It's What You Taught Me

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric stood in the center of a small Arceneau Trade Station within the outer rim, Kiran flanking his left.

There was a slight hint of nervousness to him, though the only tell that could be found in that regard was a slight rapping of his fingers against the side of his pants. He knew that something was wrong, but he didn't know what.

It was a feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that he couldn't quite explain.

It had been there ever since he had seen Danger at the Gala, ever since his heart attack, that moment. He couldn't explain it, and in fact it might have been nothing at all. He had been delirious when he had last seen her. Half starved, over worked, and just out of a heart attack. Perhaps he had imagined that slight gaze of hers, perhaps he had seen something that wasn't there.

Yet her lack of contact, the way she hadn't replied to him when he sent his messages.

It made him think.

Then again they had gone weeks before without speaking to one another, Arceneau Trade and Titan were both massive and they were busy people. Yet it seemed strange to him, and that was why he was here, waiting. Supposedly Danger was at this station, devoid as it was, inspecing or doing some business of some kind.

He only hoped he could find her.

 

[Aeri Vyn]

The tattoo of heels would foretell the arrival of a woman.

But it wouldn't be whom Alric was searching for. Instead, long pink legs as long as the Kessel Run would bring to the focus one Aeri Vyn, personal assistant to the Queen of Trade herself.

There was a cordial expression to the Zeltron's face, but therein to those who knew her a bit well would realize what she would say next would not be welcomed news.

Aeri would keep herself in as much of a positive and calm demeanor as possible, radiating a soothing atmosphere naturally. She had been having to do that more often than not the past few weeks, the reason being none other than the man standing alongside her cousin.

A brief glance was spared to Kiran, but that was all she would give in greeting for now. They would not appear to know each other outside their respective assignments, and this one, well-- both knew the delicate nature of the situation.

It likely wasn't going to end well.

"Mr. Kuhn, " she began, greeting him with an extension of her hand. An apology in her eyes. "Things seem to have escalated with the Citadel Station inspection. Perhaps it would be best to reschedule at another time?"

Here is the first attempt to sway.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

“No.” Alric said simply.

This was an odd little game, a funny little play that was happening.

They all knew the situation. They all knew what they were, who they were, but none of them would say it. That would ruin the whole mask, the whole game, the whole purpose of Aeri being here. The twisted displeasure that lay on Alrics face however told him that indeed something was wrong.

Danger would have deflected, but not in this manner.

His mind began to race, thoughts swarming at what could possibly have happened. A frown settled on his face, and momentarily he looked over to Kiran. The Zeltrons facial expression was completely unreadable, his helmet in the crook of his helmet. He was looking at the woman opposite him as though she were a lynx.

“I'm afraid this can't wait for another day.” He said politely. “We'll wait until she's done.”

There was a tenseness to his words, a sharp edge.

 

[Aeri Vyn]

His expression, his stance, told Aeri that this was not going to be easy. Quite near impossible. It was a conundrum; the parameters of her assignment meant that the safety of Danger Arceneau was her highest concern. However, before her stood the man that had given it to her to begin with.

Another glance briefly would flicker at Kiran's direction. Well, if that was not going to deter him...

Lavender eyes would soften in their expression, returning to the Titan. He was bleeding nervousness, confusion, and perhaps a tinge of trepidation. He was wound tight. Anxious. The trials of humans often confused her, and in her mind she thought this all to be weighted by foolishness. However, the galactic view of a Zeltron would only allow her to view it as such. However, being empathic meant she was very well aware of the emotional severity of the situation.

A few seconds would pass, then delicately, still coating her words with calm, would say, "Mr. Kuhn...Miz Arceneau will need time. " there was a double meaning in that.

"The Citadel Station escalation will take time for her to sort through and her entire focus. ". She let that linger, "Your presence will only distract her; for her sake... It would be best to reschedule for another time "

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He stayed silent for a few moments. There was more than a hint of wisdom in the Zeltrons words. She made her point well. Time was important. To work through something, to push your thoughts out of the way, to settle and understand things.

Yet...Alric didn't know what he did.

