Post 11
Th-duh Th-duh
Breath in
Breath out
Th-duh Th-duh
In
Out
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I remember the first time we met.
I was at the time, at a point of focus--where my goal in life was to find the sister I wasn't even sure was alive. To find my lost family, to find myself.
Morodin was my only lead.
In our continuing effort to bring about peace between our planets, the ruling coalition of Valdet was invited to send a representative body to the Seridiion Wildlife Preserve on Danshitie. Naturally, I agreed to go along.
Elbereth Dono Morodin was our guide.
She was beautiful.
She is beautiful.
We were both pacifists--trying to find a way to end the violence-but saw each other as monsters. We both had preconceptions, underlying anger, prejudice.
So after the trip through the preserve, one I barely remember because of my single-mindedness, I sought her out. I stalked, prowled and hunted for a moment to speak to her, to ask for answers to the hard question, the one no one else would answer.
What she and I didn't know was that her father and brother had a larger twisted scheme, one she was not privy to. It was obvious she knew nothing, and our animosity showed leaving us both agitated, angry. I believed that she was exactly like the rest of her family-a viper.
Maybe it was fate, but that night I went back to the preserve alone, looking for solace and some means to quell the pain that had become my only companion. I wanted peace, for my people and for myself. At a place where the blue Agnor roosted, I sat and listened for an elusive bit of advice that I wished was mixed in the wailing melody that whispered and welcomed night.
I was not the only one looking for solace.
Recognizing each other but not wanting to re-kindle our earlier argument we made an uneasy pair--and surprised ourselves.
Elbereth was not callous like her twin, and in the shadows of the moon her features were solemn. Her violet eyes were lighter, almost clear, penetrating, and I know she walked away with the impression that I was less than the demon she expected.
Somehow the animosity melted away--stripping us of all that we hid behind. For hours we talked. She of her brother Illian who had not been seen in years, and how she knew he was unlike the rest of her family. I spoke of Anian, my baby sister, who I was on the verge of believing was lost forever.
There was not much that stood between us, and when I left the next day for Valdet lighter from the confession, I also took hope. For months, nearly a year and a half we continued finding ways to meet, to speak, to keep that spark of respect and hope alive, to build a wall of trust.
She was the one who left her illusions and naïveté behind her when she told me about her family estate on Corellia, and about a prisoner her younger brother had been watching.
That night, as I dried her tears, I realized I was in love. That I would have rather she not know about what our loved ones were capable of then see her pain, even if it meant never finding what I held as life itself.
Elbereth was more.
Elbereth is more.
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Th duh
Th duh
Breath in
Out
In
Th--------duh.
A whisper-exhale-out.
Tristan sat against a crate in the empty warehouse he had used as shelter after pulling Elbereth and himself from the wreckage of their home. Cradling her body he placed his ear against her chest, pleading silently for the cathartic pounding of a healthy heart.
But there was nothing.
The doctor inside knew she was dead, the lover and husband couldn't accept it. They had been prepared, but here? Now?
Moments passed, and he lay with his head on her chest, willing for a natural miracle to come. How long it was Tristan did not know, but as the silence became suffocating the rolling sense of death shrouded him, snapping the composure that her beating heart had held at bay. The tears, and the shuddering all mixed in with the filth and loneliness that surrounded him. His only coherent thought was that there was no one to blame, not even himself…
Maybe this was how life was, a degradation of emotion leaving you raw and open to unparalleled wounds that never could heal. Each passing lifetime added more until all that was left was the dirt and the ash and a whiff of light reminding you of better days.
Elbereth was dead, and there was nothing left of what they had worked for. There was no way that he could wade into the muck and anger that seethed from the crevices of Valdet and Danshitie, not when he couldn't even take care of himself. What was next? Where do I go?
It was then as his grief shifted from inconsolable torrents to dictated formed thought that Tristan realized that he was not alone.
Someone else was breathing, someone else was crying.
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Then the bombs fell, and as a member of the Honor Guard, he should have been able to do more, but instead he was one of the Danshitie honor guardsmen that had been forced into submission. In reality, that humiliation saved his life. Being closer to the ground, gave Nestor and the two other guards the chance to scoot to a doorway for some structural protection when the walls caved in. All three had survived, but he had been the only one to escape without serious injury.
