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resisted that temptation.

Nirama: Hello. I am pleased to be back on "Eye on Cularin."

He puts a little more emphasis on "eye" than he probably should. Then,
for emphasis, he blinks his top eyes, followed by his bottom eyes. It doesn't
seem to faze Yara in the least.

Yara: Actually, I don't do that show any more. That's Ryk's, now.

Nirama: Is he not dead yet?

Yara: Not to my knowledge.

Nirama: A shame. Although Nirama must admit, it would be hard to tell. If
death is the absence of brain activity, one might speculate that your
replacement has been dead for some time.

Yara: True enough. So tell me, Nir. What is it you wanted to discuss?

Nirama: You may call me Nirama. Did we not discuss this before?

Yara: Yeah, but Lan told me that I ought to be more comfortable in my
skin when I'm doing interviews. So I'm not going to put on airs. I'll just
call people by their nicknames, because hey - - that's who Yara is!

Nirama: My nickname is not "Nir." I am called Nirama. And who is Lan, a
producer?

Yara: Beg to differ, Nir. I gave you the nickname in that first
interview. Believe you me, I saw it replayed enough that I couldn't possibly
forget! As to who Lan is - - well, he's no less than the headmaster of the
Jedi Academy. I thought you knew him.

Nirama: Fine. What you call me is of no import. I am here because I wish
to speak of my people.

Yara: The smugglers, you mean?

Nirama frowns, the wrinkles in his face deepening. He shakes his head,
slowly, and rolls his top set of eyes.

Nirama: My people. My species. The Oblee. Long have they been removed
from the galaxy, and now have some of them returned. It is
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