Mind over Marius

Posted on Wed Jun 8th, 2022 @ 9:41pm by Bomoor Thort

3,044 words; about a 15 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Near to Shuttle Crash Site, Woodland, Bastion
Timeline: Late Afternoon (Day Three, Week Four)

OLD

It was then, with a thrust of Bomoor's tendril like fingers forwards, Thendleton felt as though his essence was thrust out of him and the scene in front of him peeled away into pure white nothingness as his mind was invaded.

NEW

The whiteness settled into more of a milky green hue and then into more vibrant striking shapes of thick tropical trees and astonishingly large and waxy leaves. They were moving slowly along in the periphery and ahead was a moderately treaded dirt path that stretched out into yet more wilderness.

Bomoor felt his body materialising into the passenger seat of a landspeeder and, to his right, guiding the vehicle with an arm stretched over the side, catching the warm, gentle breeze between his fingers was Marius Thendleton.

The Human did not appear troubled by the Ithorian’s presence beside him in this mindscape. Perhaps he occupied the position of another person familiar to Marius or perhaps he was just acting as a projection of the host mind. Either way, Bomoor felt comfortable enough to speak.

“Where are we?” he asked plainly.

"New Dac!" Thendleton called over the roar of the speeder's engines and the whooshing wind, as he rapidly increased the vehicle's speed, pressing only the Human back in his leather seat. "I forget the name of this backwater world's forests, but there is fine sport here!"

As the speeder shifted efficiently over the terrain, as Thendleton directed them through sufficient openings in the tropical rainforest they were launching themselves through, Bomoor noticed a selection of large rifles resting in the back seats, as well as other modern hunting equipment styled with a traditional veneer.

"The fishheads are paying the price for their betrayal in the war, and the Company is doing their bit for the Republic. A lot of worlds to repopulate with animals." He then glanced over conspiratorially to Bomoor, a thick eyebrow raised and his mouth sneering an unpleasant smile on one side, tugging at his moustachios and sideburns, which seemed a little more colourful in this mental recreation. "But they won't miss one or two of them, eh?"

Bomoor frowned but replied in a dry tone, “No, I suppose not.”

That was all he had intended to add, but something about this reality made him voice the thoughts that would normally be internalised, “But they probably did not get birthed into this world just to be shot and mounted on your wall.”

Waiting for some disgruntled comeback from the Intendant, Bomoor received only a little chuckle from the Human and they sped on into the wilderness. Without realising it, the former-Jedi then found himself standing beside the vehicle, watching as Thendleton fiddled with his archaic-looking slugthrower hunting rifle. The extremely long, wooden-bodied weapon was probably more modern than it first appeared, with the addition of a laser sight and a self-reloading mechanism. However, in the hands of the moustachioed man in his hunting regalia, it looked like some kind of pre-space flight toy weapon.

While disorienting to suddenly shift perspective, Bomoor tried to ignore it and not get drawn away from why he was here. He probed further, “So, you’re on New Dac with GalactaWerks, once again supposedly acting in the name of the Third Republic. But why visit this memory now? Unlike here, Bastion is not another Republic contracted assignment you can exploit. It’s presumably something bigger you don’t want the Republic to know about.”

"The trick," the intendant said, as if he had not even heard Bomoor's question, or perhaps, was cleverly seeking to evade it, "is to not chase after the quarry after the first shot." The two of them were now crouched down within the underbrush. Thendleton's rifle was resting on a broken log and he was aiming it through the tropical trees towards a clearing. Sand could be seen where he was aiming, and the sound of waves crashing against a beachhead reverberated around the jungle.

Whilst it was only just perceptible to Bomoor, he could make out a faun-like mammal standing quietly on the beach, past the trees, on which Thendleton's rifle was trained. "A lot of beasts fall on the first shot. It is the unwily hunter that then rushes forward to claim their quarry; the shock knocks them over, but they are like to bolt when the foolish charge towards their prize, the wound not fatal. It exposes the hunter and teaches the prey too valuable a lesson."

Just for a second, the intendant seemed to glance knowingly to Bomoor, as if his little lesson on hunting held a greater meaning than the literal one before them, although it was surprising to think that Marius Thendleton would hold any true insight or intuition about the art of statecraft - or the ongoing conflicts GalactaWerks had put itself at the heart of.

“Right…” Bomoor frowned and looked away towards some other islands in the distance, realising there was a depth to Thendleton’s statements that was just out of reach. He would need to fight deeper to peel past this surface level of thought that still resisted him. While Thendleton might not display the highest intellect in his actions, his strong character and self-assuredness created a firm defence around his thoughts. It was probably the same thing that protected him in the outside world as well.

Turning back, Bomoor was suddenly greeted with the sound of gunfire as Thendleton launched a projectile towards the mammal. He watched with discomfort as the slug carved through the tropical air towards its target. The world around it swirled as the surroundings once again shifted and they found themselves propelled to the beach, standing beside the now-lifeless corpse of the creature. Thendleton was knelt down inspecting his kill and Bomoor grimaced as he felt the man’s elation at the kill. Bomoor knew that hunting as a part of nature and he did not object on all grounds, since even his species caught and ate insect life as part of their diet. However, he did object to hunting as sport.

