Objects in space...

[Atham'aali'kema]

The crack of the whip was like lightning in the dark, sending a flash of noise against the open field of wheat.

Lightning was what they were taught to fear.

But they were taught to fear nothing.

His eyes weren't always so molten. Once, they hummed with only a red hue. The way the shapers treated him, one would have thought he was destined for a pit in the ground. His memories swelled with the phantom image of pride, for conquering what was obviously a forsaken destiny. After all, what hope did a Chiss have, caught in the orbit of a civilization that hated technology? He knew what it meant, when seeing the image of Selvaris grow in the view screen, to carry his particular custom.

Flashes in the dark grashal, of times he wanted to forget and reflections he couldn't acknowledge. He wasn't one for desire, for hoping for things that didn't stand before him, but he quietly mourned the lack of silence. He looked for that escape, for that time where constant agony was replaced with nothingness. But it wasn't nothing that came, it was numbness that entered. Like a tingling sensation on every nerve, until it disappeared and it was filled with a void. That was what the Shapers wanted.

That was what the Shapers got.

Once red eyes, now molten, opened to the interior of the dropship. He couldn't recall how he got there, he couldn't recall what happened moments prior. All he could recall was the forests of Varonat, the way the space station wailed at their entrance, and the way Harla moved against her enemies. The way she might have been more than just the job he was hired to do by someone he could no longer trust.

The second skin of the ghostsuit began to unravel as he peeled it from his armored flesh. The face, the arms, the chest. He was done with the way it suffocated him, with the way it made him feel. Removed. Eyes drifted across to Harla before looking out of one of the singular view ports.

"Did the Alliance win? Can we go to Sulon...now?"

[member="Taheera Sollo"]​

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

She knelt in the cramped-space, helmet of her thinsuit long ago discarded. Hands hovered over the blaster wound of an Alliance soldier. Another survivor that managed to get pulled from the station. His mangled and burned flesh slowly began to knit back together and heal.

The weight of the battle rested heavily on her shoulders and exhaustion was there, threatening to overtake her as soon as she stopped moving. So, she refused to stop moving, shifting and budging her way between bodies for any that needed the services of a healer in their small, cramped space. The world spun outside, stars mixed with frigates and the carnage of a space battle and what was left of the station they'd just been on.

Myrtle-ellipses drifted up to Maalik's face at his voice. Hands pulled away from their hovering position over an Alliance captain. His breathing had improved after she'd done some work in his lungs. "I don't know," she spoke quietly. The mirialan had heard nothing from Command, just the order to get out of the station. And somehow they'd gotten out. Seems like the Ren they'd fought had done the same thing, just in the opposite direction.

Rocking back on her heels, she straightened her legs slightly, so she could slide onto the small space available, facing Maalik on an opposite bench. Something warm trickled down her side, at the base of her ribs. Frowning, she glanced down, finally noticing where the Ren's scythe had pierced through her armorweave and thinsuit. It wasn't anything too deep. The armorweave had saved her from that.

Quietly, she stared at the wound and the trickle of blood running down and staining her clothes before her eyes went back to that pair of magma orbs. "I think the Alliance will bring you in for questioning. I'll testify how you fought today. And from there....I don't know."

Purple-lips thinned. She'd never been in this situation before and she didn't know how the Alliance would react. No matter Maalik's past, he was changed now. Wasn't he? If anything, Gabe would be able to help. He'd been through something like this with his split from his twin. Hopefully her force master had fared okay on Bespin.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

His eyes followed hers as she observed the wound. It had been some time since they left and she was still conscious, meaning the wound wasn't too deep or fatal. "Cuts across the rib cage are difficult though also rarely fatal...unless you are stabbed through the bone." He ripped a sleeve off what he could only assume was a very expensive ghost suit. If he was being honest, he rather enjoyed being almost free it. Leaning forward after balling the sleeve up, he pressed it against her ribs. "Hold this and apply pressure, just until we can find a doctor to seal it..."

He quietly wondered if the words she spoke earlier, about healing through the force, could be applied to herself. Could she reflect those powers back on herself or was it something emboldened by the act of helping others, incapable of soothing her own wounds? He was almost entirely alien to the prospect but he did know one thing: There were many interpretations for the act of questioning.

