Out Of It

[Cedric Grayson]

The refugees had more or less finished their treatments throughout the day. Many had been wounded while fleeing the world of Atrisia, and there were not enough credits to pay for quality care for all. Darius and his fellow had to resort to working with the shadier elements of society to get by. Their vessels had docked over the world of Nar Shaddaa, and it was here that his charges were treated for various diseases and physical wounds.

The majority had return to their vessels for the night. Their portion of the migrant fleet would remain on this world for a day or so to restock and refuel before heading off to Ession. Darius had found himself with little to do here, having not participated in the conflict nor contracting any form of sickness in transit. The errant knight was utterly healthy, and so he had watched over his many charges as they were given the proper care.

Night had fallen now, leaving Darius alone in what was once a rather crowded lobby. The Atrisians were treated in a massive skyscraper that stretched beyond Darius' sight, and the makeshift clinic they occupied only encompassed a few floors of its mass. The usual patients tended to be drunks and victims of turf wars, but the Atrisians were not turned away. Their credits were good out here, and some among the staff had empathy for the displaced people. Darius hadn't spoken with many of them, instead confining himself to the small lobby for the time being.

He had two days to gather whatever was needed before takeoff, though the Atrisian leaders were taking care of that well enough on their own. For the first time in over a month, Darius Sedaire was left to his own devices.

He cast a short look around the room. Nothing greeted him save for the holovisions that constantly played news reels and children's cartoons. All the chairs were empty, the only other person in the whole room being a rather portly Twi'lek man that served as the desk worker. Satisfied with his solitude, the blonde reached for one of the cigarillo's hidden within the folds of his pocket. He met the Twi'lek's eyes, and the alien just shrugged in response. Satisfied, Darius sparked the cigarillo with the new lighter he'd procured upon landing. It was all silver with a symbol of the order engraved on its side. A little cheesy, but it did its jobs.

The youth took a long drag from the cigarillo, thin puffs of smoke curling up from the corners of his mouth. The smell of tobacco clung to him like a thick fog as he took another short puff.

"Four hours, then sleep," he muttered, a pale hand rising up to scratch at his temple.

 

[Maeya Oni]

Night had fallen over Nar Shaddaa, though the pace of the Smugglers Moon did not quieten. If anything, under the cover of darkness, it seemed more alive as the lawless crawled out from their pits and took to the streets, indulging in the many sins that were on offer. Regardless of its amenities, Maeya was not here for entertainment. She was here on leave, after being in the outer rim keeping a crew of mercenaries alive while they plundered the stores of their adversaries.

The Moon was not necessarily the prime location for downtime according to most. But Maeya had never quite grasped the notion of relaxation. Instead, she would often work through the void, filling the positions in clinics and medical centres to pass the time, while the others fraternised in dingy bars, spending all of their credits. It was better for her to keep busy, otherwise she would have to be left alone with the storm that was her mind.

It was easier to focus on someone else’s suffering, rather than her own.

Maeya walked down one of the busy streets, paying no mind to the drunks or the catcallers as she pushed through the crowds. Her workplace was in a makeshift clinic in one of the Moon’s many skyscrapers. Often, these places were full of staff from other planets, trying to ‘better’ the figurative stench that lingered on the Moon. Other clinics were funded by Hutt’s and gangs, exploiting one area or another for profit. This centre belonged to the former, and was used primarily as a high-end facility for those that could pay. It was generally quiet, in the sense that most of the trauma belonging to the general scum that walked the streets who couldn’t afford proper care, were either left to die or carted to a lesser facility.

Maeya looked up at the skyscraper as she neared the entrance, wondering if a place like this would suit her better than the mercenaries that she was landed with. The pay was good, but did she really want to settle? Especially here on Nar Shaddaa? Maeya looked around her at the faces of the people staggering the streets. Definitely not here.

She began to walk to the side entrance used by the medical center, when shouting erupted in the street. Normally, Maeya would pay no mind, seeing as disorder was a daily happening, but this time, the dialogue caught her attention. She turned and her eyes tracked down the commotion to two men and a child. Poor kid. Others were slowing, nosing at the argument.

