at what traditionally was considered its upstream limit of navigability. Five hundred years earlier, Sodonna had been the gateway to the entire Inner River District, with bustling docks and a job for anyone who wanted it.
Repulsorlift transports had taken the focus of commerce away from the river, and in large part from Sodonna as well. The docks were gone, and the Noga River now tumbled through the city as an elaborate water sculpture of falls, rapids, ponds, and fountains. So donna was the smallest Teyr city with a spaceport, and the terminus of the single-track River District spur of the Rift Skyway.
Luke followed the Harvest Flyway to Turos Noth, paying a hefty premium for dropping the bubbleback at the Skyrail station there. As night closed in, he and Akanah boarded a westbound railtrain and found seats in the single car that was programmed to separate from the rest and follow the spur to Sodonna.
But that intersection was hours away in the darkness.
At Luke’s urging, Akanah napped. She was not the only one in the nearly full cabin to do so. The ride was smooth, with just a slight and soothing side-to-side sway, the cabin lights were dimmed to unobtrusiveness, and the individual self-adjusting tour couches cradled them comfortably.
Luke did not dare sleep. Only his consciousness could hold the Li Stonn mask in place—there were suggestions in the old records of great Jedi Masters who could cast illusions even when sleeping, but neither Luke nor any Jedi he knew had attained that level of facility with the Force skill known as alter. And Luke could not risk dropping his mask in public–even if he were not recognized as himself, shape-shifters and mentalists were so widely assumed to be thieves, spies, and brigands that he could expect nearly as much commotion.