"The shapers used to question me..." He smiled as he retracted his hand, allowing her to take ownership of the pressure. "Quite often in the beginning and it decreased as time went on, often for punishment or purposes such as that. It always confused me because there was really never any sort of questioning involved."

His eyes drifted back to the view port as the bits of the station disappeared in the black of space. He was sure, soon enough, they would be swallowed up by another vessel. "I suspect a single event of helping you could not wash clean the numerous events of my past, no matter how removed from control I might have been." If she would ask, he would tell her that he didn't really care about his future. With or without the alliance, it was a hope that was surgically ripped from his attention. In a way, there was a certain serenity in accepting his inability to control his own destiny. When it came down to it, matters pertaining to the upcoming process were simply ones of an academic nature. "Do you think the Alliance might show mercy?"

[member="Taheera Sollo"]​

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

There was only one word to describe how she felt when he leaned in close and pressed his hand against her side, unbidden: flustered. Teeth grit down as a sharp pain flared up her side at his pressure. She told herself it wasn't due to the odd fluttering in her chest. Myrtle-ellipses couldn't help but notice the markings on his face and jawline - up close and more than personal. Green fingers shifted over his almost on instinct and brushed against his skin for a moment just as he withdrew his hold.

With a sheer force of will, she forced her thoughts away from acting like a teenager with a crush.

Stop it. Be professional. You barely know him. You might never know him after the Alliance has their questioning.

"Okay. I-I got it," she winced. A part of her was trying to push him away and maintain some sort of control. "I can heal it," she continued meekly, "eventually. I learned from a friend that sometimes...it's better to feel the pain. To learn a lesson." Thoughts drifted briefly and once again to Gabe. That old master had rubbed off on her.

She sat silently and frowned as he spoke of, "Torture," she whispered, a horrified expression crossing her tattooed-face. "The Alliance isn't like that," she insisted, perhaps a bit idealistically. "You haven't resisted custody." She shifted a bit uncomfortably. All of this was awkward for the Mirialan. She'd been thrown into the middle of things and she didn't have the answers Maalik was looking for. A part of her was still horrified that the Alliance had pursued him in the first place - when it was clear he wasn't the man he used to be, wasn't the jedi killer.

The windows in the escape pod darkened as they were, indeed, swallowed by a larger vessel. The view of space became something a bit more industrial. "I know the Alliance has shown mercy in the past," free-hand reached forward, fingers squeezing around Maalik's blue one. "You won't go through this alone. I'll make sure of that."

What did it mean?

She'd stay and fight for things to be fair - as fair as she could make them. She'd just met Maalik but she felt she owed him for getting her off Varonat, fighting those two Ren. "What will you do if they simply let you go?" It was a quiet question and could easily be missed as their escape pod settled down onto the hangar floors of an Alliance ship with a loud clunk.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

His orange eyes drifted down to her green fingers, gently squeezing around his own. It was only then that he became acutely aware of how confined they were in the dropship. With the way the engines were kicking on, with how the inertia was changing, he could only assume that it wouldn't last for much longer. And looking towards his indeterminate future, he suddenly found himself mourning the passing of these moments. Despite the fact that he couldn't understand her touch, he had no desire for it to end.

It confused him largely from the utility standpoint. By all meanings of the phrase, he had no working knowledge of personal space. But when he acted to invade such a place, he did it out of desire to learn or help or out of curiosity. He wondered if this was her attempt to reassure him, to make him feel more confident in the likelihood of mercy. But he couldn't help but feel that she was had an optimists heart, forever looking for the silver lining and benefit. And with that, he assumed a certain level of naivety. Which, when paired with his blunt honesty, made for an interesting combination.

"I have not resisted because there is no future in it. " He stated somewhat coldly, failing to remove suspicion that given the right circumstances, he might choose to do the opposite. While he might have been resolved to whatever fate he landed, the fact remained that survival was a prime directive, instilled by the Shapers. Just a step below hatred for his own kind, Chiss. He had gotten over that prejudice but survival was rooted far deeper.

