Disclaimer: Aliens can't own Twilight.
11
Terra, London, 2620
Astra didn't know what to wear. The very little she knew about mediation indicated that her legs would be crossed at some point – so wearing a dress was not optimal, unless she had something underneath it. Besides that, Astra had noticed how warm Professor Khai's office was – almost warmer than Cairo at noon – so she also had to consider the weight of her clothing as well. She had the thought to cancel the entire meeting but decided against that in the next breath; this was for her health. And, coming to that conclusion, she decided to simply wear what she was comfortable in.
After a full week of classes, Astra's nook-closet was filling up quite quickly, with five different dresses, two chest protectors, a bag, and three pairs of boots, all of different lengths. The Replicator was clearly invented by Gods. For the sixth morning in a row, Astra flips through the Replicator catalogue, picks out various clothing items, and sets the machine to start creating while she indulges in a honey-scented sonic shower.
She dresses in a light-weight lilac dress, the sleeves capped, the hem billowing at her knees; her chest protector is a buttery-soft light cocoa with a silver zip; her boots a few shades darker and loose around her ankles; tan sheer tights cover her legs modestly; her cloak is shorter, stopping at her mid-thigh, the color of a dusty rose, somewhere between the softest pink and the gentlest mocha. In an effort to keep her long hair off her neck, she braids the tresses from the crown of her head, twisting and coiling the rope of hair into a simple bun.
Fastening her cloak, Astra steps out of her room, listening to the soft, pressurized hiss as the doors slide closed behind her. Rosy is seated in the middle of the living room, a metal pad in front of her with some hunk of greasy mechanics on top; she wears red-com-glasses, like most Engineers wear when on-ship. "Going out?"
Astra nods. "I have a meditation session with Professor Khai."
Rosy stops what she's doing, fingers clumsy with slick grease, and wipes her hands off. She examines her young roommate carefully. "Is that what you wear to meditate in?"
Slightly affronted, Astra glances down at her modest clothes – every inch of her was covered. She liked the contrast of her dusky rose cloak and the barely-there lilac of her dress. "Is there something wrong with what I'm wearing."
Rosy tilts her head, a wicked grin crossing her alien features. "It's sexy," she tells Astra with a wink.
Astra's eyes widen. "What? No, it's not," she argues.
Rosy scoffs. "Not blatantly sexy or anything. But it is sexy, in a sweet way."
"His office is scorching," Astra says defensively. "I'm dressed in light layers. I don't see what's sexy about not showing skin."
Rosy leans back, uncrossing her legs a bit. "My people have a ritual when the girls are 16 summers old. They cover us in the orange clay of our lands and dress us in screened cloth, decorating our hair with scorched leaves to represent our Fire God. Every inch of us is covered, too. It's still sexy," she tells Astra flatly. "Aliens tend to like the fact that they have to unwrap a present."
Astra blinks. "Isn't the clay a bit sticky?"
"Oh, I had to bathe for days to get it off my skin. It rained most of the time. But that isn't my point."
Astra sighs, pointedly ignoring Rosy's raised, hardly-there brows. "I really don't understand. This isn't sexy in anyway – I'm completely covered, even my legs."
"Oh, I see that and I think the Professor will absolutely love it," Rosy winks. "Another story for your grandkids."
Astra shakes her head, moving towards the door. "I'll see you later."
"Don't let him kiss you until the third date," Rosy calls, her voice following Astra into the hall.
Another female Cadet, Twi'lek, raises her etched brows at Rosy's voice, her eyes following Astra. "Good luck," she says kindly.
Awkwardly, Astra forces a smile and nods. "Thanks."
In the stair well, Astra heaves a heavy sigh. Gods, remind me to avoid Rosy when she's working on her projects. She seems to be a bit sadistic, then.
The campus is more quiet, given it is a weekend, and more students were in civilian clothes. Astra had left early enough to give herself time to walk calmly to Professor Khai's office; she didn't want to admit that she needed the time, though she did, to come to terms with what she was doing. Was she truly asking for help? A small part of her doubted the validity of her "elevated brain waves" but the doctor had seemed so certain. The least she could do was give this whole mediation thing a chance – what would it hurt? Aside from her pride, apparently.
