The Uncanny Return of Memory Liles, The Fish could use a little color

[Memory Liles]

It was an ethereal experience, walking through the crisp-clean hallways of the station on Dolomar, the place Lelouche Villa had restationed her so many years ago. Nothing looked different—the usual frost clung to the windows above ground, the same light in the mess hall flickered every few minutes, and the same uniform garbed both herself and every other person she passed. She had different quarters, but Memory never lived long enough in any one spot for that to faze her. There were a lot of new faces, too—even though she didn’t personally know many people in the Confederation, she remembered each face she passed. An odd gift given to her by whatever power created the Universe.

She got a few glances as she walked down the hallways, standard-issue boots tapping softly against the tile. Not the She looks familiar kind of stares, but the same glances and raised eyebrows she’d gotten her entire military career. Theelin.

She didn’t mind them, of course. She kind of liked the looks. She was the only one on station who could get away with bright orange hair and oversized blue freckles trailing down one side of her face. She liked the ruffle feathers.

She breathed deeply, smiling to herself. No strain, no pain, no coughing or choking or itching. She hadn’t liked the idea or doctors tearing out her natural-born organs from the deepest cavities of her body. She’d resisted. I want a drug, she had said when Dr. Valoren revealed his ideas for a state-of-the-line cybernetic system, Not a robot controlling every breath I take.

But with the cybernetics, she felt more alive than she had before. She’d come back to the Confederation with a new lease on life. She felt healthy again. The system had taken some getting used to, but now she could run without weary, jump and laugh and spin without the need of an inhaler. True, she still needed prescription maintenance, but that was so much easier than how things had been. At 33 years of age, she felt like a kid again.

Her steps slowed as she reached her destination—the Grand Admiral’s office. She didn’t know this one personally, which made her a little nervous. But the Confederation had funded her cybernetics, so surely they found her of worth. After nearly three years of absence, she had come back. Now—if all went as planned, she’d be reinstated as Captain.


[SECERT TIME LAPSE AND NPC FUN]


Memory stepped out of the office, pressed her back to the wall, and slid down the hallway until she was an un-awkward distance from the door. She took a deep, unhindered breath. I did it, she thought with a smile. She wanted to scream it from the top of her lungs. Tomorrow, she was a soldier, with a fresh batch of corporals to train. Without a doubt, Memory knew the Confederation of Dolomar was where she was supposed to be.

Thank you God, she thought.

Standing tall, Memory walked away from the office, only to catch a glimpse of blonde hair. She immediately recognize Maris's backside, pulled from her memories three years ago. She didn't need to get a front-view to know it was her. A smile crept along her face. Even after the incident with Xira, she's still working here?

Sneaking as quietly as she could, Memory moved behind the woman and covered Maris's eyes with her hands.

"Guess who!"

[Maris Kala'myr]

Maris was doing what Maris did every day of the week and every week of the month and every month of the year. Her day to day duties were dull and unexciting. The monotony of it would have driven too many an aid to suicide. Scheduling meetings, smiling pretty for the dignitaries and ambassadors, and bending to the will of her superiors like a sycophantic servant at all hours of the day or night. She preformed her functions without complaint or resentment. This was her life and her continuing servitude to the Confederation of Dolomar was all that she could ask for.

Rarely did she perform her true purpose any longer. The last time she had been used to specification had been over a standard year ago. The will of her masters was not questioned even though her potential was wasting in subservient duties. She was an assassin without parallel pushing papers and pandering to crisp black uniforms with a smile.

If the droid possessed the capability to look upon the bright side of things and see a glass half full, she would have understood that her underutilisation by the Confederation brass allowed her more time to socialise. However, she hadn't done much of that recently. Her friends could be represented as a two bit binary and her relationship with one of them had encountered an unexpected setback.

Constance Bravil had regarded her differently and Maris struggled to compute what she had done wrong. She had theorised and ran samples on the probability that an aspect of the Wing Commander's professional duties were causing undue stress. All test cases returned null values. Investigations into her friends scheduling and duty roster showed no inconsistencies or discrepancies. Naturally the droid concluded that she was the problem and strove to correct the error before the deviation became significant.