The door released steam as the pressurization moved to match the larger ship that had engulfed them. With a whisper, it opened to flood the ambient darkness with bright white lights. Standing slowly, his eyes drifted to the soldiers at the door. They held rifles in their hands but they weren't brandished, barrels facing the floor. In one swift movement, he was leaning over to help her up, to apply the pressure if she needed the assistance. Such an injury had a way of finding impact from even the slightest movement. "Pain teaches many things. But needless pain is...needless." His eyes drifted to the soldiers as they stepped forward.

"I persist by living in the present. Should this questioning go different than I expect...I will sort out my future as it arrives." His life was a series of events, molded together by empty space in between. This trip, from Varonat to Anoat and back, had been one of significance. It hadn't registered that it might soon end.

[member="Taheera Sollo"]
​

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

The healer didn't recoil when the chiss-hybrid suddenly came close. Back on the jungle world? She might've. Before she'd gotten to know him - before she saw how much he cared for those he worked with. Well, before they became traitors. And she certainly had her independent and perhaps prideful moments. She'd been so used to operating on her own, she wasn't used to asking for help or knowing how to accept it when it came.

So, when he came close, there was a half-second before one hand curled around his arm, her other hand remained pressed into her side. The adrenaline from healing the others in the shuttle and the previous battle was slowly starting to fade, which meant, she'd be feeling the wound at her side more. At this point, she was a little too tired to heal it on her own - a sacrifice she'd make again and again, if need be.

She took care of others before herself. It was in her nature and perhaps a fatal character flaw. As soon as she was on her feet, she released her hold on Maalik's arm but she found herself leaning into his side for a few steps more as they shuffled their way forward and out of the escape-pod and into the massive hangar of the Alliance transport ship.

"Thank you. Perhaps this needless pain will help me bear more needless pain in the future?"

She'd been up and moving since stealing that First Order information on essence transfer and her body was finally starting to feel the nipping bites of fatigue - a hungry animal waiting around the corner. Myrtle-ellipses blinked against the bright, unnatural light from above, head dipping naturally. An Alliance solider approached them and spoke about needing her at a debriefing with Command and escorting Maalik to the detention area.

"No, Captain. I'd like to be part of the questioning team. Command can have their debriefing once his fate is decided."

It was clear the Mirialan knight wasn't budging unless made to by Command themselves.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

"At that point...is the pain needless?" He stated as he looked into the bright interior of the hangar, blue hands lingering on the ridge of her shoulder line. Any other method of holding her up would be ineffective, he told himself. All he needed to hear was detention center to know what was coming next. Harla was holding true to her word, for what that was worth. Between the Legion, the vile One Sith who had betrayed them, and the various captains that had filled the gap since then - he didn't have much room for trust. Though, he wasn't all too distrusting either. He occupied some place in between, bound to no expectation.

Fate. The word stuck in the air, subtly removing his control from the circumstance.

The soldier approached, a rifle slung to his side and a pair of cuffs in the other. Without hesitation, Maalik stepped forward and offered his wrists. Once they were clamped together, fingers contained in a harness that curled them into fists, he watched as the man moved to take the amphistaff from Maalik's waist.

"A foolish endeavor."

The officer looked up, retracting his hand as if recoiling in fear. Maalik could tell that the man had seen it's use, perhaps even read about it in history, but knew nothing beyond that.

"My hands are bound. I cannot command it. But if you remove it from me, it will kill or wound every living thing that stands between me and it."

