Kalen Lorell

The Galactic GlobeTrotter shuddered out of hyperspace above the green-blue blur of Chandrila, and from the cockpit, Kalen Lorell could not help but notice that from this far away, the globe was not unlike the glittering eyes of his counterpart. His daily message to the Gems pinged back to him, indicating that either their comlinks had been destroyed, or they had a good reason for flying under the radar and remaining out of contact. Given that the news out of Nar Shaddaa had not improved, he was unsurprised, but the low-grade concern in the back of his mind had yet to find anything assuaging. Poring over the Holonet offered other enticing possibilities, however. He had not yet lined up a concert date for Ammi on Chandrila, opting to simply take her somewhere quiet where she might catch a flicker of rest after a disappointing trip to Carida that could have gotten them both in significant trouble for different reasons. But if what he was seeing was true, they had ample reason to be elsewhere with no small amount of immediacy. "Ammi," he said slowly, attempting to mask his electric glee, "how do you feel about crashing another important party? The, uh, the audience is a little trickier this time." The holo flickering in front of him was only faintly visible around his form from where he stood in the cockpit, but the faint outline of the names E'lann-Zinthos hovered in the air like bait on a hook.

"None at all," he said with gusto. "In fact, I look for every possible opportunity to make myself scarce on Imperial worlds. Good thing your parents aren't actually here, or we might have been stuck in toy soldier land forever going off to old family reunions." It would be a relief in many ways to be away from the Imperial capital, but his feelings were getting in the way of profit. The Gems had hired him not only to manage Ammi, but to show her a good time. Bringing his own baggage into the relationship was proving to be a giant roadblock, given the task at hand, even though she had been the one who was determined to get under his skin and learn his story. It would take a fair bit of resolve to keep Ammi at arm's length going forward, but he'd done it a dozen times on marks far less naive than she. Though her strange clairvoyance could prove an interesting challenge for him, one that he relished, if he were being honest. Caring about things only got you in trouble, and he didn't need anything else in his life to worry about. Setting down his pack with a thunk, he enacted his best approximation of a formal dress march of the Imperial garrisons down the ship's hallway, their uninteresting personalities as boring and vanilla as the stiff armor they bore. With his goofy goose-step concluded, he grinned roguishly at Ammi and swung his pack over his shoulder once more. "So Chandrila, then. How hard are you going to punch me if I suggest another round of sabacc on the way?" Preemptively, he ducked the blow he knew would likely be fast approaching, as the droids readied the ship for departure and began the liftoff sequence.

"No, it's not that," he said, unable to shake his wariness, but determined that it should no longer affect the girl. "It's... I know that song. Somehow. I don't recall ever hearing it. More like I've always known it." The queasiness in his gut didn't subside, and he found himself going in circles around his own mind, trying to determine when he might have heard a song that Ammi coined from a family tradition. Something about it was important, and there was some link to her past that was yet to be explored. But if he gave any indication of how unsettled he was by his prescience of the haunting melody, there would undoubtedly be an endless barrage of questions he had no desire to answer. "It was pretty. Forget I said anything," he added nonchalantly. Between his confused and conflicted feelings about what they ought to do in the wake of the Imperial takeover of Nar Shaddaa, the insinuations Ammi had been steadily making about his abilities, and his irritation with being surrounded by a bunch of goody-two-shoes droids and a teen with a penchant for mischief, Kalen was not looking forward to determining their next destination. A vacation spot, where there were credits, and some measure of quiet where Ammi wouldn't get herself into too much trouble... "Ammi," he said quietly, "we can easily book something on Chandrila or Corellia, find a place to lay low for a little while, find where the Gems ended up. But if what you need is to find your parents, and you need help to do that, maybe there isn't a better time. Credits are no obstacle, and no one is telling us what to do." The melody weaved through his thoughts, and Kalen couldn't help but wonder how deep this particular jakrab hole went--and to what degree he would regret such an offer of assistance.

