Episode 2 Part 2 - Racing to the End
The room is dark and the air is heavy. I barely remember to breathe as I sit and wait. I would rather be elsewhere anywhere else doing anything else but sitting here and waiting. But I have to. It is required of me to be here, whether I like it or not, and even if I were to refuse I doubt I would. I have been there to witness every progression in Nihilus' journey for twenty years just as much as he has been there to train me. Is it to stay in the loop? To pay respects to the dead? To the living? Or perhaps I'm just here for morbid curiosity. I wouldn't put it past me to be masochist about this.
Who doesn't like a bit of self-torture and pent-up frustration in the morning? I think that is why they invented morning people.
Ahsoka squeezes my hand gently. 'Breathe, Love.'
I close my eyes and grunt. I lean back and try to relax, but the sight of the execution chamber in front of me is unsettling. I have killed so many in my life that, at times, it has felt like I was just watching a holovid from a small theatre while my body did all the work by instinct. Adrenaline and strong lethal instinct can do that. Now I feel I am back in a theatre about to watch someone die only now in a literal and physical sense.
It's very unsettling.
'I hate this.'
'I can't say I'm much a fan of this either.' Ahsoka looks over to see another Admiral enter.
The fleet being gathered has continued to grow in size exponentially. Mandalore really is pulling all the stops on this. The Clone Wars bankrupted the Republic and USA, before they both diverted their debt to the Dominion and Old Republic for starting it, because it was a large scale war that lasted years. Mandalore doesn t look like he wants a war that lasts years, but days. No way this fleet can be funded for too long and its still gathering. Just where is he pulling it all from?
Koj and Squirt arrived last night with a small fleet and are resting. Koj still had a fair bit of the rebel alliance loyal to him and willing to follow him into this war despite him turning over the majority of the territory to the united systems alliance. I don't know what he is thinking joining the Mandalorian fleet after backstabbing them, but they came to some kind of deal or whatnot I don't know. I'm not a politician. Maybe this kind of bullcrap is a daily thing for them.
But judging from the rising tension among the soldiers of the fleet and the officers, we are getting close. There are whispers of the final fleet coming in.
Then we can begin.
Almost on queue, Mandalore enters along with a few of his clan leaders. The door shuts, and the lights go out leaving us in total darkness. The light from the execution chamber does not extend far.
Mandalore stands in front of us all and says, "What you are about to witness is not to leave this room. So far as the galaxy is concerned, there was an execution. Nothing more. Anyone who may be of a weak will or stomach, leave now." No one moves. After a moment the door behind the execution chamber opens and a man enters wearing a tightly-wound vest and surrounded in soldiers. He is strapped to the chair. The soldiers leave.
"The criminal is named Billy Milligan. He is guilty of hundreds accounts of murder and necrophilia. His particular methodology earned him the high-profile name 'Dollmaker'. Because he would pour preservatives down the girl's throats until they choked to death, and he would bathe them in the same solution, until they were basically well, dolls. Before he would dress them up on display or have his way with them. He has been scheduled for execution these coming months, but a fortuitous opportunity has presented itself. As you have all been individually briefed, Darth Nihilus has offered his services in the war. I intend to take advantage of him. In return, he needs a body to inhabit to be of the most use. As such: Nihilus will execute him and take his body."
After nobody said nothing, Mandalore hits a button and says, "You may now begin."
The door opens to reveal the bloated, green, rotting body Nihilus possesses standing in front of it. Nihilus holds his mask in his hand and after entering the room, places it on a table to the side of the room. Tree-Hugger enters in after him and stands in the corner of the room.
Nihilus places his hands behind his back and walks around the man in the chair. He inspects the man. In turn the prisoner watches him back, and is highly disturbed by the sight of him. Most everyone in the room here seems disturbed as well. I'm used to the sight of the rot Nihilus can bring to a body, yet still be used without pain or attention to injury until it is literally falling apart. Other people not so much. Depriving him of oxygen in a vacuum for so long really did wonders for his looks.
Nihilus finishes one full, slow circle around the execution chair before looking up at the one-way glass. "He is satisfactory."
I clench my fists.
Nihilus stands directly in front of the prisoner and sits on his heels. He looks at the prisoner for a long moment. I'm used to the idea of him sitting there like that for hours, but our employer would get impatient, and I think Nihilus is aware of that as he immediately starts talking.
