Vindication

Posted on Fri May 16th, 2014 @ 12:23am by Bomoor Thort & Thane & Loren†
Edited on on Wed Aug 21st, 2019 @ 10:41pm

3,233 words; about a 16 minute read

Chapter: Chapter IV: Rezer's Edge
Location: Cells, Jericho
Timeline: Sometime after "Pit of Rage"

OLD

Bleary and still unable to truly focus, he nevertheless knew the man before him to be familiar; large scars decorated his grizzled and ageing features, near-insane ice blue eyes boring into his very (fading) being. When Thane did not respond to the heavily-armoured man, he appeared to grow angrier, although it was not fully aimed at Thane himself. Even so, the hatred that began to mount within the former Jedi at the sight of his fellow Human stirred just the smallest amount of rebellion that remained him, and he mustered just an ounce of strength to spit in the man's face, a murky bloody lump that landed upon his chin.

At that, the man actually smiled - a vicious, inhuman thing - before thrusting Thane into the arms of another figure nearby. What happened after that, however, was unknown to him. Passing into finally into a disturbed haze of unconsciousness, his last tangible idea was of a lost friend named Thort.

NEW

"I'm sorry Thane," rasped Bomoor, body still shaking and hands clasping the cold metal bars of his cage until his head stopped spinning the room around, "I cannot summon the correct words to apologise to you for causing you such injury."

Both he and Thane had been thrown back into their cells after a hazy session of treatments as ordered by Zrad Rezer. The exile leader had seen to it that his two prize Jedi were patched up as best as his men could before they were returned to their dark squalor. This time, with a guard posted outside the door and not anywhere near the prisoners.

The stimulants they had been given had now relinquished control of their minds but their bodies still played catch up. Nether of them were aware that they had company in the room. A familiar presence that would have been easily detected by either one of them had their Force affinity not been severed by the ysalamiri still dotted about in every corner of the station. Their new company did not reveal themselves to the crippled pair, although she was well aware of their presence despite her own difficulty accessing the ever-present Force. For now, she listened and waited.

The Ithorian tightened his grip on the bar and pulled his hulking figure upright with strong but aching muscles, "I would not blame you for feeling anger, my friend. But my only defence is that I was not myself. Or, at the very least, I was lost in my own mind, which was full of fear and rage."

Anger. Fear and rage.

Those words echoed loudly about Thane's beleaguered, ailed mind. Swimming about the murk that had increasingly become his conscious and troubled mind long before arriving at Jericho, other words, thoughts and feelings that had been brewing for-

How long was it? The broken former Jedi asked himself. For the longest of times that he could remember, he had been troubled. It was not a concern born from what occurred during his childhood on Caanus, nor was it one of any clinical troubles - not that he knew, anyway. He had had friends within the Reborn Order. He had had an incredibly understanding, patient and talented teacher during his youth.

No. No, it had in fact been the universe around him that bothered him. That sickened him. For so long, he had worked to combat many of his baser instincts on the matter, overriding them with empty words, Jedi mantra and Republic ideals, ideals that were most certainly not his own. At least, they were ideals he may have agreed with in theory, but not in practice. The Republic was sick; the Order was sick; the galaxy was sick.

In truth, for the longest of times he had put the thoughts to one side, or merely acted in ways that he believed could even some small difference, to lead what he believed to be moralistic against and within a broken and defeatist system. Certainly, it had contributed to his oft-confused state of mind, leaving him without much clarity on things, lest he give in to arbitrary instincts, like so many Dark Jedi had done in the past. These past few years had been painful, almost chipping away at whatever positive energy had fuelled him, leaving his conscience conflicted and his mindset troubled as he struggled with mind against matter.

Only in the last few months had that mist that engulfed his mind and soul begun to lift. It was only in the last few weeks that he had really begun to actually step clear of that mist, not only to embrace what he had been told was wrong to believe and to then also seek to make a real difference, to no longer be that raindrop in the ocean. Only since the Sith.

Anger. Fear and rage.

"We were not ourselves," he finally managed to say, not looking up at his friend. Instead, the Caanan's eyes rested upon his right hand as he attempted and failed to clasp it fully. Even if he had, he knew that the missing final two digits would leave it a peculiar experience, but one that he did not imagine he would ever now get a chance to grow used to. After all, he was finding it increasingly unlikely they would ever find themselves departing from Jericho.

Like his acceptance of his true nature and the dark side, this was merely another acceptance of reality, and it was that notion that had brought back the glum haze that now swamped his diligent and ready mind. At last he had set himself upon a path that could feasibly see him do what he wanted to do - what must be done - and that was now fluttering away like a Caanan craaw from its most recent kill.

Thinking of Caanus did little more to improve his mood, not that he had felt any great connection to his homeworld for quite some time. That was another new and welcome development that was to become lost on him, he who was soon to be little more than a footnote in the annals of the Order's lost students.

Anger. Fear and Rage.