The soft footfalls coming from the rear were registered by some background process running in parallel, but the system did not receive high priority. Not here or now. Spatial awareness protocols were given a much higher priority in the field and such an approach would have triggered a lethal response from the droid. But in the safe halls of the Confederation headquarters, Maris remained in a passive mode with limiters in place to prevent accidental death or dismemberment.

Visual sensors went black and interrupts flared through her cerebral processors. Tactile response from facial muscles registered a low pressure applied to the area around the eyes– external interference. Such actions would not be permitted in the field. With data-slate in one hand, Maris moved the other to her face and touched the hands covering her field of vision.

"Guess who!"

The vocal pattern was analysed and a 94.5631% match was found within her local memory cells. However the was an unexpected deviation within the sample that the droid could not account for. In other words, something sounded different. Even with that in mind, it had been a long time since Maris had registered Memory's voice. Two years, ten months, fourteen days, seven hours, forty three minutes, and eight seconds to be precise. For a creature whose clocks measured the passage of time in infinitesimally small increments, such a lapse was beyond an eon.
"Memory." She said instantly.

The droid made no effort to remove the hands covering her eyes or turn around and greet her old friend. She stood perfectly still and just waited for whatever would come next. An weighted graph spun out within her mind as she predicted outcomes and assigned values to the network of nodes.

[Memory Liles]

((I guess the blonde comment in my previous post doesn’t work, but oh well.))

Maris touched one of Memory’s hand with her own, much the way a grown woman would touch an old, favorite toy upon an unexpected visit home. Only a second came before she spoke.

“Memory,” came the soft, unstartled reply.

Memory paused for a moment, hands still over the woman’s eyes. “Wow. Uh… you’re good.” Definitely not the reaction she was expecting. She lowered her hands and stepped around Maris, saluting with a smile. “And I thought my memory was pristine! How are ya, Mar?” She lightly hit Maris’ upper arm with her fingertips. “How have you been? It feel like… forever, but only a day, you know? Like the hair, by the way.”

Maris had cropped her blonde hair short and dyed it a Confederate black—suitable for the cold tones of Dolomar. Did she always have bangs? But other than the hair, Maris looked entirely the same. Same wardrobe, same high cheek bones, same piercing blue eyes. No new wrinkles, no stray eyebrow hair, no change in stature or makeup or… anything.

It reminded Memory of how routine and monotonous life on a Confederate base could be; the unchanged halls, the starched uniforms, the ever-cold air and welcoming frost that coating the planet like icing on a cake. But that thought belonged to her suppressed artist, always seeking new colors and new shapes, not to the excited soldier itching to break out. Memory grinned, folding her arms.

“How have you been? Sorry I never kept in touch—life got kind of crazy on me.”

[Maris Kala'myr]

“Wow. Uh… you’re good.”

“And I thought my memory was pristine! How are ya, Mar? How have you been?”

She looked down as the light hit was registered. It was an odd thing when sentients did that and something that Maris did not fully understand. She read no aggression in the act and the force applied behind the blow was minimal to say the least. She understood that certain organics liked to reinforce verbal communication through physical contact. Then there were some that did not. The gamut was extensive and Maris found it easiest to adapt to the situation if she let the other define the limitations. Memory Liles liked to be touched.

“It feels like… forever, but only a day, you know? Like the hair, by the way.”

Her grin was ecstatic and it pulled at the corners of her lips like hooks embedded in her cheeks. She blinked blankly as Memory spoke, trying to process an object that felt like forever but only for a day. She assumed they were referring to a standard Dolomarian day, otherwise all scale and reference points were null. Even though she had no clue and every algorithm she ran to compute the value of such an inconceivable dataset came back negative, she smiled and nodded.
"Yes," Maris said with a bob of her head, "and thank you."
The droid touched her hair.
"I like yours, too." The complement was automatically returned.

“How have you been? Sorry I never kept in touch—life got kind of crazy on me.”