"You were probably expecting your executioner to be an anonymous man in a black mask. With features like mine, you probably prefer a mask anyway. None of the less I see no reason for it. I am not scared of your so called retribution from the grave or any witnesses holding this against me. The former is an impossibility and in regards to the latter they already hate me, so the point is moot. My name is Nihilus. Would you like to know why I got the name?"
The prisoner leans as far back in terror as he can, now knowing who his executioner is. He seems more interested in running than knowing why Nihilus is named such.
I, however, find myself curious. I have never known why Nitheal changed his name to Nihilus. I always just assumed it was a way of showing transcendence. To say his former life is passed and he is a new creature. He's never told me, directly or in his journals, and I've never asked.
"The word 'Nihilus' is a derivative of the word Nihilist, which is a man that believes in the philosophy of Nihilism. It is the belief that life has no intrinsic meaning or value, that a single person, or even all people as a whole, are insignificant, without purpose, and unlikely to change in the totality of existence. In short, it is the rejection of all religious and moral principles, in the belief that life is meaningless."
Nihilus punctuated the final word by reaching behind his head and stabbing his fingers into the back of his neck. Blood trailed down his fingers and back. He inserted his fingers deeper until they were up to the knuckle in flesh. Slowly he pulled his own throat apart like one would peel open a fruit, and he did not stop there even as blood sprayed out all over. He ripped his body apart to the shoulders before grabbing his own skull and, after briefly cracking it with a squeeze, peeled it open just as well.
All this time the prisoner is screaming in horror, Tree-Hugger looks like he is going to vomit, Ahsoka puts her head in her hands to avoid the sight, and more than half the room has exclaimed profanities from utter shock. Including her.
I'm pretty sure I'm the only one in the room who watches this without flinching.
Nihilus rises from the body like a man climbing from a tight cloak. He grabs the prisoner by the head, and swallows his face. The prisoner screams even louder than before and frantically tries to shake himself free, but the damage has already been done. Nihilus, like a mist, enters into him through his mouth, nostriles, and eyes until all of him is inside and all at once the man stops moving or shaking. He blinks slowly, closes his mouth, and looks at us. His face impassive. "It is done."
Several of the people in the room, including Ahsoka, all but flee from the room to get some air or find somewhere to vomit. I sit here for another minute staring at Nihilus in disdain before I follow after her to make sure she is alright. This is the first time she would have seen him do this no one ever is.
A dark dark part of me takes pleasure that they have had a taste of what i have endured... the horrors. But all of me feels the pain amew. Not on my own behalf, but because Ahsoka has tasted the horrors that fill me. It is a contradictory and horrible thing to take perverse pleasure in being understood yet agony that she endures that which no one should have to.
The darker side of me disappears entirely on hearing her grab the nearest hall-way trashbin and throwing up into it. I grimace in guilt. Feeling the need to comfort her, I take holds of her head-tendrils and pull them out of her face while massaging them.
"I've I've never " She mutters, barely able to comprehend the horror of what she had witnessed. "I've seen men die. I've I've killed before in war. I've witnessed all kinds of death!"
"I know." I say. Its not something we bring up often, but she had been a soldier in war and endured a darkness just like I did. It was of a different nature, but war is still nothing to scoff at. We could sit and argue on who had it worse in terms of trauma, but its not a competition. We both have endured some horrible stuff.
"But I have never !" She gulps and pauses, as if wondering if she even wants to say and acknowledge what she witnessed. "I've never seen a person tear himself apart like like fruit!"
"So no oranges for a while? Or bananas?" I smirk, trying to make light of this. She responds by dry heaving again. Perhaps its best to just let her be.
She shakes her head. "I don't think I can handle anything for a while."
Nihilus inspected his new face in the mirror from side to side. The host was young and were he vain he might even consider himself handsome. He saw higher value in the youth and well-built vessel that it was. "This one put time in prison into working out." He observed.
"Hm " Skywalker grunted.
He heard the door open behind him followed by the easy to discern march of soldiers. Not just any soldier, but an officer, judging from the sound of the prideful march. And not just any officer, but Mandalore. No one else had armor that heavy or metalic.
Nihilus allowed himself to look. He smirked as he was right. "Canderous Ordo. I am glad we could come to an agreement."
Mandalore motioned to a box another two soldiers were bringing in. "This will be your armor. You will wear it every day."
"Understood." Nihilus agreed. It made no difference to him. Claustrophobia or discomfort was a concept he left to mortals.
Nihilus continued to look in the mirror at himself and looked for something that would be inconvenient. It was good he wasn't in a woman, he would have had to remove a substantial amount of flesh. As it was he was already tempted to remove his manhood. He didn't care to have a useless fifth limb waving around. Or long hair.
