Searching for answers

Among the hustle and bustle of the Csillla spaceport a young woman sat, largely unnoticed. She looked at the data pad with regret. “What to do?”

Zithra"asithe"dlogoc was a young member of the Aristrocra, of the Cspala family which focused on resource management and colonial expansion. She had just completed her primary training and was tasked with gaining some language fluencies while she awaited her first assignment.

“What better way to master a language than to visit one of the colonies?” she had thought.

Looking at the list of possibilities, 28 colonies in all, nothing moved her. Too hot, too dry, too remote, not populated enough…none of these were fun. Asithed, as her friends and family called her, did not know when she would again get a choice. She had to make this count.

“What will she do? The easy thing? The expected thing? Isn’t that what she has always done?” a smooth, foreign voice broke her thoughts.

Startled she looked across the table where a small, male robed figure sat. No one had been there when she sat down, no one had approached. Maybe it was a hologram?

“Oh I assure you I am very real.” the form chuckles, a deep laugh that though quiet ran right through her. A piercing mockery. A flush of anger filled her.

She sneered. “You don’t know me!” She focused her gaze on the figure, it’s face obscured by a low hood. She knew something was not right here, she felt danger.

“Was I wrong?” the voice asked though the tone implied it was sure it was not.

“What of it?” her anger rising. Who was he to question her?

"Oh nothing, if you are content to be a slave, a puppet. Dancing when told as you always have. " The voice was mocking, but also testing. He was measuring her.

She clenched both jaw and fist. This old man was getting annoying.

Again the laughter. It cut right through her, though she was not sure it was even truly audible.

“So much anger. I can almost taste it.” he replied. She was starting to feel naked.

“What do you want?” she asked impatiently, scanning the room for a member of security.

“I want you to make the right choice.” He set three 100 credit sticks down on the table with an old, withered, pale hand. He was not a Chiss. “Humor me a few moments more and I will compensate you for your time. You will not need to call security”

She leaned back in her chair looking to him incredulously.

“Go on.” She was intrigued by this man. She had never met a foreigner. Was he reading her mind?

“First sit up straight, and take some slow deep breaths, clear your head” he said in almost a whisper.

She did so, reluctantly. She could not quite understand what this was about. He plucked the data pad up off the table and turned it to face her, the list of available destinations laid out before her.

“Which one feels right?” he asked her. She could sense his intense gaze on her though she could not see his eyes.

“I was thinking the one with the largest Administration Centre…” she began before he cut in almost angrily.

“I said feel, not think!”

Her anger began to rise again as this annoying old man harassed her. Still she could use the credits. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, and again, and again. Her eyes flickered over the list. She went from top to bottom and then back up again.

“None of them feels right.” she was starting to get frustrated by how stupid this was.

“Good, then you have your answer” it was almost a whisper, yet the only sound in the Starport cantina she could hear.

“Not a very helpful answer” she said with some contempt.

“I disagree. None of the colonies is where you will find your destiny or the answers you seek.” he laughed again as if amused by a private joke.

“You are telling me to go no where?” she asked incredulously.

“I am telling you to trust your feelings.” the hand slid the credit sticks across to her. He rose slowly with an eerie unnatural grace. “You have a few weeks don’t you? Go and if you feel your time was wasted I will pay you ten times this sum.” he gestured again to the credit sticks. He then plucked a small data pad from his belt and plopped it down.
“This is the contract, but you will not try to collect. Trust your feelings and you will always find yourself in the right place”. he turned and glided off, disappearing into the crowd

She picked it up and scanned it. it appeared legitimate. It would authorize 3000 credits if she turned in the data pad at any major bank, in three weeks.

“Departure for the Mid Rim is in 5 parsecs” she heard over the intercom. That sounded right? It felt right? Was this crazy?

She picked up her credit sticks, data pads and travel bag.

“Mid Rim it is.” she said, as she took the first step on a new road.

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