Everyone I Know (Sarge)

[Ashin Varanin]

LAKE COUNTRY
NABOO

This particular village was known as the home of the former Lord Protector of the Omega Protectorate. Nevertheless as Ajira poled her little boat into dock and hopped ashore, she noted a conspicuous lack of incidental damage, low-profile armaments, or conveniently placed points of overwatch. Far as she could tell, this wasn't a personal fortress or hideyhole disguised as a town. Normal people lived normal lives here, in quantity.

As ever, her force presence was expertly nullified, down to the level of the untrained Force-sensitive that public records indicated. That was an absolute necessity when working in the palace, in Theed, within a hundred metres of His Majesty Marcello Matteo.

She tied up the boat and headed down the nearest street, where a few shops presented themselves. The place offered atmosphere in spades. Feth, but she'd burned a hundred villages like this. So had the man she'd come to find. Maybe the finding would require a few hours, just seeing the sights like the noblewoman-on-weekend-retreat that she manifestly was. Maybe Ajira Cardei had come here at some point years ago, before Ashin had stolen her body and life. That was a risk, but a minimal one: who remembered one more weekender?

Her eyes tightened as she paused by a little pastry shop. Someone had burned baked goods. She smelled char and oil. Her hands itched for a gun.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

He was a known quantity, in town. A former celebrity, as it were. But no one paid him any mind, not anymore. Tourism was mostly dead for the winter, because even Lake Country wound up succumbing to the harshness of winter's bite. That brought a whole new kind of tourist, however - one who preferred mountain slopes to lakefront property. It allowed him to wander, mostly alone.

It was never hard to find him, though, no matter the time of year. He preferred to take a daily walk, see the people, the sky, get out of the house. It just required more layers during this time of year.

An overcast sky was hidden beneath a blanket of grey clouds, the kind that promised snow, the smell of which hung in the air. Adjusting the set of the knit cap on his head, his leather gloved hands returned to the pockets providing them shelter from the end-of-year chill. A few small flakes cascaded through the air, flickering down onto the cobblestone before melting nearly on contact.

A beautiful winter's eve, for sure. But who knew how frigid it would truly get, considering the season.

[member="Ajira Cardei"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

For her part, she'd handled winter in the Theed style. That meant layers of stiff, formal red-and-black fabric with ornate trim. Gold-thread vines ran up her deep red gloves from fingertips to elbows. Even the little boat she'd poled into dock would cost what the average Naboo citizen made in half a year. Part of that came from her respectable paycheck at the Director General level, and part from rents on family estates and such. She would stand out here, but that was part of the cover -- Ajira had dressed like this before Ashin became her. Conveniently, her appearance also tended to attract attention of one kind or another. The man she was seeking wouldn't care, and that might make him stand out a little.

There. There he was, walking the cobblestone streets in a knit cap, worn gloves, and the slumbering memory of a hundred thousand dead. She crossed the street to look in a window display and tsk at a 'Closed' sign. As he passed, she turned away from the display as if to carry on the way he'd come, and her heel turned painfully on the cobblestone. She grabbed for purchase on the ridged edge of the windowpane, but it wouldn't help much. No question, she was going down, and she'd hurt herself a little more than she'd planned. She hissed a bitter profanity as she struggled for balance. Maybe he'd help; he was close enough, and fast enough.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

It was, as plans went, a good one. No Force Signature, luxuriously crafted clothes, a clumsy stumble reminiscent of an unawares noblewoman. A gloved hand shot out as he pivoted on his heel. Fingertips sunk into her bicep, hiking her back up even while his other hand remained stuffed into his coat pocket. The black felt-like material was holding up well as the snow began to come down just a bit heavier, and he was suddenly speckled in white.

Eyes like a lake's surface at midnight seemed to regard her curiously, and he made sure she was steady before releasing her, apparently not used to just... grabbing women whenever he wanted.

"Easy, miss." Rumbled a voice made hoarse by shout and smoke, "The snow only makes the stone that much harder to walk on."

Practical advice. "Just make sure when you're planting your feet, that you check your footing before committing your weight."

