Cats and Slumdogs

[Draiya Naaianeya]

"Arr'u and Rrou'ai, Itrraassie Sstarrljiness fljight 383 wjith nonsstop sserrvjice to Syragor jiss arrjivjing at terrmjinal Fei. We wjill debarrk the passsengerrss on arrrjival, and wjill boarrd sshortljy therreafterr. Pleasse have jyourr sscan docss and boarrdjing passs rreadjy."

Draiya looked up from her bench seat near the terminal gate, her feelings in an ambivalent daze. How long had she spent working up the nerve to ask Master Laran for home leave? She'd expected no. Maybe a lesson following the no, about patience or letting go of attachments. Maybe another session before the council. But instead she'd gotten "Go, and May the Force be with you." She hadn't spoken of her family or her home very much, but not for lack of feelings. Draiya just could never quite articulate what those feelings were, save for complicated.

How long had it been? She'd been traveling with her family's itinerant business for a year before they'd gotten separated during the imperial attack. She'd tried to link back up, but by the time she'd been able to comm the line had been disconnected. That's how her family was. That's how Syragor was, even when you kicked it off your shoes. Hand to mouth. Barely making do. Her aunties and cousins back home weren't any easier to comm. For all Draiya knew, they might not even be living in the same tenement. Anxiety and hope danced inside her belly, and Draiya had to return to her training to find serenity in the moment.

It wasn't easy.

Living on Ossus with a Cizerack engineering detachment was one thing, but from the last time she'd visited Jovan, Draiya could feel the gravitational pull of the Carshoulis Cluster, almost as if it was trying to drag her back home and keep her there. Busy chatting businesswomen in their silks with their coiffed-up husbands, sucking up all the air in the room and taking up more space than they needed, crowding the others out. It was never less than polite, of course. But Draiya had gotten tired of that treatment when she was a little girl, and it didn't take long for a Cizerack crowd to give her a certain wariness. She tucked her feet underneath her on the bench, keeping a compact profile as she clutched her small carry-on case.

Did Master Laran know something about this trip that she didn't comprehend yet?

[Miri Jitaurree]

Midshipwoman Miri Jitaurree's service boots clacked a staccato rhythm against the faux marble tile as she hurried down the concourse, passing harried travelers, garish holo-ads, and a large family of Aqualish berating a miserable-looking gate attendant over their seating arrangements. It was so unlike the orderly bustle aboard ship, so wild and chaotic, so colorful, she felt as if her vacation had already begun, as if she didn't have a dreary twelve-hour hyperspace flight ahead of her before her boots touched dirt on her homeworld for the first time in three and a half years.

But even the specter of commercial transit couldn't dampen the thrill of seeing Hallee again! Saanjarra, had it really been one year? It felt like a lifetime since her class had received their first field postings and she and her roommate had shared a fierce, tearful hug before running off to their shuttles. Miri to the battle-galleon Saantaurra, and Halleeaa Garrousshaa to the admiralty offices at Cana'darri. After all the adventures she'd had on patrol, from firing Saanja torpedoes to boarding pirate ships to breaking in a hyuman K'ohta'rrou, she was certain she could make Hallee regret taking an administrative assignment! But really she was just aching to see her best friend again, and to show her the home she had only been able to share in holos and stories. She couldn't wait to show a Carshoulis girl a real Syragor party!

The meera'in's pale-skinned tail swayed high as she hurried into the terminal, scanning the crowds for another midshipwoman's uniform. Her own was freshly pressed and buffed as if she were attending a state dinner, and the brass buttons glinted like stars under the harsh glare of the overhead lights. But she saw no sign of her friend. Well, that was fine. Hallee probably got here ages ago, and wandered off to find a snack, or some topical reading material about Syragori culture and history. She overprepared for everything, which was the only reason Hallee and not Miri was top in their class. Miri cinched up the shoulder straps of her duffel and paced to one of the huge floor-to-ceiling viewports, which stared out into the unwinking abyss of space past the slip where a commercial transport had just drifted into dock, joining with multiple jetways and umbilicals to exchange passengers, fuel, and supplies.

A fierce buzzing from Miri's belt made her squeak in surprise, and she fumbled her personal commlink into her shaking hands. Hallee! But why was she calling? Shouldn't she be here already? Miri thumbed the screen and lifted the comm to one broad, twitching ear. "Sorrarr'ssiborri!" she said, equal parts cheerful and strained. "Oh, gods, Hallee, jit's good to hearrrr jyour vojice! Where jin njine hellsss arrrrre jyou?"

What she heard on the other end made her wobble and grasp the handrail in front of the viewport.

