These Lines on My Hands

[Kuzo]

Mon Calamari​

Space Port​

Irajah leaned against the cool pillar, breathing in the salt sea air. She wasn't feeling very well, weak, a little dizzy, but she brushed it off as a side effect of travel for the moment. Closing her eyes, she let the feeling of the cool breeze wash over her, letting it sooth something of the last months on Tatooine away. She could almost imagine that ocean air literally blowing away the sand from every crevice of her psyche. If she never went back to the desert, it would be too soon.

When she'd been ready to leave, she had picked the first ship off of that rock. It didn't matter where. The fact that it had been to Mon Calamari had been an incredible bonus. From hot, dry Tatooine to this beautiful jewel of the world- there was no comparison.

But the trip had been long. And Irajah had slowly been feeling more and more poorly as it had wore on. She opened her eyes, then closed them again as a wave of nausea overcame her. That was new.

Frowning, she pushed away from the pillar, adjusting the pack she had with her. All she needed was rest. Rest and a meal not full of sand. It wasn't just the planet itself, she thought as she started walking down a long flight of wide, pristine white stairs. It had been everything that happened there. Maybe here she could rest. Yes. She had some money still. Here perhaps she could-

Why were the stairs moving? She wavered, alarmed that the city in the sea was unstable, looking around to see how everyone else was handling the sudden tsunami beneath their feet.

But it was only her.

She didn't know that, while she still had her grip on the virus, during those times of heightened stress, on her homeworld and on Tatooine, she had not always noticed every minute amount of damage it had done. It had been small. A capillary, here or there, leaking where the virus had punched through and she had not been able to do anything to fix it. Small enough to not notice on its own. But each small leak, compounded over time had led to a slow, internal bleed. And it was killing her.

The vertigo gripped her and she realized, belatedly, that something was very, very wrong. She crumpled against the stairs, a small crowd forming around the human woman as she lost consciousness.

[member="Valiens Nantaris"]
[member="Phylis Alince"]

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

“Hmmph, are you sure this is the new place?” she demanded of Six-Nine, her astromech.
The droid beeped something pointed.
“Yes, yes, I see what the sign says, but I’m relying on your navigation. Anyway, in we go. Now, behave.”
The droid beeped something sullenly in reply.
“Hmmph, don’t let the owner hear you say that.”

The store, which stocked a selection of fine ship parts, was owned by a grumpy old Mon Cal named Babur. He’d moved store recently, occasioning some embarrassment when Phylis had asked the pet store owner in the old location for ship parts.
“Hey, you’re back! Find the lost scrubbing brush of Darth Whatshisface?”
“I located the Tome of Darth Ragnos, yes thank you,” Phylis replied primly.
“Good, good. So, you hear to buy something?”
“Yes, supplies for six months and also I need some calibrators for the inertial compensators. Next, some more supplies of durasteel rods and bronzium. Also, some new reception cells for the frequency matrix.”
“I have all that. Except that last one, that doesn’t exist.”
“Hmm, well, what’s it called, Six-Nine?” The droid beeped. “Ah yes, a squid fryer…wait. I told you to behave!” she said grumpily to her droid. “Power cells for the communication unit.”
Babur narrowed his fishy eyes. “That droid’s got a smart mouth. You should watch out, Master Jedi, one day he’ll land you in trouble you can’t get out of.”
“Don’t I know it….”

It was as they were heading back to the ship that they saw the scene below and the woman collapsed on the stairs.
She pushed her way through. “Stand aside, I’m a healer,” she said. It was broadly true.
Kneeling down beside the woman she could feel the unconscious woman’s suffering and trauma inside her.
Calling on the Force she used it to try and stabilise the internal bleeding.
“Get a doctor!” she called, though presumably someone had already thought of this as she was soon joined by regular doctors and ambulance drivers.
“Six-Nine, go back to the ship. I’m going to the hospital with this lady.”
The droid beeped an acknowledgement and rolled off.

And so the unknown lady was loaded into a speeder and off to the nearest hospital, with Phylis beside her trying to ease her pain and slow the bleeding.

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah regained consciousness briefly in the medical speeder. It was a view she was deeply unfamiliar with from that angle. She had never been seriously injured herself as a child, and while she had spent her adult years working in an emergency room, she had always been the one sitting where the dark haired woman was now.