That night he searched for survivors, fearing the worst--only to silently follow a seemingly broken man. Past midnight, when most of the crew's had gone home, a fine layer of building dust was settling over the debris. In that darkness, he saw a bruised and barely standing Tristan Romani shakily pick up his wife, whose limp form told their protector all he needed to know.
In Nestor's mind, his work continued as long as the monarch's survived, it was a life promise--one he could not break. So he followed, matching the dusty footprints, barely disturbing the stillness that had fallen over the capital. Taking care not to reveal his presence, he watched his highness' body language, the shoulders, the gait, recognizing pain and worry that mirrored Nestor's own, quickly diminishing grief. Surprising a man in that condition would not be satisfactory to his health.
In the warehouse, there were moments where Nestor swore that time had frozen. Watching the macabre scene as his highness cleaned up his wife, then laid his head upon her chest in a deathwatch. Profound and deafening, the massive industrial structure seemed to grow more compact. Trying to clear his head, Alluvia checked his weaponry, looking on in horrific fascination as the royal monarch suddenly sat up and replaced his hand upon Elbereth's wrist and neck, waiting for judgement, waiting for the last call--and Nestor nearly cried out with his own sadness. The man before him began shuddering, shaking, silently sobbing--and then as if a barrier had been lifted his wail filled what moments before had been silent as a tomb. Nestor bowed his head in silent prayer, gathering his strength, but was unable to stop his own tears.
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Tristan glanced around, trying to grasp onto the last strands of composure. "Who-who's there?" his voice was hoarse, as if he had been yelling. I haven't said anything for hours…
"Show yourself!"
Nestor worked some moisture into his parched mouth. "Your majesty, I am at your service." He stepped out into the isolated arc of light from an overhanging fixture.
It was too soon to break habits, and so Tristan tried to bring himself to his full height. "Doctor even Tristan will do, Nestor--" His shoulders slumped, "You may leave, there is no longer any obligation to me."
"I made a promise--" the guardsman hitched, "--Doctor, I made a promise to protect the family."
Already frustrated and exhausted both mentally and physically, Tristan let a bit of anger creep into his voice. "She's dead, Nestor--don't you understand? She's dead." Instantly ashamed, he whispered with placation, "The ruling house of Morodin is dead, you no longer have an obligation. I release you."
Nestor was ready, mustering all the conviction he could into his voice, "I'm sorry, but as her husband, as long as you live, they live--so I cannot leave you." Nestor watched as the defiant look on his highness' face melted into one of supreme fatigue.
Tristan wiped at the tear tracks that walked across his face, oblivious to the smear of grease and smut that was left behind. "What are you doing here Nestor?"
The guard, barely older then the man standing before him tried to speak, but found that it caught. Swallowing, he tried again, licking his lips as he stood at attention. "Fulfilling my duty."
They stood in silence, then the two pairs of eyes, one ready to spill over in sorrow, the other in resignation and made a silent accord.
Tristan glanced at the body that lay shrouded between them. "We need to take care of her, make sure she's warm."
"There's a place, across the river Styxilin--in the groves."
"She'll be safe there?" The question took Nestor aback, illustrating just how much emotional beating the man before him had taken.
"It's all taken care of. Take your time. When you are ready. "
Breathe. Tristan closed his eyes to wall away the pain and nodded shortly. "Thank you."
Taking a chance, the guard leaned forward, placing his hand on his majesty--the doctor's arm. "No, Thank you--you and Elbereth tried, you tried."
"And there's no one to blame, nothing left to do but to start over." Tristan sighed heavily, "I don't know if I can do it alone." His eyes dropped to his silent wife, and fell to his knees. Gently removing the covering from her face--he placed his lips in a brush kiss, and whispered roughly, with a touch of bitterness. "I wasn't strong enough to save you.
"I wasn't strong enough to save you--to save our dream." He placed the ragged sheet back over her unseeing eyes. He leaned to pick her up, once again looking Nestor in the face as Tristan made his contract with the dead. "I promise, I won't fail again."