‘Not in front of my daughter, please,’ begged a middle-aged man.

‘You knew the terms!’ shouted the other. ‘On your way to the docks are you? Trying to escape? You owe far too much for me to let that happen.’

The other begged for his life, pushing his daughter away from him. What happened next was predictable, Maeya had seen it many times. A blaster was raised, and shots flew. The middle-aged man fell to the floor, blood spurting from his wounds. The killer ran off into the cover of darkness, never to be found to account for his murder. The crowd quickly moved on, leaving the daughter, crying over his corpse.

Maeya watched for a moment, feeling sorrow for the innocent girl as her world was ripped apart and the pieces scattered in the wind of a place that did not care. Then Maeya heard the spluttering.

‘Papa? Papa! Help me!’ cried the girl, looking up into the faces of the withering crowd. ‘He’s alive, please help!’

Maeya pushed her way quickly through the onlookers and knelt at the child’s side. How her father was still alive, she did not know. He had several gaping holes where the blaster shots had burned through the skin on his chest, neck and arms. He had a pulse, but it was faint to her touch. The neck wound was the culprit and would kill him quickly – blood seeped from his artery onto the street. He was a lost cause to most, but to Maeya….

‘I’m a medic,’ she said as she inspected the man’s wounds. ‘Don’t try to speak. I will do my best. You there!’

She looked up at a woman, still stood in the street, watching. ‘Come here, give me your jacket.’

She started at Maeya for a moment, deliberating whether or not to get involved.

‘Now!’

Her tone was never really one to test. It had always been a wonderment of Maeya’s – how people seemed to want to help her as she commanded. But it was not the time for such deliberations. The woman quickly dropped to her side, stuffing her jacket into Maeya’s hands. She tied it as best as she could around the hole in the man’s neck.

‘Kid,’ Maeya turned her attention to the child, stroking her father’s bloody hair. ‘Come here, and press down on this here.’ She pulled the child’s fingers to the wound on the man’s chest.

‘Keep pressure on it, you need to try your best to keep pressure on it, do you understand?’

The child nodded.

‘We’re going to move him, into that building over there,’ Maeya turned back to the onlooker knelt beside her. ‘There’s a medical facility on the upper floors, I can treat him there. We have to move quick.’

The woman nodded, and readied her hands under the man’s legs while Maeya slid hers under his shoulders. With great effort, they managed to drag him across the street, down the walkway alongside the skyscraper, through the doors, up the elevator shaft, and into the main lobby of the medical wing, all the while, leaving a trail of blood behind them. Several times, Maeya felt the life drain from the man riddled with holes, but somehow inside her, she willed it back to him.

They were greeted by the Twi’lek on duty, panicking from never seeing so much blood in all his clerical life.

‘Go and tell the droid to set up a theater,’ Maeya told him. ‘Tell her to set it up with everything that we have.’ He hurried off, gladly.

Maeya pulled a stretcher over from one of the walls, and they lifted the man onto it. The coat was fully soaked, spilling blood onto the sheets of the stretcher and onto the floor. Maeya pressed down onto the wound on his neck. The girl was crying, and the woman she had pulled from the street was white as a ghost.

‘Press here,’ Maeya told her, gesturing with her head to man’s neck.

But all the woman could offer was doubling over and heaving onto the floor. Maeya needed more help to plug the wounds on the way to the theater. Though calling it a theater was generous. The clinic was only equipped for minor wounds and illnesses. Maeya would find a way, she always did. Desperately, she scanned the room, and her eyes fell on a man, seated in the corner, puffing on a cigarillo.

‘You! Come here,’ she shouted across the foyer. ‘I need your hands!’

