I am a pretty good judge of people. Being in my line of work I have to be. Gauging whether or not someone is lying often means the difference between life or a knife in the gut.
Most of the diplomats I've encountered during my years with Intelligence were far more interested in themselves than the people they supposedly served. It disgusted me to no end and as a result, I found my distaste for politicians far too palatable for my liking. I fully expected my Imperial contact on Alderaan, Vector Hyllis, to be as self-serving and arrogant as the others; however, by the end of my mission there I was forced to change my opinion of him. After our many brief exchanges over that week, I began to realize that it had been unfair of me to assume all diplomats were the same. Vector was indeed an exception. I had yet to discover the extent of his gentle nature and good heart, but one thing was for certain: he genuinely cared about people.
It was those qualities, in addition to Vector's intelligence and level-headedness, that made Keeper insist Vector join our team. To be honest, I was secretly thrilled at the prospect of a new companion. Kaliyo was amusing but abrasive and I was getting tired of her tough-as-rancor-hide attitude. She saw life as one big game. Everything was created for her amusement or pleasure. In contrast, I took my work as seriously as Kaliyo did not.
Immediately after Vector's official transfer to Intelligence, Keeper ordered us to Dromund Kaas for a briefing. Vector's few belongings had been packed in crates and placed in the cargo hold - his new quarters, at his request - by the ship's droid, 2V. I busied myself by plotting the hyperspace coordinates. I had no idea what Kaliyo was up to, but it probably involved a lot of liquor. She had already made it clear that Vector gave her the creeps.
Once successfully in hyperspace, I sat back in the captain's chair and watched the stars stream around the Phantom. My thoughts strayed to Vector, and I wondered how he would handle the flight back to Dromund Kaas, as it had been a long time since he'd last flown.
I remember my first trip. A new recruit, directly from Iridonia. I had no idea what to expect. Sleep had been my best friend...not to mention all the meds I took to keep the nausea and migraines at bay. Although at the time it had been unpleasant, I now smiled at the memory. Since then, I had been on hundreds of flights throughout the course of my career and flying had become second nature.
He's an adult; he can manage, I told myself. He'd request meds if he needed them...Right? I drummed my fingers on the console. I didn't - but I was young and nervous. Perhaps I should check on him...just in case.
Without more to do at the present, I walked to the back of the ship and stood in the doorway to his quarters, my hands clasped behind my back, at ease. As silly as it sounds, no matter how hard I tried to find a different position to stand in, I always fell back into that one. Formalities were important.
I noticed that as he unpacked, his elegant robes had gotten slightly dusty and his black hair disheveled. During our exchanges on Alderaan, I had never seen Vector less than perfectly groomed. I had concluded then that he cared greatly about his appearance; now I was secretly pleased to see that he didn't really seem to care. His belongings had spent several years hiding in an out of the way part of his Kilik cave. He looked boyishly at each item as he unwrapped it, smiling fondly - almost as if he were opening gifts at a fete.
He seems...fine, I thought, frowning inwardly. My disappointment surprised me a bit. I turned and took a step toward the cockpit.
"Agent. Is there something we can do for you?"
I froze, Vector's soft voice catching me off guard. I hadn't expected him to even acknowledge my presence. I turned to face him, grinning stupidly. He wiped his hands on his deep purple outer robe and returned a pleasant smile.
"No, nothing," I faltered, then realizing I should explain exactly what I was doing there, I continued blindly, "I...just came by to...check on you." I felt rather odd standing there with no real explanation. For someone who had been trained to lie and lie well, I suddenly felt very poor at my craft indeed. I cleared my throat and made another attempt. "Do you have everything you need?"
"We do, thank you."
I fell into ease again. "Good. Let myself or 2V know if you need anything."
Vector studied the crates stacked next to him and picked up the top one. "Actually, we could use some help unpacking this." He handed me the box. My arms sagged under its weight. What could possibly be in here? "Put them on the shelf over there. Organize them however you'd like."
"What's in here?" I asked as I maneuvered through the maze of metal crates and boxes.
"Books."
I carefully set the crate down and opened it. Books, I thought as I picked up the top one and flipped through it. Xenolinguistics of the Core Worlds: Evolution of Form. I haven't held an actual book in years. I glanced in the box. There's at least fifty books in here! These must have cost a small fortune.