When Nestor met Tristan's eyes again he understood a fire had been lit…but who was to burn…his majesty had said it already--there was no one person to blame, for Elbereth's death or for the fall of a few months of precarious peace.
There was no one.
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What I had left was the sand after the rushing waved merged with the masses. The chaotic mingling of desolation, anger and pain in a fragile emotionless vacuum.
If I thought my choices were hard before, nothing could stop the choices I made when there was no one to lean on, no one to protect.
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Site of the former Emperor's Plague Depot
Outside the New Republic flagship, the silent vacuum of space smothered and eradicated all sounds of a battle slowly reaching the last vestiges of resistance.
Inside the ship was another matter. As more squadrons returned to their base, the silent tension of a battle ready crew turned to regrouping and mourning as the New Republic forces accounted for those lost and injured. Instead of the muted pulsing, there was the hum of conversation and battle description as pilots recounted the fights and Diversity Alliance members that they had had to shoot down. Amidst the chatter, and the clanging of repairs, there were pockets of silence, as if the vacuum of space had refused to leave the ship once it had landed. Aboard the Lightening Rod a young boy, now a man, mourned a father, while a Jedi Knight grasped for a friends last thoughts.
In a common pilots lounge, near the temporary quarters for the Wraiths as they awaited further orders before heading back to base, there was another sort of silence, one broken up by the breathing exercises of a certain Jedi.
Mara's eyes snapped open and for a moment she was unaware of where she was, although the stark undecorated quarters trimmed in New Republic color patterns quickly reminded her of the days events. Recalling the effect of Alderaan's destruction on Master Kenobi, Mara understood that even a Jedi Master was not immune to the echoing of death in the Force. While one could block it out, she had learned to quickly come to terms with those echoes lest they build up into an undeniable block of tension and fear.
After docking her fighter, Mara had quickly taken a shower and made for the lounge, taking a gamble in the fact that most pilots would head for their temporary bunks or the mess. Making sure that it was empty, she ran her fingers through her still loose and wet hair before sinking into the Force.
Fifteen minutes later she felt refreshed, and took a final moment to reach out for Luke in the bond she had come to rely on for years. A small smile crossed her lips as she felt his distracted presence, then quickly turned into a frown as another thought formed.
Sithspit Skywalker!
Her brief foray into the Force had helped her understand that she had a few loose ends to clear up before heading out to Valdet and Danshitie. One of them was all Skywalker's fault, and his name was Myn Donos.
In the time she had spent with the Wraith's Mara had found herself becoming friends with this oddly aloof Corellian. Something told her that in another situation he was probably a lot like Han--brash, ego-ridden, and fiercely loyal, although the fiercely loyal part was still there. From what she had learned from the other female Wraith's, the only time he had withdrawn from the squadron in this manner was just after the destruction of his first command, the ill fated Talon Squadron. Concocting that story about her and Myn had been a surprise, a sudden development that Mara knew had come from her new founded determination to help everyone and anyone. And that was Luke Skywalker's farm boy earnestness rubbing of on her. Then there was the fact that in the just completed battle, Mara had come away not relieved, but rather aching for a fight, looking for something more challenging, as if she needed to hone her skills. A Jedi craves not excitement.
Muttering under her breath, she picked up her blaster and lightsaber from next her, placing the small weapon into her forearm holster, and hooking the lightsaber to her belt. As she braided her hair into something more manageable the door to the lounge swooshed open and the distinct presence of Jacen, Jaina, Tenel Ka and Zekk entered the main foyer. They looked like they had just gotten out of quarantine. From her secluded corner, Mara watched silently dampening her Force presence, just to see if they were able to sense her.
Almost immediately, Jacen and Jaina collapsed next to each other in the main circular room turning on the vidscreen to see what was going on outside. Clearly distracted and exhausted, Zekk quickly fell onto a longer settee, dozing within minutes. Tenel Ka settled herself facing the door, her green eyes ever aware of her surroundings. Mara nodded to herself as the young Jedi hitched, sensing Mara in the isolated corner, but after a brief prompting closed her green eyes to reflect on the day's events. Smirking, Mara slid into the room quietly, moving slowly until she was right behind Jacen and Jaina.