He was tired of being dragged along on this spectacle; it was a diversion from his true intention here and Bomoor was ready to move on. He stepped forward and picked the Human up by the collar of his hunting jacket with both arms. His eyes burrowed down into Thendleton’s own.

“Enough of this, I will find what you know,” he boomed, his strong voice shaking grains of sand upon the shoreline, “Show me something of the plans on Bastion. Which Moffs are involved with your company and where is the beskar going?”

Thendleton's body trembled with the booming of Bomoor's voice and the heavy shaking he received from the Ithorian. As Bomoor released him, he stumbled backwards - and he fell back into a metal chair, as once again their surroundings silently shifted. Gone was the wind and the trees, replaced now with the sterile metallic tones of Bastion-Imperial architecture. Bright artificial light now shone from above them, which reflected from the long grey table Thendleton was sat at.

Once again, the intendant seemed to be paying no mind to the changing reality his mindscape was affording them both, and he was once again calm, as if Bomoor had never assaulted him. In front of him was a datapad, a combination of sigils and images displayed on its screen, as well as GalactaWerks sidearm, which was mid-polish, a cloth and oil resting nearby.

The table had several vacant chairs around it, their occupants in the process of leaving the room - barring Thendleton and a few others. Of note, there was a Zygerrian woman at the head of the table, standing and talking with a dark-bearded Human moff, although the words almost seemed garbled, as if lost in the background. By the door was a man garbed in regal finery in the style and colourings of the GalactaWerks Corporation, but his face was obscured by a golden mask. Whirring cogs and shining metal made plain his cyborg nature, and Bomoor could detect more than a hint of antipathy from Thendleton towards this daunting figure.

Thendleton was now cleaning the pistol, stopping only momentarily to look out of the large bay windows, which offered a remarkable view of a Bastionite city, its piercing skyline small by comparison to worlds such as Coruscant, but still distinctive and beautiful in its own severe way.

Bomoor’s eyes widened as he took in the room. He was finally in a memory that showed some promise of exposing the GalactaWerks-Bastion alliance. He looked across the table and picked up a datapad beside Thendleton to discern its contents but all he saw was a jumble of random characters; apparently the man had either not remembered or had not read enough of its contents to retain a memory of it.

Placing it down, he moved around behind where Marius still sat idly examining his weapon until he had a good look at the Moff and the Zygerrian that were in discussion. Their words were still indistinct, even close by, but their tone was cordial and friendly, particularly from the Zygerrian woman, who donned a delicate smile that showed off her prominent canine teeth.

She turned away towards the doorway and the end of her sentence took on a sudden clarity, “…isn’t that right, Superintendent Mosquith?”

In response, the masked human marched over to join the pair with a nod of acknowledgement towards the Moff, “Indeed, I will liaise with you on all matters pertaining to our activities within your space. I would be keen to set up another meeting as soon as possible to determine additional safe locations on the planet in which to operate and the safe deployment of our recruitment agents in the capital and other major cities.”

The sudden shift in clarity was startling and Bomoor turned back to see that Thendleton was now watching the interaction closely.

"We will be able to turn the Mandalorians' own iron against them," Moff Anthark said proudly, "and you will have the finest armaments in the galaxy, fit to face down any foe the buffoons in that Senate are unable to quell with honeyed words and dulled pens."

"Hmm," Morthart almost purred, a delicate touch of her hand across the moff's hand clearly noticed by the onlooking Thendleton, whose eyes narrowed at the gesture. "Quite right, Edwoff. It is a wonder beings of our vision did not find themselves making these alliances sooner, but it seems the entire galaxy has been at the behest of shortsighted man-things for many centuries. I know you are no such creature, and I look forward to seeing what Bastion may yet bloom into it."

"A new age for all concerned, Executive," Anthark said, a bit of steel now coming his voice. "Whilst you and your company may wreak profits and power from this arrangement, I will indeed see Bastion 'bloom' - in solidarity and solitude, as suits us best - without Valavai Tarses or his cabal of fantasists. You may keep your wretched galaxy, with its chaos and false promises, but I wish you well fighting over its carcass."

For a brief moment, the Zygerrian's playful mien faltered, betraying the face of cruelty that seemed so familiar to Bomoor's unwilling companion, which always hid just beneath the surface. This little display clearly amused Thendleton in some fashion; whilst he abhorred the felinoid executive for her advancement, in spite of her achievements being entirely corporate in nature, he took pleasure from the conflicts she managed to stumble into, particularly with Humans - and Bomoor was able to detect these very surface sensations from the haughty man.

"Quite right, Edwoff," Morthart eventually repeated, a wry and unpleasant smile returning to her face. She began preparing herself to leave. "As well as the deployment of GW intendants to key locations and Company strongholds, Superintendent Mosquith will share the logistical data regarding transportation with your own people, to arrange the shipments of beskar and miners to the..."