[member="Ajira Cardei"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

The pain added a layer of authenticity. So did her anger at herself -- that too was entirely genuine. She leaned against the window and regained her balance, testing her weight on the turned ankle. Feth, she'd forgotten how strong he was on a physical level. He'd caught her without visible effort. She bit back another curse and drew herself up to something like her full height. Her presence-masking, her quey'tek shielding, was expertly crafted: even without constant attention, even if she was distracted by pain, it would stay functional as long as she checked in with it every now and again. That had been her one worry in the moment when she realized how much she'd just hurt herself, but the worry was without foundation. She hadn't flashed him, ethereally speaking.

Testing her weight on her right foot proved unsuccessful. Already her boot felt tight as the ankle swelled.

"Normally I do," she said with a bitter laugh at herself. "It was the turn that got me. These cobblestones are older than I thought. Smoother." She drew a shaky breath and avoided looking at the hand in his pocket. Ajira Cardei wouldn't notice that he almost certainly had a little weapon in there. Always on guard -- always. "I think I've turned my ankle fairly hard," she said, voice tight. "Should probably sit down. Ah, thanks for catching me."

With a grunt, she began limping toward a snow-covered bench.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

With both hands stuffed into his pockets, the breadth of his shoulders was accentuated by the way he stretched his back to try and narrow his frame for warmth. A cough parted thin lips hidden behind a recently groomed jawline of coffee colored beard. "They find plenty of use during the summer." He admits quietly, "Not so much during the winter." An easy going smile crossed his mouth.

A smile that said little for what he thought of the gilded noble meandering a distant tourist trap's streets. He'd seen this sort of defiance before, and fallen in love with it.

That was why he was smiling. It wasn't a defiance because of anger, or injustice, but a defiance born of self-reliance and pride. Yes, he'd seen it's like for a few years now. "Here." He murmurs quietly, coming up alongside her. "There's a bench just around the corner if you need to rest your ankle."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

Feth, but that ankle was swelling something fierce.

"Thanks." She steadied herself on an ornate lamppost for a moment, then continued one hobbling step at a time. "Wasn't sure where the next one was."

She glanced at him a couple of times en route, as one would. "Are you from around here? Is this your town? I was going to take my boat home later, but I'll have to find a hotel for the night. Is there one?"

Again she caught herself on a lamppost, this time avoiding a more serious fall. She'd seen people fall from standing and punch their forearm bones through their palms, if the drop caught them by surprise. The sight of the snow-covered bench, tucked between an evergreen and a wrought-iron trash receptacle, came as a genuine relief. She headed for the bench.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

A half heartbeat was the difference between him steadying her a second time, and him realizing that she had found a nicely wrought lamp post to grasp at. Realizing he wasn't needed, a faint quirk of his lips spoke to his amusement, and he helped ease her down onto the bench. Best to keep as much weight off that ankle as he could. "I'm not from around here, but I do live here." He answers in a quiet voice.

Without even a thought, he lowered himself onto the bench near her - not next to her, as that would be rude, but close enough to have a polite conversation without raising his voice. "And there is one, a few blocks down the way. We'll give your ankle some time to rest up, though. I'm not so good with injuries, as it were."

[member="Ajira Cardei"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

When he confirmed the existence of a hotel, she nodded in acknowledgement.

"I don't know about the rest part," she said. "The way my ankle's swelling, I get the feeling if I wait too long, I won't be able to move it at all." It had turned for real, rolled hard. She'd felt tendons strain and bones click all wrong. The real wrongness of it was what stuck with her. It reminded her of...feth, it reminded her of the cancer, back in the day.

"But I guess a minute wouldn't hurt." She leaned back against the snowy bench and closed her eyes as flakes tickled her forehead and cheeks. "Not how I planned to spend my evening, I'll tell you that much. I'm Ajira, by the way. You don't have to stick with me the whole way -- just point me the right direction."

She meant it, too. This errand seemed like nonsense in comparison to the pain in her ankle. She could use the Force to ease her angry nerves, but that would risk compromising her quey'tek concealment, especially at this range.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Sarge." He says quietly, by way of introduction. "And I find that most often we find ourselves spending our time in ways we hadn't planned. It's simply best to make the most of it that we're comfortable with." A shoulder rose into a shrug, and he leaned back into the bench with his hands still secure in his pockets. "I suppose it best, though, if I stick with you. Wouldn't forgive myself if you somehow tripped again and broke the ankle.