"What? Come on, jyou'rre bejing funnjy, rjight? Our fljight leavesss jin less than an hourrr."

Her tail jerked in surprise. "Rr... rrreally? Oh, Hallee, that's amazjing. jYou must have rrrrealljy knocked thejr sssocksss off! But when arrre jyou--"

The answer came, and she nearly dropped the comm. Her tail went stock-still, and slowly began to droop. On the other end, a tinny voice said, "Hello? Hello? Miri? jYou ssstjill therrrre?"

"jYesss, jI'm herrre," Miri said, and she coughed to clear her throat. "Mmm. Sorrjy. Must've been a bad connectjion. No, rrrrealljy, congratulatjionsss! jI mean, that'sss carreerrr-makjing! Sssso, um, what doesss that do to ourrr planss? Arrrre jyou comjing laterrr jin the week?"

Her heart plummeted, because she already knew the answer, but hearing it spoken aloud was like twisting a dagger in her gut. "Oh, rrrrrjight. jI'm surrre jyou'rrre gojing to be terrrjibly busjy now. No, jit's fjine. jI've stjill got famjily to ssssee, and plentjy to do. jI'm happjy forrr jyou, Hallee, jI rrrrealljy am. jYou knock 'em dead! Okajy! Ssssee jyou..." She swallowed. "Um... talk to jyou laterrr!"

The comm line closed, and she returned the link to her belt, staring at a mistier view of the stars than she'd had a moment ago. Okay. So. Things changed. That was navy life. So what if the trip they'd talked about for years, and planned in earnest for the past six months ever since their leave was approved, had just been flushed out an airlock. They'd see each other again... probably... at graduation. For maybe a day. If Admiral Rokkaarrou could even spare her new personal adjutant long enough to travel back to Carshoulis for the ceremony. And then, one cadet fast-tracked through the echelons of Naval Central Command, the other dunked into a massive officer's pool that could wind up anywhere from a border cutter to a ship of the line... they'd be lucky if they saw each other once every five years, and if they had any advanced warning at all. No, this was good. This was the career Hallee wanted. Just like the Saantaurra was what Miri wanted. She should be happy for her friend. She was happy for her friend.

And so she scurried off to a public fresher to lock herself in a stall and cry about it for a good ten minutes.

When she came out, she fussed in front of the mirror for another ten, and finally despaired at eliminating all the evidence of her blubbering from her terminally pale face. There were red patches all around her eyes and pink across her cheeks, and she'd made such a mess of her makeup that the best thing to do was to scrub it all off. It wasn't like she had her perfect roommate to impress anymore. She took a deep breath, stared herself down in the mirror, and said, "Deal wjith jit, su'taun'rrou." And then she marched back out into the terminal and flopped onto an empty spot on a bench, not even noticing or caring who she shared it with.

She heaved a deep, world-weary sigh and resigned herself to a twelve-hour flight with abssssolouteljy nothjing to do. "Kosa, thjis sssucksss."

[Draiya Naaianeya]

Draiya's personal space she'd maintained on the bench was violated, and the human looked at the older Cizerack girl who'd taken a seat next to her. The Padawan's default response was wariness. She wore a light frown and serious dark eyes as she shifted the small messenger bag from the side nearest Miri to the opposite. Her carry-on contained, among her reading materials and meager rations to sustain her on the flight - her twin shoto lightsabers, tucked into their double scabbard. She wasn't about to part with them for any extended amount of time, but Draiya wasn't yet certain about wearing them openly on the return home. Master Laran had instilled in her the mindfulness that she, as every Jedi was, represented the Order when beyond the sanctuary of Ossus. There were those who hadn't seen Jedi in decades, if ever. Even if they no longer upheld the justice of the Republic, they represented an ideal that hopefully others would pursue.

Draiya gave her benchmate a second look. Crimson and gold of the trade navy. She had no clue of the girl's rank, but considering she was a girl and not a woman, she probably wasn't a ship captain. Meera'in, though - which hinted at local girl, same as her. Heh, same. The only thing same between Meera'in and Humans was the air they both breathed, and only because the former hadn't found a way to corner and sell it to the latter. Yet, even as the old histories and prejudices spoke in her gut, Draiya knew she ought to be better than that. A Jedi was more than the person who walked that path.

