See no evil

[Zee]

Going across the street to the pharmacy wasn’t exactly a subject of legends. This remained the case even if the ‘street’ in question was the Hydian Way, a bustling trade route that spanned the Galaxy, and the journey across it took ten hours. Most of the time, Zee Irving spent half-curled up in the pilot seat, kicking the air while toying with complex algebra problems. Once or twice she went to the broom-closet-turned-greenhouse, to water her plants. Gazing under the microscope at wiggling, photosynthesizing cells cleared her mind for another fun round of algebra. She ate vegetable stew and got a potato slice onto the ceiling, fell asleep and drooled on the control panel. All in all, it was a typical Zee day, and an atypical day of being ‘Home Alone’.

Gar’phil needed her prescription medicine. Exoskeleton Friability, Hypertension, and another half dozen of plagues of old age were the reason why Zee embarked on this saga, while her old Givin mentor was busy teaching the basics of income tax, profit indicators, and ‘how to successfully develop an enterprise selling traditional objects’ to an Outer Rim tribe that thought war axes to be the nearest fad. Gar’phil said it would be cheaper for Zee to fly the Hexacontagon to Yag’Dhul, rather than have her pills sent through the tax-ridden postal system. It was a lie. The Givin was intelligent enough to realize that Zee would never check up on it.

It was a test. A straightforward journey to a mostly safe planet, whose language she spoke at a decent level. Zee Irving would have to grow more independent, for Gar’phil Isen to even consider leaving her accounting firm to her. Besides, even if Zee was a bit of a clutz, what could happen?

Indeed, what could happen?

Zee had a feeling that Gar’phil might be a bit upset about her messing up the hyperspace calculations. Not messing up per-se (she could astrogate almost as easily as an astromech droid), but more like slipping on a notebook and falling face-down on the keyboard. It only changed the last decimal. It could have thrown her through the burning core of a sun, but Zee estimated it as unlikely.

Interesting fact: Very close to the Yag’Dhul system, stretched far and wide the Imperial Space.

However, the journey ended as uneventfully as it had started. While it may disappoint, there was no sinking into oceans of plasma remotely involved. A musical tone accompanied the star-streaks behind the transparisteel viewport turning back into stars. Zee yawned and stretched like a cat. Almost imperceptibly, the sound became the beep-beep-beep of the proximity sensors. The girl jerked back up.

A clue might have been the large ship ahead, taking up half of the horizon.

The green glow of an incoming communication pulsed threateningly. It was a tad spatially impolite to exit hyperspace this close to another. Zee pressed the green button, and then again, but the screen stubbornly decided to stay dead. With solidified lemonade sticking to half of the keys, it was perhaps expected. And then, the moment that she started worrying, it was a decided battle.

The Force had figured (as much as one can do without a proper consciousness) that Zee worrying should mean weak electrical fields that glitched electronics.

It made perfect sense.

By this time, the girl was crouching under the control panel, looking for the hazard lights button. She’d been looking for it everywhere! It was beyond her to see something as obvious as the bright red rectangle marked ‘hazard lights’ in three languages. The space-yacht shook, and Zee hit her head. Peeking above the keyboard, she saw that the unknown ship was getting closer. Now it filled the whole viewport. Panicked, she tried turning her ship to the side.

The motors groaned in protest.

The confusion on Zee’s face grew. Then it was replaced by joy. A tractor beam! What nice people! They saw that her ship was in trouble, and offered to help. Perhaps she could ask them whether they could fix her communicator? But! She had to be prepared!

In the two minutes prior to Hexacontagon landing in the larger ship’s hangar, Zee was a flurry of movement. She washed her teeth, her face, brushed off biscuit crumbs from her hair, and ran to the greenhouse to pick the most fragrant, ripe orange in her little tree. She had read that many cultures regard the offering of food as polite, even more so if it was home-made.

Zee waited patiently as the door to the outside slowly slid open, covering her in a cold light. As the ramp extended down, it didn’t occur to her that wearing a fluffy pink blanket for a cape, or not wearing shoes above her striped socks, or holding a manta-ray-like plushie at her chest and an orange in her other hand, was not exactly the epitome of galactic diplomacy. She walked down. A careless step that would have ended in a torn ligament for many others was somehow shifted into an inoffensive stumble. She stopped halfway down. Shaking her head to the side, as if struggling to hear. Somebody had said to stop.

