#jaesen

Usually Jaesen checked in on the clinic before retiring to his private quarters.  This time he skipped it all together and headed immediately up the staircase to the second floor.  For a moment he stopped and stared at the security panel, struggling to remember the new code he had set up that morning.

He sat across from her on the shuttle to Dromund Kaas.  She smiled at him sweetly, her eyes so detached from the expression plastered across her face. Jaesen tried not to make eye contact, to stare at the ceiling of the shuttle, the floor, the datapad in his hands, the people sitting near him.

Her stare could bore holes.  Sometimes he caught himself looking at her, not meaning to.  Her eyes lit up, her cheeks flushed, and he looked away again.  He formulated a plot in his mind, what to do once the shuttle reached his destination.   How he would slip away from her, keep to crowded areas where she would have to make a scene.

The shuttle rumbled to a stop and she rose from her seat.  Jaesen glanced up, surprised as this wasn't his stop.  Their eyes met for a moment, and she wriggled her fingers at him, disappearing off the shuttle.  The doors shut and Jaesen felt his heart thud with them.  

I'm an Operative Agent. Medicine.  I heal things.  Before I quit SWTOR for awhile, I'd gotten Jae to lvl 54, over halfway to 55.  I figure it's double XP weekend, I'll try to get him to 55 so I can get him off Makeb at least.

So I change his spec to Concealment.

...

How does stab things?  Oh god it was comical.  And apparently I had worked my way to the end point of the Makeb storyline and here's itty bitty Jaesen up against a hutt in a huge machine and I'm like.

His holocom beeped, and Jaesen nearly jolted out of his skin.  He stared at it, wide eyed, for a long moment, and then reached out to pick it up, glancing to see who the call was from, first.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he hit the accept button, and a staticky image of one of the lab assistants appeared.  "Hello, Doctor, and good morning."

"Good morning, Bree.  What reports do you have for me?"

She hesitated a moment, appearing to look over her shoulder as if someone were speaking to her, and then faced him again, "Oh, well subject AR-450 didn't make it through the night, I'm afraid."

He woke not to the sound of rain, but the distinct silence of it not raining.  Rolling over onto his side, he could see droplets of rain left on the windows, but overcast skies were unproductive.  It was a rare sight in Dromund Kaas. The clock displayed the time, six in the morning, current planetary time, then listed times of several other key planets and space stations.  

Scrubbing his face with a hand briefly, Jaesen pulled the covers back and slid from the bed.  He repeated the same morning routine exactly as he had so many times before.  Everything had been dumbed down mentally to one or two descriptive words.  Refresher.  Clothing.  Time check.  Breakfast.  Coffee.  Door.  Time check.  

But sometimes something disruptive occurred, waking him from the fog he maneuvered through daily.  This time it was a flower, left on the counter in his kitchen.  A small, red bloom left in a cup of water near the sink.  He stared at it over the rim of his coffee cup.   

An active imagination saw her hand, reaching over to set the stem carefully in water.  The smile on her lips that never quite touched her eyes.  Maybe she even stood over him while he slept, touched her lips to his temple.

He downloaded security holos to watch later.  To see just how she managed this time to get past his precautions.  Then, he changed the combination to the alarm leading into his personal apartment above the clinic.  

Cargo Bays.  This is Doc Jae's.  For some reason it wouldn't take a screenshot of one of them, so you only get to see two. 

I am awaiting the prototypes from Zamir, though we've already begun recruiting potential subjects.  Unlike Tholgeth's research, which required importing several dozen Imperial prisoners (mostly political), we can take a bit more care in who participates.  For initial testing I'd prefer a pool of humans without mixed alien blood.  If those tests are successful, we can extend trials toward mixed blood and aliens if budgeting allows.  

It's a much more pleasant experiment and I've put the word out to the military first, soldiers are always eager to become better soldiers.  

I also have a bit more editing to do for previous research projects before they can be published.  But that I can do on the side, perhaps in the evenings.  I am uncertain if Darth Tholgeth wishes to have his personal toys published anywhere, but I have a report on that started as well, which I will send to him on completion.

One of the lab techs has been acting oddly lately.  I will have to keep an eye on him, and have restricted his access to research data until I have a chance to talk to him.  But I've caught him more than once lingering near my office, as if waiting for me to leave.  Paranoia has set in, and so I've made sure I have holocams turned on and watching when I'm not in.

Things with Genna have taken an unexpected turn.  We see each other when we can, which is not as often as either of us would like. But, we have the huttnet and our own communicators to talk when not busy.  She's busy training, and I'm neck deep in research and we both understand the constraints on the other.  

But, she finally had her first sexual experience as an agent (and I think it was her first time, period, which makes me wince).  I saw her hinting at it on the huttnet with Agent Kindrak.  There wasn't any need to make her explain it to me.  I knew this was a possibility (inevitable really), and I think the only level it bothers me on is that she is obviously bothered by it.  

And I think part of her is just a little frustrated with me that I seem unwilling to sleep with her.  A little amusing, even if it shouldn't be, and flattering at the same time.  It isn't that I wouldn't want to, I'm quite male thank you and I've thought about it more than once.  

But Genna is not a job, or a duty, or a mark.  And I hesitate to take our relationship to that level until I'm certain both of us understand that, and are ready for it.  We aren't just Imperial citizens, we're agents of the Empire, and our duties to that Empire will always be first.

She understands that now, I think. We had a long discussion about it.  She's changing, bit by bit.  The gawkish girl I first met is slowly coming to understand Imperial culture.  You can see it in her eyes, no longer wide and easily hurt, there's a dawning comprehension and a sharpening intellect.