This Meera'in in particular seemed to buck the old assumptions. Sure she was spotless in sharp-creased uniform, smelling of boot polish and the kind of perfume that cost enough to not simply mask something unpleasant. But she wore no makeup, and the edges of her eyes seemed residually moist. They, along with her cheeks, were rouged in that way that the felinoids of Syragor were particularly susceptible to. A Syragor blush was usually just a slang term for a Meera'in who'd had too much to drink, but Draiya had seen that kind of look before. The look on T'yendaarro's face when he'd told her he'd see her soon. Before Draiya understood how wide the gulf between boys like him and girls like her truly was. If the color on Miri's expression wasn't enough of a tell, Draiya could feel the color shift of emotion from the stranger. Something forlorn and melancholy that went deeper than simply this sucks.

It wasn't her problem. Draiya crossed her arms, then just as soon as she did, she relented. A lot of evil in the galaxy could persist and grow in the shadow of not my problem. Her expression softened, and she looked at Miri again.

"Going home?"

A simple enough question, but it was probably the only common thread between them. Draiya didn't exactly have anything of material comfort to offer the red-eyed Cizerack.

[Miri Jitaurree]

"Oh!" Miri straightened up in her seat, surprised by the breach in the unspoken contract shared by all those unhappy souls condemned to public transport - you don't speak to other people in the concourse unless absolutely necessary. Which was one of the main reasons traveling was such a dismal experience, ever since her mother had tweaked her ears for asking too many questions to too many fascinating strangers on a family vacation to Dac. It wasn't that she didn't want someone to talk to. It was just so unexpected that her first thought was that she had somehow given offense.

"Uh... jyeah," she said, and she looked over her human seatmate properly for the first time. The girl looked like she could have been one of the human scholarships at her old public school in Paasha'Vaastra. Her Basic/Cizeri creole was as good as a Syragor birth certificate, and from the state of her clean but uncomplicated wardrobe, she looked solidly middle class. "jYou too, jI guess?"

She let out a purging breath from her lungs and brushed back her feathery white bangs. "jI'm sssorrjy, jI djidn't mean to botherrr jyou. jI just... mjy best frjiend was sssupposed to be makjing the trjip wjith me, and she had to cancel. jI mean, forrr a good rrrreason, she's got a grrrreat new assjignment, and jI'm happjy forrr herr, but we had all these plansss... And all mjy otherrr frjiendsss are at unji or on holjidajy, ssso everjythjing's jussst sorrt of..." She spread out her fingers like a bursting bomb and supplied the sound effects: "Pssshhh!"

Slowly she slumped back again, and her tail dropped through the slats of the bench to drag on the floor. "But jI mean, jit's mjy prrroblem. jI'm surrre jyou've got jyour own prroblems. Wait, jI mean--" Her eyes flew wide open as the history of Cizerack-human relations on their homeworld came screaming back to her. "Everjybodjy's got prrroblems. Prroblems arrre a constant of the unjiverrrse."

Miri chewed her lower lip as she tried to weigh her options: damage control, or abandon ship? She turned and offered a pale hand. "jI'm Miri. What's jyourrs?"

Yyyyyyyup. Nailed it.

[Draiya Naaianeya]

The girl's animated verbal course corrections and haphazard introduction, if anything, helped to salve Draiya's dour expectations. Not all Meera'in were blithely condescending and self absorbed, but enough were for the prejudice to stick.

"It's okay." Draiya smiled in the tired sort of heard it all before way that implied that she at least knew where her benchmate was coming from. It wasn't that Miri was harmless. That kind of harmlessness had done plenty of damage before. Miri was at least trying. That was a start. Seemed needlessly mean to rebuff the gesture. After all, Draiya was headed back to a place she hadn't been in years, and it was a journey she was making alone. Maybe it didn't have to be.

"I'm Draiya."

She took Miri's hand in a friendly pump, finding it curious that the officer had deferred to a rather human sort of greeting ritual. Was she trying too hard? Wanting to look like she was hip with something exotic?

"Sounds like we'rre both getting ditched. I haven't been able to rreach any of my aunties orr cousins. Honestly it's been so long since I've been back h..."

Draiya caught herself, not daring to use that word.

"...to Syragor."

[Miri Jitaurree]

Miri was relieved the handshake had been well received. That helped make this whole exchange not awkward, right? Her ears dipped a little as Draiya stumbled over the h-word. Well, she wouldn't be the first person who wanted to shake the Syragori dust off her boots as soon as she'd left.

"jIt's been about thrrree jyears forrr me," she said. "jI've been at the Academjy... well, obvjiousljy." She pointed to her rank insignia with a self-conscious titter. "Wanted to sssee the old prrrowljing grrrounds again beforrre grrraduatjion. jYou... jyou don't have anjyone wajitjing forrr jyou?"