Ammi's voice had always worked a curious spell on him. The effect was almost always warming, almost hypnotizing, her siren song commanding attention and affection. She was like a warm light, shining into the depths of his soul. All at once, forcing a decision between hiding those dark places he didn't want her to know and revealing everything to be cleansed by the warmth of her song. This time, it was different. Chills ran up and down his spine, and something about the simple tune she hummed was haunting. It was as though ice water had been injected into his veins, and he could not even focus on helping Ammi and the droids pack up their relevant gear. Finally he simply stopped to watch her, as though frozen, grounded by the sudden current of electricity running through him. "What is that?" he finally managed, his tone low and serious. Too late, he thought to change the tone of his voice to appear more nonchalant. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I haven't heard that one before."

"You give me too much credit," he said slyly, impulsively wrapping his arms around her in response to her embrace. Kalen didn't miss--nor did he want to assume the cause of--the fluctuations in her mood and countenance, but instead, chose to simply savor the moment... not to mention the fact that he would have a positive report to give his employers on the next point of contact. Pressing his lips once more to her forehead gently, as he had at the Memorial, he tried not to acknowledge the warring concern for Sapphire mingled with the swift disappointment when she too-quickly skirted out of his arms to ask for an update. "Well, I figure the first challenge will be getting off this kriffing rock," he laughed. "Even if we might have snuck out under the radar before, you've literally just announced to the entire Empire that we're in league with the Pirate Queens of Nar Shaddaa. Whether or not they have their hands in the slaving rings is irrelevant: Imperials are always looking for justification for a new crusade that they don't understand." His voice smacked of bitterness as he turned to pour himself a neat glass of Nubian vine-liquor. Glancing back up to her, he shrugged. "After that, the galaxy's ours. We could limit the tour to the Core Worlds and find ourselves at the Galaxies Opera House in four stops, or we could go farther out to the Outer Rim." Savoring the burn as the ferment slid down his throat, he smiled up at her, ironically uttering words he wasn't sure he believed. "Wherever you think our presence will do the most good." With a measuring glance, he added, "Or rather, wherever you feel our presence will do the most good." In any case, it was obvious that their conversation from before was not entirely resolved.

Dogging her footsteps, flanked by the cadre of droids, Kalen ascended the ramp to the Galactic GlobeTrotter behind Ammi. No sooner had the ramp hissed shut behind him than his voice broke the quiet. "I'm glad you're okay," he offered lamely, in a rare display of authenticity. Pirates, smugglers, and con men didn't value the things that this firebrand of a human did. Ammi lived at the intersection of normal and extraordinary, but one thing that was apparent was her genuine nature. She was extraordinary, and every single one of her billion raving fans knew it, but she was only extraordinary insofar as she was incredibly normal. She was the best of the galaxy and it was only because she didn't know it herself. "I can't raise the Gems on the comm, I think they've gone to ground. But I also don't know what they want us to do next." He shrugged. "I know the Empire offered you a deal with one of their labels. If that's the route you want to go at this point, I wouldn't blame you." Suddenly self-conscious about the level of caring and concern displayed on his face, Kalen walked Ammi into the main hold of the GlobeTrotter and stood awkwardly near the door as though preparing to disappear. "I know how to disappear in places like this, so if you're going on without me from this point I won't take it personally. Just say the word."

"I can't turn my back on you for one damn second," Kalen said as he burst into the room, his comlink clutched in one hand. His face was flushed and he seemed disheveled. The news of the recent developments on Nar Shaddaa was not surprising, but it was telling that all the information he seemed to be able to get his hands on concerning the siege came from Imperial propaganda outlets. The Gems had gone dark, which led him to believe that the Naptime protocol had been engaged. In that case, what Ammi had just done was possibly the WORST course of action. "We need to go, now," he said just as he took the form of the Imperial agent in. Immediately his demeanor changed, the slick and perfect gentleman returning to the forefront. "Excuse me, we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Kalen Lorell, Miss Amethyst's business manager." He extended his hand to Valennia, but his concerned eyes stayed with the turquoise-eyed starlet. "Are you all right?"