Leaning in, she whispered a greeting, and was rewarded when the two children turned around with certain shock then full relief.
"Hello," She repeated.
Jaina launched over the couch, noting that her Aunt had not come in through the door. "Aunt Mara! When did you get here? Were you out in the battle? Where have you been?"
Sensing her intentions Mara embraced both of them, and glanced at the rooms other two occupants, both now awake, and nodded in greeting. "I'm not going to give you a lecture on keeping your senses open. We'll wait for that till we get back to the academy--besides, that's your Uncle Luke's expertise." She glanced at Tenel Ka and smiled, "Good job Tenel Ka."
The twins groaned and returned to the couch, while Mara made her way to the now empty spot next to Zekk tucking her legs beneath her. "Where's Raynar and Lowbacca?"
After acknowledging the brief praise, Tenel Ka spoke matter a factly, a somber tone to her voice. "Raynar has not left the Lightening Rod. He has not spoken since his father's death."
"Lowie is watching over him, I think he's trying to figure out what happened to Raaba. That short-burst transmission didn't say much, just that she would find him." Jacen's eyes flickered over to his sister's face, in silent communication.
Rubbing his face, Zekk checked his wrist chrono, "I should go give them some food."
Mara frowned. She had heard about Bornan Thul's sacrifice aboard the plague depot, and had like many others aboard the Mon Calamari cruiser, had said a silent thanks. She knew that Han had made the official call to the Tradewyn, and that even now the Aryn Dro Thul was in mourning. Mara understood that she would have to call sooner or later, but first as one of Raynar's teachers, she needed to make sure that he was emotionally sound.
"Is he angry?"
Jaina shook her head vehemently. "No, just sad…"
Jacen finished her thought, "Heartbroken."
"And Lowie?"
"He's thoughtful. Meditating." Zekk said.
"That is a fact."
"Aunt Mara, is there anyway we can help; we're not sure what to say." Jaina frowned inwardly, making sure mentally with the others that it was all right with them to speak for the group.
Mara sighed, "From what you're telling me, I'm not sure Raynar wants to talk right now. It might be best for you to just let him know you're there, and slowly draw his pain away."
The young Jedi nodded and fell silent.
Looking at her niece's face, Mara noticed a small scar at her temple. "Are the rest of you all right, did you get injured at all?"
Zekk let out a yawn, his sharp green eyes narrowing in apology. "Just tired."
"Nothing, that will not heal naturally." The Hapan Princess answered.
Mara stood up, brushing some lint from the couch off her borrowed flight suit. "I'll see what I can do about getting some rooms. After that if you want to talk to me before I leave, let me know all right?" She paused, glancing around to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. "Do you know where your father is?"
Jacen glanced at his sister, who nodded. "I think he's on the bridge, or on the Falcon in the auxiliary docking bay."
Waving goodbye, Mara exited the room and made her way down towards the small force presence she had come to associate with Han Solo. Not as bright as his wife and children, his was still distinctive enough that she could with some effort discern his general location from the many others on the ship.
As the group commander, it was not surprising to sense him in the vicinity of the Bridge, but as she got closer she was able to pinpoint his location to a lounge just before the large durasteel doors that marked the command center for this particular New Republic fleet. Raising her hand to knock, Mara sensed a familiar yet unrecognizable presence inside the room with Han. Hesitating for the barest of moments, she decided to knock anyway, just to say goodbye before the Wraith's returned to Hawk-bat base.
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General Han Solo stood at the bridge of his flagship watching the slow unwinding tableaux of hatred. Even though the final vital statistics were still being put together to be sent back to the capital, he could already tell that the Diversity Alliance forces had taken heavier losses. With the main battle over, Han was supervising a two small divisions who were watching the remaining Diversity Alliance ships, looking for survivors, while the other group played gentle herd on the destroyed poison depot, making sure that it was unusable and secure. Reaching forward he hit the transmit button.
"Gold one, could your group and the Evader head over to Sector 5. There are some larger mass readings. Remember, we are just getting rid of the larger debris, so that the bio containment unit won't have mobility issues. Coordinates being transmitted." Glancing to his right he made sure the Lieutenant to the right was transmitting.