I began placing books on the metal shelf, pausing only to read each title. If one in particular caught my eye, I took a brief moment to read a page or two as well, the thick, rough parchment and inky smell a heady combination. The printed words reminded me of my grandfather. He greatly valued the written word, but couldn't have ever afforded this many. Before I knew it I had picked up the last book in the crate: Culture of the Mandalorians. At that instant, Vector knelt beside me. I tucked the book on the shelf next to the others and wrapped my hands around my knees. If I had been standing, I would have fallen into ease again.
Vector scrutinized my work. "You have organized them by size and type."
"I did. Would you rather I sorted them by title?"
"In our former life, we liked to see how friends and colleagues would shelve our books. We can tell a lot about a person by the little things they do."
"What does my organizational system say about me?" I challenged.
He waved at the neat row of books I had just shelved. "You, Agent, see the world through first impressions. You like your life orderly and fixed. Everything you do is with a great deal of meticulous control. But..." he said, smiling at me, pulling the tallest book off the shelf and re-shelving it next to its kin, "...the fact that you put this particular book with the shortest books in our library indicates that you also have a sense of humor and a spontaneous streak."
Impressively accurate. I wonder what he would say about Kaliyo. The corners of my mouth twitched into a grin. "Seems like you'll fit into Intelligence nicely, Vector," I said. "Where did you get so many bound books? I've never seen such a collection before."
Vector smiled proudly. "Some of these were given to us as gifts. Others we bought. A few we found. All have been read."
I arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Even the boring ones? I can't imagine the xenolinguistics book being that interesting."
"Even the boring ones." Vector looked over the shelf again, more intently this time. "Our favorite is this one." He carefully removed a thin book from the top shelf. Loose pages had been tucked into the dried-out binding and the cracked, worn leather cover looked as though it would crumble to dust at the next reading. Sonnets and Love Poetry of the Inner Rim. He started to hand it to me, but I shook my head.
Undeterred, he reached for my hand and carefully placed the book on my palm. "Consider it a gift. Please, take it."
"Oh, no. I couldn't...especially if it's your favorite book."
"We've read this more times than we can count. We have memorized all of the poems years ago. This is for you to enjoy, Cipher Nine. Savor the words within."
Somehow I managed a clumsy "thank you" and "I will". Hastily, I checked my wrist and was shocked to see I'd been in Vector's quarters for almost an hour. I rose quickly, Vector following my lead. "I'm sorry to leave so suddenly, but I've got to prepare for our meeting with Keeper. I didn't really even mean to stay this long."
Vector escorted me to the door. "We are grateful for your help. You are welcome to borrow any of our books, should you wish it."
"That's very kind. Thank you, Vector." I held up the small parcel. "This is in good hands. I promise."
He smiled warmly. "Enjoy, Agent."
I left Vector to finish unpacking while I pondered this unexpected and generous present. The last time I had even held a book was after Grandfather's funeral. I had found it while cleaning out our home back on Iridonia. It had been his prized possession, given to him by his grandfather.
I wonder if I still have it.
Once safely in my room (without being accosted by Kaliyo on the way - Where was she anyway?) I set Vector's gift on my nightstand and unlocked the footlocker at the end of my bed. I rummaged about, pushing around various items until I found what I was looking for: a worn, hardcover book. As I brushed dust from the faded cover, I read the title, now barely visible: The Selenoren.
I opened the cover carefully. Six generations of Zabraks had been recorded in the genealogy of my family's Rising Festivals: people, dates, chosen tattoos. I found my name at the bottom, written in my grandfather's blocky script, along with a message: She now bears her beloved mother's tattoos. I am so proud of her.
How surprising that such a little thing could hold so much meaning. I closed the book and hugged it tightly to my chest. Sighing, I kicked off my boots and bounced onto my bed, setting that book on my nightstand as well. Grabbing my datapad, I flicked it on and for the next hour thoroughly reviewed my briefing notes.
From time to time, I glanced at my nightstand. Both books sat there, waiting to be read. Finally, I set my datapad aside and picked up Sonnets and Love Poetry of the Inner Rim. Licking my finger and flipping open the first page, I began to read.