Professor Khai is sitting primly in his office chair, again with his full concentration on a thin black Pad, an empty mug in front of him. His tousled hair seems more unkempt than usual, his defined saw in sharp relief against that dark, vibrant color. He looks up when she enters the room, eyes roving over her quickly before he nods to himself and stands. Unlike the other times Astra had seen him, Khai was not dressed in any particular uniform – he wore a tight dark grey short-sleeved shirt with the Academy logo and loose black pants, which looked soft to the touch. To her surprise, Professor Khai's arms were covered in thick black tattoos – lines, swirls, dots, all of which contrasted with the smooth paleness of his skin.
Astra was aware that several alien races, namely the Me'atals and sometimes the Anzites had ritualistic tattoos. She hadn't known that the Giidas people also did this – or perhaps it was just Khai.
Without saying a word, Professor Khai steps around his desk, revealing his bare feet, which looked much more elegant than Astra would have guessed – not that she'd been imagining his feet. He gestures to the simple gel-mats, black in color, in the middle of the room. "Please be seated," he says blandly, moving past her to prompt the door to slide closed. "Remove your shoes," he adds, almost as an afterthought.
Silently, Astra complies, neatly setting her shoes on the left side of her mat and sits down, carefully crossing her legs.
Professor Khai moves around the room with efficiency, setting incense, candles, and a small music box between their mats.
Astra feels a sudden bout of nerves crawling up her throat – was he just going to jump into the lesson? She didn't think she was ready.
As if sensing her tension, Professor Khai stops moving and forcefully clears his throat. "Several of your Professors have indicated that the curriculum is not challenging enough for you," he states tonelessly.
Astra feels her brows shoot up a fraction of an inch – was he engaging in small talk? How unexpected. "I feel challenged by the material," she answers.
Professor Khai's steel eyes dart to her face, instantly deciphering all of the minute details of her expression, struggling to ascertain if she is lying or indeed telling the truth. Her expression is too subtly conflicting. "Cadet, are you in the habit of bending the truth?"
Astra tilts her chin up. "I'm not lying."
"I did not say that you were," he corrects silkily. "But you are bending the truth."
She shakes her head. "I don't think I am. The curriculum in all of my classes was difficult to catch up to."
"They are not difficult any longer," Khai says, certainty dripping from his words even if his tone was flat and his face impassive.
Astra feels her expression pinch. She wasn't lying, per say, as the work in her classes had been a bit of a challenge to catch up to. But she did catch up and as of Friday, she felt like she had a handle on her classes. Did that mean I am no longer challenged?
She sighs, her shoulders drooping fractionally. "I have never been in a school," she informs him slowly. "The subjects were difficult to catch up to but now that I am caught up, I suppose the material is less challenging than it was."
Professor Khai nods and seats himself smoothly on his mat, folding his legs up so that his feet are on top of his thighs – clearly a well-practiced position. He places his hands face-down on his knees. "You did not answer my question, Cadet. Are you in the habit of bending the truth?"
Astra narrows her eyes, a brow furrowing towards the other.
Khai takes a moment to enjoy the expression on her finely freckled face. Like this, she does not remind me of poetry, but of chaos.
"I tell the truth," she says finally.
"There is a difference between your truth and the truth, Cadet."
She shakes her head. "That's ridiculous. My truth is the truth; just because my truth does not agree with your truth, that doesn't mean my truth is untrue."
What an illogical response.
Professor Khai blinks deliberately, a brow raising a mere centimeter. "Indeed."
With an almost caustic tone, Astra juts her chin out in defiance. "I was not aware I came here to speak of my academics or of the semantics of truth," she says. "I thought I was here to learn how to control my brain waves."
"Indeed," he repeats. He finds her defiance fascinating, even if it is slightly illogical. Not one person on Giidas ever expressed such a thing. "Imitate my position, Cadet."
Frowning lightly, Astra folds her legs up into his exact position, mildly surprised to find out that it corrected the alignment in her back instantly; as a result, her tailbone balanced on the soft mat, her spine was straight and her shoulders back, neck high. The position was more comfortable than it looked.
She watches with rapt attention as Professor Khai reaches forward to light white candles and the incense, the scent of lemongrass and sandalwood filling the room, along with a subtle lay of smoke. Khai's long fingers press gently against a tiny button on the music box and a slow beat of dark drums, punctuated by a single chime, echoes in the silence. He closes his eyes.
"Match your breathing to mine."