She glanced around, just now realizing there was no one nearby who seemed to be minding Draiya. She'd figured the girl was probably traveling with family. But then, it could have been anything. Maybe her offworld relatives were sending her to see the folks on the old planet? Or she was taking a furlough from school? But a place like Syragor could be dreadfully alienating if you didn't have a soft place to land. Miri still had home, with her mother, three fathers, and a smattering of younger siblings and cousins. She tried to imagine what she'd do if the estate had been sold, and the rest of her planetside relations were somehow out of the picture. Midshipwoman's pay could keep her in a hostel eating fish noodles for a week, but that was no way to spend a vacation. If she didn't even have that...

"Do jyou have somewherre to stajy, at leasst?"

[Draiya Naaianeya]

"Yeah."

Draiya nodded, maybe a little too quickly, realizing after the fact that she'd probably been too evasive. She pushed back an imagined stray strand of hair and put on a smile. It wasn't entirely for the benefit of Miri's concern. Draiya definitely didn't want to confirm her street origins. Maybe it was pride coming back, or maybe she just didn't want to regress to the mean that everyone back home knew about.

"Family's got a flat in Daitha'ka Na'Forrdahyu, so I'll prrobably stay therre."

It wasn't exactly a lie, after all. At one point they had lived sixteen-to-a-tenement in the human quarter. Still, mentioning that she at least had a shared bed to go home to felt like a little more agency than the reality that she was probably going to share a dingy hostel with a stranger. So she lied, or as a Jedi once said, spoke creatively.

Eager to get off the subject of herself (as she'd have to invent more and more of it), Draiya took renewed interest in Miri's uniform insignia.

"Su'taun'rrou, eh? Kuu'ai. Bet yourr Rrou'fai's prroud to see you back home in yourr crrimson. She planning a parrty forr you?"

[Miri Jitaurree]

The mention of Daitha'ka Na'Forrdahyu sent Miri's ears folding back, and she quickly pushed them forward again so as not to appear rude, but seriously? A nice girl like Draiya heading into the endless sea of slums all alone? It wasn't safe! Not that it was the fault of the people who lived there, who were largely victims of limited opportunities! Because poverty was not solely determined by personal successes and failures but by a complex web of socioeconomic factors outside any individual's control but that wasn't important right now! Did Draiya truly realize what she was getting into?

Miri sat with her mouth open like a gasping fish as she tried to work out the least insensitive way to ask, when Draiya herself punted the conversation in a different direction. Miri smiled and buffed her rank pins with her sleeve as if they weren't already shining like supernovas. "Oh... thankss! She, um... wasn't exactljy thrjilled when jI told herr jI wanted to join the navjy, but she's overrr jit now! Orrr, musst be, anjywajy, because therrre jis a parrtjy."

Eesha, she hadn't even considered that yet. Hallee was going to provide some much-needed insulation between Miri and her mother. Spending her time home away from home was sounding even more appealing, but now she didn't have an off-world friend for her to play tour guide to. And then a really crazy idea occurred to her. It was... no. Wouldn't work. But if she... Maybe?

"Hey," she said, "majybe we--"

"Attentjion, Arr'u and Rrou'ai: Itrraassie Sstarrljiness fljight 383 to Syragor jis now boardjing. At thjis tjime we would ljike to ask all fjirst-class passengers and those wjith small chjildrren orrr exotjic envjironmental rrequjirements to prresent thejir boarrdjing passes."

Miri popped up out of her seat. "Oh, that'sss me. Um. Firrrst class, jI mean. Arrre jyou...?" Her ears colored as soon as she said it. Up until now she could have been any social strata at all - the uniform was a fantastic leveling agent. But someone who was contemplating a week spent in the Human Quarters wasn't flying luxury. She'd probably just ended this fascinating little encounter before it could even begin.

"...Do you need any help with jyourrr..." She gestured uselessly to Draiya's messenger bag, as if more luggage would spontaneously materialize around her.

[Draiya Naaianeya]

It was as if everything Miri said was a body blow with an apology right behind it. And Draiya would have been a lot more annoyed by that if she hadn't simply been used to it for years. And really? That was fine. She didn't want to have to defend the Human Quarter. She didn't want to explain that she'd scrimped and saved just enough for a basic ticket and lousy hostel stay. She didn't want to explain that she wasn't simply packing light, but that she was carrying a large portion of what she owned.

And fortunately, she didn't have to. The boarding call saved Miri from feeling awkward and Draiya from feeling patronized. For a moment, Draiya let her focus in the moment shift. She caught a glimpse of Miri through second sight. The Felinoid's energy felt as frenetic and clutzy as the conversation, but there wasn't a dark hue to be seen. Su'taun'rrou Jitaurree was a good person at heart.

