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Of Stories and Dreams
Sorn made his way across the medical ward with his burned arm in a simple sling. The infirmary at the Hand of Thrawn had been upgraded and expanded in last few months as the wounded streamed in. It wasn't prepared for this large a number of maimed and injured, but since the fragile tie fighters were being replaced with shielded clawcraft the survivability of pilots drastically increased. Sorn supposed it was a good thing that pilots were surviving, but he was disturbed by the cries of the wounded who were denied a quick and painless death. Unintended consequences were often cruel.
The place was an assault on all the senses. The first thing that struck him was the sight of bright livid red blood barely mediated by the occasional stained white bandage. Then came the sounds of suffering and despair. Finally, the smell hit him. Bacta and antiseptics mixed with the stench of pestilential wounds. He quickened his pace with his green patients gown sapping his dignity.
The door slid open and steam rolled out from the bacta room curling around his bare feet. He stomached the smell of bacta and entered the fog. His red eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the misty atmosphere. After a few steps the rows of bacta bathtubs appeared. A Chiss lounged in one tub with his back to Sorn. Sorn could only see his head, but his eyes were drawn to a hideous spider web pattern of scars on his neck. At the sound of Sorn's steps the Chiss turned around and regarded him with a round face and dark red eyes.
"Well, hello someone to keep me company in this pressure cooker. What are you in for?" He said jovially in a manner that Sorn found unlike any other Chiss soldier.
"Arm…" Was all Sorn could muster. Sorn gingerly removed his sling peeling the fabric off skin wet with puss and blood. He then slipped out of his gown, "What are you here for?" He said trying to continue the conversation.
"I got burned all over. I recommend you don't see my burn unless your desperately interested in Chiss anatomy. My skin's still terribly transparent. But, don't worry, that Vagaari won't be going home to gloat."
Sorn only listened halfheartedly as he lowered himself into the tub. Instantly the aches and pains of being cooped up in a cockpit began to dissipate. Feeling returned to toes that had been numb, cold fingers tingled. Then his arm touched the water and he gasped with pain. The arm was quickly pulled back.
"First time's always the worse. Skin and tissue being regenerated can be quite painful. You handled it well. When they lowered me into this tub I was screaming and crying like a babe conceived on a glacier. The trick is to slowly put your arm into the bacta." The Chiss advised.
Gritted his teeth Sorn slowly put the arm below bacta. He bit back pain as the arm disappeared below the boiling liquid. The pain gradually lowered to the point where it was manageable. He sighed with relief and let his head rest against the edge.
"The healing process always hurts. There'll be some long sleepless nights with itchy irritated wounds. But, at least now I have someone to keep me company. My name's Pred'dis'Inrokini." Pred said allowing himself to sink deeper into the tub.
"Sorn."
"What? No long family name? No matter, you're probably a Nuroudo from the look of you. Not that family names mean anything out here. That's the beauty of democracy. You can do whatever you want to no matter what family you came from. Like all Inrokini, I was assigned to work as a miner building passageways between the warrens. Would've spent my life coughing up dust but, here… I'm a clawcraft pilot. Back on Csilla you can't sneeze without the government telling you to blow your nose." Pred chuckled with uncharacteristic Chiss humor.
"I would hardly call the Empire a democracy." Sorn coldly replied.
"The Emperor was democratically elected, but this is an empire of Thrawn and not an empire of that sadistic Sith sorcerer. We Inrokini usually don't debate politics. Instead we tell stories to past the time."
"Stories?"
"Why not? It'll take our minds off the bacta smell. Tell me, what's the Nuroudo tale of the genesis of the Chiss race."
Sorn thought back to all the stories he read as a child. He would spend hours in the Expeditionary Library sifting through volumes containing all the myths of the Chiss. He could name all the ancient heroes and collected the opera from time's past. The Chiss race was different than what it was today. The Chiss used to be a conquering people and the histories were full of stories about battles between massive armadas and bloody planetary assaults.
"Well, there's not much to tell. The four heroes led by Nuroudo slew the savage aliens and cleared the star systems surrounding Csilla. After years of fighting they claimed and settled the 28 systems of the Ascendancy." Sorn said racking his brain.
"Ah, but that's history. Typical Nuroudo. Short, pithy… historical. I'm talking about stories; things not quite true, but in their own way closer to the truth than any history." Pred said with a snort.
"And, what tale Ironkini have to tell?"
"Our tale is a little… longer." Sorn was interested now.
"I am not going anywhere. Still have a lot of skin to regenerate."
Pred took in Sorn's acceptance and paused. A fleshy hand cupped water and dribbled it over Pred's face. Sorn gulped as he saw the hand. It was livid and pink, with blue arteries crisscrossing its length. Pred stayed silent for a time with eyes closed as he collected his thoughts.
"The story starts far away and long ago. The Chiss at this time lived on a green world in the heart of the Kathol Drift. The time was around the first invention of the hyperdrive. The Chiss were a happy people. They laughed and danced in the sun. Their skin was pink, their eyes were blue, their hair was yellow, and they were better looking than any Correlian."
"But, they were a prideful people who stepped on many a toe. A day came when they crossed the wrong people. For a crime that has now been forgotten (some said it was slavery) wise and powerful alien monks exiled the Chiss to Csilla. However, the monks said that if the Chiss battled the deadly monsters that dwelt on Csilla they would be allowed to return to their homeworld."
