The Body Is Just a Different Tool

[Kuzo]

Tygara
Skyport Hospital Wing

Irajah looked around her office- it was small, but she had an office again. A call had gone out, looking for Doctors and healers for some high muck-a-muck on Tygara. The position had suited Irajah just fine for a number of complicated reasons- not the least of which was the veritable dearth of Jedi here.

Running one hand over the wood grain of the desk, the dark haired woman looked around, a small frown on her face. The Jedi weren't the only ones following her across the galaxy though. Would she be able to stay here? Would it be safe for long?

If she were being honest, that wasn't the only reason for the constant travel, the constant running.

The office door closed, she rolled up her sleeves, frowning deeper at her forearms. The bruises were as they always were- no better, no worse. She knew that if she were to look in a mirror without the high necked tunic she habitually wore these days that the same bruising would be visible from her neck down. Dark, red, livid, angry. The marks of a disease there was no cure for, though, for now at least, she could keep it at bay.

Sitting down slowly, she closed her eyes. Irajah knew little enough of the Force- her father, a Jedi who had renounced their order, had never wanted to talk about it. But for one thing. The technique he'd taught her (did it even have a name, dad?) to give solace and relief to her mother, was the only thing keeping her alive now. The virus was kept contained- but at a price. Because of it's nature, Irajah had to move the virus within her system every few days- if she left it writhing in any one organ for too long, she couldn't repair the damage. The bruises were just the outward manifestation of each shift. From her heart to her lungs, from her lungs to her kidneys, from her kidneys to her pancreas- every few days, the virus was shifted, and in that process, caused new, tiny, internal bleeds that blossomed as bruises around her body.

Working in a hospital wasn't just a calling- it was necessary for her own treatment. So why didn't she just stay one place, change her name, settle down and hope no one would find her?

Because she knew if she did that it was only a matter of time until something went wrong, and the virus was unleashed on whatever world she was on. All it would take was a simple matter of her death, and the virus would spread. She couldn't stay in one place, come to care about the people there, and subject them to that fate.

And yet, she couldn't stay away either.

She sighed, opening her eyes. Tomorrow she'd need to shift the virus. She could push it another day and still be able to repair the damage to her spleen. She'd be more settled then, it would be easier to get access to the machines she needed without having to ask where they were or arouse suspicion.

"Doctor Ven?"

The voice over the comm startled her out of her reverie. She leaned over, pushing the button on her desk.

"Y-yes?" She said, hurriedly rolling her sleeves back down, covering up the bruises.

"There's someone here to see you. Says it's urgent. He's already on his way up. I asked him to wait, but-"

Still frowning, something darkened in those hazel eyes.

"Here to see... me? Specifically me or a doctor in general?"

"He asked for you by name." There was a pause. Something in her voice made the person on the other end ask, "Should I call security Doctor Ven?"

She shook her head, then realized belatedly that they couldn't see it anyway.

"No. No, that won't be necessary, thank you."

Removing her hand from the button, she stood up. Rustling around in her desk, she slipped her hold-out blaster in to her pocket. Wishing briefly that [member="Cait Falcor"] were here, she shook her head. She couldn't afford to keep the woman on retainer, but it was a tempting thought. Heading to the door of her office, she slipped out, closing it behind her. Heading down the hall a ways, she found a bench within view of the door and perched there. She tried to look casual, watching people going back and forth.

She didn't want to be trapped in her office if whoever was coming up was.... well, she didn't feel like thinking about it. And from here she could either run, or go and greet whomever showed up.

It just remained to be seen who it was, and what they wanted.

[member="Ijaat Mereel"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The cybernetic arm worked, but relay and link times were up. Without Geoffery, Ijaat had guesses as to what had happened. But no real solutions to the problem. It irritated him, as heavily modified as he had become in life, with machinery and computers in his very brain almost, that the loss of Geoff had left him so crippled. But the A.I. had followed his orders and hid. And hid well. But now, when he could use the expanded memory and knowledge of his creation, he felt the lack sorely. Even the mechu-deru he had been taught from Spark had only gotten him able to persist just barely.

So he had sought out doctors recommended by his vode, and came to the Irajah Ven type. So he had tracked her to Tygara and booked passage. Another thing he missed about Geoff - being able to have his own ship. He was an utterly hopeless pilot. The medical types at the building entrance had asked him to deposit all weapons. The look he gave them was enough to make them hesitate, and he had walked in with a pistol still in the small of his back, the broken Jada blade he had made, and his crushgaunts. And, of course, the lovely murder-tooth hide jacket he had commissioned a while back.

