So there you have it. The first year of my partnership with Vhetin. The ups and downs and the fleeting moments in between. I'm not asking you to like what you've learned. I'm not even asking you to believe it. The truth is that I really just don't give a shab any more.
I once said that I didn't want to become cold and cynical like Vhetin. I still don't. I'm determined to show that I can rise above all the darkness, to prove to myself and those around me that I am strong enough to live like this.
I have a recurring nightmare, where I find myself encased from head to toe in battle armor that simultaneously protects and smothers me. I thrash about and scream, but I can't move. I just wait there, waiting for my armor to smother me to death. And then I see my reflection in the mirror and I see that it's Vhetin's armor that I'm wearing.
It doesn't take an expert psychologist to understand the dream: if I follow Cin's example, if I push away everyone I care about, it'll destroy me. Just like it destroyed him.
That's why I'm taking control now. I'm doing things my way. And no matter what people say, I will not believe that Vhetin is dead. He's out there somewhere, probably held captive by these Whiteclaw scientists, but he is alive.
In the end all that matters is this: I won't believe he's dead, I won't stop looking for him, and I won't give up hope. I will keep searching. I will find him. And when I do, I will rescue him. Like he rescued me, what seems like a lifetime ago, at BlueSend Prison on Corulag.
Ret'urcye mhi. Those were the last words he said to me. Do you know what it means? It's a common Mando farewell: "Maybe we'll meet again."
My name is Jayshiea Elmerie Naer-Kolta. I am a bounty hunter. And I won't stop hunting until I prove just how fitting that farewell was. We will meet again. You just wait, and I'll show you.
Oya.
To be continued...