That was the third count of Memory asking how she was and Maris could only conclude that it was very important. The droid was quick to shake her head and dismiss any idea of assigning blame to the Captain for not maintaining contact throughout her absence. Maris was well aware of the situation surrounding Memory’s leave and couldn’t blame her diseased body

"I am fine." was all that Maris would volunteer on that subject. It wasn’t that she was being curt with her old friend. It was just the statement was the most efficient and accurate portrayal of her current state. She did not suffer illness or fatigue. She did not have good days or bad. A day was simply a measurement of time based on a solar cycle and what happened during that cycle had little impact upon her mood or condition.

"And there is no need to apologise to me." because after all she was just a droid and who would knowingly say they were sorry to a blinged out toaster?
"Besides. You are back now." Maris said somewhere between a question and a statement. She was aware of the circumstances concerning Captain Liles return and her shiny new lungs.

[Memory Liles]

Maris grinned wide as Memory talked, making Memory smile even more. It was nice to have warm reception, of course, though she had expected more of a “You’re back? You’re ALIVE?” reaction.

She touched her hair at the compliment, then replied, ”I like yours too.”

Memory laughed. “I don’t think my hairstyle’s changed since I joined the Confederation . . . wow, fourteen years ago.” The realization hit her like a rock. When was the last time she counted the years? Fourteen years in the military . . . that was more than most people—especially women—could claim. Many dropped out after their trial run or first signed years.

“Oh kriff,” she said, palm to forehead. “I’m thirty-two years old. Mar, I’m getting so old” she chuckled. “I’ll get wrinkles soon. You still look pristine and perfect, like always.”

”I am fine. And there is no need to apologize to me—besides, you are back now.”

Memory blinked, but her smile remained. “Wow, Mar. I didn’t know you were the forgiving type. I always had a hunch that deep down you were some super-ninja. Still working for—” Memory paused. She’d heard of Xira’s incident during her stay on Concord Dawn. She wondered how it had affected Maris. Were the two close? Would bringing it up now open old wounds?

“What are you up to, nowadays?” she amended. “And are you busy? I was thinking of grabbing a bite to eat—I only pray I don’t run into my old boss.” Thoughts of Lelouche Vill[ain] hadn’t crossed her mind for some time now, though Memory felt ready to deal with him, should she need to. After three years, however, she assumed the man had boosted rank and no longer had the time to oversee smaller folk like herself. The Grand Admiral hadn’t mentioned his name in reinstating, despite having her record right in front of him.

[Maris Kala'myr]

“I don’t think my hairstyle’s changed since I joined the Confederation . . . wow, fourteen years ago.”

"Yes. It is a good style." Maris replied with a bob of her head and a smile. She didn’t really like Memory’s hair, she didn’t really like hers. It was just decoration to her, a cranial topping that required constant upkeep and maintenance. It was a chore but one that Maris strove to maintain. Hair was important after all. This conversation proved it.

“Oh kriff, I’m thirty-two years old. Mar, I’m getting so old. I’ll get wrinkles soon. You still look pristine and perfect, like always.”

Maris watched with some surprise as Memory slapped herself in the head. Slowly but surely the droid’s head tilted to the left as she watched. Organics were strange at times and defied even the most basic logic.
"Thirty-two is not old, Mem. Statistically you are below the median and with modern medicine you can expect at least ninety more years with a deviation of seven years."
She smiled and blinked, hoping to reassure Memory of her longevity. Age was not something that Maris considered unlike the other sentients. Unlike them she had no shelf life and with regular maintenance could remain active indefinitely. It was an odd concept to consider one’s mortality and one that Maris was incapable of.

“Wow, Mar. I didn’t know you were the forgiving type. I always had a hunch that deep down you were some super-ninja. Still working for—”

She waited for Memory to continue but she didn’t. Maris smiled and shook her head. Flags were raised by that statement. It was too true to her designed purpose and algorithms began to compute how much Memory Liles knew. Her tone would indicate a passing joke, a lighthearted comment, and something that was not to be taken seriously. But it had been said and that had to stand for something. However the organics rambled on sometimes and said things that they did not mean. It was too confusing at times. Maris flushed the stacks and purged the processes before extensive computation was thrown at the problem that verged on NP.