The commander narrowed his eyes as he straightened out his outfit. "Very well. Officers..." He looked to the figures now to the side of Harla and Maalik. "Bring them to the detention center."

~~~​

​

"State your name, for the record."
"Maalik." He looked up to the metal beams above him, the glass across the room and the way it reflected his image. He was struck by his own appearance, so often not one to take in his own expression.
"Full name."
"Are you my interrogator?"
"No. Just a glorified receptionist really...Now, full name and race please."
If she could see Maalik now, Harla might see the first inflection of anger to cross his face. If only for a moment. "No."
"Very well...the prisoner refuses to give personal information."
Maalik looked over towards an empty space on the wall. Everything was gunsteel and grey. "You wear glasses because of an infliction, either earned at birth or later in life. It denotes a weakness in your genetics or fitness, making you unfit for reproduction."
"Excuse me?!" The man pressed his dark rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"I am done speaking with the glorified receptionist."

[member="Taheera Sollo"]​

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

Arms crossed stiffly over her chest as she watched in the observation room, behind that one-way glass. A proper bandage adorned her ribs, just beneath her torn shirt. The healer thought back to Maalik's warning for his amphistaff. All that was still foreign to her. She'd just seen him in action against the First Order. She'd hate to be on the other end because she knew the amphistaff wouldn't hesitate to kill her, either.

Teeth clenched in thought.

.....denotes a weakness in your genetics or fitness, making you unfit for reproduction.

Attention snapped back to Maalik. Lips trembled, threatening to curl upwards as she fought to keep a serious expression on her face. And that right there, was Maalik. Honest and blunt.

"Knight Sollo, front and center!" One of the senior officers barked behind her.

The Mirialan jumped slightly and spun around. She regarded him silently, arms still stiffly crossed. It would be evident to all the non-empaths in the room how she felt about this exercise.

"You're joining me for questioning. Figured we might get more cooperation that way. Let's go."

"I barely know him. I highly doubt...,"

"Doesn't matter. This is an order. If not, feel free to see yourself out and report to Command for their debriefing."

Purple lips parted, gaping openly at the senior officer. Chestnut-haired head shook once. "Fine," voice was short and crisp. "But I'm taking these," hands grabbed two bottles of H2O. A small and almost silly act of defiance. Still. she felt better. Exiting the observation room, she walked the short distance down the hall followed by the senior questioning officer. Maalik had told her he'd murdered jedi in his past. And a part of her was nervous to learn of those details. And a part of her wondered if the butterflies she was beginning to feel in the pit of her stomach around the chiss-hybrid would leave if she heard too much.

The door to his holding chamber hissed open. Entering first, she looked to Maalik. "Here. Water," she placed the bottle in front of the man who'd gotten her out of Varonat safely and lowered herself stiffly in one of the chairs on the opposite end of the table. A glare was cast toward the senior officer as he too, lowered himself down - replacing glasses man.

Looking down sulkily, she fidgeted to open her own bottle of water.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

Eyes drifted to the bottle as the glorified receptionist left the room. He lifted his hands to grab the bottle but the cuffs were chained to the cross bar of his chair, giving a nice clink at the attempt. His eyes drifted down to his hands as his forearms flexed, irritation all but absent. He had endured far worse than this in his time. In comparison, this felt as if comprised of solitude.

Letting out a slow breath, he allowed his attention to drift back Harla. He wasn't sure she would show back up, given the circumstance. He wondered how far her defiance would get her. He wondered how far his own would get him.

"Name and race. Full name."
"Are you my interrogator?" He looked towards Harla.
"No, I'm just asking you a few questions."
"Are you in charge?"
"Yes."

His dragged his gaze from the Mirialan to the Human male, parted hair to the right side and a well kept uniform. He tucked his hands towards his chest, scratching at the raised edges of the scars, peeled from body and healed with slow agonizing time. And now they itched.

"Atham'aali'keema. Formerly Chiss."
"What are you now...Atham'aali'keema?"
"I gave you my full name. That does not give you the right to use it."
"Fine. Maalik. If you were formerly a Chiss, what are you now?"

He looked back towards Harla. Breath drew deep as voice transitioned to a whisper. "A husk."

[member="Taheera Sollo"]​

 

[Riz Carter]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

Riz Carter had just been contracted with the SIS in the Alliance. That super-secret organization that didn't technically exist. Turns out when you gave enough blood, pee, and spit samples and nothing too mucky - nothing the Alliance couldn't control - turned up in your past, you were hired. That and signing a little gag-document with the unspoken truth that you'd be executed as a traitor if you did anything funny with Alliance intel. Or gave the organization away.