He could have guessed, he could have thought about it more and tortured himself for the next month, but there was no point to that. Confrontation may not have been his strong suit, and the last time he and Danger went head to head they ended up in the desert on Tatooine, but he knew that talking to her was the right thing to do.

“Miss Vyn.” He said calm as a still breeze. “Trust me when I say this, when it comes to Miz Arceneau and myself, it is best that matters are dealt with directly.”

There was a bomb in the room, and Alric was going to cut one of the wires.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Smoke would drift to the ceiling in a lazy curl. Seconds would tick past as Dangeruese would stare out beyond the thick glasteel into the beyond at the Flamewind of Oseon.

The Flamewind was considered to be one of the most beautiful wonders of the galaxy. It occurred once a year according to the Galactic Standard Calendar and lasted three weeks. Those with a far more scientific mind would say that it was merely a result of a stream of radiation; set in wavelengths from the infrared to the ultraviolet, issued from the star Oseon. From the star, it flared out to encompass the entire Oseon system, tearing off electrically charged particles from the asteroids to form a giant pinwheel of constantly shifting color.

The exact cause is unknown; some believe the Oseon system was full of an exotic isotope that sparked off the Flamewind. Another belief is that the Flamewind was made up of lost souls, those killed before their time since the previous year.

Whatever the cause, the Flamewind was a massively profitable tourist attraction for the Oseon and the Centrality, and the reason why Danger invested the credits to build this massive tourist station through Browncoat Industrial, hiring capable pilots able to navigate out of Oseon; especially as the Flamewind made communication impossible and navigation ridiculously difficult,

It was one of the most spectacular and breathtakingly beautiful cosmic phenomena. Enough to leave one breathless. Interestingly, the different colors of the Flamewind seemed to set off emotional reactions in those who traveled during the Flamewind, even in a droid.

Red for satisfaction. Orange for nostalgia. Yellow for pride. Green for irrationality. Blue for sadness, and finally, violet for madness.

Cobalt and orange would reflect in the emerald of Danger’s eyes. It was a funny thing really; she didn’t take much for superstition. Who would believe that such a thing could affect one so?

Yet there was no denying that there was a tightness in her chest that bore a heavy weight. It would press with a deep well of hurt and sense of betrayal. It would ache to the bone, her mind racing and going through every interaction in memory. Thoughts would bleed into others, and she only found herself awashed in such sinking desperation.

Funny how hers would mirror that of one Alric Kuhn, but for different reasons all together. They had come a long way, her and him, been through the Nine Hells and back. Clung to each other for a measure of comfort, saw each other at ones worst, bled lifesblood and tears in the last three years.

And then Fiona.

The knot at Danger’s throat would tighten, and no matter what form of beatific scene would paint the observation deck of the executive office, the woman had to turn away. Orange for nostalgia. Blue for melancholy.

He was here. This time, their roles were reversed. This wasn’t Titan Station with a view of a quasar, where he’d last taken her into his arms, the only witness that swirling mass of distant energy. This was the Flamewind.

The Flamewind.

A thought would cross her mind, the glint of the glow of the stellar lights reflecting off the facets of the large Corseca ring she wore. It was a representation of what Alric was to her in a way. Of what Alric wanted to ensure. Of the level of concern he had for her.

She tried to turn her mind to other matters. Citadel Station was almost done with construction. There was much to do there. Inspections with PharmaTech, Haven Shipyards. Titan itself. Too much depended on this humanitarian aide project. She wanted to make sure it could defend itself, so a standard shield was constructed. It would not suffer through another barrage much like its predecssor in the past.

Her hand would fall to her side, a slow amble bringing her towards the large bodywood desk she called her own. The pads of her fingers would lightly trace the grain as she neared, feeling the imperfections of the whorls and knots. Every one a unique fingerprint. No two alike.

Alric was here.

She should be ecstatic. She should be welcoming him with catty banter. But she wasn’t. No, she would think to herself, rounding the desk to take a seat upon the plush black leather chair. She sank into its comfort, but felt none of it. Her eyes would drift towards the small holographic Dejarik game in front of her.

It was her move. Had been for a long while. While she’d taken her time in the past, this time around there was more to it than mere tactical play. Her mind was elsewhere. Though to be frank, her last move held no payout. The sacrifice of her gambit had bore no fruit.