 

[Cedric Grayson]

He felt the commotion before he heard it. The approach was like that of a small hurricane within the force. It shifted the ethereal waters so far as to make Darius look up from his private musing. On the edge of the hurricane he felt a rather sharp pain and something that resembled quiet despair. The physical anguish came from the heart of the hurricane, and the emotional pain reverbrated from a small island that drifted alongside it. Whomever sat at the heart of that storm was on the verge of death. He or she should have been claimed by it in fact. The only thing stopping their demise was a thin tether forged within the force, one that effectively pulled the spirit of the strangers back into its ailing body.

Figuring that it was one of his refugees, Darius had bolted to his feet before the trio ever came through the doors. He bit down hard on the unlit end of his cigar and watched as a young woman led the procession into the clinic's lobby. Behind her came a small girl and an older woman that looked like she might have come in for treatment herself. The man they hoisted was little more than a mass of spilled blood and shattered organs now. That was the vessel that Darius had felt within the force.

"How are you not dead?" He asked himself, the cigarillo dropping from his lips. He doused the thing on the edge of his glove before shoving it into his pocket, purpose to his gait as he strode over to the group. Green eyes peered down at the fading man; lips pursed with something that could only be described as discouragement. Darius had never been a healer, and his physical talents for medical care did not extend beyond basic field dressings. He wasn't going to be much help with this one.

"Gunfight?" He asked shortly, the wounds being something that the knight errant had come to recognize rather well. He strode up to the side of the dying man, his gloved hands pressing down upon the man's neck with gently applied pressure. "One of the gangsters?" He added, his eyes shifting upward to meet those of the woman giving the order. Given the current state of the other woman, Darius felt rather sure in assuming that this one knew what she was doing.

[member="Maeya Oni"]

 

[Maeya Oni]

‘Attempted murder,’ Maeya said quickly. She was flustered as she entered the mind-frame necessary to keep the man on the table alive. ‘Gangster, I have no idea. Keep up.’

She hurried forward, and wheeled the stretcher through the foyer and down a white-walled hallway towards the theatre. The Twi’lek emerged from one of the numerous doorways, his eyes avoiding the man bleeding all over the floor.

‘It’s ready for you Miss Oni,’ he said, holding the door open for them. ‘Not a lot of volunteers on call tonight, no one to spare…for him. However, the assistant droid is capable.’

Maeya knew what that meant. The man and his daughter weren’t exactly the epitome of wealth and stature. They would never be able to afford the level of care the facility offered, and would be turned away if Maeya hadn’t have bought him in.

‘Take the girl,’ Maeya glanced down at the man’s daughter. She was covered in blood and her faces showed shock. ‘Clean her up and watch her while I work on her father.’

The Twi’lek didn’t look at all pleased with Maeya’s request.

‘At least fetch a nanny,’ she snapped as she rolled the stretcher into the room. ‘Keep on the pressure,’ she told the man with the cigarillo, and then knelt down beside the girl.

‘I’m going to fix your father now,’ she said, her voice oozing comfort and confidence. ‘He’s going to be fine, I know it. Go with Orin, I’ll find you when we are finished.’

She nodded, and followed the Twi’lek out of the room. Now it was time to work. The droid was capable, but there was nothing like the accuracy and the ability to feel like a sentient being. That was half of the job she found – the intuition of what to do in a life or death situation. It would fall on the cigarillo man to aid her. There was no time to scrub, and right now, cleanliness wasn’t at the forefront of Maeya’s mind. She had to work quickly to stop the bleeding. She had never lost a patient to infection, even working in the field in far less hygienic environments than the surgical theater that they were in now. There was some kind of knack inside of her, luck perhaps, or something more.

‘Sedation,’ she commanded the assistant droid. ‘Then scan.’

The results of the scan were what Maeya had expected – the man’s organs were intact and were functioning but only barely after all the blood loss he had suffered. His heart had been missed by the blaster shots, but he was bleeding into one of his lungs, the artery on his neck had been seared, and the wound on his arm would likely result in reduced arm functionality.

‘Hook him up to a the biggest blood pack we stock,’ Maeya commanded the droid. ‘Then work on his chest.’ She glanced up into the green eyes of the cigarillo man. ‘I hope you have a steady hand.’