Sighing, Han pulled off his headset and stretched, turning at the sound of boots snapping to attention behind him.
"General Solo, Sir"
His eyes looked over the young man before him. "At ease Lieutenant, At ease."
"Sir you asked to speak to me?"
Han nodded, taking a quick glance at the board to make sure there wasn't anything pressing. "All right guys, I'm going to the office. I'll have my comm and will be monitoring the boards, but if something comes up, Skivvy here is in charge. " Han motioned to the Rodian sitting close by, who rolled his eyes at the General. "Sorry, Major Skivter, is in charge. "
Gesturing for the Rogue pilot to follow him, Han made his way to his sanctom sanctorum on this trip, an office that had been converted from a lounge. Stopping at a small cooler behind the desk he asked the Lieutenant--
"Do you want something to drink?"
"No. Thank you."
Shrugging, Han snagged a bottle of water and sank into the couch. "So Lieutenant Donos, how is your wife." He watched as the Lieutenant's eyes opened slightly in surprise, and with just a tinge of panic.
"My wife? I'm not married, General."
Han nodded solemnly as if he was agreeing with Donos, "Yes you are. In fact I believe that despite the single status on your military records, there is actually a wife waiting for you when you get back to Corellia."
Myn's jaw dropped slightly. "General Solo, with all due respect..."
"No, its all right, respect isn't needed at all. In fact I find it odd that you aren't on your feet right now, getting ready to hit me for first insulting your honor, and then implying that you're still lying to me."
How in the nine Corellian hells did he find out? I mean I told his sister in-law but she's a Jedi, I doubt that she would tell him--besides when would she have sent out this information. Myn looked up startled from his silence as a short guffaw tinged with amusement, filled the room.
"I'm confusing you aren't I? My wife says I confuse her all the time; in fact, just the other day, she got confused when I asked her to do a small favor for Wedge, sorry General Antilles and I. "
Myn kept sitting and staring, not sure if the General wanted an answer, or if he had gone crazy. Han's eyes twinkled at the younger man's obvious discomfort. "Well," he prompted, "Don't you want to know what the favor was?"
Leaning back in the seat, trying to mimic the sense of relaxation that the General was exhibiting. "I guess so, but somehow I get the feeling you're going to tell me anyway."
"I knew you would figure it out! Well, its about that time of the year, where the presidential pardons go out, where Leia has the wonderful job of picking individuals who have served the New Republic, but have a mark against their names. Something that isn't always condoned, or necessarily approved." Come on Donos put the pieces together.
"I..I..I'm sorry sir, I still don't understand."
Han opened his mouth to say something, but grabbed his commlink as it
beeped. "Solo here, "
"General solo, Lietuenant Skivter."
"Yea, "
"The Wren is finished in sector 92, we're confirming your authorization for her to head on back to the Tradewyn for refueling. "
"Confirmed, Aleph, nine Zonal. And Skivter, tell Gold group in Sector five, to make sure they demagnatize, to ensure they have been kept free of virus particles. Also…when you find out if my children have been let out of quarantine, let me know as well. All right?"
"Affirmative."
Han looked up at the expressionless officer, still sitting in front of him. "Sorry about that, where was I? Oh that's right, my confused wife."
"Well earlier this year Wedge and I asked Leia to put someone on the
list who had already died." Looking for some reaction, Han watched as Myn's eyes closed remaining that way for a little longer than a standard blink.
No…"General, why would she have been confused?"
"Because Wedge and I changed the language. Ensuring that she, correction, this individual would remain pardoned, even if her superiors had been misinformed about her death." Han's lips were itching to break out into a grin, and he could almost see the gears clicking into place as Myn understood the magnitude of what was being said.
"I.." Myn swallowed, "I..." he shook his head, some curly black hair shaking around. Then he changed tactics, "But, if this person was found to be alive, wouldn't someone in the Senate notice the language change?"
"There's the rub, right? But you fail to recognize the genius' of Han Solo, and Wedge Antilles, men of many talents who after years of working with legalese have come to learn certain subtle ways of making the change." he paused for dramatic effect.