Urgent Care is around here, but no hospitals. Anything worse and you'd need to be airlifted out. I'd like to avoid that, if at all possible."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

"I'd like to avoid that myself -- all of it. Broken ankle, airlift, everything. I don't have a problem with pain, but I have too much to do as it is. I work for..." She shrugged. "I work in Theed, at the palace. It's the kind of job where social pleasantries -- 'how's your ankle? you should rest and have some of Grandma's tea' -- can get institutionalized into just a gigantic waste of time. Not that I don't appreciate help or sympathy, but again. Too much to do. Frankly, what I want to do is get to the hotel, call in a doctor unless they have a medical droid onsite, and just call for a ride in the morning. It'd mean leaving my boat here, but that can be taken care of."

With a groan, she got ahold of the curved wrought-iron armrest and levered herself upright again. One step at a time, she began hobbling in the general direction of the hotel.

"You're the Lord Protector." It wasn't a question, but she didn't say it as if she attached much importance to it. "Just getting the whole recognition issue out of the way."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Her recognition drew a hint of a snort from the otherwise politely distant man. "I've been many things in my life." He says dryly, "That was one of them, yes." He adds, brow furrowing as winter's regrets lent their specter to his midnight eyes. "I wouldn't call it a recognition issue, however.

I tend to assume most would recognize me - between the invasion of Naboo and the high profile nature of the job, the exception is usually those unaware." His shoulders shrugged, and he offered her his arm to take so she wouldn't have to hobble so damn much.

It really was hilarious to see, but it lacked anything approaching dignity. She was a noblewoman - it was more dignified to be on a former head of state's arm for support than it was to hobble you way down the streets. At least, that's how he saw it.

[member="Ajira Cardei"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

She accepted the offered arm. Snow kept falling.

"Speaking of things we've been, I used to serve under you." A snort. "Quite a distance under you. Captain Ajira Cardei, ODF, once upon a time."

All true. Ajira Cardei had been a moderately decorated OP naval officer; she'd served at Druckenwell, for example. After the Protectorate's dissolution, she'd taken on a position with Theed Hangar. And a couple of years ago, she'd gone on vacation to the old family estate on the lake country, and when she'd come back she'd been, so far as anyone knew, a little different. Quieter, struggling with her memory, that kind of thing. That had been, of course, when a recently killed Ashin Varanin had stolen her cousin's life and body and face and job. She didn't remember serving in the ODF, though she had access to a portion of Ajira's memories, her diaries, her private files, and her service record. Even so, those sources were hardly comprehensive, making any contact with old acquaintances a risk. So far as she knew, Ajira had never met the former Lord Protector, but she couldn't know for sure.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The name, vaguely, rang a bell. Not because he'd known her, but he'd heard it spoken once or twice. "The Navy was always Ayden's baby." He admits, "And Corek had his love for the army." His head shook as he more or less took her lead in heading towards the hotel, lightposts providing the familiar pleasant orange glow to the thickening snowfall. "I don't meet too many people who served alongside me.

No one comes knocking at my door, friend or foe." He adds, "And I like it that way, generally speaking. I never was quite sure what my job was in the Pyre - special forces, perhaps, but my job was always changing."

His head shook, "There I go, talking about my again. What is it you do now? I don't much keep up with current events anymore."

[member="Ajira Cardei"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

"I'm at Theed Hangar -- I'm with Strategic Security Branch." I AM Strategic Security Branch. "Lot of work lately. The Republic attack on Theed Spaceport, the fleet actions off Atrisia, the negiations with the lowercase-n new Republic, any number of other issues come across my desk. I swear I spend half my time scanning things for the Alliance, or finding new and creative places in the Naboo system to stash early-warning sensors. And then there's-" She broke off and shrugged awkwardly, still limping along with half her weight on him. "Your security clearance is a few degrees higher than mine, so I don't suppose it matters. There are Force order issues, there are Otherspace issues, there are problems between Alliance member worlds. Any number of other director generals' portfolios intersect with mine, and I end up with my fingers in every pie you can imagine. Which is why I've been looking forward to coming up here, taking my boat around the lakes, and generally taking a load off. My mistake, clearly."