Just the little things.

And she thought it was complicated being the only clean cop in the 9.9 Nar Shadda district. Ha. At least she had those fancy gadgets to work with now. Nothing like switching from the Public sector to Private.

Honey-brown orbs narrowed as she thought she saw the water-bottle nudge invisibly so the detainee-in-question could reach it. The Mirialan Jedi Knight seemed to be sitting a bit closer, to the table and to this Maalik, though her body language was stiffer than any board from a Kashyyyk tree.

Treading the same path that the knight had just walked and her co-league, she opened the door to the room. Let's just say there were three chairs on the other side of that table Maalik was chained to. Riz went for the empty one on the end. Mocha-skinned hands clasped above the table as she took a seat, next to the data pad on the table's surface. Maalik wouldn't be able to see the words on the screen.

"Riz Carter," the detective introduced herself. "I don't like the term interrogator much but since I'll be asking the bulk of the questions here, perhaps that title is correct." She held Maalik's gaze steadily, not threateningly, the entire time. She'd look down at the datapad later.

"We have some vague reports about your time working with the Sith. Who did you work with, exactly? What sieges were you a part of?"

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

He didn't really respond to the door opening. What purpose would there be in being on edge? Instead, he picked at the cuticle of one of his nails, pressing it back with the clawed expression of his hands. Cramped and confined into a shape to prevent instruction to his amphistaff, he felt contained.

Eyes drifted from Harla to this new individual who took to sitting at the table, introducing herself as Riz Carter.

Riz...that's an odd name.

"Vague reports? Working with the Sith?" He narrowed his eyes as he drew in slow breath. "No one works with the Sith. Everyone is used...in some fashion. I was a crafted tool of the Legion Yun'Do, the Legion of God. I worked alone but under direct instruction from the Overseer."

His expression changed from direct to a certain aloofness as he gazed towards the ceiling, attempting to recall. "I fought on the warfront of Contruum. I recall fighting a Jedi. I was on Obredaan, Marna, Muunilist. I was there for the massacre of the royal family on Mindabaal, though I took no active part. I was on Atrisia, where our task was to eliminate subjugators and rebels...I did take part in that." He looked around, letting out another sigh, before resting his eyes on Harla. "I killed a father on Atrisia. He was only trying to defend his child." He seemed to waiver just a bit at the recollection, closing his eyes. "The shapers removed all concepts of weakness. But when I found that boy, he was weeping and for a moment, it was as if he spoke an alien language I could not understand. He kept screaming for his father to wake up and in those moments, I hoped he would."

Opening his eyes, he turned back to Riz. "I went where the One Sith told me. If it was for war, for assisting the Primeval, I was never in a position to say no. It was only when Selvaris burned that I was freed of servitude from the guiding yammosk."

[member="Riz Carter"]​

 

[Riz Carter]

The detective saw the details. That's where the devil was, right? Or the surprise knife strike or blaster shot to the kidneys. She had a scar from one of those.

Just like this man had scars all over his body. He was clearly conditioned and made for war. And she wondered how many of his expressions and mannerisms were real and how many were synthetic. Trained.

When he spoke, she listened. And watched carefully. Her colleague took notes, fingers plinking down on the datapad. The part with killing the father, from the corners of her eyes she caught the Mirialan's shoulders slump a bit, eyes drifting down to the table's surface. The green girl's hand twitched as if she wanted to move it toward the blue chained ones. Or perhaps she was flinching away? Riz wasn't sure.

"When you were freed from servitude, using your words," the detective leaned a bit forward in her chair. "What did you do between then and now? And are you still in contact with any of the One Sith or Vong members?"

This should be interesting.

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

"I would hope you would use my words...otherwise the point of their utterance would be null." He mimicked the womans leaning as he leaned forward as well, to the extent that his chains would allow him. The light gave way to the contours of his countenance, jagged and painted and scarred. Even his eyes weren't truly his own, replaced with what the Yuuzhan Vong considered better. The Mqaaq'it moved within the ocular orbit as the molten orbs transitioned to match the honey brown eye color of his interrogator. And hardly without a notice, they shifted back.

"After the warmaster of the One Sith activated the Gramuteks upon Selvaris, the world was all but destroyed. As he abandoned the Legion to the fires, they made plans to enter back into wild space. Abominations such as myself and the extolled were left to the flames, to live or die. Finding my slayer ship, I left the planet and headed inward. At the time, I assumed if I stayed in One Sith space, everything would settle..." He leaned back. "By the time I had settled into port, the One Sith was already disbanding and destroying themselves from within."