She was simply now delaying the inevitable.

 

[Aeri Vyn]

He was not to be swayed.

He was just like her in that aspect, Aeri would muse, responding with a tight nod. She could only do so much. No matter what she said thereafter, it was clear he was not going to take step off of this station without talking to Danger first.

It was a sensation of deja vu. Much like the time back on Corellia at Villium; Alric Kuhn, determined to see Miz Arceneau. He would wait.

Humans and their curious sensibilities.

“I have no timeframe for how long the meeting on Citadel Station will take,” she told him, “Would you care to wait on the observation deck? The Flamewind is at its peak, and the view is as breathtaking as rumor says.”

A small gesture would follow to encourage the duo to follow her.

“If you would please?”

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric followed behind Aeri wordlessly.

The entire time as they walked he began to think. He began to think on what he could have done, how he could have harmed her. Had it been with Silara? Had she said something that insulted Danger? No. She would have told him if it had been his fiance's way of speaking.

Had it been him? Had he done something before the heart attack that he couldn't remember?

No. Silara would have told him.

Had it been the heart attack itself? Was Danger scared? Afraid of him dying and being left alone with all the responsibilities they had undertaken? Was she distancing herself in order to prevent that blow?

No. She wouldn't have been that stupid.

He tried to think back, tried to remember, tried to recall what had happened. Then it came to him in a sudden rush. The words that had not been said by him, but by Silara. The way that Danger had reacted, the minute twitch, the small whirl, the abrupt leaving after being so calm, so caring, so lovely. The wearing of her Mask.

His lips thinned, and the door to the observation deck opened.

The deck was empty, save for the view of the massive swirling flamewinds. Alric let out a sigh, though whether it was relief, exasperation, or some other emotion was unknown. He looked over to Aeri for a brief moment, then nodded. Kiran looked to his cousin, a look that contained a message within, hidden beneath layers of subtlety.

Alric moved into the room, not bothering to sit himself down on one of the lavish couches in the corner. Instead he stepped over to the viewport and simply stared.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Quietly, Danger set aside the template detailing the ongoing updates on Citadel Station. Truth be told, the 'emergency' meeting had only been an excuse. She just couldn't see him. Not now.

Her verdant gaze went swiveling around the room. It settled upon the Dejarik board. Dejarik was more than just a game. Novice players would often confuse strategy and tactics, blundering moves that would cost them the game. Almost all games below Yonta level are won and lost through tactical mistakes.

No, Dejarik was being able to learn a balance between the two. Tactics are the short sequences of moves, usually involving an attack or capture, that attempts to make an immediate tangible gain. They are usually the first thing a Dejarik player looks for when considering any move; forks, pins, skewers, discovering attacks or removing a guard.

Strategy… Strategy was when a player wasn’t able to take advantage of a tactic. It is a long term plan usually based on positional considerations, rather than the attacks and captures of the monsters. Monster mobility, monster king safety, monster guard structure… all had to be considered for the true Yonta master.

Tactics and Strategy are so carefully intertwined, with strategic moves often having the objective of setting up future tactical maneuvers.

Much like the Kintan strider death gambit. It was a gamble. Thing is with gambles… one has the risk of losing it all.

Her sacrifice of the Kintan Strider had failed, her opponent caught the trap. She had lost the advantage of the central space.

It was her move.

 

[Aeri Vyn]

Aeri caught the unspoken words; this isn’t our concern.

In that she could agree, but she wasn’t here to be Danger’s keeper. Nor was Kiran here to be Alrics.

Both corporate giants were equally stubborn and likely equally determined to have their own way. The intricacies of that relationship were of no concern to her. However, how it affected her charge did.

In the time Aeri spent with Danger, the Zeltron woman had come to an understanding of the Queen of Trade. She hid far more than met the eye; more than Alric Kuhn would ever really know.

Perhaps that is the lot in life for those who were not empathic like Kiran and her. No one really ever truly knew another. And Danger Arceneau held as many facets as the Corseca gem on that ring of hers.

“Would you care for anything to drink or to eat?” Aeri would ask cordially, her attention drifting from the tense back of the Titan over to Kiran. This was her way of saying, you can come with me or stay here.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Kiran looked over to Alric, The Titan simply gave a nod.