"We asked for the change on the template, so that it applies across the board for any past, present and future pardons. Therefore, it cannot be attributed to this specific one. Besides, they were due for a rewrite because of the new found peace accord between the Empire and the New Republic."
Standing, Han crossed the room and unlocked one of the drawers of his desk pulling out a datapad. "Anyway, here's the final list that was published today. Approval came out about three hours before you got here. If you had been at your home-base you would have been told by your commanding officer, but this way at least it's a bit less surprising."
Myn rubbed his hand across his brow and accepted the datapad quietly.
Scrolling down the list he frowned...
Mana Danielle
Donatal
Shaking his head ruefully, he scrolled down further..
Notsil...Notsil..Notsil..
He looked up at Han with a frown...
"Try Petothel"
And there she was...
Gara Petothel
Under severe danger to herself, Gara Petothel fought for the New Republic while still under Imperial service to aid in the defeat of Warlord Zinj. Details are classified. For her service the New Republic Senate and Chief of State Leia Organa-Solo would like to pardon Gara Petothel alias Lara Notsil for any crimes she had committed against the New Republic during her service to the Empire…
"Its ok Lieutenant to breathe."
Myn looked up and blinked, a small grin forming on his face. "I believe that it is, General I believe that it is." His voice hitched. "How did you know?"
"After she died, her transmission to you was flagged down for voiceprint identification. Wedge and I figured that it was in the best interest of the New Republic if she stayed dead. Now, it is not necessarily the case, and it is really up to her. Whatever she decides though, at least this will make things easier."
"Was this made public?"
"Well I don't think that it will reach Corellia just yet, it may take a week or so."
The Lieutenant took a deep breath as he looked at the General, a profound feeling of respect on his face.
"Why?"
"Because, one's life worth can only be determined by the work of their whole life, not the part that was based on who your parents were, and where you were raised. She saw that her actions had been wrong, and tried to fix it. She was able to separate herself from who she was and who she is to work for the greater good."
Han leaned back against the sofa, "Myn, Consider it a wedding present for you and Kirney. Think of it…"
A soft knock on the door stopped him from saying more. Han shrugged, "Duty calls." and hit the remote door opener.
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The slight breeze from the door opening rustled the loose strands of hair across Mara's forehead as it opened and she focused on the interior of the room. The small lounge had obviously been commandeered by Solo as his private office; maintaining the illusion of a workplace complete with a personal datastation--which Mara noted, was not even turned on. Glancing beyond the front area, was what she knew from Han's character to be the real work center. That area was filled with a sleek, personalized, retrofitted surveillance and holocomm system one that Mara had seen on Karrde's ship in prototype form; along with a much more compact and mobile datastation that Mara knew was updated every five seconds with streaming information from the bridge.
"Hey kid, thanks for your help out there." Han stood up with an uncomfortable smile on his face. Having recently changed from what his children dubbed his 'uniform" to brown slacks, white shirt and a deep green jacket, he was relaxed and unwinding.
"Solo" Her green eyes flashed as she smirked over his nickname for her and Luke. Turning to the other occupant of the room she nodded a greeting, "Lieutenant, I'm sorry--I didn't mean to interrupt, I just wanted to talk to Han before we left, I can come back." Mara turned to head out the door, but was stopped by Myn's voice.
"It's all right, I need to get some rest before we head out." Myn's eyes flickered back to the General's and shook his hand.
"Thank you."
Curious, Mara watched Myn Donos leave the room and as she turned back to her brother-in-law she got the feeling that there was more to what she had just interrupted.
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Valdet
Nestor watched from a distance as Elbereth Dono Morodin Romani was laid to rest. He knew that Tristan viewed her death as punishment, and in silent agreement the guard had allowed the grieving man to dig the unmarked grave in a sort of penance. Tristan's injuries would slow him down, but there was not much Nestor could do to prevent him from accomplishing this task; Nestor knew that trying to stop the ruler at this juncture would be futile and consequently, it was best, for now, to let it be. Nestor chose to stand guard at a raised embankment overlooking the River Styxilin. In the pre-dawn hours the moonlight cast shadows on the haze moving through the fruit grove adding a ghostly shadow to an already haunting day. Murmuring to himself he whispered his good-byes.