"We have to get a hold of Sapphire and Emerald," Kalen said abruptly, patently ignoring the sudden insight Ammi professed. "Amethyst, you and the droids get set up for the concert. We need to keep our heads up." With a nervous twitch, he ran a hand through his hair. "This is a bad place for us to be right now." Even though she had been right, and even though it was grievous to their business endeavors, Kalen was grateful for the interruption such that he did not have to offer any explanation. Not only that, but her insinuation that he had some precognitive or extrasensory abilities had his head reeling. He did seem to see things before they happen, and he did tend to know what people's cards were before they were laid on the table... But it wasn't possible. Couldn't be. And even if it were, there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he would do about it. Was there?

Reflexes honed by years' worth of living on the run were all that saved Kalen from an untimely shower of the contents of Ammi's stomach. Leaping to his feet with a series of expletives not-so-quietly uttered, he pressed his palms into his eyes as if his frantic and erratic movements could scrub away the sights that lingered in his mind's eye. But try as he might, he could not banish the images of the blonde-headed toddler from his mind--nor the pale monster that chased him into a wall of unforgiving flame. "What was that thing?" His voice came out in a half-yell, more demanding and accusatory than he intended, but carried on the wings of his own desperation. Beyond the fear that hammered chords into his heartstrings, he grappled against the memories, refusing to let a single thought drift to the little girl whose voice cried out for him still. A failed guardian, an impotent protector, a useless watchman, he had set that girl on her own path, and nothing he could do would make it right. But the more he tried not to think about it, the more he found his mind riddled with her presence, her face growing clearer in every step of his frenetic prowling. If he were being honest, Kalen also did not feel fully well. Ammi's touch had somehow ignited something in him that had lain dormant, an awareness he was better off without. A crawling he could not explain broke out across his skin, and viciously, he scratched at his forearms as though they had betrayed him somehow. Avoiding the memory of his sister left only the fearful vision to dwell on--but it was unfamiliar, as though he were watching a holovid play out. Revulsion warred against pity, and while the sight of Ammi doubled over in her own terror demanded that a gentleman should chivalrously comfort her, the queasy roiling of the pit of his own stomach kept Kalen at bay for the moment. Sucking in intentional breaths of Caridan night air, he stared at her, fiddling with the ring on his index finger. "What happened to you?" he asked, this time much more controlled, but lacking none of the walled-off distrust and rife with the stench of fear.

"I'm lucky in a lot of ways," he added quietly under his breath, but either she didn't hear him or else didn't have anything to say, and either explanation earned his gratitude. Her momentary swoon, punctuated by the helping hand she extended, earned a quirked eyebrow and a smirk from Kalen, but nevertheless he reached out to take it. "Precog? Honestly, you act like I was counting cards. As if that were possible to do in Corellian Gamb--" As his hand closed around hers, a violent tremor ran through his skin, and his mind disappeared into a sinkhole of memory. "Key! Key!" The toddler's hand clasped around his finger. Raised voices echoed from the other room. Throwing the towheaded child onto his hip in a swift motion, he staggered towards the rear bedroom, depositing the girl into her bed for her own safety. As if she were prescient in discerning Kalen's inevitable departure, the girl's face contorted into an immediate protest, and all his pleas for her to remain quiet came to nothing. An earsplitting wail rent the air, and he snatched the child up into his arms once more. Self-satisfaction crept onto her face as he toted her hurriedly out the other way. "You have to stay quiet," he scolded her uselessly. "It's not good to interrupt them when they're like this." But his words came too late. The shrill voices were growing nearer, even as he tried to duck out the rear of the estate. Relephon's high winds had picked up around the exterior of the manor house, and his mother's voice was being steadily overrun by the entitled demands of her elder sister. "He'll come to nothing, I promise you. The Cluster has never seen a Chume'da strong enough to rule," she was squealing brutally. Kalen tucked himself into a corner of the closet, the child contentedly sucking her thumb in his lap just as they broke into his room. "Terelda, you're being too hard on the boy. In case you've forgotten, he's not your son," his mother said with a flash of warning in her tone. A surge of momentary affection swelled in his heart, only to be batted aside and buried by her calloused following statement. "I didn't ask to have a male child first, you know." "Where is the brat?" the shrew demanded. The silhouette of his mother moved her shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. "He likes to be alone. Probably went off into the grounds and gardens." "Hmph," Terelda replied with a dissatisfied snort. "Smoke and mirrors, that's all he is. No real grit." The door hissed closed behind them as they disappeared in a rustle of spidersilk and cloud of perfume, and in the dark, Kalen could feel the tiny fingers of his baby sister tracing his jaw. "Key," she said quietly, her face soft and somber. His eyes snapped open, and he recoiled from Ammi with a look of accusatory horror. "What the kriff did you just do?" he demanded, a flop-sweat-inducing shiver rolling up and down his spine.

