Across the Stars

Posted on Wed Feb 28th, 2018 @ 12:39am by Thurius & Sotah
Edited on on Wed Feb 28th, 2018 @ 12:41am

2,113 words; about a 11 minute read

Chapter: Chapter IV: Rezer's Edge
Location: The Citadel, Anaxes, Core Worlds
Timeline: Concurrent with "Sacrifice"

A heavy downpour pummelled the slick metal architecture of the capitol building, the thrum of the rain smashing against the curved structure making it all but impossible to hear all other noises, including the screeching and swooping of the various vehicles lining the skies overhead.

One bolt of blue lightening forked across and scorched the sky, lighting up both the hulking masses of clouds in the sky and the various parks and greenery that littered the ecumenopolis - the chief saving grace that marked the distinction between Anaxes and Coruscant, although both stood at the centre of the Third Galactic Republic, just as they had throughout the history of the galaxy's dominant governments.

As the obligatory thunder that accompanied the lightning rumbled just a few seconds later, Master Sotah felt the vibrations reverberate through the handrail his fleshy three-fingered hands rested upon, his trimmed claws concealing a venom that was entirely in contrast to the kindly Jedi Consular's gentle nature.

Watching across the cityscape, garbed tightly as he was in robes thicker than the Jedi norm to compensate for the harsh weather assaulting Anaxes' capital, Sotah could not deny that dramatic backdrop of thunder and lightening served as a suitable representation of what he was both feeling and sensing.

As much as he enjoyed the refreshing moisture of the precipitation on his leathery blue skin, the Selkath Master was ill at ease. It had been a long three days; he and his companion had been dispatched to the Core world to assist in the mediation of a prolonged internal political conflict that threatened to spread across more than just the dark, inner halls of Anaxes.

A political movement, not necessarily new, was growing in deep support within the upper echelons of power within Anaxes, one that echoed radical, but certainly not new, principles. Alarmist to some, the Jedi were nevertheless obligated to not intervene so much as assist in the delicate guidance of such potential upheaval - and it was no secret that Grand Master Quellus was a close ally of Supreme Chancellor Paralles. It was also no secret that this movement was being echoed on worlds such as Corellia, Eriadus and Chandrila, resentment growing deep for the centrist, apologist policies of the Chancellor.

Sotah's grip on the handrail grew tighter, his usual inner light currently eluding him. Despite Quellus' own alarmist reactions and agenda, the Selkath admitted the shroud of the dark side was thick, and more than just the unrest here on Anaxes had disturbed his night's rest. A great sadness accompanied the tremors of Anaxes' thunderstorm, from a far greater distance.

A harsh light flickered into existence behind the Selkath Jedi, originating from within the building, which silhouetted his robed-form against the building’s own shadowy exterior. A moment later, another shadow grew larger as it carved its way through the light. It was a tall figure, robed also, but appearing tighter and more-form fitting. With an uneasy whine, the glass door that led out onto the balcony slid to one side and the being casting the shadow stepped forward, stopping just shy of Sotah. Another streak of lightning tore the clouds, Illuminating the stern features of the newcomer; Master Thurius.

“I thought I might find you out here,” the Cerean Jedi spoke, tilting his elongated head backwards, tasting the stormy night air just before a long rumble of thunder led him to pause briefly, “One of the many talents I have developed is an intuitive ability to identify Sotah reflection sites.”

Looking now at this friend of many years, he was well-aware that the Consular was not in the middle of meditation as he so often was, but rather was dwelling on something much more deep-rooted that had not held him earlier that day when they were sitting down with the Anaxes delegates, preaching moderation and careful diplomacy. It would be untrue to say that Thurius had been feeling at ease recently, but he had long accepted that his companion’s senses were far more in tune with these disturbances than his own and he was curious as to what had led him to wake at this hour and make the long journey from the Capitol Building guest quarters all the way back to the conference centre, just to stand here watching the brooding weather.

He was not answered immediately and, in the relative silence of the moment, the Knight brought himself alongside Sotah and leant onto the rail, bringing up his hand to support his heavy head as he let out a thoughtful exhale. He allowed the quiet for a while longer and the light in the room he had just exited flicked off, sensing no beings were occupying the space. The darkness swallowed them once again and Thurius broke the silence, “Chip for your thoughts, my friend?”

Sotah had welcomed the presence of his friend, and even more so the physical show affection the Cerean showed him now. For a man of great physical prowess, a man who made lightsaber combat appear almost an art form, he had surprising grace and tenderness.

"Do you remember how it felt?" He asked quietly, his lispy-aquatic variation on Galactic Basic barely audible above Anaxes' storm. "The Outer Rim Conflict," he clarified, "at the beginning, on Cathar. When Zam Kessar and the others walked across and the guns fell silent. And they just stood there, looking back at us?"

Surprised by the question, Thurius raised his head away from his hand and looked towards his friend, trying to get a good look at him in the gloom, to see if his face could give answers his aura could not, “Of course I remember,” he answered, having failed to glean more from Sotah’s neutral Selkath expression, “It seemed to last an eternity; that moment of realisation that our Order had fractured. That not only did some of our closest allies disagree with our principles, but that they would leave in such a manner: accusing us, challenging us to take up arms against them as well.”