Maris just smiled.
"My position requires patience, Mem." It was a simple answer and one that heuristic algorithms predicted would cover the gambit. "I am currently working for Grand Admiral Borinth. He has been quite busy as of late and does not require my services to the degree that his predecessor did."
She was speaking of course of Grand Admiral Stone. That woman had not been squeamish about using Maris.

“What are you up to, nowadays? And are you busy? I was thinking of grabbing a bite to eat—I only pray I don’t run into my old boss.”

"I do what I normally do." Maris replied with a wide smile. "I am not very busy."
Then the subject of food came up and Maris fell back on the true and trusted reply to such things.
"I am sorry. I’ve already eaten. But I would like to catch up." that was the phrase; she had heard others use it in such context. "And I would not be concerned with encountering High General Villa. He is currently on assignment off world."

[Memory Liles]

"Thirty-two is not old, Mem. Statistically you are below the median and with modern medicine you can expect at least ninety more years with a deviation of seven years."

Memory chuckled. She almost felt like she should apologize—Maris always had an optimistic—yet thoroughly logical—way of looking at things. “I am still spry,” she joked.

"I am currently working for Grand Admiral Borinth. He has been quite busy as of late and does not require my services to the degree that his predecessor did."

His predecessor. Odd way to refer to an old boss. Perhaps then mention of Grand Admiral Stone was painful for Maris. Memory decided not to pursue conversation on the deceased Confederate, just to be safe. “How does a Grand Admiral not have work for you?” she asked. “He must have a lot of other secretarial positions filled if he doesn’t need you. Gah, this station must be miserable when you’re not busy. Dolomar isn’t exactly the recreational gem of the galaxy, you know? I brought a checkerboard with me if you ever get desperate.”

"I am sorry. I’ve already eaten. But I would like to catch up."

“Splendid. Nothing better than chatting while other people watch you eat.” Memory said with a light air of sarcasm. Still, she lead the way down the hall, toward the cafeteria. Hopefully Diane was still employed here. The food was always decent when she manned the meat station.

"And I would not be concerned with encountering High General Villa. He is currently on assignment off world."

“Excellent,” Memory said. “I still have nightmares about him. But it doesn’t look like he’ll be my boss anymore.” She breathed in deeply, feeling the subtle workings of her cybernetic lungs. “I have plans, Maris. I could never achieve what I wanted to in the Confederation because I was always sick. Watching recruits younger than me become my superiors was the worst feeling I’ve ever had, really. But now I feel ready and capable. I’m going to work and show off as much as it takes to get myself where I should have been. I can feel it, Mar. This is the year of Memory Liles.”

[Maris Kala'myr]

“How does a Grand Admiral not have work for you? […] I brought a checkerboard with me if you ever get desperate.”

Maris smiled brightly and shook her head.
"Thank you for the offer, Memory, but I do not think that will be necessary. I stay occupied."
Besides, she was very good at such games and they weren’t fun. Although nothing for the droid could be considered as such. It could still be considered a method to bond with her friend and Maris nodded slowly.
"But if you would like to play sometime, I would enjoy that."

“Splendid. Nothing better than chatting while other people watch you eat.”

The sarcasm was lost on Maris and she nodded slowly. Up until now she had been under the misguided impression that watching someone eat was considered a social faux pas. She didn’t understand why. But for whatever reason Memory seemed to enjoy having others watch her masticate. Maris was pleased to oblige.

“Excellent, I still have nightmares about him. But it doesn’t look like he’ll be my boss anymore.”

That was an odd way to phase the statement and Maris frowned briefly, her head cocking to the side. She had never had a nightmare before, or a dream for that matter, but she understood the biological and psychological process behind it. What she couldn’t compute was why Memory would be having nightmares about her superior. The woman continued before Maris could raise her question.

“I have plans, Maris. […] I can feel it, Mar. This is the year of Memory Liles.”

"I am glad to hear that, Mem. It is good to have plans and I am glad that you are feeling better." Maris said, mostly pipelining the conversation to a data-store and returning to the previous statement that had caused the flag.
She watched the Theelin curiously and her light and jovial tone fell an octave into seriousness.
"Please tell me why you have nightmares of High General Villa."