She just didn't get it.

Draiya rose as Miri did, shouldering her pack.

"Vaa'e ai, Miri." she smiled warm enough to end the encounter amicably. Aside from bumping into each other on the ship, they probably wouldn't see each other again.

Draiya waited for her turn as Miri and the other first class passengers filtered through the turnstiles. Next came the Baroness Club. Then Preferred Flyers. Then coach. Then...

"Now boarrdjing economjy classs." The lady at the desk didn't waver in her steady voice, casually scanning each ticket presented to her. Draiya presented hers, which beeped clear just like the ones before her. She then began to file into the airlock that would lead her to the passenger ship.

The insidious torture of passenger space travel was that everyone who didn't fly first class was forced to pass by the compartment on the way back to their increasingly less-comfortable seats. Draiya got a fleeting glimpse of the high-backed leather chairs before she was herded on. She didn't see Miri's shock-white bob of hair, but considering that the officer was a few inches shorter than her, that didn't surprise Draiya at all. Past the Baroness Club seating the personal space began to wane. The air felt close and warm with the presence of dozens of beings - mostly Cizerack. The white noise of the engines sanitized the sound of three dozen conversations taking place in hushed tones. Occasionally a cub would cry, forcing a mother to shoosh it - or more likely - pass it off to the father to handle that task.

Draiya made herself smaller than she was, shuffling down the walkway to avoid any carelessly-protruding elbows on armrests. She glanced down to her ticket, and up at the banks of carry-on luggage bins, each emblazoned in Cizeri script with corresponding row and seat arrangements.

Not it...next row...seat...oh.

Draiya paused with a confused look on her face.

"Excuse me..." She spoke low to the person occupying her seat, an auburn-haired homeworlder who had already set up her computer interface atop her meal tray. The Cizerack looked up from her work, eyeing the human with suspicion.

"What?"

Draiya grimaced, kneading the edges of her ticket with her fingers. "I think you'rre in my seat."

The woman sighed, pulling her own ticket out. She shook her head at the human. "Thjirrtjy-njine C. That'ss me."

The Syragori padawan triple-checked her ticket. The glyphs clearly marked her as 39-C as well.

"But that's what my ticket says too. See? Thirrty-nine C, rright herre."

The Cizerack now gave her full attention, looking at Draiya's ticket with irritation. Her frown deepened when she saw an identical listing.

"What do jyou expect me to do about jit? Obvjioussljy ssomebodjy made a mjisstake."

Somebody implying not her. Draiya frowned at her ticket. She looked back at the woman in her seat, turning around in the queue. All she saw was a line of impatient faces.

"Hurrrjy up alrreadjy, human..."

"We'rre gojing to be late..."

"...prrobabljy trrjyjing to sstow awajy..."

"...jyou know how thejy arre..."

"...anotherr forrda sscam..."

The air felt warmer and thicker. That feeling she'd worked hard to suppress early on was coming back full force.

Maybe she'd made a mistake. Maybe this was all a mistake.

[Miri Jitaurree]

"Would jyou ljike a pjillow orr a blanket, mjisss?"

"No thank jyou, thijss is fjine."

"Therrre arre beverrrages and otherr rrrefrreshments avajilable jin the mjinjibarr. Prrjices marrked jin jyourr catalog. Holofjilmss and otherrr entertajinmentsss arre avajilable on demand. We'll come bjy wjith a ljive cage thjirtjy mjinutes after deparrture. Lunch and dinnerrr serrrvjice wjill follow. jIf jyou need anjything, don't hesjitate to assk. Enjoy jyourr fljight!"

The large male steward in his form-fitting uniform tiptoed out of the stateroom, leaving Miri to sink into the plush, bantha-calf's skin cushion, staring past the empty lounger beside her and out the porthole into a sky full of unwinking stars. She should be deep into her reunion with Hallee by now, trading stories, comparing mission pins, giggling as they fooled around with the recline and massage functions on their seats. Instead she was facing a long, lonely flight in luxurious solitude.

It wasn't like it was a huge cabin. In fact, when both seats were fully reclined into sleeping position, the floor practically disappeared. Not that it really mattered - you were only going to be sitting or lying down in here anyway, and the only way to get some exercise was to run up to the treadmills and stationary bikes in the forward obs deck (reserved for Baroness Club passengers and up). The minibar and fridge were within arm's reach, just below the wall-mounted holoprojector and above the luggage compartment. Each lounger had a retractable tray table that could accommodate a modest three-course dinner, and which doubled as a Holonet terminal with hypercomm access and a vast archive of holos and games on tap. It was a microcosm of creature comfort. Would have been perfect for two sisters-in-arms on their way to their last big shore leave before taking their commission. Now it all just seemed like wasted effort, not to mention a waste of sixteen hundred credits, plus taxes and fees. Burning hell, if she were riding in coach, at least she'd have someone to talk to.

