Adrift

[Kuzo]

Irajah looked up at [member="Niysha"] , her expression unreadable. Fortunately, Niysha was blind and didn't see that way anyway. The emotions beneath the surface, however, were complicated. Concern and worry, not just for Niysha but for all of them. But also a (shamefilled) stab of suspicion. How did Irajah know that this woman wasn't the one who had shot the mechanic? The shame immediately flooded in on the heels of that thought however. She'd just helped Irajah save this man's life, and, even if the methods were questionable, had helped her get him to answer these questions. Irajah decided, deliberately, to trust Niysha. She couldn't help the little thoughts that came creeping up- but she could control how she acted about them.

Of course, she didn't realize that, while the thoughts themselves were private enough, the emotions that went with them were like an open book. It was probably better that way really.

"Well get life support back up," she agreed. It only made sense to handle that first. "If- I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Grig."

"If Grig here can tell me what to do, well, I can probably follow directions." It wasn't after all, brain surgery, right?

Right?

"Be careful, okay?"

 

[Niysha]

There had been movies made about what a problem having telepathy that you couldn't turn off was like. Sight was much like that, only you had to concentrate to really make out what someone was thinking. Context clues. Knowing people. It was all one big bag of secondary skills to a Miarluka...or so Niysha thought. Having never met her own kind before, she had a lot of assumptions about what was normal for her species. This was largely self-defense, to keep herself from thinking she was a freak even among her own people.

Piecing together what someone was thinking took concentration...unless they were wearing their thoughts on their sleeve. Niysha half-turned towards the door, preparing to walk away and also conveniently turning her face away from Irajah. No one needed to see that expression. "No worries," she responded quietly. "I'm probably the best person on this ship for something horrible to happen to. Least essential." Maybe if she got herself killed, Irajah could finally make up her mind on whether or not she hated her.

Deep breath, exhale. The Miraluka gathered her nerves and walked out into the ship.

The passengers were up and moving about by now, wondering what was going on. Niysha made sure to close the door to the engine room behind her, to keep the only (currently) surviving crewman from being overwhelmed. The air was difficult to See through, clogged with panic and terror and anger. It took every ounce of focus the poor girl had to center herself enough to make out the walls around her. After a few steps, she almost collided with a corner and decided that moving was a bit too dangerous. Instead, she took to her knees and concentrated.

Peeling through the layers of distress and panic was a chore, and she could feel the first vestiges of a headache creeping up on her. Eventually, through emptying her mind of her own panic and not letting the ambient feelings in the air overwhelm her senses, she began to pinpoint individual people. Twenty, if she was being generous. The first thing she'd need to do was sift for malice. Look for the darker auras, find the ones that looked conflicted or worried. She couldn't quite follow the trail of death directly from anywhere on the ship to anywhere else - that was a talent she hadn't yet developed - but pinpointing which people had violent pasts was easy enough.

Four, maybe. A bit more detective work and a bit more concentration narrowed that down to two who looked the murdering type. With that narrowed down, she'd go for the isolated one first. The other was with a friend, and that would make taking him harder. She stood and ran her fingers along the wall beside her, using it to guide her as she scanned the floor for steps and other disruptions. Evade the occasional aura. Don't run into anyone. Her quarry was a few rooms down on the left...

The door was locked. With a deep breath, Niysha cautiously took out her lightsaber and placed the hilt right next to where the locking mechanism was, switched it on, and quickly switched it off again. A brief flash and the sound of hissing water accompanied the door immediately sliding open. The Miraluka stepped inside, replacing her lightsaber into the hidden place behind her back. The man inside was, of course, duly surprised to see someone in the room with him.
[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

"Niysha-"

But she was gone before Irajah managed to find her voice. The other woman's comment had actually stunned her in to silence. She wanted to say something, anything, in response, but couldn't decide on the words, even after it was too late. The doctor had no way of knowing that she had inadvertently contributed to it. And no time to look more deeply in to it either.

"She gonna be okay?"

Irajah grimaced.

"Only if we get moving. If we don't, none of us are going to be okay." She breathed in deeply, letting it out in one big whoosh. "Okay. Okay. Walk me through what we need to do."


*****

"What's next?"

Irajah sat back on her heels, wiping a grease stained hand across her forehead absently. He'd walked her through the whole process once, from start to finish, before she'd even been willing to touch a tool. She had experience with cybernetics, and even droids, but this was completely outside her realm of expertise. They were maybe three quarters way through the process of getting the life support back online, and she was starting to feel hopeful that they could actually do it.

"Grig? What's next?"

The furrow on her brow deepened as she glanced over at the mechanic.

"Grig?"

Chit.

She went scrabbling across the floor, almost falling as she planted a grease slicked palm on the cold floor.

"Maw take it, don't you dare die now," she uttered fiercely as her fingers sought his pulse. "Not now!"

[member="Niysha"]