Private A Surplus of Understanding

[Evander Corvis]

DENON
WAREHOUSE B24

The operation had been planned for a week, but executed in a manner of an hour. The criminal outfit that belonged to the Morants had not been particularly sizeable, but noteworthy in the lack of shame. Violent, merciless thugs, who kept a network of smugglers and warehouse workers under their thumb by a mixture of threats and greasing the wheels. But they caught the attention of someone that couldn't be bought or threatened into submission.

Knight Corvis of the Jedi Order had a particular loathing for criminal rats like these.

He had devoted a substantial amount of his time to ensure they'd be taken down. He worked with local law enforcement to ensure he'd have the proper support for the mission too. In the end Dixon Morant and his loathsome gang were all picked up by the coppers.

Evander knew better than to trust the local beat cops past a certain point however. By the time it was all over the Jedi Shadow made sure the Marshals were involved too, overseeing the transfer to jails that wouldn't be as easy to buy themselves out of. Now there was one outstanding question. A woman by the name of Calia Rook , who had participated in the criminal activities of the Morants.

According to rules and laws she ought to be arrested and tried.

It was the proper thing to do, but Evander had been observing the operations for a while now. He knew that her cooperation had been bought with threats. Stick rather than honey. It wouldn't matter to Denon Corporate Law and somehow he doubted the Order would see the subtle difference either.

Knight Corvis walked into the temporary holding cell - nothing more than Dixon's old office with a Marshal inside to keep an eye on Rook - and his hands settled on his hips. "I will take it from here, Barb. Go have a smoke." An understanding passed between them. There was a reason Evander had requested Barbara's presence and only allowed her eyes on Calia. She wouldn't blab to anyone, depending on what was decided here today.

"What am I to do with you?" He finally said, looking down at the woman in cuffs.

 

[Calia Rook]

The end had come with shocking rapidity.

The Morants had always seemed... inevitable. Like roaches. Able to survive the worst. Always there, always watching, always waiting to chew on a wire and screw your whole day up. Their contacts, their brutality, their apparent untouchability... had it all been an illusion after all?

Maybe it was fate that Calia Rook had been in the warehouse when things escalated. Maybe it was justice. Maybe it was just bad luck. But she had been apprehended handily from the cashier's window when she had come to turn in the money she had gotten for the run of black-level narcotics to Hutt Space. Bone-tired from the run -- and corporate security entanglements that had required some fancy talking and some even fancier flying -- Calia had not expected to be screwed in Warehouse B24.

Well.

Not more than she was usually screwed by the Morants.

Her dark hair was disheveled by the fracas, but her eyes were alert. She wasn't happy. But she wasn't mad at the woman who stood guard over her in Dixon's office. Barb -- her name was Barb, it turned out -- wasn't to blame for her predicament. No one was, no one but herself. She had been stupid enough to fall for Rafe's line of bullshit. She had been sloppy enough to be caught. She had been foolish enough to fall for Dixon Morant's powerplay. She had been weak enough that her family could be used as leverage against her.

And she had violated any number of laws on the way. She was as guilty as any of the Morants and their employees that were being hauled away.

A tall man entered, dismissed Barb easily. Calia lifted her head, shifting her shoulders. They had grown stiff with her arms cuffed behind her back to the uncomfortable chair. She had to crane her neck to meet his gaze, which she did. He was lean, muscular, even clad in the Jedi getup. Not bad looking, in a soft, posh boy sort of way. What am I to do with you? he asked. She was certain the question was rhetorical -- or perhaps meant to serve as mockery -- but that didn't stop her from suggesting: "Could let me go. I'm not here to make trouble."

Evander Corvis​

 

[Evander Corvis]

Calia Rook

Eyebrows raised up there.

He had not imagined that the fugitive would be cracking jokes so soon after the altercation. Then again, it didn't... Quite feel like a joke, more like an amusing suggestion Rook was hoping would be accepted.

"I think we both know that is not going to happen." He said calmly while pulling out a key from his pocket.

"If I open up the cuffs, are you going to try and run? I would not advise it, for what it is worth."

And unless Rook would indicate she would in fact flee, Corvis would gently unlock the cuffs and take them off of her wrists before righting himself again.

"Your current trajectory is a one way ticket to prison. I think I should be clear about that." The Jedi said finally, no empathy but also no malice.

It was just calm and steady. Even though she had watched him tear through the compound with that saber like it was nothing just some minutes ago.