Her vision was blurry as she came too, and for just a single heartbeat, her groggy mind saw a half familiar face. Mom?

But no. Even before her vision cleared completely it was obvious that the dark haired woman actually looked very little like her long dead mother.

She had just enough mental capacity going for her to realize that her brain was probably a little oxygen deprived and it was natural, but she was also human enough to feel the entire weight of a thousand complicated emotions along with it.

"Where am I?" She asked, her voice weak. "What happened?"
​
​[member="Phylis Alince"]

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Irajah Ven"]
Phylis had been busily examining a datapad, and the woman’s words made her start.
“What? Hmm? Oh, you collapsed at the Mon Calamari spaceport. I was able to bring you here for treatment. Now, I’m not waiting around just for gratitude, but I saw some very curious things on your chart. I am something of a, hmm, researcher, and I’d like to know more.”

She looked at the woman in the bed. “Hmm, well, when you’re recovered anyway, dear. I’m Phylis Alince, Jedi Master. We didn’t have a name for you so if you don’t mind…?”

She smiled, offered a hand to the sick woman.

 

[Kuzo]

There is a point in chronic pain and illness where there is no fight anymore. Everything seemed to surreal to impact, too far away to matter. Irajah knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that the distance and mental haze was caused by exhaustion, low blood pressure and maybe shock, but it didn't really matter. She was too sick to be scared.

Scared of what? Wasn't she in good hands?

She had always known that she was a risk to others, and that if she were found, someone else might see it that way. Maybe these people wouldn't discover exactly what was so strange about her. But she could barely even contemplate that right now. She needed help more than she needed secrets right now.

"Irajah..... Ven....." she managed to murmur before drifting back in to unconsciousness again.

It would be a full twenty four hours until she awoke again, this time in a bright, white hospital room. And there would be more questions than answers.

[member="Phylis Alince"]

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Irajah Ven"]

Briefly diverted from her pursuit of ancient arcana, Phylis was working with a researcher at the hospital. This one was a Mon Cal continuing the fine tradition of naming by being called Aurangzeb.

Phylis was not a medical doctor, but she had more than a little basis in matters so as to understand.
“I have quarantined the ward completely. The surprise is not that she is alive, but that we are,” the Mon Cal was saying.
“A virus, hmm? Artificially created?”
“It does not match any in our database, but I cannot determine a natural or unnatural origin.”
“I sense the Force in her, but it’s strange, turned inwards somehow.” Phylis stroked her chin. “Do we have any records of this woman?”
“No, her origins are unknown, but with the fractured state of the galaxy, this isn’t surprising.”
A light on the console beeped.
“She’s awake,” Aurangzeb said.
“I’m going to see her. We need more information.”
“You’ll need a full suit. Yes, even you, Master Jedi.”
Phylis sighed but nodded. In light of the blood tests and internal surveys, a strict bio quarantine made sense.

Thus when Irajah woke she’d find that her room was a virtual bubble, sealed off from the rest of the hospital. When Phylis entered, it was in full bio hazmat suit.
It clearly bothered the Jedi, and she stumbled a couple of times in the cumbersome outfit as she came over to the bedside.
“Irajah, sorry, hmm, for the change of scenery and outfit. We were hoping you could help us out about where you came from and how things work with the virus inside you.”

 

[Kuzo]

The roiling nausea that Irajah felt when she recognized the quarantine ward had nothing to do with any physical symptom. For the few minutes of solitude before the Jedi entered the room, she closed her eyes again, breathing in a slow, controlled pattern. It had been what she'd done every morning of those five months she'd spent alone with the dead. Every morning and several times each day to keep herself from panicking any time she'd felt the sheer weight of everything pressing down on her. The breathing exercises taught to her by her mother when she was young, to calm the raging temper of a child who didn't understand. She understood now, but the methods still helped.

Most of the time. After all, she was used to using them in silence and solitude.

Irajah focused inward once she calmed down, examining the barriers she had put around the virus in her body. She didn't know how long she'd been unconscious for, and there was a very real chance that she had already put people at risk. But no, she could see already that she hadn't infected anyone else. The virus itself hadn't escaped. She would have to move it to another organ soon- her pancreas had taken almost as much as it could, which explained the nausea before she'd passed out- but she needed to rest first. She didn't have the strength.

So that, at least, was good. While she was here, people had found her and discovered at least something about the secret she held, she hadn't hurt anyone. Irajah sighed softly.