"Nisa al dora
Yor al manhata
Le fremni, Le hala
Norda ki ar, ki do, ki meni"
"So we pass
Embracing the sail
The sky, the fire.
Passion in life, Passion in death,
Passion above all."
As he retreated to keep a clearer watch along the river, he shivered. Rationally he understood that the smoke was merely a residual affect from the explosions of the preceding hours, but emotionally he felt that Elbereth was urging him forward, guiding him to fulfill her wishes, her last request to a friend.
Standing on the low rise built to protect the harvest from flooding, Nestor reached into his pocket to pull out two heavy-carded envelopes. His forefinger shook as he flipped the cards over and over between his thumb, index, and pinky. Silently he murmured, "Not yet," and replaced the first, almost untouched card into his secure pocket. Opening the second, a well worn, much read envelope he reread his instructions.
Nestor,
I know there's not much time left. Take care of him. Even though the people may not recognize it, he is by law, and when I die, the proper ruler of both Valdet and Danshitie. I know that he was meant to bring our peoples together, to make them work together--we cannot always be isolated and solitary in our matters. I believe that there is much we can give the galaxy, so I shall retain hope beyond my final dusk that this misstep is just a hiccup.
When the time comes, you know where I'll be happy. Since losing his family and maintaining Valdet's borders without any guidance he found it easy to falter. While putting his faith in others, Tristan has never truly believed in himself. I tried, but there wasn't enough time to show him just how much I believe. He needs to be a shown a purpose beyond us so that he can truly see all the good that he can accomplish. I put my faith in him; I know that he can be successful.
I put my faith in you. For all that you have done, and all that you shall do, I thank you. I shall sleep easy knowing that you are there protecting him.
E.
Carefully refolding the card, his thoughtful reverie was broken by the sound of a riverboat as the gentle waves lapped against the wooden planks.
Who else is out here at this time of night? Especially with the curfew in session. His fingers, light as a feather, deftly unclipped his macrobinoculars to peer down the river. There was someone out there, and with the new rules put out by the post-bombing edicts--odds were that it was someone asking for trouble. Tightening the lenses and putting in the advanced set he narrowed the view, watching as the bow of the standard river crosser came out of the fog. That's odd, there doesn't seem to be anyone on the boat. No, wait…two passengers--
"The boat driver isn't doing much, how exactly are they getting across?" Tristan's voice was hushed, his eyes darting around with nervousness.
Nestor glanced at the doctor and appraised him, silently reevaluating Tristan's skills--then he looked back through the binoculars before passing them to his Highness. He cocked his head to the side to listen--"There's a motor, it's one of the retrofitted models."
"Nestor, look at the driver, the short man in the cloak. There's something sticking out--" Tristan held out the binoculars.
Taking them back, Nestor tightened the focus and frowned, and finally felt the chill in the air. "It's a knife blade. Whomever is on that boat, did not want to be recognized or remembered. "
Tristan snorted softly, pained at another wasteful loss of sentient life. "Where …."
"It looks like the Citizen Representative off site flight strip, but all traffic is restricted. He can't go anywhere; it's too dangerous with the bombers and fighters in our airspace."
Tristan stared at the boat as it came closer, yet stayed far enough away to allow them to retain their anonymity. Something just didn't feel right. He swallowed, aching, wanting to go back to where he had just buried his entire life, all the while sensing that something larger was at stake. He made up his mind. "Can we move closer?"
Nodding Nestor re-clipped the binoculars to his belt, "If you want." Together they scrambled back over the rise, and through the grove, with Tristan glancing back at the smooth ground now undistinguishable from the rest. Silently, they came to the end of the old airstrip that was at the edge of the property used as an off-site modern warehouse for Citizen Representative luxury craft. Juxtaposed with the weed-ridden strip obviously in need of repair was a midsize class transport ship, clearly not native to the outer rim, with its sleek Incom engine purring in standby.
"Doctor--we can't get closer without being seen."
"I know, I just want to see who this guy is, maybe he'll give us an opening, but I doubt the security forces would care right now about the death of one river operator. As much as I hate to say it, maybe we can stop him ourselves.""Or she--there wasn't enough light to tell." He stopped speaking as a figure from the ship walked toward an approaching silhouette, draped in a dark cloak.