"They will try and cut a deal by throwing you and anyone else they can under the bus."

 

[Calia Rook]

"I said I'm not here for trouble," Calia said stubbornly, as if that answered all his questions, in the tone of someone who didn't like to be asked to repeat herself. No, she would not run. It would be foolish to try. When he unlocked her cuffs, the only movement she made was to cup her left wrist with her right hand, massaging away the stiffness and pain. She looked up at him, eyes crinkling in indignant disbelief.

"One way?" she echoed incredulously. "That seems like a bit much. It's not like I killed someone."

Calia hesitated, then stopped. No, better not to confess all her crimes to this Jedi. Maybe he didn't know the extent of her crimes. Maybe this was just a fishing expedition. Even if not, admitting something served no purpose. Maybe if they tried to put her away, she could explain. The threats to her family. The scam. Not an excuse, a mitigation.

Still, this Jedi seemed pretty confident.

"That doesn't surprise me," Calia observed dryly. "But they're not the only one with dirt. If you can make some assurances -- not even for me -- I'll turn state's evidence. I have no love for these people, I can tell you that for nothing."

Evander Corvis​

 

[Evander Corvis]

Calia Rook

A criminal saying they were not here for trouble would be amusing, if they weren't in the middle of an operation that managed to take out an outfit that had been running roughshod across local society.

But again, Corvis knew that... Calia was a lesser evil, in that regard.

Just a person motivated by the care for here family and perhaps a little selfishness on the side. Not everyone could be a Paragon of Justice. Not everyone could be self-sacrificial. It was normal, even if it disappointed a man such as Corvis, who had been sacrificing without complaint from the day his family gave him away.

"One way?" she echoed incredulously. "That seems like a bit much. It's not like I killed someone."

"You are on Denon, miss Rook." Corvis explained patiently. "The High Republic gives a lot of leeway to its individual planets to decide its laws, regulations and yes, the way they punish criminals. Denon is quite oppressive when it comes to the enforcement of its laws. The High Republic will take over the procedure by my advice, yes, but mainly for the bosses of this outfit."

The ones that could have bought their way out of this mess otherwise.

That is where the danger was coming from. If they couldn't buy their way out, they'd try other avenues.

"But they're not the only one with dirt. If you can make some assurances -- not even for me -- I'll turn state's evidence. I have no love for these people, I can tell you that for nothing."

He watched her carefully and then nodded slowly.

"Tell me about yourself, miss Rook. Career criminal? Or was this simply a little vacation for you with a longer detour than expected?"

 

[Calia Rook]

The subtle flare of her nostrils would have been the only thing to tell a normal person of her anger, but this was a Jedi. He could probably read her every thought. He could almost certainly feel her fury seeping into the Force like oil over a serene, clear pool. When she spoke, her voice was contemptuous, not violent. "Must be so easy for you, all of you, huh?" Calia's eyes met his unflinchingly. She was filled with contumely all of a sudden, pushed across the threshold by the disdain dripping from his words.

The way he had seen her for all of thirty seconds and decided he had seen everything he needed to know about her.

The way he had put her in a little box -- criminal -- and felt like he'd done enough.

"You Jedi -- sitting in your temples," she went on. "Your academies and your fancy ships, above it all. Above us all. Thinking you have the monopoly on moral clarity. You don't know the first thing about life on Denon. What you don't know about me and my circumstances would short a Class 0.5 hyperdrive in its track. So give me a fucking break with the sneering. A little vacation? Go to hell. If you knew -- "

She found her face flaming, her throat tight -- with anger, yes, but humiliation too, and the frustration of being in the all-too familiar situation where she was tied to a chair at a sabacc table and the person on the other side held all the cards while she held none. "The Morants tricked me, and then they trapped me. They threatened my family. Said if I didn't agree to their indenture contract they'd kill them. Since you're such an expert on Denon, you know they can, because you know they have."

Calia glowered up at Evander. "A vacation? Really, from the very bottom of my heart, fuck you."

Evander Corvis​

 

[Evander Corvis]

Calia Rook

In truth he was too speechless to interrupt her as she vented at him.

The only response was a blink after that last biting curse.

"Wow." Corvis said after a moment. "You were really holding all that in, were you?" Eyebrows going up, because again he was struck by the question that he had asked the moment he came into the room.

What am I to do with you?