For a moment she pictured herself stripped down to her duty shirt and shorts with a bowl of honey-fed sajoi balanced on her stomach while she binge-watched some serial holodrama like Jettster or The Biggs Motel. Mother above, if that was how she started her vacation, the whole venture was doomed! She needed to shake herself out of this funk and do something, even if just for the fifteen minutes before she was herded back to her stateroom to buckle up for hyperspeed.

She rolled forward out of the lounger - a bit of a trip in itself - and straightened her jacket before the mirrored door before slipping out onto the first class deck. Aft of the cabins, the deck opened up into a lounge with plush sofas and a well stocked bar. The only person here was a matron in an outlandishly expensive suit who was pre-medicating for the trip with a broad glass of Vistulo brandale. Maybe there was more happening in the Baroness Club lounge?

Miri minced down the stairs to the much more modest lounge on the lower deck, just some stationary chairs around high-top tables and a self-serve snack bar. A few passengers were grabbing last minute refreshments before scurrying back to their seats, but there was also a commotion rolling back like breakers against the tide from the aft compartment. It was mostly hissing Cizerack voices, with an edge that set Miri's ears bending back on instinct. What was going on?

[Draiya Naaianeya]

"jIss therre a prroblem?"

The steward pressed through the logjam, arriving at Row 39 and the disputing pair of passengers. Draiya clutched her ticket with both hands.

"Thjiss human ssajyss thjiss jiss herr sseat, but thjiss jiss mjy asssjigned sspot. Ssee?"

The homeworlder showed her ticket to the steward, who then looked to Draiya for an explanation. The Syragori padawan handed him her ticket.

"It's the same seat, sirr. I bought it a month ago on the HoloNet exchange. I've got a rreceipt."

The steward's ears lowered, and he made a sympathetic face.

"jI'm ssorrrjy jyoung rrou'a, but jin the event of an overrbookjing, the prrjiorrjitjy doess go to cjitjizenss."

Citizens. That sanitary word that sounded so official and meant quite plainly Cizerack only. Those of pure birth or at least enough quality blood to get a stamp on their birth docs. Oh, Draiya definitely understood this reality. Citizen priority. It meant that subjects like her were politely moved to the back of the line. Last pick of the festival dole. Last tended to in service industries. Citizen priority meant getting top of the line healthcare, but having to wait six hours to be seen when you broke your arm.

"What happens now?"

The steward put a hand on Draiya's shoulder, the beginnings of his polite attempts to usher her away.

"jI'm ssorrrjy, but wjithout an asssjigned sseat, we won't be able to sseat jyou."

"Isn't therre another empty seat en economy??" Draiya asked, desperation creeping into her voice. She could see a few empty places, but then again the passengers hadn't all gotten aboard.

"Economjy classs jiss full forr thjiss fljight. We could upgrrade jyou to coach classs forr the rrequjissjite ssurrcharrge."

Draiya was crushed. She was scraping to make this trip happen in the first place. Affording coach would be as impossible as affording the Baroness Club.

"Wait, please...what about...what about in the carrgo hold? I don't take up a lot of space. I can find a spot between boxes..."

She was begging, and it was humiliating. Every pair of blue eyes was on her now.

[Miri Jitaurree]

Miri found herself drawn along the aisle toward the aft compartment by the same impulse that makes you slow down to look at a speeder accident, or quiet down and lift your ears when there's a hushed argument across a busy dining room room. It was part theater, part sympathy, and part relief that, whatever your problems might be, at least you're not that poor bastard. By osmosis she gleaned that the disturbance was centered around some forrda girl trying to take someone else's seat. She didn't really want to get involved, but she was close enough to hear a raised voice pleading over the grumbling susurrus of the other passengers. It almost sounded like...

"Draiya?!"

The midshipwoman craned her neck back and forth and raised herself on the toes of her boots until she spotted the worried face and curtains of dark hair, and she could hear Draiya say something about the cargo hold. Heart pounding, Miri plunged forward into the crowd, ignoring the hisses of protest as she shouldered the rubberneckers aside.

"What'ss gojing on?"

The steward's right ear twitched, the only outward sign of irritation as he turned toward her with a patient smile. "Therrre has been an jirrrregularjitjy jin sssseatjing assjignmentss. jIf jyou rrreturn to jyour sseat, jI assurre jyou that anjy delajy wjill be kept to a mjinjimum."