With the concrete strip, and the stillness of the night, the voices of the two individuals filtered in pieces to the edge of the grove.
"Captain…"
"Sir--"
"The ship is ready, ---destination? Where are we going?"
"Chart a course for the inner-rim…someplace mildly populated."
"How does Thyferria sound? You can catch public transport from there." Tristan and Nestor watched as the 'captain' lit up a cigarra. "You're lucky that I was able to land. What's going on here anyway? "
"Change--and the beginning of a new order." Nestor cringed, there was something about the texture of this guys voice that was familiar--different accent, but yet….he started as Tristan grabbed the hanging macrobinoculars, feeling the shaking of the younger man's fingers as they brushed against his arm. His glance moving up towards the monarch's face, which was slightly obscured by the macrobinoculars, and then squinted against the rising dawn, watching as the captain returned inside the ship.
"We're going to kill him--now."
"Excuse me?" He turned completely and stared at his friend's husband full in the face. Paler, and stone-faced, compared to the anger he had seen earlier, Tristan's fury now was more direct, more focused, his eyes piercing. "Who are we going to--" Before he had a chance to finish it clicked. "He's supposed to be dead."
"Iker. He set us up. I don't know why, and I don't know how he survived, but we're going to kill him. Now."
In his four years of interaction with this man, Nestor had never heard a more determined decision, nor had he ever heard more certainty. "We only have one blaster, you're going to have to distract him--and I'll come up from behind."
Tristan nodded, "let's go." The two of them moved, guerilla style, staying close to the ground, watching for any sudden moves from the lone figure still standing outside the waiting ship. Staying in the shadows, they stopped as the clanking of the captain coming back down the ship reached their ears.
"You ready?" The figure nodded, and followed the man up the ramp--Tristan felt the pressure in his chest rise, his head pounding. They were still too far away to even jump onto the ramp of the ship, but he had to try.
Leaving all pretenses behind him, he began running, his chest aching, breathing labored after too much stress, his own injuries paining against the added intense strain. Aware of the roar coming from the ship as the engines were brought up to full capacity, he willed his legs to move faster, only to find himself flying backwards onto the duracrate. Lying there, watching the ship fly off, and then wink out as it blasted into hyperspace, he realized he was feeling an entirely new sensation, a sense of confidence, mixed in with murderous rage. A feeling he had never felt with any of the Morodin over the death of his family, there was no selfish self-pity now.
No longer was he sad, or sorrowful. It was as if the pain and urgency that had surrounded his life for the past few weeks had disappeared, leaving himself, his anger and determination.
Iker would pay and Tristan wanted vengeance, for himself, for Elbereth and for the people of Valdet and Danshitie. No matter how hard it was, how long it took, he would find Iker Rafagr and bring him to justice. Failure was no longer an option. His mind registered the hand in front of his face. Dismissing the aid, he pulled himself and his aching limbs to his feet and glanced at an expressionless Nestor.
"I'm sorry sir, but any closer and--"
"Both of us would have been caught in the exhaust. I understand."
There was something different in the Doctor's voice, something hard, something that no longer screamed frailty. He watched as the Doctor marched back towards their boat, almost as if he was trying to get somewhere. "Your Highness--"
He whirled around and looked at Nestor, his eyes flashing "Nestor, I am no longer the ruler of any planet, at least as far as the citizenry is concerned. So it's either Doctor, or just Tristan--do I make myself clear? "
Nestor struggled to keep his expression neutral. "Doctor, sir. Where are we going?"
"Thyferria."
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Ashes to Ashes-my grandmother used to say--I can hear her voice echoing, bouncing around in my head. 'Death is not a closed story-but the end of suffering.' Did he suffer? Does he continue to suffer?
I know the truth…he lives still…
But as long as I have breath in this world…he will suffer…
Credit: All of the writing in this Post is original. The section involving the YJK talking to Mara talks about events described in the YJK Arc 2 books. The stuff with Han and Myn, was all mine too.
Normal section separators (tilda's) stopped showing up: Have been replaced with repeating x's. Hope that makes it easier to read.