Revelations and Renewal

Posted on Tue Mar 27th, 2018 @ 3:36pm by Bomoor Thort & Thane & 2-1BH "Useless"

2,961 words; about a 15 minute read

Chapter: Chapter IV: Rezer's Edge
Location: Red Raptor, Jericho Hangar
Timeline: After "Pathways"

OLD

With a slight pause and a long exhale of the station's recycled air, he added,"But Thane. There is something I must tell you as well. Not now, though, as we must ensure our allies are safe and that we do, indeed, escape this place. But soon, I will try to explain myself."

Before Thane could begin to question the nature of his friend's confession, the pair realised they had reached the large airlock-seal to the hanger bay. With a press of the button, the door slid open quickly, revealing the familiar sight of their rusty-red smuggler ship set against the faint blue shimmer of the magnetic containment field.

Beyond that field lay the endless expanse of the galaxy; beyond it lay freedom.

NEW

Thane watched Morgo's slender form depart the Red Raptor's makeshift laboratory-slash-medical bay with purpose, the form-fitting black combat suit she had donned for her rescue mission of Bomoor and himself accentuating what few curves the thin Dromachean boasted, not that it was such a thing Thane particularly dwelled on - and certainly not with her.

Following her with his eyes until she turned out of sight, he began to wonder if he should reassess all that had transpired between the pair. He had, after all, offered a thinly-veiled threat to her on their last meeting and despite that, she had still come with Sev and Bería to save them both. Although he had not yet had the chance to properly discuss the matter with her, the former Jedi wondered what exactly had compelled her to take part, to expose herself in the way that she had, to wonder whether it was some attempt at gaining some power over Thane, or an attempt to balance the books between them. Or, quite impossibly, whether it was out of the kindness of her black heart.

He winced as another sharp twang of pain coursed through his mangled right hand, the peculiar computerised brace Morgo had attached working its fine components to reset as many of the remaining shattered bones as possible before it could be presented to someone with more sophisticated equipment at their disposal.

The Caanan regarded his new disability with disgust, internally offended at knowing that once the brace's efforts were concluded, some mechanical prosthetic would take the place of his dominant hand. Of the hand he had further injured during his final meeting with Loren. Anger and shame coursed through the man, and whilst those were useful for sustaining one's self during extreme times of duress, they offered little by way of healing, which required a calm serenity he was far from achieving.

Even now, he wondered what Bería had sensed during those final moments for the Jedi Sentinel, and what she continued to feel from Thane, courtesy of their unwilling Force bond. She had been uncharacteristically muted upon their return to the Raptor, even offering little by of welcome to the Ithorian, the gentler of her informal mentors. For even a while before the fated mission to Jericho, they had felt a maw growing between them, likely as Thane indulged his darker curiosities more, and he also grew less tolerant of her chaotic whims. If she had in any way sensed his betrayal, his anguish and anger, then even she, despite her flaws, could intuit he had done something utterly reprehensible - that he had done something there was no coming back from.

Thane tried to brush the fatalistic consideration away, touching one finger from his good hand against the cumbersome bacta patch knitting away at his broken nose, his one visible scar that he carried from Loren. He quickly found himself tinkering with the brace once again, however, the device being both painful and itchy, and he seriously considered amending its connection, despite how counter-productive the act would be.

He instinctively growled as he ended up causing himself more pain. The Human slumped backwards in his chair, resigning himself in defeat to the pain and his own demons, physically, mentally and spiritually exhausted after the trauma of Jericho. Peace, however, continued to elude him, despite being back aboard the Raptor. In an internal display of exaggeration, he wondered if peace would infinitely continue to escape him now.

Bomoor, who was currently engaging with 2-1BH, kept catching sight of Thane flinching in the corner of his eye. It was just like his friend to fidget about when having some procedure inflicted upon him; he had often observed that the Caanan suffered from White Coat Syndrome, becoming agitated when someone else was given some measure of control over his body, even for a simple examination. But this time, he could hardly blame him; it was Bomoor himself that had crushed his exposed human fingers in the pit on Jericho and, while he had not been himself, it was still a reminder of the other apologies he knew he had to make after all this.

“The wounds are healing well, however,” the holographic droid continued, “The latest data on Ithorian dermal tissue would place you well into the 95th percentile for recovery from wounds of this kind. The only medication I can prescribe at this stage is the Itho-3 supplement to treat your malnutrition. While my scans concluded no further infection or internal trauma, I would still recommend a full physical exam at the earliest opportunity.”