"But jI know herrr!" Miri insisted. An exaggeration, perhaps, but no one else seemed to be speaking on Draiya's behalf. The steward blinked at Miri in unabashed surprise, as if she'd just declared herself a blood relation of the Pride Mother.

"Thjiss young woman'ss ssseat has been double-booked," he explained. "We arrre explorrjing alterrnatjive arrangementss--"

"What'sss to explorre?" Miri interrupted. "jYou gave awajy herrr ssseat. Get herrr a new one. Easjy."

To his credit, the steward didn't bat an ear tuft, though passengers around them were shuffling their feet and grumbling in increasing hostility. "As jI explajined beforre, economjy class jis fulljy booked. Herr onljy optjion jiss to upgrrrade to anotherrr classs--"

"Then do jit, mjissterr!" Miri snapped, with the same tone she used to chide a laggardly deck hand.

The steward simply paused, utterly unfazed, and completed his sentence: "--forr the apprroprjiate surrrcharrge."

"Oh." The Meera'in girl blinked as the wind fell from her sails. How much could that difference be? For one perilous moment she opened her mouth to ask, before she realized this whole fiasco was happening because the answer was too much. And from here she couldn't miss the desperation oozing out of Draiya's every pore.

"What jif... what jif the ssseat was alrrreadjy pajid forr?" she asked. "The ssseat next to me was rrregjisterred to Halleeaa Garrousshaa. She had to cancel. jYou can't ssssell the ssseat now. Could jyou gjive it to herrr?"

[Draiya Naaianeya]

And swooping in like a white knight came Su'taun'rrou Jitaurree. If Draiya wasn't so desperate she might die from shame. It had only taken her ten minutes to succumb to a half dozen stereotypes. She should be so lucky to have a Meera'in come to her rescue.

And yet? Despite that feeling of angst, Draiya's back was against the wall. The Su'taun'rrou had a seat available supposedly. If the star transit would allow a human to sit up front - and they wouldn't - but wait...

Master Laran probably wouldn't approve, but Master Laran had never been a human subject of the Pride before. Draiya squared herself to the steward, presenting a self-assured front as she nodded her head.

"You can give the seat to me."

A furtive gesture went unnoticed by the transport passengers, who were no doubt hanging on her every word. The Steward nodded in a similar manner to Draiya.

"jI can gjive the sseat to jyou."

She could feel the energy of him through the force. Taking care not to intrude into thoughts and intentions, the Padawan found a path of least resistance, and simply made it seem just as easy to the man's point of view. It worked, of course.

"Thank you, arr'u, thank you."

Draiya should have been happy, and she was. But it was a happiness stained by shame. The steward helped to make a path for Draiya to accompany Miri back to the stairwell. The Padawan faked a genial smile, because ambivalence wouldn't pass muster. She had her seat, and Miri had collected a stray.

[Miri Jitaurree]

That... actually went pretty well! Miri had been afraid the steward would kick up a fuss about putting a human in first class, never mind that the staterooms had doors, and if anyone really had a problem with it, they could seal themselves up for the duration of the flight, the racist jerks. Miri's tail lashed with a self-satisfied rhythm as she led the way forward, past rows of bemused faces in coach and premium and up the stairs to the luxury deck. Plasteel and polymers gave way to tile, wood grains, and plush carpet, an underlit glass bar (fully stocked), and even a live cage where fattened sajoi and nala tree frogs lazed drowsily in heaps.

Miri drove on past the lounge and down the central corridor. Back in economy there were three aisles running down the length of the ship, barely wide enough to stand in, with the seats packed between them like krii-achee sardines in a can. Here there was one broad corridor with suites to either side, most of them still standing open as wealthy passengers settled themselves. In one of them, an enormous family-sized unit with loungers in a half-moon with a holographic hearth and an automated kitchenette, an old, bent-backed rrou-fai in a severe black business suit sat with a solitary, terrified-looking manservant who was carefully buffing her toe claws. The old crone glared at Miri and Draiya as they passed, and Miri quickened her step until they were out of sight.

"Okajy, herre jit jis! jI ssset mjyself up jin the ajisle ssseat, but we can ssswjitch jif jyou want, jI don't rrrealljy carrre."

Miri swept her wristband over the sensor by the door, and it slid open with a sigh to reveal her modest but comfortable stateroom, with loungers as big as any three seats in economy. Miri jittered her fingertips together while she watched Draiya look over the accommodations.