A little bubble of panic grew inside of her at the thought of removing the coat wrapped around the man’s neck, but she had to, there was no other way. Each moment that passed, the man grew weaker. He should have been dead already. ‘Take these,’ she handed the man a bottle of beta-dine and a clear alcoholic solution to clear the field. ‘I’m going to remove the coat, and I need you to drench his neck with the brown bottle, and then the clear.’

The blood pack was filling the patient’s body, which meant as soon as the pressure on his neck was relieved, more would escape. It was paramount to work quickly. He was circling the drain, Maeya saw it by the vital machine, and she could feel it. It would take much more than fast, competent hands to save him. The image of his daughter, left alone to fend for herself in a place that was far from kind, affirmed to her that she would need to call on that which was inside of her…the strength of the Goddess…though such beliefs had long left her.

She pulled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head, and moved the overhead light so that it was shining directly on the man’s neck. Her hands moved quickly as she threaded suture thread through an eyed needle, and used her mouth to hold it. Her other hand was ready to remove the coat, and in the other she held a tube of curative skin sealant ready to piece together what she could.

‘Now!’

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Darius had grown rather used to the sight of blood. The man's wounds, while fatal, were not particularly greivous. He had seen men and women ripped apart at the molecular level by disruptors during the war. A few clean blaster shots weren't going to phase him. No, if anything, it was the sense of the man's nearing demise that made Darius uneasy. Any person could tell that he was on the edge of his life just by looking at him, but Darius could see his presence within the force too. It cried out for relief, both fighting for life and begging for death at the same time. The tether was keeping the spirit tied to its body, and Darius found himself staring at the woman a bit dumbly as she gave her orders.

She was the tether, of that he was sure. At first, he had thought it might be the man's daughter, but such was not the case. Now that he was this close to the stranger he could be certain. She had the force, or perhaps some similar ability specific to whatever sub-races of humanity she hailed from. Either way, it was via this woman that the man yet lived. He blinked at her, lips pursing with unspoken words as the bottle was placed into his gloved hands. With a dull nod, Darius glanced down at the man and made sure his hands were in the right place.

As she began her work, Darius began his. Though his talents for healing physical wounds were more or less nonexistent, he could channel whatever strength he might have had into the ethereal tether. His eyes drifted shut as he sunk into the realm of the force, his mind drifting through the ephemeral seas to find the bridge of land that had been formed between the physical realm and the afterlife. This thin strip of dirt was the tether the woman had formed, and Darius encouraged it to grow. The effort did nothing for the physical body, but the bond between spirit and flesh would strengthen so long as Darius could retain his focus. If nothing else, it would keep the guy alive a little longer while the woman did her work.

"Yes ma'am," he replied quietly, spilling the liquid over the man's wounds. His hands drew away to give the woman working room, which was probably for the best given his current state of mind. He was only partly 'there', per se, whereas the rest of his attentions remained within the force.

"I can buy you a bit more time," he muttered, a bit of strain to his voice. "Use it well."

[member="Maeya Oni"]

 

[Maeya Oni]

The clear alcoholic solution washed away the excess blood on the patient’s skin for just a moment before more began to spill from the wound. In the brief moment of vision that the solution offered, it was evident that the shot had grazed past the man’s neck perhaps as he had fallen in the street, searing past his flesh and exposing the artery. The skin was mangled, but with swift precision, Maeya peeled back the flaps, trying to locate the hole.

It felt like a whirlwind had erupted all around her as she tried to keep her attention in several places at once. Each second that passed, the man slipped further and further away no matter how fast she tried to chase his life-force. There was the strange sensation of someone else chasing him too, trying to keep him alive just as much as she was, aiding her in some way. She had never felt such a thing before and so it felt unnerving, unknown. Then, there was her intuition guiding her fingertips around the man’s neck, trying to find the hole in the artery. There was a brief moment where her mind quietened…and then she felt a delicate pulse on her fingertip. No more fresh blood seeped from the man’s neck.