Calia had no idea how close she was with her assessment. The Jedi in front of her was double as entitled and privileged as she thought. Not only was Evander a Jedi, but he was a noble to boot. Which meant that he didn't know what hunger was. Or being cold. Or not having a place to sleep. And worse than that, Corvis was aware of them as abstract concepts.

If you work hard, you won't land in that position - was a statement drilled into him from a young age.

"Did you ever try and work against them? You know you could have. I dismantled the operation within a few days from the outside. Have you ever tried to risk your skin to make them hurt? Or is part of your ire aimed at me, because you feel ashamed you took the easy way out every single time?"

He didn't curse back at her, but that might as well have been a verbal backhand.

That was the noble in him. Finding a soft spot and squeezing for all its worth as a punishment.

 

[Calia Rook]

"I feel plenty of shame," Calia shot back, her eyes wild with fury.

That was true. She felt all sorts of shame. Shame that she had fallen for Rafe Dorran. That tall, dark, and handsome energy, those sad eyes, the sweet words, the slick promises. In retrospect it was so obvious, so clear. She should have known better. She had dragged herself over the coals every single day for it. But the Jedi didn't care about that. Nobody cared.

"But do I feel shame that I didn't single-handedly take down the Morants?" Her eyes tracked him, open and generous with their scorn. "Since I didn't have the resources of the Republic and its pet monks at my back, and since they had a literal gun to the my parents' and siblings' heads?" A bark of mirthless laughter. "You're actually serious, aren't you? What fanciful tales you spin yourselves in your ivory towers." Calia shook her head. "You took down the Morants in a number of days -- I'm impressed, really. Why didn't I think of coming here with a lightsaber and my Jedi friends and the authority of the Order and the Republic? What a fool I was."

She let out a bone-deep sigh and tilted her head back, closing her eyes. Suddenly she was exhausted. Calia looked younger, more vulnerable, in that pose. "What do you want from me, Jedi?" she asked quietly. "You want my testimony against the Morants? Or do you just want a punching bag?"

Evander Corvis​

 

[Evander Corvis]

Calia Rook

He didn't point out he was the only Jedi in attendance.

That would have been petty and Corvis wasn't usually a petty person. Even if this woman was doing her best to lure it out of him. "There are many ways to stand against evil, miss Rook. Little rebellions can often be found even in tyrannical regimes. A missing ledger, a destroyed part in the right place, little things can build into large ones."

His eyes were steady as they watched her.

As if Corvis was weighing her or even judging her.

"Neither." The Jedi said finally after a moment of silence. "The Morants are done. Your testimony is not useful in that regard. The courts will see nothing but a self-serving creature who is trying to reduce her own sentence."

Hands crossed behind him.

"And I am not here to attack you, ma'am. I am here to weigh if you have the mental capacity to be useful for a good cause. One that is not served by being in jail."

Brows furrowed there.

"But if I am to judge you by your temper, I am unsure if you have the ability and capacity to be of much assistance to me."

 

[Calia Rook]

"How fortunate for the courts that a Jedi came along to relieve them of the burden of dealing with me."

She didn't like this Jedi. He was a snotty little berk of a fellow. He looked barely older than she, and still seemed to speak with the weight and authority of a man twice her age. But that was the Jedi for you. So sure of their own authority that they didn't need to bother with the little people.

"You've done nothing but attack me since you came in here," she said, but her voice wasn't hot now, not challenging, not even bitter or sad, just tired. She kept her eyes closed, her head tilted back, voice slow like she could almost be on the verge of sleep. "I have all kinds of capacity, Jedi. Whether you believe it or not, I am not a bad person. I am just a regular girl with generally good intentions that didn't have the luxury of living in the marble arches of your temples, and who made one bad choice that snowballed. I guess if in your heart of hearts you think that makes me irredeemable, fine."

Calia finally opened her eyes and looked up again. "In that case I want a lawyer. If you have something else to propose, I am all ears. Mister Jedi." She nodded towards the file with her name on it. It should contain the notes of why the Morants wanted her in the first place: she was a first class pilot. "Does that give you any idea of why they snagged me? How I could be useful to a good cause?"

Evander Corvis​

 

[Evander Corvis]

Calia Rook

"In that case I want a lawyer. If you have something else to propose, I am all ears. Mister Jedi."

"I don't think Denon actually has the right to a lawyer encoded in their books." He murmured absently as he picked up her dossier and began to leaf through it.

