Waiting Room
Commenor
Commenor
He was in a foul mood. Yet another denial from the courts to let him come see Nida Perl in prison, this time kindly delivered to him in person by a security detail that insisted that they be present when he reads the decision. They were there to make sure he wouldn't throw another anger tantrum as he had last time; that glass door down in the lobby was still not replaced. A dozen guys in tactical gear to hold down one guy. They knew of his combat record and what he was capable of.
Fortunately for them, he'd managed to stay cool the third rejection around. He had another appointment to make while visiting the system anyway.
While sitting in the fancy waiting room, Thirdas tore up the court decision and bundled it up into a paper ball. He made an attempt at the waste bin, only for it to bounce off the rim. He let out a disappointed grunt, but then his head tilted to the side as he studied the ball of paper on the pristine floor. His gaze narrowed, shutting out his surroundings. Extending his shiny metal hand, he closed his eyes and imagined himself summoning the ball into his grasp.
By the time his eyes opened, his hand had closed into a fist. Lacking the sense of touch in his cybernetic prosthetic, there was nothing to tip him off that it had worked. So when he opened his hand to find the bundle of paper sitting in his palm it both excited and terrified him at the same time. Ever since recent events on Ossus he'd tried to keep an open mind about the Force, having known for some time he was gifted in its use just like the rest of his family.
He'd hoped to ask Kyra Perl whether she be willing to teach him some of the basics, but she was nowhere to be found. There was nobody else he respected enough to be his teacher; Nida was in prison, and he was too proud to ask his family, having grown up scoffing at the notion of him becoming a Jedi. He and Kyra had been to hell and back, with him going so far as to swear brotherhood with her upon the completion of their mission to rescue her sister. This made her as much family as his own flesh and blood. She did not make the same pledge, and was gone from his life soon after.
It seemed for the time being, Kyra had her own path to walk.
With a flick of his thumb the paper ball was sent flying a second time, this time landing squarely inside the waste bin. Shortly after, the door opened and an assistant appeared holding a holo-pad.
"Lieutenant. The Doctor is ready to see you now."
"Great, thanks."
Squeezing through the small doorway with more than a little difficulty for one so big, Thirdas appeared before the person he'd come to see, sitting behind his disproportionately large desk in a disproportionately large office chair elevated just high enough for the little guy to rest his elbows upon the smooth surface of his desk.
"Ah, Lieutenant! It's good to see you again," the Anzellan clad in white lab coat greeted Thirdas jovially. "Please, have a seat."
Seating himself in the comfy leather chair, he looked around the room at the various bits and bobs that no doubt held significance to their owner.
"I trust you've been putting your enhancements to good use since our last meeting?"
Glancing down at his arm, he couldn't help but grimace. Flashes of all the people he'd hurt.
"It's... come in handy, a few times," he replied, devoid of all emotion but regret. "Except for when its shiny chrome finish gives away my location. Nearly got my team killed while on sniper duty thanks to one streak of sunlight reflecting off it. Doc, I need something stealthier, something..."
The tiny cyberneticist steepled his even tinier fingers.
"You're asking whether it comes in black."
A smirk and a nod from the soldier.
"I'm asking whether it comes in black."
A snap of the Anzellan scientist's fingers summoned a similarly dressed colleague into the office via a side entrance, pushing a cart upon which there lay two metal containers.
"Yours was but a prototype, Lieutenant. I've been hard at work perfecting my design since our last meeting at the medical facility on Kashyyyk. Go ahead, open it."
Placing his left hand upon the scanner, the first container unlocked itself, and as Thirdas lifted the lid open he found exactly what he'd hoped to find. Doc hopped up on the table in excitement, walking over to show off his proud work.
"The other one contains your leg. Figured I gotta make a complete set in case you decide to wear shorts into battle. Other than its more practical design, I've also optimised any faulty wiring and various other technical mumbo-jumbo you're not interested in."
"Aw, this is great, Doc," he studied the intricate, sleek design. "It's beautiful."
Placing the arm back into its container, he turned to the tiny professor. "I don't have any credits--"
Doc grinned, his short arms kept behind his back. "Lieutenant, if I was expecting credits, I wouldn't have bothered meeting with you in the first place. I have enough benefactors with credits to their name. No, all I need from you is to do what you do; to test their limitations so that I may continue to perfect my work. Maybe put in the occasional good word with your superiors?"
"You bet, Doc."
Thirdas formed a fist and extended his metal arm, allowing the small scientist to fist bump his own work.
"Shall we begin with the procedure, then?"