‘There,’ she whispered. ‘Found you.’

The hole was large, far too large to merely suture. The clinic was primarily stocked for superficial wounds which meant that there would be no supplies to craft a patch strong enough to act as a barrier while the artery healed. Maeya’s mind raced as she tried to find a way.

‘Miss Oni,’ the droid’s monotone voice filled the silence. ‘It is not within my capabilities to close these wounds at the necessary speed in order to save this life. My field of view is obstructed by blood in the chest cavity, might you assist?’

‘What are your sutures like?’ Maeya addressed the cigarillo man. ‘If you’re fast enough, then the droid can fix his lung.’ She glanced up at the scans. ‘You can see the bleeders, there, and there…the dark spots.’

Maeya returned her focus to her finger plugged in the patient’s artery. There was no possible way to close it using medical supplies, she was sure of it. There was only one more option, one that she had used several times in life or death situations, but never under the eye of someone else. She knew that if she was found out, it would be exploited in some way by someone, and not for the right reasons. Not only that, but it was extremely draining both physically and mentally. Should she risk it for this man? Perhaps if she added one more life kept from death to her mental list of good deeds, then slowly all the wrong she continued to do would slowly dissipate. Maeya thought of the man’s daughter and how she had said that she would fix her father. Maeya hadn’t come this far just to give up.


She glanced over at the man, who seemed focussed on the patient’s chest. Now was her chance, while he was preoccupied. Maeya readied herself, and closed her eyes, concentrating on her finger and the man’s artery. She let herself slip into the unknown. She had been taught as a child to call upon the Goddess in such times, but she knew better. She called upon the force now. Meaya allowed it to fill her fully and absolutely. She willed the sensation down to her finger tip, already feeling her own energy drain. To others, she might have just looked deep in thought, perhaps figuring out what to do. She could feel the connective tissue of the artery moving below her finger unnaturally. In her mind she imagined the fibres connecting, sealing up the hole.

Afraid she might collapse, Maeya leaned down further, as if she were getting a better look. Her hand holding the skin sealant moved in, as if she might have been gluing the hole shut. Then, it was over. Her finger was no longer plugged in the artery. The fibres of the connective tissue had merged, and the hole no more. She felt the artery pulsing, though it was weak.

He would live, Maeya was sure of it.

‘Patient’s blood pressure is improving,’ Maeya said. It wearied her to speak, but she masked it with sighs of relief. ‘Artery is glued shut.’

‘Lung is full at functionality,’ came the droids voice. ‘Hanging another blood pack.’

Maeya’s legs felt weak beneath her. She pulled over a stool that rested against the cabinets behind, and sat down. To anyone that might walk in and think to question her inability to stand, it might look like she was merely supporting her body while she leaned close to the patient’s neck and began to work closing.

The patient’s life force was growing stronger she noticed, as she began to piece the charred flesh together.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Mediha?

The surge of power was one that Darius knew all too well. He had been witness to its workings before, and such processes had even been performed upon himself in order to save his life. He looked up from the focus of his attentions to the woman that the sat alongside him. Long dark hair and eyes so blue they might have been gray were centered on the wounded man. The tether, invisible to the naked eye yet all too luminiscent within the ethereal realm, grew taut. Death was upon the man, and then it wasn't.

The artery was repaied. The soul began to return to the body. Mediha labored over the wounded man, her magicks making him whole once more. Darius' lips pursed in silent wonder, terror and elatement fighting for control in the murky depths of his mind. This was not the Mediha he knew: not the one that had disappeared within the confines of the Nightsisters' magicks. She was far too tall, and she did not bear the savage markings of her people. Yet she felt the same in the force, a mirror image of the fallen witch. Their signatures were exactly alike, so much so that, for but a moment, Darius had seen Mediha's face in those gray eyes. The quiet pain that followed almost threatened to overwhelm the knight errant. It was a dangerous cocktail of grief and exasperation that intermingled with the exhaustion of Darius' efforts, and it brought him low.

