Ask The Galactica

[Arla]

Arla's gaze settled on the man, silvery eyes unflinching as she watched him.

He's weird, she decided as her eyes moved over the pictures in the room and then back onto him and his calm demeanor. He's been in this situation before. He doesn't even care, she thought, though she felt a wave of anxiety flowing out of him moments later and her eyebrows pulled down slightly into a frown.

I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that we saw everything down there while we visited Toros, she said. Ah yes, Arla and her classic patience.

Allow me to cut to the chase. We now have a deal with Toros, which means that we're now... business partners, she said. Her choice of those words was actually shockingly subtle for her even if the tone behind them told exactly what the relationship was: you work for us now.

Specifically, Apex will be ensuring the full security and neutrality of this facility. Run to the professional specifications you've already been holding it to, she said. It was a sincere compliment. Besides Toros and crew, she had seen this place was quite nice. In truth, a change in management should mean little to the man in front of them. She hoped.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Once Arla picked up on cue, Nakoa stopped talking. The reason wasn't clear as his eyes wandered the strangely average office, passing a few times over the director before them. It was almost like he was listening to some quiet sound just beneath hearing, though that couldn't be literally the reason since Arla's sharper hearing would've caught such a thing by now.

For the director's part, he seemed unflappable to any but a Force user. "I see. Toros did mention a 'new deal'. What exactly is it that Apex does, again? I've only heard of it through rumor." Amber-gold eyes settled calmly on the being across the table. The man shuffled slightly in his seat. Those eyes were sharp, hawk-like, focused. Sharp enough to cut through the crude material, so focused it was like they looked right through him.

"Rumors, yes. Apex is a private military company, specializing in security solutions, target acquisition, and investigation." At first it would sound like he'd spaced out and abruptly spaced back in, reading off some memorized Apex description. "Why do rumors interest you, Mr. Drafis?" The man calmly rose an eyebrow. "I'm not sure what you could possibl-"

"You do. Careful to present an image. Average family man, ambitious, running an upscale trade station. Nothing stands out." Drafis glanced at Arla as if to ask her what the hell Nakoa was talking about like the man had no idea. Nakoa's eyes never left the administrator. "Doesn't fit the station's design. Doesn't fit the dust on family photographs, the excess cologne. Doesn't fit your fear."

Administrator Drafis actually looked nervous now, but also calm, which made no sense. Like their face was trying to do two things at once in a way that wasn't quite human. He went to say something and Nakoa abruptly leaned forward. Drafis straightened and, in that moment, his face wrinkled and shifted toward brownish reptilian tones, before returning to the human features of Mr. Drafis. Nakoa relaxed back in his seat, a certain spark alight behind his eyes.

Administrator Drafis was a Clawdite changeling. Perhaps that would explain how some wealthy individual could commission an upscale station without any prior infamy.

"No need to hide from us. Run the station well, collect your salary. Nothing else matters." Nakoa expected a certain wariness about how he'd picked up the man's emotions. From Arla, as well. He'd owe her an explanation after this was over. She deserved to know. She was trusted.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla didn't like not being in control of things. That was probably a personal flaw she should - and wouldn't - reflect on at a later time. It served her well in many situations, but also shot her in the foot in several of them.

To her credit, while she didn't pick up whatever Nakoa had, she did pick up where he was going with it as he was speaking. The pieces fell into place just a few moments before the changeling did their whole changing thing.

As my associate said. We are interested in results. You will be seeing a good deal more of us, but if you do your job well, I think you'll find it an agreeable situation, she said. The more she thought on it, the more she thought she'd kill the majordomo, but at least this man - or woman because who really knew - would be of use to them still.

She pushed herself up to leave and dropped her comlink code on the desk.

We will be in touch, she said, and turned to head out.

It was only as they cleared the building that she turned to look at him. She didn't actually say anything, but he knew her well enough to know that that look was in and of itself a question.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa left the office behind without comment, expression his usual default but notably more stiff than usual. Especially odd since he was generally relaxed- save for in a fight as Arla'd learned by now- but actual stress was out of character for the young Wrean. Irirangi wasn't a person anyone with eyes could call 'shy' or even obviously secretive. He simply didn't mention things unless someone bothered to ask.

Arla didn't ask out loud but he could feel the question directed at him. How did he know so specifically the thoughts of a being who was trying to hide them? How did he notice? Silver eyes stared intently and she didn't need to say a word. Because he felt the obvious question behind them.

After they stopped moving, his standard pause extended much longer than usual. He fidgeted, one hand gently popping the joints of the other. Arla was trusted, but that didn't make it that much easier. Eventually, Nakoa met her gaze.