"Apologies are unnecessary," Thane stated simply and firmly, still admiring the destruction of half of his hand with a disturbed satisfaction. The statement was not untrue to him, but how Bomoor interpreted it was not important. For Thane, it is- "Just an acceptance of reality," he said, speaking his thought out loud.

Bomoor slid back down to the ground, the cold truth in Thane's words echoing with his own dispair at the bleak situation. Nothing seemed of much importance now that they were faced with such meaningless death; the cruelty of Zrad's Mandalorians, the strictness of the Jedi council, even the faces of his fellow Red Raptor crewmembers drew no warmth. All he could feel was the icy void left without his awareness of the living force.

Bomoor recalled a time before his training. His childhood on Öetrago with his own kind. Among the Ithorians, strong Force sensitives often became tribe leaders because of their ability to deepy connect with the interplay of life within the community. Things could have been very different for Bomoor had his father not introduced him to the worlds beyond his own.

He had never resented being given the opportunity to learn more about his innate abilities. He saw little to be gained in staying with the tribes on Öetrago - while their care and reverance for the land was inspiring, and indeed much alike his own beliefs, Bomoor knew that the Living Force was much bigger than the interplay between the land and its people. The Jedi offered him their knowledge, but in turn he became part of their tribe, where being Force sensitive was a prerequisite and not a badge of honour. People began to look at him as simply another Jedi and did not see beyond that. Many even feared or disliked those who held the title of Jedi.

"Do you think it was worth it?" he murmered to the ground, "Becoming a Jedi. Is it worth this? Worth all the hatred and anger directed at us that we are taught to simply ignore? Perhaps it would have been better not to join the order and receive this label."

"If I thought it was worth it," Thane began, quickly responding to his friend, "do you think I would have resigned from the Order?" He stated the question simply, his blue eyes dull thanks to the poor lighting and his weakened state as they locked upon the Ithorian.

Sighting the state of Bomoor's body, its dark skin ravaged in various places thanks to the damage he had dealt in turn during their bloody, drug-fuelled duel in the Exiles' rancid makeshift arena, Thane could not even bring himself to quite feel the guilt he imaged he might. Of course, he had already absolved himself of the majority of the blame. He had been, after all, subdued by ridiculous chemical imbalances. Even so, he had expected more guilt; usually, he would be frustrated that even such drugs had overcome his stalwart mental faculties, but instead he felt distant. Almost cold.

Really, that sort of arbitrary notion should have equally bothered him. Sitting in the cell, however, body and mind beaten, resolve crumbling and hope dwindling, it really did almost mean nothing.

Rising up from his thoughts once again, he could see Bomoor had perhaps expected something with more substance than that simple response, and so he did what he could to muster himself. "It's been a long time since I thought being a part of the Jedi Order was worth it - you know that. That's not the same, though, as thinking nothing is worth it." Thane paused, letting his head settle backwards upon one of the cells bars, closing his eyes so that he may rub their lids. "Just like you, the universe around me speaks to me... calls me... bothers me, even. There's a lot about that which resides in it that frustrates me; the way they live their lives, the way the galaxy is run and what I can - could - do about it."

Truly, this was a conversation like the pair had enjoyed on numerous occasions in the past, often getting involved in rather heated debates (despite usually being in agreement) on the running of the Third Republic, of the society and overriding culture that seemed to dominate the mindsets of its billions of citizens. It was his view on such matters that drove the heir to Caanus to make the decisions he did, and particularly so in recent times.

"In theory, the Jedi serve a worthwhile purpose, or were at least meant to in previous incarnations," the Human decided to carry on before Bomoor could speak. "In many instances, they took on a more active role, seeking to improve the society around them, at the very least imploring their compatriots to seek a better way of conducting themselves. They've long lost that, though. Most of the Republic has." Thane let a slight sigh escape him, almost growing bored, considering the futility of this conversation, when considering their circumstances. "For the longest of times, Bomoor, I didn't know what I was going to do. I've wanted to make a difference. Not in the sense of saving a child from a burning building or mediating some pathetic trade dispute, no, but in the sense of impacting the galaxy. Directing it."

Once again, Thane sought to make eye contact with his oldest friend, using his left hand to shift himself into a more comfortable position. "I could not do that with the Jedi. What little was permitted did not sit right with me; until Darth Bane's holocron, I was growing steadily more disillusioned with our supposed-masters in their infinite enlightenment, chafing against their unwillingness to do what had to be done, both in the streets and in the Senate." His eyes narrowed slightly, and a grimace started to form on his dirtied features. "Leaving the Order had given me freedom to pursue a path more suited to my beliefs, and the Sith had enfranchised me with the capabilities to do what I believe to be right." He then looked about their cell with disgust, and kicked a leg out in frustration. "Although not against kriffing ysalamiri, of course," he spat.

