Soarise held her heels in one hand as she tiptoed silently back on board the Amnesty. She had no interest in speaking to Vette quite yet; she was still trying to savor the memory of the night. It was the first time she had had a civil meal with a pleasant person- a handsome man, no less. Vette was the only other person she was comfortable to dine with, so Malavai provided a refreshing change of pace. As she walked past the Twi'lek's room, she noticed the lights were out. She must have fallen asleep.
After finishing both dinner and the chocolate dessert Malavai had made, they just talked for a long time. She wasn't sure entirely what about, since there were so many things. Politics, life on Korriban and Dromund Kaas, benefits of treadmills, Tatooine (She had never been there, but he had twice), the things that scared them most, on and on, the night went.
In fact, they talked about almost everything except the investigation. He downloaded the map of the station to her comm and promised to show her the schematics of the ducts the next day. A small part of her felt guilty, but she really did not worry about it. So what if she spent an evening to herself for once? It didn't mean her concentration was completely skewed. By having this night meant that she was able to get some troubling obstacles out of her way. Malavai was able to ease his guilt, therefore, making the investigation go much smoother.
Changing into her silk pajamas (black, of course) that Vette had set out on her bed for her, Soarise slipped under her thick blanket, ready to sleep. Closing her eyes, she replayed the night's event over in her head until she began to fall asleep. Just as she was almost completely asleep, a shiver jolted her spine.
She sat straight up, the blood rushing out of her head, leaving her dizzy. Blinking away the dark spots in her vision, she struggled to look around her room. Carefully, she reached under her pillow, grasping her lightsaber in her hand. Something prickled her senses. She got out of bed, wide awake and weapon raised, "Vette?" She called out.
No reply.
Soarise crept to her closet, the door to it closed. She touched the knob, which was cold beneath her fingertips. Slowly, she opened it, peering inside the closet.
"Vette!" She screamed, covering her mouth.
Her beloved Twi'lek servant lay crumpled in the corner of her closet, her old shock collar strapped to her neck. The circuits on it had been blown out from overuse. Kneeling beside her, Soarise felt her frail wrist, the faintest of a pulse beating. Vette looked blearily at her, half conscious. Her lips moved as she tried to say something.
"Shush, Vette, I'm calling a medic," Soarise said, scrambling for her comm.
As she stood up, Soarise saw her floor length mirror had char marks burned into its surface. Her stomach froze as she read the word carved into it.
"Genesis"