"But yes, I am more than aware about your extracurriculars. That is in fact why you are in a separate room." Eyes on her again, over the edge of the dossier. "Rather than with the other thugs, waiting to be processed by the law."

He closed the dossier with a sigh.

"Your abilities to do crime is not in question, miss Rook. It is what made you valuable to your former employers. It is also what landed you in this seat." It was difficult to ignore her prodding the whole time. Maybe if Evander was older and more experienced, he would have been able to really let it slip off of his skin with no concern.

Instead it rankled.

"The question I have... is can you hold your tongue when your life depends on it? Or mine? Can you cooperate with others? Or are you going to lash out and be emotional at every turn? If so, do tell me, then I will put you with the cops and you can roll your dice with them."

Eyebrows up again.

"I heard that mister Dixon is suspecting you of being the rat that drew attention of the Law to his operations, by the way. I don't think you'd last long in a holding cell with them."

 

[Calia Rook]

"My abilities to do crime?"

The man was begging for socked jaw, to be honest. Her knuckles were itchy. And pretty boy could use a bit of... character to his face. A broken nose would make him a little more rakish. No, she decided. Not only would she be in big trouble -- and probably hurled into the clink -- but she was not inclined to give this jumped up little prick a better chance of getting laid. Not that he probably needed it. Fucker has better eyelashes than I do, she grumbled internally.

"Mister," she said. "They didn't grab me because I did crimes. I was clean as a whistle -- not never got caught clean, never did it clean. They snagged me because I'm a good pilot. A damned good pilot, as a matter of fact, and that's not bragging. Now I can't prove it -- maybe it's in there. I'm sure there's more in there other than what a worthless piece of shit I am -- but I'm almost positive I outran and outflew Morant pirates and pressers on more than one occasion, and that's when they decided if they couldn't rob my ship, they'd just steal me."

Calia lowered her head and blew out a sigh. Defeated, clearly. By Dixon Morant. By this unnamed Jedi pretty-boy. By life. Most of all by her own bad decisions. Still, the boy's face wanted punching, wanted it bad.

"I could tell you I know how to behave in company and I can keep my mouth shut when it's important. You have no reason to believe it, however true it is." She blew out a sigh that made her curls floof out from in front of her face briefly. "Look, do what you've got to do. Put me in there. Let them think I betrayed them. If you do that and nothing else, just know that you're condemning five innocent people, at least, to death. However thorough you think you were, you weren't thorough enough. If it surfaces that anyone blew the whistle, whoever the family has as collateral is going to die. My life is pretty much fucked as it is, but do something about my family. Get them off Denon. They're not involved in this other than having the bad luck to be related to a fuck-up like me."

She raised her head again, and this time her eyes were earnest, and sad, and most of all, frightened.

"I made my bed. They did nothing wrong. Isn't that what you people are supposed to be about? Protecting the innocent?" She rattled off an address of an apartment in the Denon undercity -- not quite the slums, but not far off. "The Brendts. Apartment 291. Please, Mister."

Evander Corvis​

 

[Evander Corvis]

Calia Rook

For a long time there was silence as he weighed her.

Was she what he needed? A sharp tongue, which Evander didn't mind, but would she be able to hold it when the situation demanded it? It suggested a weak and fragile mind that couldn't cope under pressure and lashed out. At the same time, Calia had been through a lot and if she truly was not a criminal at heart (jury's out on that one), then perhaps it could be forgiven.

"Your family will be protected." He said finally as he wrote down the address that she sounded out. "I will personally ensure that they are seen off-world and land somewhere safe."

He didn't say comfortable, because that was something he couldn't oversee.

"I will be honest, miss Rook, this was an impromptu job interview. I am in need of someone who is one hell of a pilot and who possesses other skills, including a lack of a strict moral character, who is willing to do what it takes to get the job done. Someone who can be cool under pressure."

His gaze on her was mild, but that last part was a bit pointed.

"I think you are severely lacking in the latter department. But your pilot skills speak for themselves. I am still willing to give you a chance. Jail or working with me. I am sure the jail sounds appealing right now, considering you don't like me, but I do assure you... I am only sometimes a piece of shit."

A little quirk of the corner of his mouth, upward.

 

[Calia Rook]

It was not lost on Calia Rook that she had just barely gotten out of one indenture and here was this pretty-boy eyelash model trying to slap another set of cuffs on her, one way or another.

Still, it was probably better than prison.

Probably.