"Um... ssso... jI know we don't actualljy know each otherrr, and jyou rrrealljy just needed a sseat. jI'm not expectjing to get anjythjing out of jyou, thjiss jisn't one of those qujid prrro quo thjingss. And jif jyou don't rrrealljy want to talk to me, that'sss okajy, too, jI mean, jI know how annojyjing jit jis when you'rrre ssstuck on a fljight next to sssome borrrjing scrrrub who jussst doessn't know when to shut up, and jyou'rrre too poljite to sajy anjythjing whjile thejy jussst keep rrrambljing on and on and..."

She snapped her lips shut before she got any more self-referential. "Ssso... jyeah."

[Draiya Naaianeya]

Draiya tried not to make a face at the sudden change of scenery, and she wasn't sure if she was entirely successful. First class was posh. This was beyond anything she'd ever experienced before. The only thing keeping her from enjoying it was the knowledge that it was ill-gotten. The padawan wished, in a way, that she'd just been able to talk herself into a cargo berth.

Instead, she sunk into a plush leather seat alongside well-meaning Miri. Draiya took a moment of discipline to let go of what was past, and the feelings that came with them. They would be of no use.

"That's one of the nicest things anyone's everr done forr me. Thank you, Miri."

It may very well have been out of the kindness of the Su'taun'rrou's heart. Draiya definitely didn't get the feeling it was anything less. And for all of her misgivings and cautionary tales of youth, she took it for face value. The padawan eased her messenger bag to the carpet, no longer feeling like it had to be kept at close tether.

"I don't have anything to pay to coverr the differrence," Draiya began, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "and I know you said it wasn't being used anyway, but..."

But what? She'd wash her landspeeder? Do her laundry? It felt so tacky to say that. A Human maid on Syragor, there was a shock. Draiya course corrected, reaching for her bag again. She unzipped the satchel, rifling through a few contents before pulling out an old book. Carefully peeling open the pages, she arrived to a place where her spot was saved by a half dozen pieces of paper folded in half. Carefully, she smoothed one out, presenting it to her host. It was a drawing, but that hardly did it justice. A jungle of swirling lines and geometric patterns, practically glowing off the page in a hundred vivid shades of oil crayon color. It looked like nothing at all, but drew the eye inward like a spell.

"Herre. Take it."

Draiya gave it to Miri carefully. This wasn't just a drawing to her.

[Miri Jitaurree]

Miri's ears trembled as she took the sheet of paper in hand. She cradled it reverently, like a centuries-old manuscript of another world's holy scriptures, and let her eyes sink into the fractal explosion of color and shade.

"Ai'saanja," she breathed. "Draiya, jit'sss... jit'sss..."

...What was it, exactly? It bore some family resemblance to the vivid graffiti that adorned bridges and back alleys on Syragor in the neighborhoods the municipal boards didn't care about, but infinitely more complex. Looking at it made her feel things - hope, loss, redemption - and she didn't know how or why. What category could she even put this into? Neo-classical impressionism? Corellian hypercubism? Verpine multispectralism?

Nothing fit; it was a Draiya original. Her tail curled in delight.

"jIt'sss beautjiful. Goddess, the colorrrrss, jit'ss almossst aljiiive, and..."

She blinked and wiped her tickling eyes. "Oh, kosa, jI'm gonna crrrjy. How lame jiss that? Thank jyou, Draiya. jI'm gonna frrrame thjisss."

On the wall over her desk in her bedroom, replacing that awful Gann'gorreessu print of the Sun Palace her mother had hung there. Except she wouldn't dare leave it there when she returned to duty, or it would be thrown away. Her mother had no taste for non-representational artwork.

[Draiya Naaianeya]

There was the initial suspicion that perhaps Miri was patronizing her, but Draiya quickly dismissed that by virtue of the crush of genuine joy she could see through the force. She truly appreciated the gift, even if she didn't understand it. The human girl tried to resist the temptation to see that as a metaphor for something else, and focused herself to live in the moment.

"It's eagerrness."

Draiya smoothed a wild strand of hair away, resisting the urge to play with the controls on her seat that could change anything from pivot angle to heat or massage settings.

"The picturre. I, um, think about a feeling, but not with worrds orr otherr picturres. Just what that simple feeling might look like, if you could look inside someone and underrstand them without talking."

She didn't realize it immediately, but this was the first time she'd really discussed seeing the living force to anyone other than Master Laran. And she was doing it to a force-dumb Meera'in who had taken pity on her? Draiya banished that thought immediately. Pity wasn't beautiful to look at. The current state of Miri's emotions were, and Draiya had to force herself to look away, if only not to sour the milk of her good fortune and appear like a weirdo to her host.

"I'm sorrry yourr frriend couldn't make it. She is a close frriend?"