Thane's mention of the holocron caused a stir within their hidden companion. One that would have been impossible for her to hide from the two wounded friends were they under normal circumstances. It was a flash of emotion at Thane's admittance of dark side practice; Loren's own anger and sense of betrayal at the consideration at what could only be considered her adopted brother had subscribed to. A deep feeling of sadness washed over her, mounting feelings of grief and confusion swallowing her as they had not done in so long.

Certainly, she had suspected Thane for a long time, as most of the order now did following his resignation, but now she had the dissatisfaction of knowing that the Council's decision and actions were righteous - something that she was loathe to admit in most situations anyway, but more so now that they had been vindicated by her fallen brother.

What of Bomoor, though? she thought grimly, He clearly sympathises. has he pratised dark arts as well? The woman flexed her shoulders slightly as she contemplated her next step. While her discovery was enlightening, it would be diminished somewhat if the pair of them died here in this place. Even her own chances were not favourable but at least she had her health.

For now, anyway.

Without her attachment to the Force - whilst something she was comparably less reliant upon against other Jedi - had naturally left her less attuned to her surroundings. It was important that she did not let this revelation, something she had feared and lulled herself into believing to be untrue, stifle her ability to see her mission through to completion. Loren could not yet resign herself to any decision.

Her attention was drawn back to the present as she heard a hollow clink as a fragment of some ceramic material was thrust against the floor. The Ithorian had just removed another remnant of the recent battle from his thick hide.

"Never mind the Ysalamiri," Bomoor offered a strained chuckle at Thane, "I'm not sure I shall ever find all the pieces of whatever you lodged in my back. You know, perhaps this is the ultimate freedom - free from the ever-binding Force itself and now free to wallow in the complaints of the body. It really shows how pointless the teachings of the Jedi and Sith must seem to the majority of sentients. Why care about achieving inner strength or peace when you cannot escape the daily pain that comes simply with living?"

Bomoor realised that his statement had become far more negative than he had intended. He was used to voicing his thoughts with Thane as they had countless times but he was fearful that these could be some of their final words together. Was it worth wasting them circling the drain of despair where there were no true answers to be had?

"Tell me something of Caanus," he asked after a pause, "Remind me of the fields you played on as a child. Something before you had need to worry about the affairs of the universe and its tedious populace."

The thought of his homeworld had almost left Thane's mind when Bomoor uttered its named once more, again bringing it to the fore. As it had not earlier, no pleasure truly came from the image that washed over his thoughts. At least, not until he fully digested what his friend had asked; a small but resigned smile slipped across his pale and wearied features as he recalled the distinctive petrichor of the lands of his birth. Whilst similar to so many other fragrances to be encountered across the innumerable worlds of the galaxy, nothing quite compared for Thane.

"I actually grew up on a mountain," he uttered with a softness not too common to him, his eyes drifting upwards before closing to better reminisce. It had, after all, been a long time. "But that doesn't mean I did not see more of my world, despite the fact I was only six when last setting foot upon its soil." Thane paused, picturing as best he could the lands he had once called home. "The only reminders I've had of these places have been database images, and whilst I may be biased, they simply do not do Caanus justice."

The Human attempted to clear his throat, a strained and rasping noise that made his chest ache ever more greatly before he continued. "I remember... the sky shone a brilliant lavender most days, but then there were others - particularly if it stormed, as it was prone to do - when it would be a rich purple. Those were my favourite days. In the hours following the storm's clearing, I would beg my mother to take me out upon the Vlaanduri Plains that stretched out around Vlaand and the mountain that housed Vaarthul."

With that ghost of a smile still threatening to spread further, Thane once again opened his eyes and turned to look at Bomoor. Of all the people to share not only his final moments with but also these more private and personal memories, his Ithorian friend was the one he was happiest and most fulfilled to do so with. In fact, it was an honour, although he struggled to find a way to express that now.

"You would very much like it there," he went on instead. "The grass grows long, a mesmerising, sharp green colour, stark against the dark wood that typifies the thick forestry and violet hues of the heavens. Nothing like the places we have so often found ourselves; nothing like the slums of Nar Shaddaa, the highways of Coruscant or the sands of Tatooine." Without meaning to, a hint of a sigh slipped from him. "A quiet planet. Sleepy."

Bomoor had closed his eyes during Thane's imagery. While an alien world to him, the descriptions of Caanus seemed warm through the eyes of his friend. He was free to imagine that child-like joy of the outdoors Thane had felt without the burdens the Caanan carried when he himself thought of home. It was but a flicker of relief in the dark, but it filled some of the void.

"It sounds wonderful, my friend. I wish we could be there now," Bomoor hummed, "You can get so caught up in all the vile sinkholes of the universe that you forget that some places are just so peaceful. Thank you for sharing that with me."

He opened his eyes, allowing the offensive sight of the rusted bars and filth-stained surfaces to flood back to the forefront of his mind. There was no escape; no hope of seeing those rolling plains or the mountains stretching up into the violet sky. It would simply be the memory of a memory; at least until it was finally extinguished along with his last ounces of life.

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