"Csilla was warm at this time and though the Chiss looked far and wide, sailed to every shore and climbed every mountain they never found the monsters. So, they settled, built farms and cities, had families, fought wars, loved, hated, sang, and danced as normal humans do. The monsters were forgotten. But, then over hundreds of years the glaciers began to advance and claim land. Every year more and more farmland was locked in an icy embrace. Cities were abandoned as the people retreated from the encroaching ice-wall. The land was changing and the world was quickly becoming a wasteland."
"Then, the ice cracked and shifted. Some said something below it was forcing its way up. From the cracks sprung the monsters. They were called "Ice Wraiths". The Chiss tried to fight them. The Chiss were a strong people who thought they could easily handle some errant beasts, but these beats were smart, organized, and tactical. The ice wraiths were ruthless and hideous creatures, terrifying to behold in battle. They were creatures of absolute cold and ice. Many hapless Chiss fell to their warmth leeching claws. They came from below ground, hibernating until the ice came. The ice wraiths hungered for the flesh of the warm blooded and had patiently waited for several millennia to spill out into galaxy. Because they could travel below ground they could strike anywhere without warning. Nowhere was safe."
"For a time, the ice wraiths slaughtered our people. Whole generations fell on the windswept planes of the ever advancing glaciers. A Chiss who survived a particularly brutal battle petitioned the great and powerful monks. He said, "My comrades are slain and my people will soon disappear. Don't let us die here. Give us the way to victory." The monks were wise in all things and responded, "If you we give you victory, then you will never again live in warmth." Looking at his fallen compatriots, the Chiss man accepted without a second thought. The monks named him Dreamer."
"That night he dreamed of the ice wraiths. When he woke he made incisions on the ice carving out a picture of a wraith. From that picture, the Chiss were able to predict where the wraiths would emerge from the ice. This time they were prepared and finally beat the wraiths back. Dreamer continued to dream and chisel and paint and sculpt and each time he created art he developed a new strategy for defeating the ice wraiths. After completed a one beautiful piece he invented the charric blaster which was found to be exceedingly effective."
"One day there was terrible battle where the temperature became colder than ever before and the blood of Chiss turned the glaciers red. Another generation of Chiss died and fell among the bodies of their enemies. Above it all stood the dreamer. His eyes went from blue to bright red and his eyes burned so brilliantly they could be seen a horizon away. After that he was colder… harder. He taught others to dream and to create the things that they dreamed."
"So the Chiss dreamed and created. They won every battle against the ice wraiths. Yet, every victory brought bluer skin, redder eyes, and blacker hair until they were totally unrecognizable from what they once were. But, the Chiss didn't notice the changes. They fought for a thousand years. They learned to survive the ice. Finally, the last of the ice wraiths were defeated and the threat that they posed to the galaxy died with them."
"The Chiss had victory, but it rang hollow and tasted bitter. They found they could not celebrate. They could no longer dance and sing. They couldn't love… they couldn't even hate. With their deed done they tried to return to green worlds where the rest of the humans lived in happiness. But, the humans rejected them when they saw the red eyes and the blue skin. "We do not know you and we fear you." They said. The crestfallen Chiss petitioned the monks. They begged the monks to return them to their green homeworld. The monks refused. "You are no longer like the other races. You are like the ice wraiths. It is your fate to live in ice and battle monsters from beyond." The Chiss accepted their fate and returned to Csilla where they established the Ascendancy and prepared for the coming of the monsters."
"Doesn't exactly have a happy ending. But, that's how we Chiss are. It's easier for us to frown than to smile. That's the way of things. Of course, it's just a story, but there is a lot of scholarly debate surrounding the story. The new monsters have attributed to many races. Many have said it's the Ssi-Ruuk that the story refers to. Others have said it's the Vagaari. Some believe the monsters are still coming..."
Sorn remembered the day in the asteroid belt and shivered despite the scalding liquid.
Pred smiled wide and there was an uncanny twinkle in his eye. "And, then there's another theory that says the Chiss lost the war. And, we… we are the ice wraiths. But, then again I'm just an Inrokini. I wouldn't know much about that."
There was a thick silence after Pred stopped speaking. The smell of bacta returned to their noses and the pain reasserted itself. Sorn finally lifted himself out of the tub and donned his gown.
"Before I came to Niraun," Sorn said suddenly, "I went through the personnel files of all the pilots. The files said that you were of the family, Sabosen."
Another smile spread over Pred's face.
"Did they know?" He innocently asked.
"And, the Sabosen are known for being scholarly and well versed in Chiss mythology."
"Are they? Well… I wouldn't know much about that."
Sorn chuckled and shook his head. Swinging a towel over his shoulder he turned to leave.
"I'll see on at the front, Sorn. I hear we are going to be shipped out to fight the Ssi-Ruuk. We'll give them the ice wraith's own hell." Pred shouted at his back as he exited the bacta room.
In his quarters the orders scrolled down Sorn's console. The Hand Empire was going deep this time. They were going to the edge of the galaxy where the last remnant of the Ssi-Ruuk remained awaiting the twilight of their empire. He was to report to the flight deck in the morning. That night… he dreamed.