“I think I will.”

The Zeltron shifted slightly, then looked at Aeri. There was an uneasiness about him. He was about as smooth as they came. Emotionless, detached, even sociopathic to a degree, but for some strange reason Alric Kuhn made him uneasy. Perhaps it was because the Titan held a level of unpredictability, or perhaps it was because the man had the gall to flirt with a Sith.

There was something about Alric that made Kiran weary, not that he would ever admit it.

For a moment the two underlings would linger, and then slowly Aeri and Kiran left Alric standing there, staring at the flamewinds.

Within his mind was a treasure trove of memories. Of past events with Danger, of all they had done together, of all they had accomplished, of all they were accomplishing at that very moment on Corellia and Citadel Station. His lips were thin and his eyes were hollow, not really following the scene just within his gaze.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Time all but meant nothing, just shadows drifting across the wall.

Perhaps that is what we all were in the end, mere shadows in the brief flash of turmoil we call life.

Taking a long slow draw of her cigarillo, Danger took a seemingly detached look at the Dejarik board sitting at her desk. There was no expression on her face on way or another what had now settled to a straightening of her shoulders. She could no longer keep hiding behind excuses on the Citadel Station or boardgames.

A wisp of white smoke lingered on her parted lips as she gazed past the board on towards the Flamewind. Bright canary and vibrant cobalt shone back.

A press of a button, then her voice would cut through the din.

"Escort Mistah Kuhn to my office."

It was time to play a last game.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

It didn't take long for him to show up.

The doors slid open, and it revealed him in his usual attire. A well pressed suit, the nice evenly cut hair, neatly trimmed beard. Noticeably absent were the ever present glasses that were usually so familiar. They already sat within an inside pocket, camera and microphone turned off.

There was a serious expression on Alric's face. Those same thin lips from before, those that denoted deep thought and even a measure of concern.

The Titan stepped inside. “Danger.”

He said her name in greeting, treating it carefully but still with more than a hint of warmth. Despite what he had done, she was still his friend, and would always be his friend.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

"Alric."

It was the same throaty rasp. The honeyed voice that made a man think of sultry nights and what manner of delights would be found therein. Like always, Danger would not disappoint. She would look stunning as ever in a hip-hugging skirt, fabulous boots that clung to the shapely lines of her long legs, and a low-cut lace blouse that showcased every voluptuous curve. Blowsy sensuality. Ruby red lips. Expensive perfume. Her gaze, seemingly frankly sexual.

But nothing ever was what it seemed.

There before her, stood the man that had three years prior, managed to send her world shattering into a thousand pieces. He made her feel vulnerable, bare. Naked. So much so she ended up running to the one place she felt safe. Her sanctuary. Her home.

What came after was something that neither of them ever saw coming. That week on Tatooine, lost in the dunes, changed everything.

That week become a line of demarcation.

That that moment she chose to save him from the Tuskens, her life split into two distinct epochs: Before Alric and after. Before that, she thought she knew she had everything she could ever want. She was living the life. She wanted for nothing.

She'd done what she'd said she'd do. Arceneau was a household name across the 'Verse.

After, she began to discover that she never really lived at all.

The slow ticks of seconds would pass on by, with Danger's bright emerald eyes staring down upon Alric Kuhn's oceanic blue. There she would gaze upon his chiseled angular features; sweeping over the wide forehead, where the dark forelocks of his hair would slightly curl. Past the often broken bridge of his nose, the high patrician cheekbones, and the trimmed beard over his swarthy jaw.

The tightening of her heart grew.

Like a cat her muscles would relax and that slow, feint, cordial smile would draw over her lips at the man the 'verse would claim was her closest confidant and best friend.

"You're looking well."

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He didn't answer her.

He simply stared at her face, watching her expression shift, watching the tightness in the lines of her face. The shift in her color. It was subtle, so subtle even a Lorrdian might have missed it, but not him. Not Alric Kuhn, the only person in the galaxy who could claim to know Danger as well as she knew herself.

“I told her.”

The words hung in the air, cutting off anything else that she might have said.