So very low.

The Jedi Knight slumped over the patient, his lips shifting to speak silent words. Mediha, for all intents and purposes, was dead. She had left him alone in this galaxy, as had Master Sedaire and his other teachers. Kinsey too was now beyond his reach. All that drove the young knight were the refugees that he now protected, and memory of the little witch he had come to love. To be in the presence of one whom so replicated Mediha's power was disturbingly comforting. He had no idea how to deal with it.

After a few long moments of silence, Darius sat up straight and ran the proper suture, his fingers deathly steady despite the state of his heart. A few seconds of concentration drew his section of the wound closed, and with it assured the man's continued existence.

They had succeeded. His had achieved his purpose, yet Mediha was still gone. They were all still gone.

"My name is Darius," he said, his chest rising and falling heavily as he regarded the woman. As he spoke, she began to look more like herself and less like his lost paramour. "I... I think he'll live," the knight muttered as he ran his hands over his face. "That was the force, wasn't it? You're a healer?"

[member="Maeya Oni"]

 

[Maeya Oni]

‘I’m Maeya,’ she murmured whilst her hands moved swiftly, suturing and gluing the man shut. ‘Oh yes, he’ll live. He’ll remain in a medically induced coma for some time, and endure extensive rehabilitation when he wakes, but…he’ll live.’ She wondered if his daughter was okay.

‘That was the force, wasn’t it? You’re a healer?’

Maeya kicked herself internally. The suspicion that she had wanted to avoid now spilled from Darius’ lips and filled the room, cornering her. She kept her head down and remained quiet whilst she worked, thinking. There was no possible way that he had seen what she had done, Maeya was sure of it. She had done such things before, without raising any kind of suspicion, yet this man with the cigarillo had caught her red-handed. There was only one explanation that she could come to, and even then it was mere speculation – Darius could use the force also. In her childhood, there had been only a little training from the cult that had suffocated her, and part of this was recognising ‘others touched by the Goddess’. She had never mastered the art, nor paid the force much mind unless it was used to increase her reputation among mercenaries…and occasional situations such as the one that she had found herself in tonight.

‘You’re with the refugees?’ she asked. She kept her head low and eyes focused on the suturing. ‘Bit of an odd place to bring them for medical treatment.’ Her tone was suggestive, cornering him instead. ‘I can think of hundreds of better equipped medical centers that are far less dangerous…’

 

[Cedric Grayson]

"Well, there are these things called credits that everyone seems to want, and we don't have many ourselves." Darius fired back as he examined the would-be corpse. The fellow would live, though he would not be recovering from the damages incurred to his body anytime soon. The Jedi Knight found himself grimacing at the man, though he knew there was nothing more he could do for him. The stranger's life was in the hands of the force, and more directly in the hands of the doctors here.

Words were spoken with a certain urgency that made Darius quirk a brow. He blinked at Maeya, his lips pressing into an amused little grin. The name was logged away for later as he rose to his feet and made way for the nearest sink, washing the dried vitae from his fingertips. This woman had commanded the force, of that much he was sure, though he doubted she had wished it. Judging from her tone and the way she now regarded him, the knight surmised that such qualities were ones she was working to hide.

"Yes, I'm with the refugees," he added as he padded back from the freshers. The Twilek door minder had taken to communicating with someone over his comm, and the little girl seemed to be attached to his hip. Darius snorted as he passed them by, returning to Maeya's side.

"The Galactic Alliance caused more damage than we could reasonably afford to fix," he gestured all around. "This was one of the only places we could go without emptying our coffers entirely."

A hand was held to his forehead as he gathered his wits about him. "I won't tell anyone if you want to keep it a secret," he spoke, addressing the elephant in the room. "Wouldn't have anything to gain if I did. Besides, you're using it for a good purpose."

Green eyes flickered to the windows. "Figure I should probably get out of here. Got things I need to wrap up."