[Memory Liles]

"But if you would like to play sometime, I would enjoy that."
“Great,” Memory said as she walked. One friend solidified. Rather, re-solidified. It was hard to find decent people in the Confederation who weren’t all-work or had their head wedge up their kriffer. Or both. Most were both.

As a side note, she added, “They have these holographic ones on Coruscant—saw it on the holonet. They pieces are holographic and they float in front of you, eye-level, even if you’re moving around. Crazy. Haven’t had the chance to try it out, though.”

"Please tell me why you have nightmares of High General Villa."

Memory laughed at the statement as the two turned into the cafeteria. It wasn’t very crowded, as the normal lunch hour had come and gone. Memory grabbed a tray and headed to the serving platters, still the same as when she left. She hoped they had tater tots.

“Uh, I don’t know,” she answered, attention on the food. “It’s kind of just something you say, you know? No need to be so formal, Maris—not like I can fire you or anything. What the kriff is that?”

Memory looked at a strange, honey-yellow and brown dish steaming in front of her. A serving woman—one Memory didn’t recognize, but whom she would ow recognize probably for the rest of her life—frowned at her. “It’s gizka roast. Don’t want it, don’t eat it.”

Memory made a face. “You can eat those? Man, Dolomar must be getting desperate—Tots!”

She slid her tray down to a tray of tater tots, strange fried roots that were overly salted and amazing. “I haven’t had these forever, Mar,” she said to her companion. “On Concord Dawn I had a such a strict diet. Not even chocolate.” She loaded her plate with tater tots, though chose healthy foods to supplement them—beans, a small salad, and a rice dish. Memory led the way to an empty table, made to seat four.

“So,” she said, popping a tot into her mouth. “What else is new? Anyone I should look out for, secret political leaks, attractive recruits?”

[Maris Kala'myr]

“They have these holographic ones on Coruscant—saw it on the holonet. They pieces are holographic and they float in front of you, eye-level, even if you’re moving around. Crazy. Haven’t had the chance to try it out, though.”

"Yes." was all Maris said to that. However, she didn’t consider it crazy. The technology behind it was well understood and established. The droid just smiled and nodded.

“Uh, I don’t know. It’s kind of just something you say, you know? No need to be so formal, Maris—not like I can fire you or anything. What the kriff is that?”

She nodded again, taking the phrasing as ‘just something you say’ and not something darker or more sinister. Villa was on her radar and it would have been considerably unfortunate for the High General if Maris found other assaults on Confederate personnel to add to the already damning list. Maris turned sharply and examined the thing that had drawn her friend’s interest.

“It’s gizka roast. Don’t want it, don’t eat it.”

Daniel had a gizka named Eloise. It had been close to two years since Maris had seen Daniel and Eloise. The man had just fallen off the grid. Maris wondered for his wellbeing but given the crime rate and various statistics, he was probably dead. His talents made such a thing regrettable. But the potential loss didn’t register on any emotional scale.

“You can eat those? Man, Dolomar must be getting desperate—Tots!”

"Yes. They are high in protein and the gestation period ensures an ample and maintainable food supply for the Confederation." Maris replied, not understanding why Memory seemed so disgusted with the prospect of eating gizka. It was sustenance, nothing more, nothing less.

“So, what else is new? Anyone I should look out for, secret political leaks, attractive recruits?”

"Information regarding the illegal dissemination of political documents is classified and infringements are punishable by the death penalty." This thread of conversation outweighed everything else and Maris was concerned to her friend asking for such information. Did this conversation need to be reported to Intelligence? Maris didn’t think so, not yet anyways. But Maris was on alert now.

[Memory Liles]

"Yes. They are high in protein and the gestation period ensures an ample and maintainable food supply for the Confederation."

Memory raised an orange eyebrow at Maris’s statement. “Yeah, that makes it a lot more appetizing. Man, what newspaper are you reading? Who knows that kind of stuff?” Maris always had a stiff way of talking, but Memory—even with her immaculate memory—didn’t remember it being this bad.

"Information regarding the illegal dissemination of political documents is classified and infringements are punishable by the death penalty."