He picked up his lightsaber and got to work.
With his body adequately adapted to his desires, he turned to see Mandalore had left. Skywalker was arranging their joint-room in a way that suited the Jedi's wishes. Nihilus cared little either way.
"Your bunk. My bunk." Skywalker stated flatly, pointing to their respective beds. Nihilus nodded.
"Your recorder." Skywalker tossed to him a little device. Nihilus caught it and inspected it. It a simple device with a microphone, sterio broadcast, and an assortment of plugs wrapped around a battery and mobile motherboard. "Your orders are to give all the information you have on the enemy into that device. Mandalore has too much on his plate for right to waste with you."
"Understood." Nihilus put it in his pocket.
Skywalker ignored him and sat on his bed while watching him.
Nihilus soon found himself in the unusual position of boredom. On his own, nothing would happen for days and so his concept of time would pass. However, with Skywalker, every movement was noticable. The Jedi was jittery with things like scratching his chin, popping his cyborg fingers, swinging his legs, or generally moving in a bodies natural instinct to fix an uncomfortable position. Or clearing his throat. All things beyond the Sith Lord. Left to his own device he wouldn't move a muscle. Now he had to watch as the Jedi Master did these obnoxious movements, and it succeeded in reminding Nihilus of the passage of time.
Nihilus started pacing. Maybe if he let his mind flow into his thoughts, he could forget the other presence.
"Don't start us off with pacing. Find something to do to relax." Skywalker muttered.
"How can I relax with your irritation! You realize you have scratched yourself thirty-seven times on various parts of your body in the last four minutes!?"
"My arm itches where the cybernetic meets flesh. You know that."
"Yes! And I had finally succeeded in forget all the little irritants you have! But I had to agree to having you watch me day and night, and I have to endure you all over again!"
Skywalker's eyes never left his datapad. "Being your host wasn't a walk in the park either, buddy. Look be good, keep your mouth shut, relax, and I'll get you a gift."
Nihilus scoffed. He looked out the window into the dark abyss. "What do you possibly have that could interest ME?! I am Nihilus, the Voidsmith, the Lord of Hunger, the destroyer of Coruscant!"
Skywalker looked up at the ceiling and sighed. He whispered, "Its no wonder Varus is such a drama queen " Then louder he said, "Look, I'll get you a chess set!"
Nihilus turned ever so slightly. Not enough to look back at him, but to show interest. " Alright."
With the idea of a tactical game, something to truly set his mind, at his disposal again after years, Nihilus forced himself to settle down and tolerate Skywalkers tendencies. He sat down on his own bunk. The audio recorder presssed against him from his pocket. Touching him. Reminding him. Nihilus tapped his leg, trying to focus his mind elsewhere, anywhere, but against the annoying-
He sighed. He pulled it out and hit the button. "It detests me how mortals have so many thing that seek to constantly remind me of the passage of time or get in my way. Nothing else for it I might as well get started."
Nihilus clicked his tongue in thought. "To describe the entirity of all that is Valkorian would take a poet a lifetime. He is a god to his people and a nightmare to his enemies. Whatever he touches is meticulas, placed within his plans with care, used with all the tenderness of a father and tossed aside with calm acceptance when it has reached the fulfillment of its purpose. He uses everything only after knowing it intimitately and planning for its every eventuality or should I say that his instincts and understanding of every thing, and of every person, is so complete that he can use anything to his will simply because he already knows it. His ability to predict reaches to the point of manipulation without once ever having made a move of his own. He uses his enemies to their own detriment and blesses his allies until they overflow with it. He is whimsical without ever deviating from his plans as for what his plans are, there are none, including myself, that can say what they are. He has layers of plans upon plans, plans lasting minutes or days or years, fulfillfing all forms of purpose within his grand plan of revenge. His mind, his abilities, his emotions have all transcended with power and knowledge to the extent that he appeared to me unreachable. His ambitions and views of the world changed according to his power, to the extent that he did not appear to me, in his service, that his ambition was any longer revenge. It seemed wholeheartedly that he had ascended above such a base mortal thought yet I saw that his ambition never left him, but transcended and evolved just as much as himself. His plans in a way reflect that they evolved just as much as the man. He is no longer a man content with revenge on those that betrayed him, nor content with conquering a portion of the galaxy. His ambition and his plans have gone beyond that lowly scale in accordance with his power because at his very core, no matter how he throws off the shell of mortality, that will never stop being a base part of him. He is a man of ambition, of growth, of reaching beyond what he is capable of and becoming something more. Give the man a planet he will reach for the moon. Give him the moon and he will reach for the system. Give him the system and he will reach into the stars.