The words being said began to jumble together into something incoherent, almost like a low-level mumbling, presumably as Thendleton had paid less attention to the interaction after the argument - and reference to the intendants - passed.

Bomoor turned away from the conversation to see Thendleton once again amusing himself, now wiping his hands of the polish with a handkerchief he had revealed from his jacket pocket.

“Well then,” Bomoor paced back towards Marius and pulled back one of the conference chairs, clearly designed more for Human form, and took a seat next to the Intendant, “It appears you can be reasonable when I am a bit firmer with you. It seems you do get involved in some exciting ventures these days: arming yourselves to take on the Republic, eh?”

He shook his head, feeling a twinge of sadness, which was his alone and not that of Thendleton’s, “Must it truly come to another war?” the Ithorian thought audibly, finding that compassionate part of himself again even in the depths of the man’s mind, “The galaxy does not need that suffering again.”

But then again, there was anger, “I won’t stand by and let your power-hungry company take over the Galaxy. That is a fate worse than the Third Republic.”

He placed his two elongated palms firmly upon the glossy table, “Now, let us dispense with the sightseeing. You will spill all your knowledge: codes, designs, strategies. Anything in that head of yours that will help me demolish these ambitions of war before they take shape.”

Thendleton ignored him, finished with his cleaning and now setting his handkerchief back neatly into his pocket.

“Do not resist me, Thendleton!” Boomed the Ithorian, the room rattling with his echoed voice and the glass beneath his palms beginning to fracture, “Don’t make me break something important in here.”

The room itself seemed to be fracturing around them just like the table surface, with beams of white light seeping through the cracks in the structure of the Human’s mind.

"Wh-what?" Thendleton's eyes grew wider as he looked about him hurriedly, panic-stricken.

Just as the room had begun to crack, so too did the intendant's own skin and form. Lines began to stretch across him, that same glowing-white stretching out from the growing gaps and folding pieces of the man. The unsightly and unnatural damage taking form over the middle-aged Human was akin to craquelure, giving him the visage of an ancient oil painting - albeit one that was being burnt.

Thendleton had dropped everything from his hands and was now staring down at them, as they crumbled and split before his very eyes. Between screams and hollering, he found a moment to look up at Bomoor, his eyes pleading with this mysterious Ithorian.

"Don't!" He begged of him, pain growing in his mind, unlike any physical pain that could ever be described. "Please!" But his words were being drowned out by the cacophony of sounds now erupting all around them. The room finally 'shattered', giving way to a vast and endless void of blurred colours and blending lines without clear form.

As this mindscape rumbled and shifted, Bomoor could hear conversations from years past echoing in his own mind, as much as Thendleton's. There were heavy words of chastisement from an angry-looking man, whose face was not unlike Marius' own, and there were gentler ones from a comely-looking female Human. Whilst there was some affection for those prior words, as Bomoor felt and heard them, they were just as quickly gone, shattered by his invasive presence in this non-world, obliterated from Thendleton's memory and only a vague recollection now of Bomoor's.

More flashes bombarded them both; the smell of polish and metal seemed to fly past them, and it seemed as though a whole brigade of marines were marching through them at a rate of knots. But, as soon as the memory-come-visage had passed, it seemed almost impossible to turn one's head to examine it again, or to even consider the notion. Each inelegant stroke from Bomoor through the man's mind and memories seemed to crack the recollections and feelings further.

Thendleton no longer screamed, as far as the former Jedi could tell, but seemed dazed and exhausted, although the flurry did not diminish. What sounded like a storm was now heard overhead, and the familiar form of Onderonian drexls launched out of the ethereal lightning bolts, which had a queer, orange glow to them. As Bomoor peered, both literally and figuratively, at this monstrous display of clouds and electricity, he sighted the gargantuan form of an unfamiliar class of Star Destroyer breaching the twisted miasma-clouds of Thendleton's ailing mind, its triangular form casting a huge, menacing shadow across anything, the sigil of the Corporation stretching all across its gold-tinted hull.

Flashes of blueprints, access codes and policies now finally and briefly shone across Bomoor's eyes, as this behemoth of a vessel continued to advance in the 'skies' overhead, but were quickly lost again to this mental conception of the war machine looming - although that, too, now began to form cracks and splits across its imagined hull.

Bomoor felt himself getting light headed as countless memory snippets and associated emotions flooded through him faster than he could hold on to them, dissolving away beyond the grasp of both Thendleton and Thort. He steeled himself and tried to hold on to the seemingly relevant information: personal codes and protocols. But, that same bright light began to overtake him as well and, while his victim was but a faint outline now in front of him, he found himself thrust back out.

As the light receded, Bomoor saw the grey, clouded sky of Bastion through the branches of the woodland trees, which shook with a strong directional breeze that he barely felt on his numb trunk. Amare was in his periphery and was saying something he could not quite make out atop Reave’s own faint jabbering. He closed his eyes with exhaustion and did not feel himself being lifted up and away by several strong pairs of arms.

BOMOOR

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☼ New Ability – Mind Wipe

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