Make no mistake. There were people she wanted to hurt. But not these people. Not people with nothing to do with what had happened. There were people, nameless, faceless, who she would not hesitate to destroy when the time came.....

But even those, whoever did this. Even those people she wouldn't infect with the virus.

She was not a monster.

She opened her eyes at the sound of the inner door opening. They had put in place a two level entry, good for bio security. Hopefully, she would be able to convince them that it was unnecessary, but she understood. She would have taken the same precautions.

Watching the suited figure come stumbling in to the room, Irajah had a pang of doubt, of hesitation. Could she trust these people? Would telling them everything be wise?

Did she really have a choice?

Although it seemed like they already knew something, after all, about why she was here. She didn't think there was a lie in the galaxy she could tell that would get her out of the situation in anything but an incinerator pouch. She decided, then, on truth. As much of it as she knew.

"I understand the need for bio security," she said quietly. "I can assure you that you are safe, with me, but you couldn't have known that before, and I honestly wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me now. Especially if you've been studying me while I was unconscious. You'll forgive me if I don't sit up while we talk? I'm still feeling pretty weak."


[member="Phylis Alince"]

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Irajah Ven"]
Phylis nodded, but doing so made the comical bio suit sag down, forcing her to push it back into place.
“I guessed as much, but, hmm, precautions must be taken. Please, don’t overstress yourself. If I understand even a part of what’s going on I am astonished you are still alive. Please, tell me everything, where you’re from, what the virus is, what steps you take to counteract it.”

The Jedi Master sat beside Irajah’s bed and reached out with the Force. “You have power in you, but it’s strange, turned inwards. Is this how you contain the infection?”

 

[Kuzo]

There were too many questions. Too much to answer succinctly. Irajah decided to start with the last one. After all, it was the one that she understood the best. She nodded.

"I'm Force Sensitive," she explained. "At least, that's what my father called it. I didn't find out until I was a teenager, but he was a Jedi before, well, before he retired I suppose. He never talked about it much and I never asked. I didn't really grow up knowing a lot about them." She paused, remembering that this woman had said that she was one of them. "About you," she amended.

"He taught me a technique to help someone when I was young," she said, leaving the story about her mother deliberately vague. It didn't seem like it would be important to this woman. Jedi Master? No, probably immaterial. "I don't know what it's called, if it even has a name. But it uses the Force to isolate damage in a small area of the body, preventing more damage from being done while repairs can be made in other places."

She looked down at her hands. The bruises where still here, but lighter than they had been since she'd woken up on her dead planet. That was a good sign. At least it meant that her time here had been some kind of reprieve. Maybe completely avoiding hospitals had been a poor choice, she realized, chagrined. Perhaps using a combination of the technique her father taught her and modern medicine, she'd fair better?

The next part sounded practiced. It was, to an extent. She had practiced it for a recording she had done on her homeworld, months ago, when she was first discovering everything that had happened. She had deleted all of her journal entries before leaving there. But. She had no way of knowing that, even now, someone else had reconstructed them. And was watching with horror.

"When I became infected, I adapted the technique slightly. It allows me to use the force to contain the virus within my own body. When the damage the virus does in one organ gets too great, I move it somewhere else and use the force to repair the damage done. It's a constant process, requiring constant vigilance. I can sleep, but were I to cease paying attention to it for more than, I estimate three days, the virus would kill me and infect others. The timeframe is only theoretical of course. But based on the timeframe of how the disease works, it seems to be a good guess, with a reasonable margin of error of up to a day. So let's say two days would be the greatest length of time to risk. Despite this ability, it is not without draw backs. I have never had to use this on myself before. I hope that with time I will get better at it. I suspected that I was- am- missing small internal bleeds each time I move the virus around my body. Not in my major organs, but in the routes along the way. I don't have the training in the Force to fix them. But other than some pain and bruising, it didn't seem to be causing any serious side effects."

​She offered [member="Phylis Alince"] a wry smile. "Until I passed out in your space port. It was my pancreas, wasn't it? That was where I'd had the virus before. I think I left it for too long. That and a large number of very small internal bleeds?"

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Irajah Ven"]
Phylis, somewhat impulsively, pulled off her helmet and dropped it beside the best. Perhaps she’d prefer to be endangered than have the horrible thing making her feel claustrophobic!