Bomoor chucked slightly at the droid’s usual qualifier regarding his limited abilities, despite Morgo’s assurances that his medical capability was more than a match for the average medical doctor in the Galaxy, “Thank you Useless, I promise that I shall have every nook and cranny examined when I next get the chance.”

With an odd fumbling noise that served as an acknowledgement, the droid program deactivated its own holoprojector, fading away and leaving Bomoor and Thane as the only figures in the medical bay. Flicking off the master switch for the Holo-droid system, ensuring that the droid would not be supervising them further, Bomoor made his way to his friend’s side and examined the mechanical cast.

“I know you realise that the cast is working to preserve as much of your hand as possible and yet you still resist it,” he commented, bringing a hand up and allowing what healing essence he could muster to resonate within Thane’s hand. After having secured the Kaiburr shard away, Bomoor found it strange to return to his normal capacity within the Force. Perhaps, with the shard’s power he could have knitted Thane’s broken boned back together with his abilities, as one might will the skin to rejuvenate a simple scratch. But, given the time since the injury, he had to accept that a mechanical intervention would be required and he was also not that keen on picking up that shard again quite so soon.

After all that had happened, Thane even found it difficult to allow Bomoor's healing presence to wash over his person, instinctively still seeking to draw up barriers to other Force users seeking to invade his person. But of course, he knew that the Ithorian was no foe; he was his friend, and he knew the inner turmoil that must have been striking at the kind man's soul for what had happened. Even so, the shadow of his own actions loomed large over his mind and person, threatening to bubble over and expose his dark deceit.

Although slightly stilted in his chair, he did his best to relax his posture and accept his friend's kindness. It was not, after all, Bomoor's actions that led him to feel as he did, and already some of his discomfort was waning.

"Before we came aboard, you said there was something you wanted to tell me?" He asked, realising he had said little since their return, perhaps more preoccupied with both his own grim actions and the unsettling behaviour of Bería. She knows. Thane's eyes fell upon Bomoor's, searching them for any visual cues to accompany his words.

Trying to maintain the healing aura as best he could, Bomoor struggled to think of how to start, "Yes, after all that has happened and what has come to light, I feel you must know. When we first reported back about the Cult to the Jedi Council, I was very uncertain about how I felt. With you leaving the Order, I was forced to confront my own disagreements with the Reborn Jedi; I believe I was wrong to choose the comfortable option: to stay with the Jedi and, in turn, agree to a terrible act of betrayal against you."

Seeing that the mention of betrayal had caught Thane's attention, Bomoor pushed forward with his confession, "You already know that, if this mission was to be sanctioned, I was to act as the council's eyes and ears. But what you did not know was that the council was particularly keen that I make them aware of your personal activities: if you ever went somewhere or did something that would provide some evidence of your fall to the Dark Side. They seemed more interested in their crusade against you than in the mission itself; I knew that some among the council were looking for an excuse to sanction your execution and that I would be giving them that justification. Even so, I agreed…”

He looked back into Thane’s eyes, realising he had let his gaze drift away as he explained himself, “…and I am sorry.”

Thane let Bomoor's words sink in, mulling over the Jedi's confession. The Caanan's tired eyes maintained focus with Bomoor's own. His first instinct was to scoff, initially considering himself vindicated in his decision to abandon the monastic order of hypocrites in the light of this further betrayal, by both is former masters and his friend.

From the moment he had declared himself independent of their regime, they had been hounding him, expecting him to surrender himself to his base instincts and become the embodiment of their fairytale Sith villains. First with Bomoor, and then with Loren, evidently not having faith in the young Ithorian to keep true to their crusaders' whims, they had conscripted those closest to him to seek an excuse to put him on trial, or execute him, as Bomoor had suggested.

It was sickening.

Thane turned his head away from Bomoor, scowling at the bulkhead beside him, one of the few truly clean examples of its kind on the Raptor, courtesy of Morgo's anal attentions.

As his eyes unintentionally examined the grooves and sheen of the metal material that made up the wall, Thane thought of how the Jedi, for all their preaching and prattling of principles and morals, they were just as corrupt as any Vader or Sidious, only their corruption was deeper, sicker - more twisted. Instead of seeking power or seducing people to the dark side, they hoarded what power they had, and conscripted the well-meaning and virtuous to be their pawns, all in the name of the 'Light Side of the Force'.

From their actions had come Bomoor's betrayal. From their actions had come Loren's murder. From their actions, anger... fear and rage.

He finally turned his head back to the Ithorian, noticing a glassy shimmer to his eyes, giving him an oddly Human appearance in his sorrow. In truth, for all his incensed anger at the Jedi, nothing they had done had hurt him more than this revelation. Nothing that had come before had made him hate them as he did now in this instant.

