Apollo Kid

[Khaowan Tarbrea]

Apollo Kid

The air was chill, and discomforting.

Everyday in the dark shades of the Imperial Palace beacon nightmares, but Khaowan was one of the few the sleep could not conquer. The moon stood high above, looming as doom echoed through the halls. So many had lost themselves amongst the confusing hallways, labs, and corridors, but that was life as an offical. The new faces were easily spotted amongst the bunch with their confused expressions, and aimless steps. Veterans marched with purpose, and turned corners with objectives that were made clear with the sterness of jaws.

So, Khaowan was patient. He was waiting for one of the new faces. Perched in his seat, he let his fingers beat against the chair's arm as he repeated a rhythm heard in the lifts earlier. The tune was calm, soothing, and in the idleness of the night he found it heart-warming. Adorn in his Imperial uniform, he watched the door with expert scrutiny.

Intelligence had been branded with observant eyes, stylized to a pinpoint that could not be refuted. The office was alive, despite his wait in the dead of the night. Behind him chirped the computer, as the clock hummed at his side as the requested offical was running late. Every sense Khaowan had was alert, and aware.

All the sounds that etched a space in his memory were not denied. The beat of his fingers, the dimly lit ceiling light the bore shadows, and even the comforting feel of his dewback leather chair were not lost in his senses amidst the mess called his workplace. Informal as his setting was, the chair held a strong, standard of an Imperial agent. The very movement of his neck seemed practiced, as he glanced off to find the time. A grin parted his thin lips, crinkling his Zabrak tattoos.

"He should be here right about..."

[Lamar Starworth]

The door sled open.

"...Now"

The words echoed through the dull room. Papers and scraps were mangled in heaps to the side. Before a good thought claimed from my spine to my head, I could feel the crinkle of files under my feet. Years had seemed to pass since my entrance to the Palace and destination. Walls had confronted me with dead-ends, and walks into meetings left me more than embarassed, as well as tired. Although nobody can see themselves, I was sure the stress and frustration were on my face.

Habit spotted my hands in my pocket. A nonchalance was necessary to brush off the annoyance that had been my journey to this man's room. Truth be told, he wasn't a man...in the traditional sense. Few were like him in the Empire.

A disgust settled in the very code of Imperial conduct had created an unsightly bigotry to such people as this man, yet he was here...in the palace...in Imperial uniform. All I could do was give a smile to commend him on his accomplishment. I had never met another like him. Zabraks weren't accustom to the Empire and their...behavior.

Personally, I like Zabraks. Those spikes on their heads are pretty cool.

So, before I spoke, I grinned. The report had spoken of his esteem, and position. Khaowan Tarbrea was involved in a number of operations. A studious man, he participated in Imperial Intelligence assignments and bureau. Albeit of the Internal Organization Bureau, he had held status before me and deserved my full attention.

A lot had to be reserved. Even the slightest misstep could trigger a psychoatric reaction. Intelligence was a division of people with keen minds, and sharp tongues. They weren't to be taken lightly, and I knew that first hand.

For the most part, I was re-trained to be much like him...much like a Khaowan.

He spoke, I listened.

He had something important to say, and I wanted to hear it.