Preliminaries (series) 003

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.03

“Is there anything else I can bring you two?” their peppy waitress asked as she bounced in place.

Nalia Inez looked over at the man who asked her out to that small restaurant.  When he didn’t answer, she furrowed her brow for a second, before offering a smile to the girl, no older than nineteen.  “No, thank you,” she said.  “We’ll wave for you if we need anything.”

“You got it!”

The waitress spirited off, leaving Nalia to look at Dennick Sharpe with scrutinizing eyes.  “Are you naturally that rude?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” Dennick replied passively, not at all apologetic.  He had yet to touch his food, looking more than ready to dive right in to the real reason he dragged Nalia out of her hotel room with no warning.  She sighed and waved her fork-holding hand at him and he didn’t skip a beat.  He leaned in, fingers of his hands lacing together in front of his face.  “You really need to get out of here first chance you get.”

“First of all, why?” Nalia asked, staring at him as though he was crazy.  He was an attractive human, but that was easy to get past when one was wondering what sort of insanity was buzzing around those bold blue eyes of his.  “Second of all, you know why I’m here, right?”

“It really doesn’t matter,” Dennick said with a careless laugh behind it.  “There’s a reason I carded you the way I did.  Now repay me by getting the hell out of Desai.”

“Why—“

“Mama Naty Quilla,” Dennick interrupted.

Nalia had been holding her dinner’s fork right up until that moment.  It slipped from her hand and made the very short drop to her plate.  She opened her mouth to speak, but words didn’t come to her.  How did he know that name?  That wasn’t her name.  That was her grandmother.  Mama Naty Quilla was a very important woman to her, and to the people of Afiramen, but she lost her mind many years before Nalia was ever thought of.  More importantly, what did she have to do with anything?

Dennick moved to sit back in his seat.  “MDEA has no conflict with your home,” he said quietly.  “And we don’t want one.  Afiramen’s been a very strong ally of ours for years.”

“It has?” Nalia asked, her olive skin actually turning pale.  He knew so much.  “I don’t…”

“I know,” Dennick said.  He held up a hand casually, to silently tell Nalia to stay calm.  “However, there are people here that, if they find out you’re here, will want to get their hands on you.  And I know who you are, and what your people will have to say about it.”

“They’ll have a hell of a time getting me,” Nalia replied, narrowing her eyes.  “Are you going to explain any further?  Does this have to do with Red?”

“Nothing to do with Red,” Dennick confirmed, at least.  “Because you live with two identities, that prevents MDEA from protecting you directly.  It’s policy to honor this sort of identity concealment.  But you need to go, because these people know how to deal with someone like you.”

“I didn’t realize we were logged in your systems…” Nalia said, sounding tentative.  When someone walked past, headed for the restrooms, Nalia coughed lightly into her hand and went to start eating.  She hunched over the plate though.  “What does this have to do with Mama Naty Quilla?”

“She never told you?” Dennick asked, lifting an eyebrow.  At that point, he followed suit, scooching to the end of his seat to start eating.

“Obviously not,” Nalia bit, annoyed.  The annoyance passed quickly enough and her eyes went to the plate of vegetables before her.  “She didn’t speak,” she continued quietly.  “Ever.  No one knew why.  We knew she went missing… a long time ago, shortly after my mother was born.  But when she came back, she never said a word again.”

Dennick watched Nalia, tapping the end of his fork against his plate.  After some time mulling over something in that confusing head of his, he set it down and reached into his coat.  He produced a pen, colored pink, which baffled Nalia further.  When he set it against a napkin to write, even the ink came out pink.  Dennick Sharpe hardly seemed like the sort to have a pink… anything, really.  Fortunately for him, Nalia had manners and she said nothing about it.

“I want you to listen to me carefully,” he started, voice low.  “The name I’m writing, you need to find him.  He’s very hard to pin down, but he’s in town somewhere in Center-City.  Do not speak to anyone with the same last name.  Only him.  If you can bring in a friend who knows your other half to search on your behalf, that will be safer.”  He pushed the napkin over to Nalia, his other hand tucking the pen back where it belonged.  “Ask him.  He’ll have your answers.”

Nalia slowly went to drag the napkin to her side completely, and then fold it for her purse.  She didn’t look at the name just yet, her eyes fixed on Dennick’s.  “Why are you doing all of this?”

“I’m not,” Dennick replied.

The look he gave Nalia next said a lot more than his words.  The insinuation written across his face was that of a man doing what he wasn’t necessarily supposed to be doing.  It was that of a man who needed to never be acknowledged for the information she was receiving.  Nalia read it, loud and clear, and nodded her head.  As long as Dennick proved he wasn’t leading her on a wild goose chase, she was fine by that silent direction.

“Right.  So, how’s your dinner?”

***

After getting the bizarre bits out of the way, the dinner was… nice.  Dennick was an interestingly manly man, Nalia noted.  Cars, guns, sports.  He was actually pretty charming in a fractured-around-the-edges sort of way.  She learned he was part of the First Contact Branch of MDEA, which she had read about when studying about the city years ago.  The FCB was responsible for initial negotiations with different worlds, often doing their best to engage the people and learn their ways to make negotiations as respectful as possible between them and Desai.

So, of course Dennick Sharpe would be charming in a unique way.  He’d have to be for the kind of job he was used to.  Nalia suspected that there was a whole lot more to his story than just that, however.  She didn’t pry, because that would have been awkward, but no person ended up that volatile (she could see it) without there being something more to their lives.  He had the demeanor of a veteran soldier rather than a government employee whose job it was to talk a lot.

Regardless of all her suspicions and guesses, their night was nice and uneventful for the hour they were out eating.  She still didn’t bother with the napkin until she returned to her hotel room.  She locked the room tight and went to sit on her bed to dig it out for review.

Written in a handwriting that was legible but very clearly from the hand of a chaotic man, the name ‘Macrae DeCleric’ was scrawled.  The name was completely unfamiliar to her.  When she factored in what Red said to her, and what Dennick was saying, Nalia’s gut told her to listen.  That included getting a friend out from her homeworld to find the man.  Fortunately, she knew just the person.