Often, Kalen had fielded this question, and every time, the answer stayed close to the chest. In truth, his expertise for sleight of hand when it came to cards and gambling was secondary to his expertise for flashy redirection of personal questions. Even Sapphire, who had gotten under his skin farther than just about anyone, was mostly in the dark when it came to his family and his early life. But as he rationalized it, Ammi was his job. If she was unstable, her career might be unstable. It was her vibrant energy, not this downed moodiness, that had attracted her substantial following. Even if it wrote good songs. A snort of a self-deprecating laugh punctuated his statement. "I hear all these stories about your family, and wonder why you're so desperate to find your birth parents. Even if they're the reason you're special, or 'Force-sensitive', or whatever. It would have been a dream to have a childhood even fractionally like yours." Staring out at the sea of lights, letting his eyes drift out of focus, he continued bitterly. "As a child, I was sent away to prepare for a career my parents chose for me before I was born. Not even a year later, my aunt tried to have me killed. I have a grand total of one family member remaining in the galaxy that I care about whatsoever, and the things I've done have made it so that there's a wall between us that won't ever come down. My family was cutthroat and distant." He grew quiet for another moment, drawing his finger along the cool surface of the ship, making patterns in the dust. "I don't know why you thought I might be some kind of empath or whatever. I'm not the one who barfed at the Memorial."

For a long time, he said nothing, wondering if it were worth his life to intrude on such a private moment. Between the two of them, the dynamic had not yet been reconciled, but the grief reflected along with the city lights in her ocean eyes would not let him retreat. Slowly, he lowered himself to sitting, settling in beside her on the roof of the odd vessel. Her bandmates had summoned him as soon as the starlet had made her reappearance at the Galactic GlobeTrotter, which was opportune, because his search through the city had proved fruitless. The girl reeked of some liquor too strong for the likes of her, if the way she held her sake was any indication, but it would be useless to scold her in such a condition. Not only that, but her song had so moved him that he found himself incapable of saying much at all. "Pass me that bottle, kid," he said quietly. Rich and still, though punctuated by the sounds of Caridan life all around them, the air itself seemed to have emotion, the very act of breathing causing him to imbibe the weight of Ammi's grief. Between the melancholy of her lyrics and the call he had received earlier in the day, his mind hearkened back to that which he would not wish to recall, pain that seemed somehow intensified and soothed by the balm of her melody. With a slow exhale, he rested his arms on his knees, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "You really do have a gift."

"Uh, no, you really don't need to do that," Kalen said nonchalantly, the background noise of his comlink suddenly dulled as though he had pressed its receiver into his jacket. Which, incidentally, was exactly what he had done. "Listen, you bucket of bolts, we need to triangulate the signal." A cough punctuated his statement. "I'm sorry, what were you saying? Oh, that's right, uh, Carida. No, if you're looking for a holiday, there are a lot of better places to go than this depressing hive of rusty bucketheads. Tell Emerald to go kriff herself. Talk to you later, doll, I gotta run, lots of... business... to attend to." The connection ended with a fragmentary click.

"Oh, Amethyst," he replied easily. "She's fine, she's fine. Coruscant was great, Alira or one of the Rodians should have sent you the preview by now." In the background, a brief scuffle of movement could be heard, followed by a muffled "You're with me!" He coughed. "What can I do for you, doll?"

"This is Lorell," Kalen's bright and smooth voice came over the comm, containing an unidentified note of dread.