"As such you may find Valkorian to be your greatest obstacle. Because that kind of an ambitious man will refuse to bow to anyone. He will refuse to be pulled from his ascendance down into what undoubtedly appears to be the existance of worms crawling in the dirt. This is what I know of him in my service to him. His power is absolute. His plans and knowledge have all of creation dancing at his finger tips. And his ambition and pride will not rest until all things are his.
"It is not only Valkorian or the Sith Empire you will face. In fact I would say there are many different forces or assetts you will find yourself facing. Many of them I can say, as I have seen them but there are others I can only assume. And assume I will. Otherwise you will find yourself swept aside as easily as any pawn on the board.
"The first is the Sith Empire. A thousand years ago, Valkorian took all that remained of the Sith and hid them away in a corner of the galaxy to grow and fester in hatred. They are lead by the Dark Council of the Sith. To understand the Sith as they have evolved comes down to the fact that they have a strict hierarchy. The highest is the Council and the nobles. The nobles are the direct ascendant houses of the original Sith families to follow Valkorian, with the Council being a combination of the lords of these houses and handpicked members from Valkorian. Valkorian is not within the Sith Hierarchy, rather holding himself above the Sith entirely, and having the First Councilmen rank being the closest a Sith can come to Valkorian. The noble rank is pureblood Sith, and they are very rigid, even mating clones or siblings to keep the bloodline rigidly pure. Below the noble and Council ranks are the Lords. The Sith Lords can come from all walks of life, but are Force users of the highest power and fury, and prove it by pathing their way in blood all the way up to this point.
"The number of allowed Sith Lords differ from generation to generation, but they are a limited rank, and are given a limited number of personel at their disposal, each of which also have a limited number of personal. As such the only way to climb the ranks to Sith Lord is murder. There are a limited number of Force users in the Empire, and admission into the Sith Acedamy requires wealth and prestige, but Valkorian makes sure that the ranks are so limited that it chokes ambition if you are too weak to climb, and offers potential to people with the ruthlessness to let the limits hold them back.
"Below the Lord and acolyte ranks are the general commoners and soldiers who have proven themselves loyal to the Empire, yet offer no Force potential. Officers, every day soldiers, citizins who have a solid business running for the economy, all kinds of people. People have a generally high standard of living in return for their loyalty.
"Then you have the lowest rank. If you aren't loyal, you are basically seen as a criminal. If you are a crimnal then you are most likely turned into a slave. If you are conquered by the Empire then you are a slave. There are many many slaves in the Empire because a slave's family cannot ascend to a higher rank. Born a slave, die a slave. Become a criminal, become a slave, and continue the cycle of slavery. There is only one way to grow beyond this station, and it would be to be found with Force potential and to murder your way through the ranks alongside your fellow acolytes.
"In the Sith Empire, the idea of marriage is a foreign concept. In my time there they didn t know what the word even meant. You want a woman, you take her. You want to foster a child, then you rape someone. It is not uncommon for slaves to be sexual in nature, and the 'mating' rituals in the higher ranks are about showing off your strength and power and prestige in pure animalistic fashion. With that said, every person in the Empire is ultimately a bastard and is raised by only one parent. Children of slaves are raised by slaves regardless. Children of nobles are raised by the noble of the same gender. Orphans are amazingly well taken care of, all things considered now that I think about it. From what little I saw of it, orphans are adopted pretty quickly and are given to a person of the same perceived rank as to what the child was born into. That is one thing Valkorian did have his input in. He wanted orphans processed smoothly and for there to be a strong educational system. He holds his people to high standards of education and ability.
"In terms of growth, while we are on the subject of orphans and high standards for education, the Sith Empire's population growth is one that is aggressively pushed or encouraged. With rape not considered much of a crime, but a statement of rank of sorts, child conception rates are high. This is further pushed by being given supplementary income for allowing yourself to be cloned. The more the better. And to force your slaves to procreate and foster a higher work force is seen as a valid method of increasing the base work load of your house. All in all I suspect the population of a normal bipedal species would double every twenty-five years, but the population of the Sith Empire doubles in a fraction of the time.