That feeling of frustration bit at the Cerean as he was forced, once-again, to question his actions in that moment, “The worst part is that it was like looking into the mirror: it could have so easily been me marching off past that barricade. Thinking that the council would change their minds, were they to see me standing beside those Outer Rim soldiers giving them that same glare Kessar…”

He trailed off, realising he had heard himself speak these words before, sometime alone and sometimes with the man beside him when they had discussed it in the past. But there could never be a satisfactory solution to his anguish. He had long since realised that he had made a choice and that sticking by it was the best he could do, when the morality of the situation was so grey; even between Jedi.

He stood up straight again, “That cannot be the reason why you have come out here tonight, Sotah. Unless you have finally figured out which side of that barricade we should have been on, you must have some other reason for dredging up the Conflict.”

A hum came from the Selkath, as was his way, only the sound was glum, distant. "No," he admitted, "but that feeling..." He beady eyes sealed shut for a moment, and he reached out with the Force. "It is almost..."

Sotah's presence opened as his voice limped off, and he welcomed the wisps of essence that all of the beings of Anaxes emanated, their combined whole a cascading triumph of life and death, all together and yet each so individual and disparate. But it was beyond that that he heard the calling, that he felt that same chilling cataclysm that was not the death of any one person, or even dozens, but rather that very fracturing of principles his friend had mentioned - of the slow but tragic death of an idea. Of an identity.

The Consular's eyes slowly opened, as if blinking away the morning's first sleep after a deep slumber. He inclined his head to finally face his friend, Thurius' cranial ridges, more wrinkled now than they perhaps once were, lit up once more by another brilliant bolt of nature. "Somewhere, I fear someone close has lost themselves... is in great anguish."

Whenever Jedi formed close bonds, as was common between masters and students, and indeed in close-knit groups such as those of Thurius, Sotah and their own padawans of old, it was not atypical for them to grow accustomed to one another's presence in the Force, most keenly felt when in close proximity. As time progressed and those bonds deepened but were pulled taut across the cosmos, they took different shapes, became different feelings.

During the most recent Outer Rim Conflict, a war in which both Sotah and his Cerean friend had been reluctant participants, Jedi turned on Jedi, but not out of hatred and not out of anyone's fall into the dark side (despite some of the Council's rumblings at the time). Many of these bonds had been torn as friend battled friend, as apprentice slayed master, or even a distant cannon felled a padawan star systems away from their master. Regardless, it nearly always caused ripples in the Force, irrevocably changing those tied, as if a piece of one's self were either excised or scarred.

As Sotah looked to the other Jedi Master, he found it difficult to find the words. "I am sorry to ask a question yet again so personal," he began, his chest feeling almost hollow and his heavy robes weighing him down more, as if they were all that kept him being swept out into the cityscape beyond. "Young Mykles, when he became one with the Force-"

“Padawan Svern,” Thurius spoke the surname of his old pupil, finding it easier to say than the name he used to so often call out with pride, “When he passed… it came as such a shock. I had great confidence in his abilities. In him, I saw myself and, as I pushed him more and more, it was almost as though the division between the two of us became less distinct.”

The Guardian thought back to that fateful day: an assignment seemingly like many others to the lower reaches of Coruscant’s ecumenopolis but one that had led to the untimely death of his Cathar apprentice, which Thurius still blamed himself for. He had placed pride before everything, sending Mykles out alone to face a dangerous group of gangsters. Perhaps he had been unprepared or perhaps he had under-estimated their foe but one thing was clear: Thurius should have been there himself. Even now, he knew little about what had actually transpired, except that Mykles died among strangers and that the true culprit was never apprehended.

Bringing himself back to the moment, he found himself caught in the thoughtful marble gaze of his old friend, who had been there for him to prevent him from losing all faith in that time, “It was like a part of me died with him,” he elaborated, maintaining the gaze, “My youthful energy, my joy in combat. It was all extinguished with his light; an immaterial wound whose scars I shall bear till the day I too join with the Force.”

As the Cerean spoke the last word, Sotah let out a deep gasp, feeling as though all of the wind had been sucked from his lungs. "Thurius..." he began, his voice distant and sounding almost as if he were someone else as he landed a three-fingered hand upon his friend's robed shoulder for support, lest his legs surrender all strength.

"I... Loren..." He tried, the Selkath's shimmering black eyes, reflections of the traffic and lightning in the distance dancing as they were, locked upon Thurius' with pained certainty, his grip on his shoulder light and threatening to slip. "She is dead."

Thurius' strong, firm arms grasped back, holding his struggling friend's own shoulders so the two were locked together in support. He could feel the cold fabric of Sotah's robe in his hands like water and it seemed as though he might slip away from him. He gripped all the harder as the truth of the words dawned upon him.

Loren was dead.

In those familiar aquatic eyes, the Jedi Guardian seemed to watch a shimmer of light escaping from deep within them. Almost as if he were following the shimmer float away, Thurius' gaze slowly rose up, above Sotah, above the steely buildings and into the stormy sky.

Another light had gone out and the galaxy was darker for it.

RSS Feed