[member="Maeya Oni"]

 

[Maeya Oni]

‘Clean the patient up and transport him to recovery,’ Maeya addressed the medical droid. ‘And file his records under Anonymous, Patient 2417 for the moment.’

She fished through the man’s bloody pockets, searching for belongings that would offer some insight to the patient’s identity. All he had was a small datapad, which she placed on the counter. She followed Darius to the sink and began to scrub the blood from her hands.

‘There is always something to gain,’ she snapped under her breath. She could hear Olin behind her in the foyer, chattering on his commlink. ‘Always something to exploit. Like I said, this place is dangerous, and don’t mistake that it’s only as such for me.’

Maeya hoped that her tone hinted that any spilling of secrets would result in a less than favourable outcome for Darius. She had no desire to poke or prod the man for answers about his own connection to the force, though it would be a lie if she said that she wasn’t curious. After all, he was the first that she had encountered outside of the cult all those years ago. She could remember the elite members of her figurative family being able to wield the ‘gift of the Goddess’ in unimaginable ways. Often she wondered if that night when the man she had loved and his mistress had died by her hand was a manifestation of something greater inside of her than healing criminals.

‘Good evening to you Darius,’ Maeya said politely as one of the floor nurses nosed past the door. ‘Thank you for lending your assistance tonight.’ She forced a smile and slid the datapad into her pocket before leaving the room to quickly change out of her dirty clothes and find her patient’s daughter.

The girl stood close to Olin, solemn looking but at least clean of her father’s blood. The Twi’lek wasted no time in informing Maeya that he had been in contact with the centre’s overseer and that it would fall upon Maeya to cover the expenses of the patient’s treatment if it was found that he couldn’t pay.

‘Not now Olin,’ Maeya warned. She bent down in front of the girl and smiled warmly. ‘Your father is going to be fine.’

‘You fixed him?’ the girl squeaked.

‘Yes, he’s all better,’ Maeya assured the girl. ‘He will be asleep for a few days while his body heals, and will have a lot of healing to do when he wakes. But we will take good care of him here. I will get one of the droids to set up a bed in his room and you can stay while he mends.’

Maeya paid no mind to Olin’s huffs as he strode off, more than likely to call the overseer again and complain.

‘Will you come and sit with me for a moment,’ she asked the girl. ‘I have a few questions about your father, and then I will get one of the nurses to take you to him.’

The girl nodded and followed Maeya to the seats on the far end of the foyer. As they sat, Maeya’s eyes met Darius’ as he passed through to the elevators. Curiosity welled inside of her, but she knew better than to trust plain curiosity.

‘What is your father’s name?’ she asked the girl.

‘Moad Florn,’ replied the girl.

‘Do you live here on Nar Shaddaa?’

The girl shook her head. ‘Only sometimes,’ she said. ‘We come here, and dad meets some men for work.’ No doubt a criminal, though Maeya wasn’t sure what else she was expecting.

‘I have his datapad here,’ she said, pulling it from her pocket. ‘Can you enter the passcode for me? I will see if your father has enough credits in his account to pay for his treatment.’

The girl nodded and entered a code on the screen of the data pad. As Maeya anticipated, there was barely enough credits to cover half of the treatment. It would indeed fall upon her to cover the costs, but she did not mind. She never had time to enjoy all the credits that she had accumulated from the last few months of work. Maeya was about to slip the datapad back into her pocket to place with the patient’s other belongings when a message flashed across the screen.

‘Is it done? You should have sent the code by now. Has N. planted the explosives? That bastard Darius will be leaving tomorrow, make sure it’s done! – J.U’

Darius? J.U? She knew that signature. Jerus Ulie, a commander for one of the Hutts. Of course it could be anyone else with the same initials, but after further inspection of Moad’s credit transactions, she noticed several payments from the same dataport that had been used for her own credit transactions recently. She had completed work for the Hutt that Jerus reported to several times, he was reliable for high risk high reward jobs. There was no doubt that it was the same Jerus.

‘I’m going to keep hold of this for a while,’ Maeya said to the girl. ‘Until I update your father’s medical records. Joenn!’