Thane's free hand clenched and he gritted his teeth as he looked at the agony the Jedi had imposed upon Bomoor, of the agony he himself had inflicted on him knowing full well how the Council would react to his own decisions, and of the agony he was feeling now at his sacrifice of Loren, for simply knowing too much because of the Council's mistrust and his dark devotion to the holocron. They could have left him well alone, to follow his own path, to have his own mind-

-but they just couldn't, could they? They had to interfere. They had to be in control. Some of Morgo's multi-coloured vials, lined up neatly as they were in their racks, began to shake. Lab equipment clattered on their tables as tools slipped to the floor with a metallic bang.

As one vial began to crack, Thane clamped down on his unbridled rage, letting it simmer down to its usual hidden ember, deep within him, and the equipment returned to silence. "There is nothing to forgive," he said in earnest, his voice cracking as he released his clenched fist, and placed the open palm on Bomoor's arm. "You are my friend... and my brother, Bomoor. Now and forever."

As the clattering of glass and metalwork subsided, the sterile room was plunged into a silence for several long moments. The only sound was the steady intake and release of air from Bomoor’s twin mouths. The Ithorian had held steady while Thane had allowed some of his rage to seep out, feeling it strongly through the healing connection he still held with Thane’s wounded digits. He wanted to feel it; to experience the pain he had caused his closest friend. But to hear Thane then not only forgive him, but to make such a pledge to their friendship, was more than he deserved and only further proved how wrong he was to allow the council to spin their wild assault on Thane’s character.

Regardless of where he derived his power or what his political opinions were, Thane was, as ever, a true friend and one that understood the meaning of that friendship as well. Bomoor hoped that Thane’s promise of a lasting bond was true so that he may someday feel honest in saying the same of himself.

“I have fallen short of what it means to be your friend,” the consular spoke finally, holding a firm ochre fist against his chest as if making a pledge, “But your words give me hope that we can come out of this stronger; the both of us.”

Thinking again about the now-unimportant Jedi council, he continued, “While my reports to the council often turned to the subject of your activities, I have never said anything that would endanger our ongoing mission. They do not know of the Holocrons or the true threat we faced on Tython. But I know they sensed I was holding back. That is probably why they sent…Loren…”

It was unsettling to think that, in not performing his duties as a spy sufficiently, he may have been partially-responsible for the blameless sentinel being dispatched to them and, as a result, her death. While Bomoor knew it took more than one thread to knit such a tangled fate, it was still saddening to know he played a part in it. Still, had he refused outright all those months ago, who knows how many Jedi Shadows would have been sent to tail himself and Thane.

He knew how so many diverging possibilities made it hard for even intuitive seers like Master Vemrus to untangle the true course that our universe would take. By the time the meaning of a vision had been made clear, it was not at all uncommon for the event to have already taken place. Precognition was a frustrating talent and one that Bomoor was not regretful that he did not develop more fully.

“…this should never have happened,” he added, his thoughts bleeding into his words, “There is so much corruption, even after all the lessons of the past…”

Although Thane's anger had barely subsided, none of it was directed towards his friend, the latest in a long line of victims of Grand Master Quellus and his dogmatic Reborn Order. The Human withdrew his hand and let a few moments of somehow comfortable silence pass between them, allowing himself to open more to Bomoor's healing aura.

"So," he finally began, his voice now level and crisper, although still tired in its enunciation, "what will you do now?" Inwardly, he wondered what the Jedi would do now; they would no doubt seek to recall Bomoor before the Council, and hold him accountable for his 'failings' with regards to Thane - and the loss of Loren. Thane's jaw muscles tightened as he envisioned Sotah's features dipping in sadness.

It was an expected question and, from a certain point of view a rather simple one. However, the weight of it hung heavily on the Ithorian. After a brief pause, he answered, "I think it is long past time that anyone should dictate the paths I take and the morals I follow."

He thought again about all those who had shaped his morals within the Order, but also his innate distaste for many of the ideals and principles spouted by the self-professed Guardians of Justice.

Bomoor brought himself taller, his healing aura strengthening slightly as he decided for himself, "I shall contact the council and they shall have their report but it shall be the last act I perform for them. I owe them my skills and a vast amount of my knowledge, but it is clear that myself and the galaxy-at-large has grown beyond needing such a hindrance."

Feeling that his healing effects had become saturated, Bomoor eased off and released his ability on Thane's disfigured fingers. He brought his neck muscles upwards into his best imitation of a humanoid smile, "We shall work together to carve a new path, free from old restraints and prejudices; free from the Jedi."

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