“I have heard of this technique, or one similar. In that case it was used to neutralise poison until an antidote could be found. In another case a Jedi was able to prevent a blood clot from reaching a vital area. I have never heard of it being used for so long or for such a target. Intriguing, hmm.”

She listened to her description further, nodded thoughtfully.
“Well, whilst I do not know this technique I am more than willing to teach you other skills in the Force. The ability to heal is something I know well, and being able to use the Force to enter a trance which can conserve your energy is also something I am able to teach you.”

“In any case, we need to isolate you whilst we perform further study on you. You have it under control, but I cannot in good conscience take that on faith alone. There is a medical station in orbit where I can train you, but also work towards finding a cure. Can you tell me anything about the origin of this virus and what planet you’re from? We need to find all we can.”

 

[Kuzo]

((ooc: I've never specified her homeworld, so I'm gonne keep her cagey here. I didn't want to wipe out a cannon planet as a newcomer to the board. I guess the best thing for me to do is to submit a planet for approval probably, right? It's mostly for history and flavor, but that way I'm not stepping on anyone's toes? Also, ftr, I am 100% okay if the answer to Irajah's last question in this post is "No, you don't have a say" ))


So many things to be concerned about, and so many things to be tempted by. There was a wariness to her expression that hadn't been there before, coalescing slowly as Phylis spoke.

Of course she was tempted by the offer to learn more healing techniques. Not only as a Doctor, but if they might keep her from this very experience again? Not waking up in an isolation ward on a planet she was completely unfamiliar with? That sounded very find to her indeed. She had chosen her path as a young adult, never looking back, never regretting not becoming a Jedi (and this offer didn't sound like that at all anyway). But this had the potential to make her life significantly better. Not just hers- but the lives of any patient she would ever treat.

But there was too much else going on here to simply be seduced by that offer.

"I don't really have a home," she lied by telling the truth, just selected parts. "I'm a drifter." She wasn't entirely certain why, but something compelled her. She still didn't know who had done this to her world. And until she did, she didn't feel as though there was anyone she could trust with the information of where she had come from. "I don't know where I picked up the virus."

That last part was the first outright lie she'd told. Now though, because there were things she would never lie about- not to fellow medical professionals- she returned to the truth.

She started, hesitantly, her voice very quiet.

"The virus is actually in your system- your computer system I mean. I know, because it was in mine. It's just been.... altered. Just enough to confused the computers. It's bigger for one thing. If you give me access to your system I can line up the samples and show you exactly how. I could get in to capsid and lipid coating, duplicate DNA chains, and all that, but the details aren't that important really for right now."

Breathing in deeply, she looked Phylis in the eyes. It was the first time she was saying it out loud to another person.

"Someone altered the Gulag virus. I have theories as to how. But the why escapes me."

After all, why would someone try to change a virus that was already as deadly as the Gulag plague. There were other questions as well- where had the original scientists found it? Who else was at risk?

She looked down at her hands, at the faint bruises on her wrists that she knew would return. She was quiet for a moment as the news sunk in. She didn't let the Jedi Master recover before she asked her own question now, however.

"You said you need to isolate me while you study me. At your orbital station. Is that something I have a say in?"

Irajah didn't look up as she waited for that answer. While she had to ask, there was a certain resignation in her voice. She knew- they both knew- that if the answer was 'no', she wasn't going anywhere. She was too weak to do anything about it. And even if she wasn't, this woman was no fighter, no Jedi. If [member="Phylis Alince"] and the Doctors intended to keep her here, even against her will, they would be able to without significant problem from her.

She even almost understood.

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Irajah Ven"]
(Apologies for the delay, work and life have been busy.)

Phylis was stunned. Completely.

The Gulag Virus was the most horrific of contagions ever visited on the galaxy. Responsible for trillions of deaths and the collapse of the galaxy into a dark age lasting centuries. She looked ruefully at the hazmat suit helmet, but then realised that if it was contagious it would have happened by now.

“I…this is astonishing news,” she said softly. “The Gulag Virus was a part mechanical creation designed to exterminate organics, something it did very well. Why someone would adapt it is obvious; to gain power. Hmmph, they clearly did not reckon on you containing it though.”

“I’m afraid I must insist, Irajah. As much as I hate to do so we must keep it contained, not just for your sake, but for everyone’s. I don’t want you to think of it as a prison, I will do whatever I can to assist you, and provide anything you need to make your stay more bearable.”

