#malish

“How long have-”

“If I didn’t know I was on the ceiling, I certainly didn’t notice when I got here.” He tugs on his ponytail, but it continues to lay down - up? - his back as if gravity doesn’t particularly notice he’s upside-down. He holds the day’s relic, a staff, out to her. “Take this. I don’t want it breaking while we figure this out.”

“I’m not touching the spooky Sith weapon. That’s probably what got you stuck there in the first place.” Aquila steps around a crate of more relics and digs through his tool drawers for a neutralizing cloth or something she can use it take it from him.

“It’s not a Sith weapon; it’s a Sith weapon.”

“Do you even listen to yourself talk?” She asks.

“I mean the race, not the… I meant the race. And you’re in the wrong drawer. Left and down one.”

The drawer opens with a screech, but the cloth is on top. She wraps it around both hands and holds them up for the staff. “We just call ‘em ‘getal’pelgam.’ Less confusion.”

“And what does that mean?” He hands it to her.

“Red skin.” Aquila barely gets the words out because as soon as he releases the staff, Malish falls from the ceiling. Even with the Force, her muscles ache from how quickly she has to set down the stupid relic in order to catch him. Since he can’t see her smirk, she tilts her head at him. “We’re a simple people.”

“I could tell.”

Rougher than strictly necessary, she sets his feet on the floor. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m sure you deserved it.” He reaches for the staff, but Aquila bats his hand away.

“I’m already over time. Seal it up and play more tomorrow. And don’t even think about-”

“Opening the crate until you get here? I have a mother. She’s quite lovely. You can ease up on…” He trails off and she feels why a moment later. Just a tickle of warning from the Force and then a loud snickt and quiet hiss.

Before her armor’s sensor can ever identify the gas, Aquila shoves the staff back into his hands, launching him back onto the ceiling. She grabs a device from her belt and slaps it over his face before he can protest or ask questions. When it makes contact, it sprouts legs like an irradiated sleen and clamps over his nose and mouth in an airtight seal. The sensor finishes reading and the results flash across her T-visor’s display. “Crouch up there; it’s wreller gas. It’s barely lighter than the air here, so it’ll take a while to get to you.”

Muffled exclamations answer her, but she’s too busy digging through her gear to read his face. “Relax and breathe normally. That can filter wreller gas for five hours and we can leave the suite long before that.” Biting her tongue, Aquila pulls out a canister of air cleanser. With a bit of rubber pipe, she hooks it into her flamethrower. It spits out a burst of fire before the fuel is replaced with the cleanser. It hangs in the air like fat snowflakes and she sprays it in the lab and office until her HUD reports the right concentration.

Force Sense and experience both tell her Malish is about to do something dumb, so she barks into the lab. “Don’t take it off yet. I need to make sure wreller gas was the only thing in there.”

She sets the bulky advanced sensor on his desk and hooks it into the power core. It whirls to life with a belch of smoke that Malish must see through the door because he gives another loud protest. Ignoring him, she lets the machine run while she sprays the booby-trapped crate with carbonite sealant. When she’s satisfied with the coverage, she checks the sensor. She replaces the first cleanser with a second canister and sprays the rooms again. It takes the gases several minutes to settle. “Looks like we’re bumping you up to Tier 3, Sith. This is no amateur with a grudge.”

Back in the lab, Malish is sitting on the ceiling eye glowing as he works on the staff.

She claps her hands until he notices her. “Do you have a death wish?”

He points to her, gestures around the lab and then shrugs.

“Yes, I did have it covered, but you could have some sense of self-preservation.”

He starts to cross his arms over his chest, but almost drops the staff. He settles for rolling his eyes at her.