"I suspect Valkorian encourages this culture in hopes of catching up the population to levels that can compete with the galaxy, yet in the span of a thousand years I would say it is hopeless. We must remember the Sith Empire was all but extinct to begin with. Having their population doubling at twice or even three times the rate of normal wouldn't fix that big of a population gap. So I would say your timing, Mandalore, is good. The Sith Empire will be decent, but still small in comparison to what you suspect. They will be powerful, but few.
"That makes up most of what I know of the Sith culture." Nihilus muttered. He lied in silence for a time on the bed, considering what more to say. For now he wanted to cover the highlights.
"The second faction you would find yourself facing are the Infinite Empire. Valkorian has developed a religion around himself as the 'Eternal'. His religion is the Eternal Hand, which I will cover soon, but he also takes in planets in a religious standpoint into a collective called the Infinite Empire. The basis is that of raising up lesser races from the standpoint of a god. While the Republic left less-developed races alone, even protecting them from outside threats, until these lesser races reach out first and realize they are inside of a larger Galaxy; Valkorian does not have the same stance. He approaches races and raises them up with technology, knowledge, understanding, and, if need be, as a conquerer. As he is physically immortal, gives them knowledge and blessings and power, and all but performs miracles through the Force, he is believed to be a god. Many of the races he raises up are in the medieval era or less, so long as they are easily fooled and become ready believers, while he conquers any race that is higher and has a developed science enough to disbelief his claim to godhood.
"Valkorian has done this to hundreds of worlds. I do not know too many details of the Infinite Empire beyond the fact that they are allies to the Sith Empire, worship Valkorian, and have an interesting culture based around technology as advanced as our own fashioned in the manner of medieval sterotypes. What you should be wary of is their zealoutry. What they lack in the Sith's hatred toward the Republic, they make up for in belief and zealotry.
"Interestingly Valkorian has raised up the Infinite Empire into an entirely different culture than that of the Sith Empire. He isn't nearly as heavy-handed with them as the Sith, leading me to speculate that his laws on the Sith is a form of punishment for past failures, or for disappointment. If one to think Valkorian has a heart of any kind, he might even be nurturing or caring for the Infinite Empire. In a logical manner I see his approach as rather uncaring, rather choosing to allow them to largely choose their own laws as he sees it as unimportant enough to waste his time with.
"In terms of numbers I would say the Infinite Empire has much higher numbers than the Sith Empire, as they were not on the verge of extinct and the basis of the Infinite is numerous races and worlds, while the Sith had to restart from one group. However what they make up for in numbers, they lack in power. The Infinite have Force users, esspecially because of Valkorian's nurturing, but they lack the raw power the Sith have, and they also lack the hatred and fury the Dark Side draws on. We can certainly assume Valkorian does not accept the Light except in special cases. In terms of technology I would say the Infinite Empire wields technology and capability equal to the Sith, but without the understanding of it born of reaching that level step by step on their own capability and progression as a species."
Nihilus turned off the device and set it aside. That was enough for today.
Cahjinawl was giddy with excitement as she walked down the platform onto the inner shipyard of the dreadnaught class vessel. The thing was so big! It was even bigger than her father's vessels! Soldiers were everywhere and they were so cool! They may not be fully armored right now, but the way they held themselves, their efficiency, their alertness and training their hot muscles!
It was awesome being a teen.
"PAPA COME ON!" Cahj yelled. She looked back impatiently, hoping to see him keeping up. To her disappointment, it was not the case. It was something she was used to. Having a one-armed father meant helping him with things at time, or allowing extra time for him to manage things on his own. Cooking, working terminals, managing armor, there were many things that required extra time, effort, or help to manage on his part.
It was a struggle they had to learn together. He was a strong-willed and proud warrior, and a wise priest. He refused to bend his back to an unyielding galaxy and this made him very independent. She took on aspects of her father and her uncle, being fiercely opinionated and strong-willed through an ironic combination of foolishness picked up from her uncle and wisdom passed down from her father. Growing up passed from place to place, adopted by many and at times going on without him, had hardened her as well while not allowing proper growth for a relationship usually seen in a father and daughter.
His loss of an arm, and the humility of having to need her help on a regular basis, had changed things for the better. He had, in a sense, retired from the path of a warrior he grew up walking. His entire focus now was in leadership of the rebellion he had started, priesthood, and raising his daughter.
Koj's groan of difficulty was all she heard as he started the descent. He scanned the area around them in confusion, not recognizing the layout of the inner shipyard and trying to grasp where to go.
Cahj asked, "You okay, Papa?"