"Since then, I've spent my time as crew member or hired help for various ship captains. I haven't had contact with the One Sith members or Vong since Selvaris."

[member="Riz Carter"]​

 

[Taheera Sollo]

While the detective may have been used to the ocular implants used widely among the Vong, Taheera was not. Myrtle-ellipses widened. If she could sense Malik's emotions, she wondered if he'd be oozing defiance right now. Maybe a touch of mockery? Green palms shifted and fell to her lap beneath the table.

There was a slight, sharp tug along her ribs, beneath the coolness of the working bacta patch. The smallest of winces crossed her tattooed-face. Purple lips thinned as she continued to watch Maalik quietly.

If the eye color demonstration phased the detective, the woman didn't show it. In fact, she didn't flinch or pull back. She maintained her ground. Not to prove anything, just with the air that she'd done this sort of thing countless times before.

Riz picked up after Maalik finished. "Were you fulfilled with your work as a hired crew? Of course you know now one of our agents in the field picked you up. Regardless of what you may think of her now, she had very good things to say about you during the short time you were together. Her testimony along with what we discuss today will all be transferred for your final ruling. I'm asking if you were fulfilled because I think you would be a valuable asset to the Alliance. Is this something you'd consider?"

Taheera's gaze panned between Riz and Maalik and back.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

"An asset, not so far removed from my former placement as tool..." He gave a quiet expression as he thought over his work. He moved to lift his hands up to the table, just out of reach, and exhaled. The molten orbs stayed where they were, giving the impression that either his emotions were tightly controlled or that he had none to begin with. "You must understand that when you are forced to live an agonizing life, even a life of no merit can feel euphoric and overwhelming. Did I enjoy my work as a crew hand?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know. I didn't hate it. It passed the time and gave me purpose, even if in small bursts." He feigned a smile. "Though I might question the sincerity of an organization that finds value in one such as myself." Maybe that was a joke, maybe it wasn't.

He looked over to the Mirialan. "If I considered your offer, would I be given choice of where I worked? And with whom I work?"

[member="Taheera Sollo"]​

 

[Riz Carter]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

Asset or tool.

"Perhaps," she maintained her forward position, shoulders still relaxed. "The Alliance would not be controlling you in a hive mind. You'd have choices. Just like you have a choice now."

Honey-brown orbs fell to her datapad, finger swiping across the screen.

Perhaps it was a feigned and well-practiced action.

After a few beats, her gaze lifted. Curiosity flickering across her darker brow as she caught the silent and shared look between the Mirialan and Maalik. She chose not to comment on his value. He knew and she knew. He was a weapon. Or a protector. Meant for war. Not to mention the knowledge he could offer on his past One Sith contacts.

Definitely a worthy asset.

"If you cooperate and help the Alliance not to question your loyalty, I imagine things can be worked out. Your progress would still need to be monitored," off-brown orbs met the gaze of the healer before turning back to Maalik. "Did you have someone specifically in mind?"

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

It wasn't a hive mind. He could have taken the low road and corrected her, informing of the very specific control the Yuuzhan Vong had put on him. How he was commanded for particularly specific tasks, how he was created to combat force users. But it was muddying the waters at this point.

"Before being dragged into this war, I had a contract I was completing. I would like to get Harla back to Sulon as promised." He met the interrogators gaze with his own, displaying an inward conflict at the thought about being asked for his preference. It was an uncommon thing. In fact, since Varonat, things had gone much differently than what he was accustomed. "After that, we can discuss any necessary deviation from that arrangement."

He looked towards Harla. "Unless you feel that my contract has been completed."

[member="Riz Carter"]​

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

A contract to be completed. Was that really what this had all been about? Why he'd stayed with her at Anoat? In the short time she'd known Maalik, she had come to find that he was very literal. And he had said this very thing on the way to the breach ship.

She saw the Alliance woman's face, waiting quietly for an answer. If she released Maalik from his 'contract' now, would they not let him go? Did he feel disgruntled and only a sense of obligation at seeing her to Sulon? Had he regretted being in the middle of this job in the first place and meeting her?

She had shot him.

No, a small voice deep down whispered. He knew she'd be perfectly capable to get back home now. He wanted to spend more time with her. Or perhaps just have more time to think of Carter's offer, freely. That small voice was very small and wavering in its confidence.