Coming up to the office he had been directed too, his senses expanded out and around, eyes remaining open. Closing them was a crutch he had discovered. Once you truly dipped into your senses, there was no need. Life, the Force, and more leaped to his soul and mind, and he nodded. Keen mind feeling the flow of information and input, and decided to ignore the faint pulse of the woman behind him. With a roll of his shoulders adjusting his murder-tooth hide jacket he had made after his encounters with one on Myrkr, he simply knocked as he leaned back. To any watching, the lean might be unnoticeable at best. To him, it was done just in case he needed to grab the short-blade and then lunge forward into an enemy.

Even with one so keen-sensed as him there were ways to surprise him. And many ways to fool even the Force.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

She watched the hallway for a minute, two, before someone approached her office door.

He didn't seem to notice her there on the bench, and that was, of course, the whole point. After all, she wasn't dressed like a doctor in that moment (she'd left her coat on the chair behind her desk). Still acting like she was people watching in general, she watched him from the corner of her eye, trying to come to some decision.

[member="Ijaat Mereel"] wasn't familiar to her, but then, that wasn't a surprise. She wasn't a fighter in the sense he was- that much she could tell, but beyond that, the subtleties of his body language and how that interacted with a hidden weapon were lost on her. If she'd been able to read that aspect better, she might have responded to the situation differently.

Instead, she listened to a deeper intuition and her experience as an Emergency Room doctor. Something was wrong, but not in the way that threatened her from those angles. She blinked, turning her head to look fully at his back for a moment, the stretch of the muscles in his (admittedly broad and well muscled) shoulders and neck. Tilting her head slightly, she frowned and then, stood up.

Taking a step forward, she didn't close the gap completely, but paused before speaking up.

"Can I help you sir?"

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Ijaat turned, slowly due to the clunky prosthetic in his knee, and smiled as best as he could, his hand still hovering near the hidden weapon. Suspicion dotted his expression, but he took a deep breath. The lean continued, and then he rolled to the balls of his feet with his hands empty. One hand held out, open and ready to embrace the newcomers own in a greeting. A large ring with the symbol of the Rebel Alliance dotted the one hand, and another ring on a chain around his neck. No one knew about that one, but his father, [member="Gabriel Sionoma"], had made it. And truly, it was the only part of the man he possessed any claim to. They were family in blood only, a regret he harbored deeply still.

Waiting, he smiled, and spoke a slightly traced awkward...

"Looking for a Doctor, named Irajah... I've some problems I was told she might be able to help with."

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Her own hand greeted his a heartbeat later. Small and slim in his, her handshake was firm nonetheless. She relaxed a little bit more herself. Was she becoming paranoid? It was possible. She'd have to watch that. After all, this was a hospital, she was a doctor. Of course people were going to come looking for her help.

"Doctor Irajah Ven," she confirmed, a professional smile finding its way to her lips. "You're in luck."

She leaned past him slightly, just enough to push the door of her office open and then gestured for him to go inside. Because of where he was standing, she couldn't lead the way without pushing past him. She was petite and could probably slip past, but it was far closer than she needed to get to a stranger.

"Please, come in and take a seat, mister.....?" She arched a dark eyebrow at him, waiting for his name.

[member="Ijaat Mereel"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Chagrin followed and his stance relaxed immediately. There were not any signs of danger from this woman. And he would have to begin trusting her if he was here to request what he intended. The crude cybernetic knee clicked, whirring, and he muttered a bit as a subtle limp in his became more pronounced. The cloned body of [member="Jared Ovmar"] was not playing well with the product. His right knee was now refusing to move, and his arm was sluggish, so he thumped into the room to give the Doctor access before reaching down and cuffing the knee with a solid thud, to which it wobbled and whined and began to move, and he muttered.

"It's Ijaat. Ijaat Mereel, of the Clan by the same last name... I am....Having some difficulties merging old Fringe Lord tech that made my body with my own to replace some injuries... Was hoping you can figure out why..?"

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah entered the room after him, heading to sit behind the desk. She paused, halfway toward sitting down. Very slowly, she digested his sentence. And then completed the movement and settled into her chair.

"Alright. Mister Mereel," she paused, sharp hazel eyes looking him up and down for a moment as she collected her thoughts.