He smiled, or as well as a Ghorfa can smile. Their species lacked the horizontally lined lips to close their mouths. They had no lips of any kind to hide their circular jaws and array of teeth from which was a long tongue hidden in the back of their throat.
"I am well." he assured her, holding back his inner dread. "Just feeling months of exhaustion catching up with me and concerned."
He left it unspoken what his concern was, but she knew. They had discussed it briefly. He was in a difficult position. He was one of the only ones who truly understood the danger of Valkorian, and was a skilled warrior who understood the need of soldiers and sacrifice. He wouldn't hesitate to fight. The problem was that his relations with the Mandalorians had taken a dive for the worst since he gave Tatooine to the United Systems Alliance, and his work toward being a good priest and father demanded his focus and put him in a divide on what he should be. Koj'Ineh was a skilled warrior, a leader amongst rebels, a leader amongst an endangered species, a necessary insight into a great evil, a zealous priest of the Maker, and now a loving father. But could he be all at once?
And they were here to meet with the Mandalorians. This would not go well.
Behind them the Alliance soldiers they had brought descended as well to work on the ship. Along with them were a number of officers representing members of the former Rebel Alliance. They were former slaves, all of them, and Koj felt they were honorable warriors and able diplomats both.
They also were here to speak for themselves and decide for themselves whether to join the war Mandalore was gathering.
Even as these concerns passed through Koj, his daughter, whether by choice, excitement, position, or her nature, did not share them. "May I go on ahead then?"
He nodded. Immediately she squealed in joy, hugged him, and ran off. He shook his head in mirth and ignored his chuckling officers. He turned to them and couldn't restrain his smirk despite his serious manner, "Let us go meet with the officials."
Much to her chagrin, Cahjinawl had to deal with showing her passport to security and tapped her feet while waiting for her to be allowed on the ship. She was only a teen for crying out loud! What was she going to do? Punch a fist through the hull? Finally the soldier handed back her passport and allowed her entry onto the ship. She would have sped off immediately, but he also handed her a map and pamphlet with a sample menu of the ships various cafeterias and other non-military aspects of the ship. Complete with a warm welcome.
She stuffed it all into her backpack, stepped into the elevator, pulled out her map and datapad, and checked her messages from Ahsoka for the cabin number. She held the map up in front of her face to look for it, and instinctively stepped off the elevator still holding the map in front of her when it dinged. She heard the elevator door start to close, and her head shot up as she realized how she screwed up. "Shit!"
She dived back in just as the door shut.
Cahj straightened up and chastised herself. She was so excited she wasn't paying attention. She would have thought further on it, but a soldier next to her chuckled at her. She furrowed her brows in aggravation.
Laugh at her would he? Hot or not, she was hotter. People who screwed with her tended to get burned.
The door opened on the floor she wanted, and with a dark glint in her eye, she slapped her hand on every floor button as she ran out, only to turn and stick her tongue out at the shocked Mandalorian. The door shut before his aggravated response was given. She chuckled.
She pulled the map up. Judging from the map, she was now on the correct floor Just a couple hundred rooms away. Dreadnaughts tended to be large enough to have full tram systems inside, but she didn't feel like using one. It wasn't on the other side of the ship, just a fair distance.
In the last few years Koj had been bringing her out with him on his journeys. The intense conflicts were over, but there were still smaller ones left to clean up. At the same time he took her on missionary journeys preaching. They spent more time traveling than not, and he was not shy about doing it the old fashioned way Namely walking, crawling, mucking it, marching, jogging, or flat out running. If the destination was not accessible within three days of walking, then and only then did he take major transport if it was available to begin with. Many planets didn't have transport to begin with besides steeds or they had to settle for their own private shuttle.
Combine the traveling with a Force-enhanced naturally high energy, and being a teenager, and Cahjinawl was a strong sprinter who suffered from restlessness. She loved running. She loved how her legs burned, the breeze, the way things passed her by and were slow in comparison to her. It was as though the galaxy itself was eating her dust.
Not thinking anything of it, she sprinted down the long halls of the ship. She expertly avoided the passengers with super-human agility, never for a moment having to slow down. She passed by as a blur, moving progressively faster and faster until suddenly coming to a halt when she saw the door she was looking for and skidded past leaving a black skidmark on the tile.
She cringed. She had difficulty controlling her power. From the smoothness of the tile floor, it felt like she had burned a hole through her shoes. She reached out to grab the handle, but paused as she saw her hands were burning like hot coals.
She closed her eyes, and after breathing in and out to calm herself and bring her Force power back down, grabbed the handle.