"I'll vouch for him and take responsibility for whatever happens. He sees me back to Sulon," eyes finally tore free from orbs of magma-fire and to those of the detective. She told herself she was doing this to help Maalik out and it had nothing to do with feelings that were beginning to bubble up every time his eyes looked her way.

"I think that's more than a fair deal."

The detective smiled, breaking the momentary tension. "I think my superiors can agree to this. Very well. Maalik, you are released. I look forward to hearing your decision. In the meantime, any data you can provide from your previous employment for our data banks would be appreciated." She and her colleague stood and began to leave. A new agent walked in to release his cuffs.

The healer realized she'd been holding her breath.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

The new agent shifted in as the other two left. He was tall, lanky, and wore an odd outfit of slacks, a button up shirt, and a tie that had been tied in such a way that it hung too far past the belt line. Skin the tone of pale ash, mixed with spots of rose, his facial features and hair gave the impression of youth. Which may have been the reason that he was simply responsible for undoing the cuffs of a former assassin. A task that, perhaps, wasn't being given enough thought.

As they clanked free, Maalik let out a breath as he moved to rub each wrist methodically. A certain rhythm, all but silent in the cadence, offered the whisper of calloused palms against raw wrists. All to the echo of the agent leaving, clearly favoring his right leg in what might have been a re-occurring injury. Or perhaps a disability.

Maalik lifted his hands to the top of the metal table, the only thing separating him and Harla. His fingers moved along the edges, noting that there was a consistent presence of dents and dings - there was very little sign of care for the piece of furniture. And Maalik was content to inspect it as if he had never known the touch of polished aluminum. It wasn't slick, as he would have expected, but more textured and rough. Leaning forward, he could see a blurry reflection of himself.

"I feel no regret for what I was forced to do, in my past. Perhaps I have compartmentalized it. To be remorseful would be akin to the sword feeling regret for attacking, when it could have defended. It is a logical pathway...but one beyond the sword. Beyond me." He scooted away from the table and stood up, pushing the chair back in.

Walking around the table, he knelt next to Harla and placed his hand on her bandaged wound. From earlier until now, the ambient temperature had been reduced - the wound was on its way to healing, no real sign of infection. "I am fond of you, Harla. Fondness is a step away from dependence, dependency is weakness, and weakness is the antithesis of my shaping. Which..." He blinked slowly as he pulled his hand away, his gaze stern if not peppered with warmth. "...I resent. I do not mourn my past, I resent it and what it tells me I should be. When the interrogator asked me if I had someone in mind, the truth of it is that I did. I was just hesitant to admit it."

He lifted his hand, pressing his elbow into his knee as he anchored his chin to his palm. "Hesitant because my protocol dictates that such admission would denote weakness. So instead of admitting that, I will admit something else..." He then did that thing where he tried to smirk. He felt he was getting better at it. "Following this interrogation, assuming I didn't get arrested, I intended to delay our arrival to Sulon for as long as possible."

[member="Taheera Sollo"]​

 

[Taheera Sollo]

For the second time, she found herself holding her breath as the agent left. The one who had released Maalik. And Maalik spoke. There was a different tone and cadence to his voice now that they were alone. Wait. What was he doing? Before she had time to move or react, his hand was lightly pressing into her side again.

The healer was keenly aware of only a thin bandage separating flesh from meeting flesh. His fingers were close to her stomach and close to one of the many tattoos she'd inherited from the female pirate's body, that wrapped along her lower back. Even when he moved his hand away, he was still close. And her side still tingled where his hand had just been. Warmth was spreading to her cheeks.

"C'mon," without hesitating, she grabbed his hand and if he allowed her to do so, she'd lead him out of that room. She felt too exposed here. There probably wasn't anyone staying behind that one-way glass but she wasn't taking any chances. Ignoring those she passed in the corridors, her footsteps quickened until she tried a door on the left. It slid open into a small, empty training room. There were a few crash-pads on the floor and some combat weapons on the wall. The door swished shut behind them.

Green hand still gripped his blue one as she finally lifted her pair of myrtle ellipses to meet his pair of magma orbs. "I'm glad you said something because I honestly thought you might resent me. When we first met with that mess with the Alliance and dragging you into a war. Shooting you...," lips twitched as she searched his face.

"I'm fond...I like," she fumbled over her words, feeling herself get flustered. "I like you too," she gulped, feeling like a teenager. And maybe in some ways she was in experience. "We barely know each other. Why ARE you so fond of me? At least I know you can take a blaster shot to the chest."

There was a small smile on her purple lips. Heat and tension was still everywhere else.