Despite the clear regret in her tone and her words to the contrary this was a prison, even if it was a genteel and accommodating one. More house arrest than dungeon.

“To get your strength back though, I have something for you,” Phylis said, changing her tone to a lighter one.

She reached into a pouch and produced a glowing crystal. Irajah would be able to feel the Light energies inside it.

“Take this with you. Inside it is stored Force energy you can call on to restore your strength. I can make more if you need them.”

Alkahest was her special talent, a form of Light Alchemy which used the Force in protective ways compared with the Dark Alchemy of the Sith.

 

[Kuzo]

(no worries whatsoever! RL always comes first )

Irajah had simply nodded when [member="Phylis Alince"] had told her that, yes, this would essentially be a prison sentence. It did not come as a surprise. She understood the risks (perhaps better than any other living person). As it was, she lived with the doubt that leaving her world while this plague was inside of her had been a good idea. Knew that it had been selfish and reckless. And yet she'd still left. The choices had seemed simple at the time. Leave and live, or stay and die. For all that had happened, Irajah knew one thing.

She wanted to live.

Perhaps a little hesitantly, she reached out, accepting the glowing crystal from the Jedi. She had expected it to be warm, perhaps even hot. But she was surprised to find it cool to the touch, despite the light from within. She held it tentatively in both hands, cupped like a wounded bird. She could feel a pulse, an energy that she hadn't even encountered before. She looked up, her face almost surprised at the other woman.

"It's like it has a heartbeat," she whispered. Irajah wasn't impressed. She was awed. It lived, as surely as she did. At least, that's how it felt to her, novice in the Force that she was.

"What do you call this?"

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Irajah Ven"]
“I call it Alkahest,” Phylis said happily, pleased at the reaction. “Hmm, so the Sith have Alchemy where they infuse the Dark Side into an item. It is a process which is destructive, like all the Dark Side touches. Hmmph, even the protection such a thing might grant you extracts a heavy toll on the user.”

“So I guessed that such a thing was possible in reverse. After all, the Light and the Dark are two sides on the same coin. Such a thing has had limited use by Jedi before, but they always saw it as contrary to their aims. However, I see the work of a Jedi to use every possible tool. Hmm, so I worked on using crystals since they can be Force attuned, and I was able to store the Force into them. From there I worked to add it to metal, even to cloth.”

She pulled off her suit’s gloves and produced a ring from her finger and handed it over. The gold was noticeably attuned to the Light Side.

She coughed. “Hmm, sorry, I tend to ramble a bit on subjects I’m interested in. I should let you rest, we’ll do the move tomorrow.”

 

[Kuzo]

A lot of the details were going over Irajah's head, but she got the gist of what [member="Phylis Alince"] was talking about. She kept the crystal cupped in her two hands, marveling at how, even as she held it, it remained cool to the touch. The light coming from inside it seemed like it should be warm, and yet...

Irajah nodded, but frowning slightly at the Jedi Master's words.

"Tomorrow," she echoed faintly. "Yes, I'm tired now."

Her eyes were closed before Phylis even fully left the room. The conversation had taken more from her than she had expected- she still had healing to do, and the constant malignancy of the virus offered her no favors. Her hands stayed curled on the crystal, not using it, but appreciating the calm that seemed to radiate from it.

While Phylis, the orbital medical station and the hospital itself made their accommodations, Irajah slept. She didn't know the very serious process being begun in order to assure the safety of those who would be in any contact with her. The hospital records were adjusted, showing that she had been discharged. Technically, it was true. The next day they would transfer her on a small ship, the crew in full bio hazard gear, the ship labeled in the system simply as Quarantine.

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Irajah Ven"]
The station in orbit was around one of the moons in the system. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. It was far enough away to make it difficult to approach and attack, but it was close enough so that assistance could arrive quickly if needed.

On board the station Irajah was taken to a Spartan room which was properly isolated by airlocks, decontamination and visits by droids. There was a surprisingly comfortable bed, bathroom and living area with holonet channels and a nice view of space and the distant world of Dac.

There was also a holo-projector where Phylis now appeared as a blue shimmering figure.
“Welcome to your new home. It’s the best I could do on short notice, but if there’s anything I can get for you please tell me. If you have any requests for food or entertainment also let me know. I’ll come and see you tomorrow and we can run some more tests.”