Calia made a show of considering the offer. Being too eager meant giving up something, even if it was the shattered remains of her pride. And nothing showed coolness under pressure than thoughtfully considering the offer and not leaping at the chance to stay out of prison.

At last, she nodded carefully. "I think we could come to an arrangement, Mister Jedi," Calia said slowly, folding her arms in front of her. She allowed herself to recline against the back of the seat almost imperceptibly. "Nothing unreasonable, I can promise. But stay in your lane. I won't tell you how to swing that little lightsaber of yours. Don't tell me how to fly my ship. That sort of thing."

Calia scratched an itch on her forearm. "And -- so you know -- fuel and food and per diem aren't cheap. Do they give you an expense account at that fancy temple of yours?"

Evander Corvis​

 

[Evander Corvis]

Calia Rook

Corvis nodded without hesitation.

"I am not recruiting you, just to turn around and tell you your business, miss Rook. I am aware there are things you are better at than I am." Most criminal things, for instance, since Evander had very little experience with it. While Calia had a lot of it. Something he wasn't going to repeat again, because the last time he said that, she really got pissed off.

Inclining his head to seal the deal before listening to the next part.

That made him snort.

"I think you will find that money is not an issue." That might be the moment when Rook noticed that Evander wasn't wearing the standard rags of Jedi monks. Yes, the sigil of the Order was stitched to his attire, but he was wearing an expensive looking leather jacket with a long-form and silky smooth texture beneath it.

"I will handle any expenses we occur during our missions." His eyes on hers. "Within reason, miss Rook. I am not planning on funding a lavish lifestyle for you. But my definition of reason can be generous, if it is for the good of the mission."

He extended his hand.

"It is a deal then?"

 

[Calia Rook]

It all sounded agreeable to Calia. Mostly.

Mr. Lashes still had some wild hair up his ass about how she was trying to scam him -- or the Jedi -- or the Republic. She supposed that was natural. He had no reason to think of her as anything but some criminal scum. She supposed it was on her to prove that that wasn't really her. If he could be convinced, which... seemed unlikely from where she was sitting.

She regarded his hand outstretched dubiously, then lifted her eyes to his again. "Two more things," Calia said, then held up her index finger. "First, my family. They still need to be moved off Denon for their own safety. Sorry, but I just don't trust the Morants to leave them be, especially if they see me in the company of the Jedi that shut their whole operation down. And I doubt sincerely that your people will keep an eye on them."

She lifted her middle finger to join the index finger. "Second," she went on, keeping her voice reasonable. "When you've seen how I live my life and how I operate -- and that I'm not some immoral criminal mastermind or junkie or, I don't know, libertine living outside the confines of the law." Her hands folded together. "You'll stop treating me like a bad smell."

Her head tilted to one side. "Sound fair?"

Evander Corvis​

 

[Evander Corvis]

Calia Rook

Eyebrows went up against her first one more thing.

"Ma'am, I already agreed I'd take care of your family. That was irrespective of if we came to an agreement. I am a Jedi, I would never let innocents stay in danger, if I have the ability to take them out of it." And he meant it too. While he was not as certain as Calia was about the danger her family was in, he was also not going to risk it.

If he was wrong? It would mean all their lives and that was a cost too great.

"I will arrange it so that you can speak to them, they might need some convincing first, before they go along with the transfer."

The second one more thing made him blink.

It seemed that Captain Rook was someone who could easily vex him and perhaps also got some enjoyment out of it to boot. "I am not treating you like bad smell, miss Rook. I am simply being cautious. Trusting the wrong person could mean a lifetime of hurt." He was unaware of how correct he was about it and how those words might resonate with Calia.

After all, the Jedi didn't know it had been a honey pot that got Calia tangled up in this whole mess to begin with.

A pause and then-

"But... point taken. Show me I can trust you and I will. I am not someone who believes people can't redeem themselves or that their mistakes define them for the rest of their life."

Then a smile, too charming by half.

"Shake on it now then? Or do you have more points?"

 

[Calia Rook]

Calia rolled her neck as if to indicate she was weighing the options, then stood and slapped her hand into his. "You got yourself a deal, Mister Jedi," the pilot said enthusiastically, pumping his hand with gusto. "My ship is the Jammy Bastard, a classic YG-4214 freighter. My pride and joy. She'll be in Docking Bay 621-B at the starport on level 3."

She didn't think he was going to let her go on her own on the promise that she'd wait for him, but still. Better to let him know she had nothing to hide. He could send Barb ahead if he wanted. See that everything was as-advertised.