Astra nods, though he cannot see her, and closes her eyes, tuning her ears to the soft inhalations and exhales of Khai's steady, slow breathing. She does not know how long she listens to his breathing, but it feels as if hours have passed while he concentrates on the passing of breathes, her own lungs following his rhythm easily. It becomes effortless to sink into the sound of the drums and chimes; she hardly has to concentrate on keeping her eyes closed at all. She inhales the scent in the room and exhales the smoke. Again. Once over. Another time.
Calm.
Professor Khai's voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. "Sink deeper into your own mind. Think with white, transparent thoughts. Calm the chaos."
And easily, as if she had done in dozens of times before, Astra complies, falling deeper into her mind where everything is silky and cool and white and soothing. She continues falling, never landing on anything with substance, for what feels like a long time.
Then, so very suddenly, she is grasping onto something with spikes, something that marches in straight lines, made of dips and valleys and spires. My brain waves.
The brain waves, silvery, tinged with light green, are truly chaotic, constantly moving, moving, moving more than Astra could keep up with. They moved faster than she could see, all spiked and hard – difficult to touch. This was her mind, the most base part of herself, and it was an absolute frenzy.
Sounding disembodies, like he is far away, Professor Khai softly tells her instructions. "Grasp the waves, smooth them out. Calm."
Astra feels a flush of frustration, tainting her silvery-lime brain waves an angry red. How could she grab onto something so wickedly fast, something so sharp?
"Calm," Khai repeats, his voice floating over her from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
She inhales deeply, holding the smoky lemongrass and sandalwood in her lungs as she tentatively reaches towards the spikes. Her head was absolutely pounding with the effort it took to reach them and her body felt hot.
Sensing a change in temperature in the room, Khai's eyes snap open, landing on Astra's face, her delicate nose bleeding again, a flush high on her cheeks. Neither he or the doctor had calculated the odds of her brain swelling again from meditation – though it did make logical sense, as this was a new activity and one that required a large about of concentration.
Still, Khai felt unnaturally tense, a fierce concern for her health, courtesy of the black swirls of emotions, washing over him. His voice is rough when he speaks. "Calm, Astra."
He pointedly ignores how wonderful her name feels on his tongue, as if it's meant to be there as much as his sensitive taste buds were.
"Calm," she breathes back, plush lips parting, a slow trickle of Terran-red blood slipping over the curves of her mouth. Her eyes remain closed.
Unaware of anything happening in the outside world, Astra nods and, with a determination that spoke directly to her most base personality trait, she reaches forward, grasping the red-tinged spikes of her brain waves with two hands, immediately halting their progress.
"Calm," she tells them. "Calm," she says again, in every language she knows. "Hayal."
With stuttering slowness, her brain waves, droop, loosing their sharp edges, softening to the point that, on the outside world, the hot flush of her skin fades and her nose stops bleeding.
Hayal. Stillness. Absence of motion. Composure. This-one will have let'thieri. This-one will have peace in this-one's mind.
Outside of her mind, Khai blinks with shock. Gidal'su again.
She was speaking the words of the High Clans again.
She was speaking words that were specific to meditation, words that were sacred to the culture, and she didn't seem to realize it. The notion was mind-stuttering for Khai.
"This-one will have let'thieri. This-one will have peace in this-one's mind. Hayal."
Khai stares at Astra, unblinkingly. He had not taught her the ritualistic words or the idea of let'thieri – the sacred peace of mind.
She simply seemed to know them in a way that was intrinsic, in a way that was built into her mind. It was most…interesting.
Khai feels his shoulders tighten as he studies the delicate features of her face, the scattering of freckles that was so very unlike a Giidas. Her ears, now that he could see them were only slightly pointed – but that didn't mean anything because Piaries also had pointed ears and he had seen several Terrans with ears that were not perfectly round.
He would think about it later.
"Nartau t'san s'at," he says lowly. "Nartau let'thieri."
The words float into Astra's inner-most world and she feels herself accept them, smoothing over the calming spikes with white-glowing hands; white, the color of balance, the color of inner-peace. Tension that she wasn't even aware of seeps through her fingertips, as if she is washing away 17 years of chaos with one touch. Her brain waves turn a wispy-silver-grey, the color of her eyes; they are pliant beneath her hands, bending to her will.
This is t'san s'at. This is the emotional control.
Astra loses track of the time she spends soothing her brain waves but eventually, she resurfaces - only mildly surprised to feel the dried crust of blood on her upper lip and chin.
Realizing she had somehow gotten a nosebleed during her meditation, Astra feels her face heat up in embarrassment, though the emotion felt slightly more subdued than normal; probably a product of the meditation.