"I'm going to need you to start from the beginning. Because I feel like you have opened a book smack in the middle and I don't even know who the players are."

She gestured again at the chair, eyeing his leg and arm as though she could see through to the cybernetics beneath. Her interest was certainly piqued, but she was going to need a lot more information before she could know if she could help him.

[member="Ijaat Mereel"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"From the very beginning would be... Unique... But I trust this is under that doctor-patient privilege? The full story is rather problematic in the details..."

Drawing a breath, he thought back to it all. The slaughter at Concord Dawn of his men on patrol. The retributory strike of him and his Mereel guards. His white armor pink and red with clots of blood caught in the hinges and edges between plates. The anger, the hate, the blood-lust laid bare. And eventually the realization that almost all his men were dead or pinned. That he had kept advancing when they were pinned. Alone, surrounded by enemy Death Watch and their Sith commander. The pain of the first shot as it blew out his knee, and what felt like dozens more shots piercing him simultaneously.

The agony of dying. And the utter maddening pain of being reborn.

"Anyway... I suppose it all started with my death..."

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

When he asked about doctor/patient privilege, Irajah simply nodded. It always bewildered her how often people had to ask that. Of course she would keep their information private. The alternative simply didn't suit. They couldn't know that about her specifically, but it made her wonder about what kind of doctors they had dealt with in the past.

The next words were not ones she had every expected to hear outside of a holodrama.

Irajah blinked. Very slowly. And then-

"Well, usually that's where the story ends, Mister Mereel."

It was, she suspected, quite likely the root of the problem. But she wasn't going to say that. At least not right now. Kind of hard to get a patient to talk to you by implying that maybe their problem was that they weren't dead. It would have come across differently than how she had meant it.

She leaned forward in her chair, propping her elbows on the desk.

[member="Ijaat Mereel"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Yes, it would be... I was in the employ of a certain mercenary group specialized in fighting Sith with any means needed. Dark Jedi and merciless bastards like myself. I was on assignment on Concord Dawn. A Death Watch splinter group under the sway of a Sith Lord assaulted my Clans home on the same planet. I hurried to respond, and we were overwhelmingly crushed by superior numbers. They crucified me at the gates of my Clans stronghold. Over a dozen stab wounds and close to that with fatal gunshots. Field surgeons got me to my employers, who through unknown esoteric means shoved my spirit and presence into a clone of a former Lord of the Fringe, [member="Jared"] Ovmar. It granted me use of the Force, but there have been oddities. Memories not my own. Nightmares of people I don't know. Things of that nature. And after a conflict that took my arm and knee and eye, I've discovered an unwillingness for this flesh to bond with cybernetics... And no one so far can understand why. Hoping you might..."

Overall, his voice remained steady, calm. But his eyes narrowed at every mention of Sith, and his nostrils flared in hate. His pulse quickened at their mention. Whatever lay in his past, he hated those beings now.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

"Well."

Irajah sat back slowly. At some point she had leaned forward during his recitation, but hadn't noticed it. She paused, trying to come up with something better to say than that.

"Well then."

Awesome.

She cleared her throat, then frowned, eyebrows furrowing as she looked at him.

"Besides being a Force User," she finally said, her words slow, carefully picked, "is there anything else you know about the progenitor of...." she paused, trying to find a different way to say it, and failed. "Of your body." There was the barest flash of discomfort on her face- less because of what they were talking about and more because of the way that statement sounded.

She had listened to his words. And while they had obviously had an impact, it was also clear that Irajah was focusing on the parts that she could potentially help. Probably, he didn't some serious therapy, or at least a really good punching bag. Nothing she could help with. But the strange limits of his new body? That might be something she could do something about. So it was, for now at least, the only part worth worrying about.

"There are certain things at play here that I have some knowledge of. Cell memory from the host is one of the reasons we prefer, medically, to not move someone to a clone of a different person. It's not common for actual memories to be accessible, but-" no way to put this delicately, just say it, "certain psychoses are a very real potential problem. I cannot say if these dreams and memories are real ones from this Ovmar or not. But the detail of the connection to the Force... well, we don't really know much about how that affects these things, you understand?"

She paused for a moment, frown deepening.

"The cybernetic rejection however, may be more obvious. There are a number of reasons that can happen, ranging from them being poorly installed to underlying allergies or impurities in the tech itself. Once we pinpoint the cause of that, well, that is something we should be able to address."

[member="Ijaat Mereel"]