"My droid will be there -- Kex. He won't love anyone trying to get on without me," Calia told Evander. "But -- as a show of good faith -- if you need to be there ahead of me and need to board, use the code word 'trimpian' and Kex will shut down." She reached into her pocket and pulled a fob from inside, holding it out. "For the record -- before you get any ideas -- the droid is salvaged, not stolen. I've got the papers."

"Don't try to fly it," Calia warned. "It's... delicate."

Evander Corvis​

 

[Evander Corvis]

Calia Rook

The Jammy Bastard.

Evander murmured the name right after she said it, as if to decide if she was fucking with him or not, but she seemed entirely serious. The aboutface in her attitude was also rather suspicious.

She went from cursing him out to being rather enthusiastic about everything.

Which could simply be the difference between almost being in jail and now suddenly having one feet out of the jailhouse. He could imagine (not that he had ever been threatened with jail time) that playing a rather big role. Still, he decided to be extra careful, perhaps he'd send Barb forward just to make sure it all checked out.

"Beauty of a ship, ma'am, I am something of a vintage ship aficionado myself." Evander said with a smile, thinking it could be a good way for the both of them to share a nice moment.

Not realizing that the real reason she probably flew one of those was because she didn't have money for the newest models.

"I wouldn't dare fly someone's ship without permission... unless there are extreme circumstances. Which this shall not be." Inclining his head as he accepted the fob.

"We will go via the back exit and I will clear your status with the Marshals and with the local cops. But don't forget to send your family that message, yeah? I doubt they will just go along with the team I send, if you don't give them confirmation first."

 

[Calia Rook]

Calia nodded and took out her comlink, but before she dialed, she set it down on her knee and looked up at Evander Corvis .

"Before all that, maybe I get to know your name?" Calia asked. "Or is it just Mister Jedi?"

Finally, With an inward sigh, she realized that the Jedi was probably expecting her to do it all out in the open. Privacy the first casualty in this new arrangement, she supposed -- well. After her dignity. She keyed in the frequency, touched the speaker button, and waited. When her mother picked up the line, she said: "Ma -- it's Call. I don't have a lot of time, so listen closely, all right?"

* * * * *

An hour or so later, the pair made it to Docking Bay 621-B. Calia typed in the access code and the screen flashed up green. "Don't worry," she said over her shoulder to Evander. "I pre-paid the docking fee, so I'm not trying to swindle you for that." She turned back as the door opened, revealing the Jammy Bastard.

"She may not look like much," Calia said as her eyes swept fondly over the silhouette of the ship. "But that's by design. She's better than factory where it counts. The outside looks a little banged-up but that's camouflage -- to make it look normal. A pristine ship this old? Forget it. It's a target. You know classic ships -- you know how it is." She strolled across the bay and palmed the ship ramp open. The ramp had barely touched down when the slightly mechanical voice of Kex came down.

"Captain Rook, is that you?"

"It's me," Calia called back.

"You're hours late," Kex said. It was hard for a droid to sound petulant, but Kex managed. "I received quite the nastygram from the dockmaster about overstaying our welcome." She mounted the ramp, and the droid's glowing red receptors focused in on Evander. "Oh -- we have company. That's new."

"This is Evander," Calia said. "He's my... " A delicate pause as she searched for the right word. If she told Kex that Evander was her boss, he might get the idea that Evander was his boss, too, which wouldn't do. " ...partner."

There was a delicate pause. "Is that... a good idea? After Dor -- "

Calia's eyes flashed angrily and she lifted a hand. "Go and start the preflight while I show Evander to his cabin. And brush up on my instructions about operational security. It would be a real shame if you got marked as cargo and accidentally shipped to Kashir." The Droid's photoreceptors flickered in what was a decent facsimile of a blink, nodded once at Evander, then toddled off. "This way," Calia muttered. She took him to a cabin usually set aside for charter guests and keyed the door open. It wasn't big, but it had plenty of space: tucked into a corner, desk built into the wall at its foot, with a wardrobe opposite, and a storage locker beside. "Tell me if you need something. More blankets, pillow. Whatever. Light switches are here. Can change the temperature here, too, and there's the intercom. Another button on the desk for the intercom." She pointed, then hooked a thumb over her shoulder back into the corridor. "'Fresher's across the hall."

Calia leaned against the doorjamb and folded her arms around her middle. "Now. What's next?"

Evander Corvis​