"I feel the echoes of others more than most. Was told it's part of the connection to life that makes spirits listen." Their weight shifted from one foot to the other. "Emotion, pain. Sometimes thoughts, just under the surface. Living, dead, or object doesn't matter." He took another pause, though to let that information sink in or gather his thoughts further wasn't clear.

"Useful, but... constant." By now Arla might recognize aspects of Nakoa's tone and body language. They'd known each other long enough. If he'd answered that question, albeit unspoken, he'd likely answer follow-ups if she had them.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Even Arla could tell that he was uncomfortable with what he told her. He was more tense than normal, and it was in the way he looked - or didn't look - at her. Truthfully, she didn't fully understand what he was telling her, not really, but it did most certainly remind her of something.

On Dathomir, we Shaman hear the song of the dead. It is a constant sound from beyond the Veil. A blessing and curse of being able to commune with the dead, she said. They trained to be able to shut it out so that they were not constantly plagued by it, but not all were successful.

Those who do not learn to control it... her voice trailed off as she realized that probably was not going to be helpful information. She had seen - on only a few occasions - Shamans driven mad by the inability to cope with the song.

She nodded.

Can I assist you in shutting it out? My grimoire has some meditation rituals that may help, she offered. She didn't know if the techniques taught to the Nightsisters were something that could transfer over, but she was willing to at least provide him with the appropriate excerpts from the tome. In all of their time knowing one another, she had little spoken of it, though he undoubtedly would have seen it among her possessions before.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa blinked. Arla anecdote was a close approximation, though he wasn't sure if it was exactly the same or not. Some Shamans of the Deep explained it similarly as he recalled. He was silent was he considered. Tethysians had their own ways of course, but if Irirangi had learned anything exploring the galaxy and its many Force-wielding cultures, it's that another perspective was beyond valuable.

He nodded his head. "Not only the dead. But... Yes. I would be grateful." Ironically perhaps for someone who'd at one point joined the Sith, Bendu Gessarit teachings included, of all things, some degree of humility. It certainly didn't show in Nakoa much of the time except in situations like these, when he was learning something new from another. When he was offered help from someone he trusted.

The young Wrean straightened as if shrugging off some weight beyond his years, showing a small smirk. "I brought something for you anyway. Meet at my ship?" he paused. "What is a 'grimoire'?" It happened less these days, but sometimes it showed that Basic wasn't his first language.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla nodded as he said he would be grateful. That was enough for her, and she would share at least those pages with him.

Will do. That will let me get the grimoire from my ship, she said, not realizing that he didn't know what she was even talking about right now.

It is a book that contains what I've learned. Spells, incantations, gestures, runes, she said. While she could probably manage most of it form memory or remember later on, it never hurt to have something for quick reference.

A quick reference guide for my arcane knowledge, she said.

She headed to her ship before making her way to his, more comfortable clothing now in place and the book strapped to her belt through a device common among the Nightsisters. She had no idea what he wanted to give her, but she found herself curious as she arrived.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

He nodded in understanding of Arla's definition of 'grimoire'. It hadn't been a word he encountered before, but it seemed about the same as the Sith phrase 'arcane tomes' and similar that showed up constantly in old translated writings. Why tomes were never not arcane, he did not know.

Nakoa had gone full tilt on getting comfortable by the time Arla showed up at his loading ramp. Sweat pants, a sleeveless shirt with some band logo on it, and so on. Hadn't even bothered with shoes. He waved her inside and hadn't considered until that very moment she actually hadn't been in his ship before. It was very obviously both a flying apartment and a very old, very modified, and refurbished ship. Much of the immediate cargo hold had been sectioned off into different work areas, from actual storage, to a work desk, to a moderate sparring and training area with well-worn combat droids inactive in the corner.

Also, sealed and bolted-down bookshelves absolutely everywhere. He went over to his desk, pulled a drawer, and retrieved a simple black-bound notebook. It had the same title as the Zeffo book they'd found years ago on Ambria. Nakoa walked over and held it out to her. "I managed a translation," he explained with a hint of pride. The contents were in Basic, with some notation, and entirely handwritten. He'd learned esoteric knowledge from the book and fully intended on sharing it with Arla, as promised.

The second thing was a large glass box connected to machinery that he pulled a cloth cover off of. It contained two relatively large eggs. "Hssiss, from Ambria. May be useful to Apex." His gaze found Arla's after a moment, then paused a moment longer. "You have been a good friend and companion on our travels, Arla. I won't forget this."

Nakoa would copy the Nightsister meditation rituals she told him of into one of his own notebooks, one with a little green sticker he'd put on the cover. Perhaps they would help him separate between everything he sensed at all times. Perhaps then he could better sort what was other and what was all his own.

//End

@Phoenix