Memory paused, tot half way to lips, staring at Maris across the table. She hesitated, then lowered her food and asked, “Are you okay? You seem really . . . uptight, no offense. Granted I haven’t been around for three years; I’m out of the loop.” Maybe this was just the consequence of distance and lack of communication. Memory had little choice, but that didn’t affect the intergalactic strain that easily sprouted between one person and another. This conversation, oddly enough, reminded Memory of her parents.

She pushed that particular thought aside.

“Sorry,” she apologized, leaning an elbow on the tabletop. “It’s probably just me. I forget to watch myself, even in the Confederation. It’s hard to be a tease around here.” Still, she’d always been like this with Maris—she never felt awkward about it before. But, perhaps her memory wasn’t as sharp as she thought.

She ate her tot for no other reason than to give her and her mouth something to do. She suddenly felt trapped in some sort of funk, the way one feels when their dreams are nothing spectacular, hardly different from the world as it was. Like she had been caught on some sort of dimension between her old life in the Army and the way station her life had braked at for three years.

She felt like a private.

[Maris Kala'myr]

“Are you okay? You seem really . . . uptight, no offense. Granted I haven’t been around for three years; I’m out of the loop.”

Something was wrong. She was doing something wrong. Maris cocked her head to the left and watched Memory curiously. She had thought everything had been going fine, but the reaction she was garnering from Memory denoted something else entirely. The captain was uneasy with her. Was she being uptight? With a smile on her lips, subroutines spooled on redundant cerebral processors as checklists were executed to determine her state. A quick surface sweep of registers and memory locations revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Maris was operating within predefined parameters and hadn't deviated from set social norms.

Even with her state of mind verified, it still left Memory looking concerned. Maris continued to smile and predicted with a roughly even ratio that doing that would remedy the situation. Perhaps verbal reassurance was necessary.
"Yes, Memory. I am fine." Maris replied to Mem and her countenance took on an worried expression that almost mirrored the one the Captain was giving her. Just as Maris was preparing to speak again, about to ask her friend if everything was alright, Memory raised her voice.

“Sorry. It’s probably just me. I forget to watch myself, even in the Confederation. It’s hard to be a tease around here.”

A tease; to tease, also sometimes referred to as joking around. Had Memory made an attempt at humour that had gone unnoticed by the droid? Was that at the root of the Theelin's worry? Maris had detected no such attempts, however humour had always been a difficult concept from the artificial life form to grasp. It was too late to laugh now and so Maris just smiled comfortingly but the grin was a little too wide.
"You do not need to apologise to me, Memory. I am your friend." Maris reminded softly, "If you feel that you are out of the loop, as you say, I could have arranged a file of recent events so that you can acclimatise yourself with the current military standards and socio-political proceedings."

Maris truly wished to help, but she was unsure of what she could do or what she had done wrong to trigger such dismay in Captain Liles. It was a possibility that she would never understand what she had done wrong.

[Memory Liles]

Maris looked worried when Memory began to speak—a look that reminded Memory of the night she’d left the Ice Tap, sick and half-delirious, hardly capable of minding herself. It seemed things had gotten a lot worse after that night, as though the world was offering her one more taste of social entertainment before it literally took her breath away.

What the Kriff, Mem? she thought to herself. Since when did you get so nostalgic? Could merely returning to the base she’d once called home be so capable of of tugging and tormenting her emotions? For not the first time in her life, Memory wish she could merely forget. That’s what normal people did, right? Forget the things they didn’t want to remember?

Not like they gave you a cybernetic brain, she thought sarcastically to herself.

"You do not need to apologise to me, Memory. I am your friend. If you feel that you are out of the loop, as you say, I could have arranged a file of recent events so that you can acclimatise yourself with the current military standards and socio-political proceedings."

Memory laughed, wondering how Maris managed to keep a straight face when she said such things. Almost as much as her author wondered if Nick had always used British-English spelling, or if that was something he’d taken up recently. “Maybe I should acclimatize myself, eh? If you get bored, fill out the report for me. I’m sure I’ll find it drastically entertaining.”

Done eating, Memory checked her watched. “I guess I might as well unpack. Better than roaming around like a lost sheep. Maybe I’ll swing by the training room later and see how horrifically out of shape I am. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”