Ciphered Holos

You don't owe him anything! But she did. And more to the point, she felt she did - she'd called for and gotten help. He hadn't been anything more than a by-standing party to what Dimmy had done to her and even that was hard to hold against Dimmy still. Maybe she should let Sriia muck in her head to try and combat the conditioning. Maybe she should finish the draft of the contract she'd worked on and send it to Venrirr.

Maybe she should stop talking with the Sith while Akkai worked to help her, before she damned herself more.

The safe house he'd put her in was small but that made it homey. Shouta's recommendations of bad holofics to read were entertaining. 'Blue Steel' was quickly tying with 'The Emperor's New Heir' as her favourite horrible thing to have ever read though she realized the protagonist of the New Heir was probably a writer's self-inserted and sue'd version of themselves. She didn't think the Emperor was likely to affectionately pat anyone on the head, let alone his secret hidden son who would inevitably side with the Republic against his father because Good is Good and Evil is angsty.

Or he'd fall in love with Satele Shan. She was starting to lean towards that. Satele was being described as buxom so it was only a matter of time before the Emperor's Heir apparent fell in true love with her, and either convinced her to marry him and leave the Order or he became a Jedi and they had an illicit relationship.

Either way the writing was atrocious and she wasn't sure she'd be able to read all seventy chapters before she started correcting grammar.

Distraction made her put the datapad down, pulling out the one she'd been working on the contract on. With a few more tweaks the document would be ready to send over to her business partner but she wondered if she should.Don't you remember what he did? And the answer was she'd started to forget, chaulking it up to the normal habits of a Sith presented with a traitor. Because that's what they were at the time - a loyal Sith and a traitor, so how could she really stay faulting him?

Allies. It was a dangerous word to be used. She felt less like an ally when he'd spoken and more something - a resource, an asset - to be used. The goad to her pride had been effective enough to make her come to Kaas itself because she wanted to slam the apprentice into the ground for the humiliating loss in their last battle. And so she'd agreed to the duel and painfully, agonizingly made it as short as possible.

Alchemists were rare. Alchemists were dangerous. She didn't consider herself one but she had been one and couldstill play the part. So when she'd drained the essence from the Apprentice she'd used it to heal the leg the Apprentice had gotten with a 'saber, waiting for her to regain consciousness after being handily beaten.

You'd have to be tested of course, and that would affect what resources you were given... The Sphere of Bionic Sciences would not be kind to a returning traitor. No matter what illusions she held - and they were many - she'd never take up rank again. She might take up a position of power based on skill but never, ever again would she have rank. But he'd done more than just be an ally, he'd made it so she could be in Imperial space not with impunity, but at least without being shot or arrested. It smacked of a trick but it'd come without a cost. No favor. A gesture of good-will.

She dropped the datapad beside her, putting her head in her hands. She had to give Akkai and his people time or she'd do something rash. The feeling of being hunted had lessened, as if something in the Force were cautioning her to pause, stop reacting and start thinking.

Her first major job for the company had gone off fast and without a hitch. And without violating the mandate Venrirr had given her to operate under. It'd been unexpected but she wouldn't sneeze at over a hundred-thousand credits for examining a tablet without having to further study it. If only she'd been able to study it more, decipher the text aside from 'loyalty'... but she had the funny feeling she was simply a checker of another theory, given what the Apprentice had offered. At least she'd never have to clap figurative eyes on him again.

Seeing Sati again, it had been nice. The heat of the desert cooled by the relative shade of the building. She'd declined the wine to keep her senses sharp and other than Alex they had all done the same. She'd spoken little, listen a lot, and wondered just how many people Sati had under observation. She still remembered their first meeting, perched on Nar. Still remembered the panic. Then it had changed and Sati had become something of a friend, in her loose definition of the word, and an informant.

She should regale Sriia and Alex and Akkai with how she first came across the Chiss.

She needed to clear her head. She fired off a message to Akkai telling him she was heading to Nar before she climbed into the Bucket, setting course. A few jumps later and a few hours later and she'd docked on the planet, flipping her collar up as she walked. She washed off the calculations in chalk she'd drafted out, patting Sparks on the head and promising she'd be back soon.

Then she headed down below, down past where even Jean's men patrolled in the sectors of Nar Shaddaa, to her old stomping grounds; she headed to the Box, putting on the face and mannerisms of Doc. And she's walked into the backdoor and slid right back in to the shift rota as if she'd never left it. Doc got barely more than a nod as she pushed aside the incompetent replacement that'd taken her spot.

"Long time away, Doc," a voice behind her said softly. She turned her head, nodding at the bruiser - Mac she thought his name was - as she pulled up a chair and poked the knife wound to judge how deep it was. "Drom figured you'd run off an' gotten killed by summat. Told 'em you were just.. skittish."

Book flashed the bruiser a short, tight smile. "Drom's got some right. Got work above, decent pay - then it tanked. Too many gropos an' police on the sector t' work right." She shrugged. "Figured Drom always needs docs, an' I always need work."

She felt the death more than saw it, a fleeting pass of life and Force from beneath her hands. The knife had hit the heart. She might've been able to heal it but she couldn't, for once, snatch life back from death.

It should've made her sad. It should've made her angry, knowing she'd lost someone she was supposed to take care of.

It shouldn't have made her think about blood and rituals, etched hexes and curses and spellwork.

When had she stopped caring? She thought it might've started when she'd gone on the run, putting her own life above those who she'd left behind.

Was who she was now even worth the help her friends were offering? Now... she couldn't answer that easily.

Reflexively she closed the corpse's eyes, brushing fingers over the dead man's lashes and brows as she slid the lids closed.