Somebody had also said ‘hands where I can see them!’, but it’s not as if her blanket was covering them in the first place. Zee didn’t understand. She struggled to remember whether greetings or thanks should come first.

What struck her first was the feeling of space. Her eyes clung to the ceiling. She’d never been on such a large ship before. The hangar alone could make her yacht look like a fly.

What would have struck others first were the rows after faceless rows of stormtroopers surrounding the ramp, all pointing the deadly end of their blaster riffles at Zee. The girl glanced over them, amazed.

“I only have one orange.” She said. The index finger of her free hand accentuated the word.

 

[Dmitri]

The Star Destroyer Clairvoyance was on patrol, on the look out for any raiders on their way to attack Thyferra. It had expected trouble, but it had not expected this kind of trouble. A strange ship had approached. Attempts to hail it were ignored. The ship was operating strangely, so the captain of the ship ordered the ship to be seized and brought aboard for inspection. However, fearing it could be a Coterie trap, he sent soldiers to secure the ship.

The captain had not been looking forward to disturbing the Dark Lord's meditation. Darth Somnus had recently arrived on the ship and was searching in the Force for signs of the traitorous Dark Councilors Darth Lukavy and Darth Zlogonje. So far he had no luck in locating them. Upon being disturbed, it was evident that the Dark Lord was irritated. Thankfully logic overruled the Cinnagaran's mind and he didn't take his frustration out on the captain. His anger stemmed from another source.

Darth Somnus' curiosity was piqued on this strange newcomer. Summoning the Force to him once more, he materialized a doppelganger in the hangar bay, appearing near the stranger. The poltergeist spoke, though more through the Force than with a physical voice. "You have a what?" This girl was weird. An orange what? "Who are you?"

 

[Zee]

Zee was a person who saw the world through a magnifying glass. What she caught through her green glass eyes was a whirlwind of disparate details, sometimes remarkably precise, but never the whole picture. It took time to piece together the data. Some called her slow. Another would have yelped and flailed their arms, wondering how the man could have gotten near them that fast, how come they didn’t see him among the stormtroopers, how come they didn’t hear his steps. However, Zee was used to not noticing ‘the obvious’.

She tilted her head to the side, like a bird, and turned towards him.

“An orange!” The girl cheerfully repeated. “Citrus antica. Variety ‘Summer hay’. It’s not very sweet, but its delicious fragrance has been rumored to even puzzle sommeliers.” Sommelier: wine expert. That story is how she’d found out the word. Still clutching her plushie with her left hand, she shoved the nearly-spherical fruit under the doppelganger’s nose. “Would you like a slice? I’m afraid-“ she said, sheepishly looking over the still-armed stormtroopers, “that there isn’t nearly enough for everybody.”

That was heresy. Stormtroopers weren’t people. In the eyes of others and their own, the perfect, faceless armor turned them into weapons.

But Zee rarely paid attention to faces in the first place.

“I – “ she spoke rarely, as if piecing together her words, “wanted to thank you for rescuing me.” A pause. “Could someone take a look at my communicator? I think it’s broken-… Wait!” Distracted by a sudden thought, she reached down, under the blanket-cape, for her pocket. A ball of paper – that ancient thing! – was smoothened out, brought in front of her eyes and hastily read. “Please.” Zee added in the end, with the proud air of having solved a difficult equation.

She’d jotted down some Things To Do in Social Situations. They could be so confusing, that in some places her pen had broken through the sheet in frustration. The paper was crumpled back.

“I’m Zee Irving.” She presented herself. “Accountant by profession, mathematician by calling, botanist as a hobby.” There was something in her tone saying that she enjoyed every one of those things.

She shook her head slightly, again. There was something about that voice. Something…To some extent, she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. As if it bypassed her ears. Something like that…had it happened before?

“Your voice seems familiar.” The girl spoke, in the imperfect –and only – way that she could word her odd feeling. Confused, she scanned the mass of stormtroopers again. Weapons. She looked around her. “Is there someone dangerous around here?” Zee whispered in the end.