Vivienne left Nayavi Dravak’s residence a little dissatisfied, and it wasn’t hard to put her finger on why exactly that was. Yes, she had gotten some good information and certainly enough to write the article she had been commissioned to write. She even ventured to hope that Dravak no longer hated her guts and planned to have her assassinated in her sleep. However, she couldn’t deny that she had strayed further from the path of being a true journalist than ever before. She had a sinking feeling that the article stemming from this interview would, at best, serve as a piece of glorified propaganda.

And, while she didn’t have any proof, Vivienne couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that there was so much more to the story than Dravak was disclosing. 

What that was? She had no idea. But this wasn’t the first time Vivienne had unintentionally stumbled upon a potentially major story. Just like drama had a way of finding her, she had a way of finding incongruities in stories and interviews, and somehow knew what questions to ask and into what direction to move the conversation to get to the more interesting bits and pieces. Which was certainly a good skill to have for an aspiring journalist, but more often than not, Vivienne opted to not to pursue the stories further. Her reasons varied, often driven by a fear of taking unnecessary risks (riskier risks than she was taking anyway) or by the visible discomfort of the person she was interviewing. Which was not a good skill for an aspiring journalist.The last time this had happened, she had made the foolish mistake of confiding in Jimmy Christopher, a fellow journalist whom she had once considered a friend. He had taken the information she had provided, turned it into a headline story, and claimed it as his own. Vivienne hated Jimmy. Jimmy was a jerk. Outside Dravak’s residence, Vivienne released a long pent-up sigh and drew her coat more tightly around her. Just like upon her arrival, the path ahead was illuminated by a series of artificial lights that cast an eerie, bluish glow over the otherwise impenetrable inky veil that shrouded her surroundings in darkness. As she ventured down the path, her footfalls and the faint hum of the lighting were the only sources of noise that cut through the silence, making each step sound heavy and unnatural. 

The barrier that marked the beginning of the telepathic field wasn’t far from here, but barely visible in the absence of natural light. Beyond that first barrier, so Vivienne knew, lay the nicknamed the “neutral zone” – an area where telepathic wavelengths could already be measured, but were not yet fatally damaging to non-telepathic minds. It was still ill-advised to enter it.  

A part of Vivienne felt a burning curiosity about the world hidden behind the barrier. She could easily envision herself wandering off to explore its secrets. To catch a glimpse of a dense, and almost mystical-looking forest, where trees stood tall and ancient, their canopy appearing endless, stretching far beyond her line of sight. Which was a nice thing to imagine, but not awfully realistic when one remembered that the flora on Quor’kathar consisted largely of mushrooms. It made the idea a little less appealing. So did the potential for brain damage. Then again, it wasn’t just the potential for neural decay that deterred her. The little research that had been done in the area reported unnamed predators that likely roamed that untamed territory, and Vivienne was not at all interested in meeting them. 

She could already picture the headlines: “Journalist Becomes Meal for Unidentified Wild Creature.” That was one way to secure a front-page story for her news outlet, but Vivienne decided it wasn’t how she was going to achieve that. 

Instead, she made her way to the transporter pad that was conveniently located at the major’s residence, and in a matter of moments, she materialised at the outskirts of the settlement.  From there, a short walk brought her back to the shuttle that had initially transported her to Quor’larith in the first place.It was not only convenient but a nice change of pace to have things in literal “walking distance”. Vivienne mused that it certainly was worth some form of pride or even advertisement, , until she reminded herself that Quor’larith’s modest size and insignificance within the sector rendered public transportation unnecessary. A medium-sized shuttle once a day was more than sufficient to handle the minimal incoming and outgoing traffic.

She extended a friendly “Hello” to the somewhat agitated young man who appeared to be tasked with what might have been one of the least exciting jobs in the galaxy. Despite her cordiality, the young man did not return her greeting, which Vivienne found rather impolite. Instead, he motioned towards a chrono, indicating that he was on break, and that it would be another few hours until the shuttle left. 

Vivienne passed the time by checking her padd for incoming messages, and by letting her editor know that things had “gone well”. She made an effort to strike up a conversation with her fellow passengers – two businessmen, and a young couple who were so nervous that Vivienne decided they were either typing to elope, or fleeing a crime scene. Unfortunately, neither of them seemed particularly interested in engaging in conversation with her.

Eventually Quor’kathar receded into the distance, growing smaller and smaller, as the shuttle made its way toward Starbase 86, which was a welcome change for either of the travellers. Starbase 86 couldn’t be more different to Quor’kathar. Vivienne was well-acquainted with the Aurora class starbase, and would have enjoyed spending some time there, But there was work to be done.That, and the fact that her “connecting flight” was scheduled to depart soon, and she didn’t want to test the patience of the captain. Then again, if there was anyone who could push the limits, it was probably her. She had a knack for toeing the line, especially when it came to family.