It was simple.

He was fessing up. He was acknowledging his mistake, telling her he knew, telling her he realized what he had done. His eyes were hard, stark blue oceans staring vast ardent forests. His lips were still thin, he made no attempt to be playful, no attempt to banter.

That wasn't what this was about.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Smoke would curl up, wafting white smoke from the dim glowing ember of her cigarillo. Two fingers would draw up, bringing the vice up to take a deep drag. The average observer would not be able to catch the subtle tremble in her fingers.

But Alric would.

The narcotic would fill her lungs, steeling her nerves -- or at least attempting to. No amount of sugar coating would cushion that blow.

It was a betrayal. From Alric.

He knew well what it all meant. It was how they started. What was her concerns. Her fears. The reasons why. Her history. Nox. Nar.

Now him.

A knot grew in her throat, and her eyes would blur among the acrid haze of smoke that would float around her. Her expression was unreadable. Lids would close, hiding him from her sight for fleeting seconds.

The rapid lurch of her heart would hammer in her ears, on her neck. It was a sickening feeling. A black putrid hole that would rot her innards and burn with a nauseating churn.

Her eyes would open. The look that passed between them said it all. But then body language had always been their preferred form of communication.

"You need to leave."

Her voice was soft. Almost airy. One would even believe it to be a vocal caress...had it not been for the finality behind it.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

“No.”

The syllable was simple, commanding. Carrying undertones that could not quite be put into words.

“I can't.”

He shook his head.

“Not with things like this. Not when...”

He trailed off. Alric knew full well what he had done, yet he hadn't thought of the full implications until just a few moments ago. What it would do...what it had done to Danger.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

"Please."

The words were light, but tight. Quiet. So unlike her. There was no rage. There wasn't a glimmer of anger that shone the reflection of the Titan that stood before her.

Instead, it was something else entirely. It was the subtle expression of a woman felled by three little words. He knew exactly what this meant. What he did. It was another line of demarcation.

One where they began. Another where they ended.

Her vision would blur further, eyes shining in the growing moisture she was struggling to keep back.

"Leave."

 

[Alric Kuhn]

“I Can't.”

He repeated himself, his words thicker this time, contained with more emotion, more strength behind them. What was he supposed to do? Give up his best friend because of one mistake? Stop talking to her? Stop seeing her?

She was the only friend he had ever had.

“I only did what I thought you would.”

That may have sounded odd, but it made sense in a strange sort of way. Danger had taught him over those three years. She had taught him about lies, and she had taught him about truth.

“I told her the truth. I broke through all the lies, the veils, the mist. I did what you taught me.”

There was pain in his voice, true pain.

“I can't...I won't let this break us.”

 

[Danger Arceneau]

"Alric..." Danger said quietly in between his tumble reasonings and excuses. Carefully, deliberately she set down the half smoked cigarillo upon the ashtray.

That he so would say that he did what he thought she would only drove that spike of betrayal further into her heart. His pain would echos hers; but hers was tinged with something far more darker.

Regret.

How long had she'd stayed quiet? How long had she respected his desires. How long had she so desperately tried to keep things along the status quo.

She couldn't risk pushing forward. She couldn't risk losing what measure of normalcy and family she had left. Danger almost gave an ironic laugh; to think that through it all she still ended here.

Same situation, but the deepest of wounds.

The decisions a woman makes make the woman. It was often said that when a woman looks into her mother's eyes, she sees her future. When she looks into her daughters eyes she sees her past. But when she looks into the eyes of the man she shares her bed with, she sees the life she has chosen.

This was the life she had chosen. The life they both lived in the tragedy of Fiona's death; their child. One would wonder, where would they be if she'd lived?

Would she have had Alric's eyes? That stubborn lift of her chin? His ambition? Her sway?

What would the amalgam of Alric Kuhn and Danger Arceneau be?

It was a question that would never be answered. The past was the past and the dead stayed dead. Danger couldn't do this anymore. She tried. She really did. But in the wake of the past few months, in everything, with this... this to add to it...

No. She couldn't.

It hurt too much.

It stung something fierce.

It cut her to the core.

"We're done here. Please," came the low plea of a prideful woman, " --leave."