Professor Khai is studying her with steel eyes, betraying to emotions on his face. "You have calmed your brain waves."
"Yes," she answers, her knees suddenly aching from being in one position for son long. Careful not to knock over the candles, she unfolds her legs, tucking them demurely beneath her bottom. "I had no idea they were so…active. I feel much better."
Easily, Professor Khai stands, his quick motion blowing out the candles – Rosy would be absolutely appalled by that.
For a long moment, Professor Khai, Lieutenant Commander Khai, looks awkward. "Would you…I am extending an invitation to further your meditation tutoring," he says finally, locking eyes with Astra.
Expertly, Astra hides the jolt of surprise she feels at the suggestion, though she remains relaxed, limbs lazy, face eased of subtle tension. She had assumed that this session would be a one-time thing, especially given the sense of detachment she felt from Professor Khai – and yet, he was offering another tutoring session.
Astra reflects on the sense of utter calm in her mind, a certain calmness that had been missing before, a calmness that she knew she would need to find again for the peace was unreal, incomparable.
"I would like to do this again," she answers, wondering how serious he is about the offer. She studies his facial expression but only finds impassiveness.
"I will be out of the country next Saturday," he states. "The next session will have to wait another week."
Astra nods, standing up, testing her weight on her lead-feeling legs. "That's fine," she says. Then, unable to ignore her curiosity, she asks, "Where will you be going?"
Professor Khai tilts his head slightly to the right. "Captain Godric is off-planet, running a route through the Second Zone to check on a particular colony belt. The Nova requires routine inspections and as a Lieutenant Commander, I am more than qualified to assist in these inspections."
Astra recalls the shell of the Nova from her time in Cairo – she had seen it in the distance, even played a tune on the li'lute that was inspired by how absolutely splendid the silver giant of reinforced micro-metal was. It was quite large and, once finished, would be the cutting-edge of technology, designed to peace-keep and save from supernova stars. Since entering the Federation Academy, she had heard many things about the Nova, namely the fact that every Cadet wanted to be on that ship.
Even though Khai didn't show it, she could detect the trace amounts of excitement seeping into his voice – like any male, he loved his toys, and the Nova was the ultimate toy.
Astra slips her shoes back on, offering Professor Khai the smallest of smiles; without realizing it, she had suddenly become accustomed to his presence, even relaxed by it. "I hope you don't tackle another potential Cadet in Egypt," she says wryly. "Most of us don't like that."
Khai raises a brow at her tone – light and air, but with an edge. "I assure you, I do not tackle as a first resort. It is not my first inclination."
He watches as a rather pleasing pink rises to the top of her lily-white cheeks – he decides he likes that color on her skin. "Of course not, Professor. Too much sand."
"Indeed," he replies coolly. "The grains in my shoes did not stop bothering me for a week."
As he listens to her restrained laughter, he concludes that he must have said something amusing. Interesting.
A/N: Quick translations, courtesy the VLD because I'm not about to create an entire language, thank you very much!
"hayal" translates to "calm".
"let'thieri" translates to "peace (of mind); inner contentment; serenity".
"Nartau t'san s'at" translates to "embrace controlling emotions or embrace the deconstruction of emotional patterns".
"Nartau let'thieri" translates to "embrace peace of mind".
Shout out to the first 10 reviews of the last chapter –
Annabelle – No, she's not related to him in any way!
Debslmac – :D
gemma smells like apple cake – Glad you like it!
LunaDiSangue85 – LOL you made me laugh so hard, my God! Hilarious!
Siobhan Whitlock – That's right, take your son to the movie with the actor you drool over lol ;) OMG, right? Ja'asper….God, I might just have to write a story only about him and his sexy Me'atal-ness!
Theoddwallflower – I think she's a good combination!
Pumpkinmykitty – Emmett won't be until Part 2 lol
FLOW LIZ – If only Replicators were real, I would never run out of clothes or anything. Can someone get on inventing that, like, now?
Nalia-R – lol Yes, if I ever publish, all of y'all are getting free books!
RainDanceTammy – Oh the "good stuff" is going to be…ahem, excellent.
Twilight Rocker 12 – OMG, if you had guessed just one specific thing, you would have been completely right. Go girl!
Super special shout out to the first review of the last chapter – YesMyRealNameIsBella – ah, the aliens, always underestimating us Terrans! lol
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~cupcakeriot