The Jedi Master looked troubled. “I don’t want to do this, Irajah, but I cannot potentially let the virus escape again. We’ve been fortunate so far, I can’t allow our luck to change.”

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah had quietly taken in the room, her expression blank and neutral as her gaze cast about. She took in every detail, from the white on silver on white sterility to the triple decom rooms just outside her door.

She didn't try to open it.

Turning to the holoprojector, she nodded, mouth set in a straight line.

"Of course. I understand."

If her tone was flat, well, it couldn't be helped. She did understand. She also didn't like it. At that moment, she was simply fighting to keep her dismay from her face as long as [member="Phylis Alince"] was "in" the room. She knew, of course, that even when the holoprojector winked out, there would surely still be someone watching. She wasn't so naïve as to think that she was not being monitored.

"I don't have any requests right now, but thank you. If I do I will let you know."

Food? Entertainment? Those things meant nothing to her right now.

"I think I'm going to try to rest. If you'll excuse me?"

She waited until the small, blue incandescence had faded before looking around again.

Irajah had spent five months, alone, on a planet surrounded by the dead. For the last few weeks since finding a way off of her world, she had done everything in her power to be around other people as often as possible. The sights, the smells, the sounds of other sentient creatures had kept the nightmares (mostly) at bay.

But here, in the utter stillness of the ward prepared for her, there was nothing she could do. The utter weight of alone pressed down on her. Slowly, she sank to her knees, covering her face with her hands.

That first 'night' she would cry herself to sleep, only slipping off when her body was simply to exhausted to stay awake for another minute.

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Irajah Ven"]
Phylis shut down the link, wincing. She felt terrible, utterly terrible. She was a Jedi, and she liked to think she was a pretty moral one. Unlike so many she was not given to romantic flings or destroying cities or having tea with Sith. No, she did what was right and followed the Jedi Code as much as she could. Imprisoning someone, even for the best reasons, even when it was for their own good…that was hard.

Heading back to her room aboard the station she flopped down on the bed. Her droid, Six-Nine, came in and tootled at her.
“Yes, we’ll be here for a few days. I need to help her if I can, and if I can’t, then at least help the staff here with her.”
A beep, somewhat inquisitive.
“Yes, it’s quarantine. I can’t let the contamination spread until we have an effective cure.
A tootle which was unexpectedly smug.
“You sound like some droids I knew once. Don’t forget that without us you’d have never been made.”
Indignant beep.
“Yes, yes, I’m aware of that. Sorry.” Phylis paused, then looked up from the bed at the droid. She grinned. “I have a job for you.”
Six-Nine beeped suspiciously, then shook his dome.
“Oh yes, as you said yourself, you’re immune to it. So you can keep her company.”
A crescendo of agitated beeps and squibs.
“Don’t be like that. She’s perfectly nice, and she needs a friend right about now. In the morning you’re going to take her breakfast and help her out.”
Resigned, the droid beeped and rolled off.

And so the next morning Irajah’s door would open and the green droid rolled in to deliver a tray on the table.
He beeped enthusiastically at Irajah…but it was probably for the best if she didn’t understand binary!

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah was already awake when the droid came rolling in. She was sitting in one of the (surprisingly comfortable) chairs, the small, glowing alkahest sphere cupped in her hands. She hadn't used it yet. There was just something comforting about its presence.

The sound of the door opening brought her attention up. She was already feeling better (physically), and was more outwardly composed than the night before. But she couldn't help the small amount of disappointment that flickered across her face when it was a droid that entered the suite rather than a real person (even if they had been wearing isolation gear). She had no problem with droids, but she also had very little interactions with them. Not enough to place them in the same place a living, breathing person would hold.

So when it tootled it's greeting, she tilted her head slightly to the side.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," she said, offering a small, disappointed smile. Disappointed now in herself, rather than in her company. After all, it wasn't the droid's fault she didn't understand.

"Thank you," she said as it put the tray on the table, smiling a little better now.

Of course, she didn't really know what to say to a droid that she couldn't understand in turn. Unless.....

"Do you play Holochess?"

​[member="Phylis Alince"]

 

[Phylis Alince]

[member="Irajah Ven"]
The droid beeped an affirmative. There was an entertainment system in the room, and it lit up with the pieces.

The droid made an aggressive move and gave a jaunty salute with his manipulator arm. Clearly he was pleased there were no wookiees to play against!