She called across the foyer to a nurse who was at the front desk. ‘Joenn, take this girl to her father’s room, its 2417. Set up a bed so that she can rest, and send a droid up with food.’ She turned back to the girl. ‘I’ll be back later on, go and get some rest.’

Joenn took the girl, and Maeya hurriedly left the foyer, ignoring Olin’s calls after her. She had to catch up to Darius and find out just what exactly this message was all about. Explosives didn’t sound too fun at all. Perhaps they had rigged his speeder? Or perhaps the ship that he was flying with? Both would be unfortunate ways to go. As the elevator descended the skyscraper, she wondered if it was even in her interest to relay this information back to Darius. Her secret would be kept indefinitely if he were to succumb to his death, and she would never have to worry about the Hutt’s or worse, exploiting and using her for their gain. It was a morbid moment to think of the man's death, one attune to her dark past in the clutches of the cult. Moments like those were all too frequent in her twin-like mind. She shook her head, banishing the shadows. No, Darius didn’t deserve such a fate. He had been kind to lend her his help. And if he really meant what he said about keeping her secret, then he was an honorable man.

The elevator reached the bottom and Maeya rushed across the entrance hall. As she pulled open the door, the stench of the street stung her nose. She stood at the top of the steps and scanned the street below for Darius. She cursed when she couldn’t spot him. Left, go left. She slipped down the steps and began to push her way through the crowds, searching for the man with the cigarillo. He can’t have gone too far, it was moments ago that she watched him pass through the foyer at the center. Then, she spotted him, crossing the street.

‘Darius!’ she called over the bustle of the street as she caught up to him. ‘Over here,’ she said, grabbing his arm. She tried not to look suspicious as she pulled him down an empty alleyway.

‘The patient, he had this on him,’ Maeya said quietly. ‘What do you make of it?’ She slipped him the datapad with the message still flashing on the screen.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Every man had his vices.

The Jedi Knight was not going to be much of a Jedi this evening. He'd met Maeya's thank you with a brief nod and a mumbled affirmation before taking his leave. A momentary meeting of green eyes against blue had caused him to halt - those were Mediha's eyes. In an attempt to hide the sudden flash of despair that settled over his heart, the blonde had offered Maeya his best smile. It was warm, welcoming thing, and then it was gone as quickly as it had came.

Darius had swept himself away from the going-ons of the hospital. He had turned his mind away from the events that had transpired there, satisfied that the life of the man was saved, but unhappy with the feelings that had been brought up. She was on his mind once again; a ghost at the very edge of his mind. Puffs of smoke curled up from his cigarillo now, but the relief his old vice offered was nowhere near enough. He had thought to meditate, but meditation often brought vision. Tonight was not a night where he wished to commune with spirits.

Alone, Darius Sedaire had marched onto the streets. His speeder was left behind at the docking bay - he'd come back for it later. He needed to walk; get some blood flowing to his head. As he passed a number of night clubs and other seedy locales, he couldn't help but feel like he was hearing something.

Shaking his head, Darius focused his attentions on his destination. The building was shrouded in bright neon light, a swarm of guests of various different origins marching in and out of its revolving doors. It was a place where women could provide the sort of comfort that a man needed on a night like this. Not the sort of place he would ever attend on a good day, but the force wasn't making him forget her, and neither was the cigarillo.

The woman shouted his name. Her hand pressed against his shoulder, and he soon found himself pulled into a nearby alley. Were it not for her voice, he might have pulled a gun on her right then and there.

Confused, the Jedi Knight perused the wording splattered across the datapad. His brow furrowed, and the sound of an explosion echoed from the hospital's docking bay.

"I had a droid set to refuel around now," his brow furrowed. "I guess someone wanted me dead. I crossed a few people here that I probably shouldn't have."

Green eyes narrowed. "Thanks for letting me know...seems I'll have to find a safer way home."

Plans for the night were dropped in an instant.

[member="Maeya Oni"]